Filthy Vows (Filthy Vows #1)(27)

I tried to catch his gaze, but he dropped his head back on the seat and closed his eyes, his arms crossing protectively over his chest.





13





LAS VEGAS POLICE INTAKE FORM

Name: Chelsea Pedicant

Offense: Indecency, Propositioning an Officer

Location: 3570 S Las Vegas Boulevard

Penalty: $500 fine and one night in jail

Report:

Ms. Pedicant approached cavalry officers stationed at the entrance to The Majestic on foot and appeared heavily intoxicated. She proceeded to hang onto Officer Stanton, who was also on foot. Upon being instructed to step back, she began attempting to disrobe from her wedding gown, but had trouble unfastening the back loops. Turning her back to Officer McGully, she asked for his assistance with the dress, then asked if he was “hung like his horse.” Upon repeated commands to put her dress back on and move away from the officers, she was read her rights and then detained.





“This is your fault.” I chucked a tater tot at Aaron’s head from my spot on the hood. Swinging my legs gently, I watched as our limo driver lit up a cigarette on the far side of the police station. He hadn’t seemed at all bothered by Chelsea’s arrest, and maybe this was common-place in the city of sin.

“Hey, I told her to get directions from them.” Aaron held up his palms in innocence. “I didn’t ask her to start humping the guy’s leg.”

“She’s referring to the part where you told Chelsea that cops counted double in the kiss count.” Easton sat beside me, a cheeseburger in one hand, drink in the other.

I stole the soda from him and sucked on the straw. “Yeah. Plus, you knew what you were doing. Sending Chelsea over to a trio of uniforms is like putting cotton candy in front of kids.” I had my own police fantasy, one I visited with frequent regularity, every time I sped through Coral Gables.

“Is there a reason you are in such a rush?” The officer would peer down at me, his gaze lingering on the open neck of my shirt, the top four buttons undone, my lace bra in full view.

My apologies and flustered explanations would be ignored, his expression getting sterner as he instructed me to step out of the car and move around to the passenger side, out of the view of the traffic. There, he’d tell me to put my hands on the roof of the car. He’d run his hands down my back and over my hips. He’d tell me to widen my stance and would sweep his hands up my bare legs and underneath my loose skirt. His breath would quicken when he realized I wasn’t wearing any underwear. He’d run his hand in between my legs and swear when he discovered how wet I was. His hand would tighten on my shoulders and I would hear the indecision in his silence as he warred between what he should do and what he wanted to do.

“Touch me again,” I’d begged. “Please, officer. I need it so badly.”

The fantasies typically took different paths from there. Sometimes he’d tell me that I was a dirty girl and needed to get on my knees and suck his cock. Other times he’d push his fingers inside of me, my face pressed against the cool side of my car, my mouth opening in a silent O of pleasure as he stood behind me, his hand furiously working between my legs. Sometimes he’d tell me to bend over the hood, and he’d unbutton his pants, and take me right there, the whip of passing cars drowning out my cries of pleasure.

Easton’s hand settled on my knee and he squeezed it, then leaned in for a kiss. I allowed it, then flicked a piece of glitter off his neck with more force than needed. He winced and I smiled sweetly at him.

My phone dinged and I glanced down at the display. Calling Chelsea’s father in the middle of the night had not been my first choice but, for once, the time zone had worked in our favor. Her 2 A.M. arrest happened around the same time that her father slipped into his cashmere robe and walked down the pearl-inlaid steps of his mansion. By the time I called, he was being served lobster Benedict and fresh-squeezed orange juice, the fruit picked from his own trees. He’d absorbed the information of Chelsea’s arrest with a quiet chuckle, then asked for the location where she was being detained. He hung up with promises to get it handled. Now, $40 of cheap fast-food later, his message came through.

She is being released now. Please pick her up at the substation on Sierra Vista Drive.

I glanced at the street sign, verified our location, then texted him back to let him know we were already here.

Thank you, Elle. I appreciate your help.

He was really the coolest dad on the planet. Chelsea said that it didn’t make up for her lack of a mother, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. I loved my stiff and conservative parents, but if my friend ever called with news of my arrest, my dad would tell them to leave me in jail for an extra week, just to make sure I learned my lesson.

I pushed off the hood. “Daddy Warbucks said she’s being released.”

“Good.” Aaron stretched. “I’m exhausted.”

“Exhausted?” I teased him. “We had plans to visit a brothel next. Clean out those cobwebs that are hanging off of your dick.”

“Ha.” He picked up his McDonalds’ bag and stuffed his trash into it. “I’ve got big plans to be asleep within the next hour.”

“I think even Chelsea will agree with that plan.”

As if on cue, the front door to the station opened and Chelsea wandered out, her hair half undone from her updo, her tiara stuck in the front cleavage of her dress like a pair of sunglasses. She saw us scattered along the limo and brought up her hands in touchdown stance, letting out a loud whoop of victory.