Pretty Dirty (Dirty Bad Things Book 2)(43)

After a month of watching Sam, we were about to get her face-to-face.

Apparently, I’d failed that test. Hard. Apparently, getting face-to-face with Samantha had sent my reason and sense flying out the fucking window. Maybe it was the goddamn bikini she’d been wearing. Maybe it was those sweet sinful curves on display like that. Maybe it was getting a whiff of jasmine — her shampoo or something — when I’d stepped up to that car.

Whatever it was, it’d snapped something in me, and I’d been powerless to stop it. I’d been powerless to stop myself from putting my hands on her, the blood roaring in my ears and my cock ready to tear a damn hole in my pants as she’d bent over the hood of that car in front of me. The way her breath had caught when my fingers touched her skin, the way she’d gasped so sweetly when I’d skimmed them up her thighs.

And then reason had taken over, and I’d snapped out it somehow.

Somehow, I’d walked away without tearing off that bikini, burying my tongue in that sweet pussy, and then filling her up with every fucking inch of my big cock.

“You asshole.”

I glanced at Blake, his brow furrowed as he glared at the road.

“Look, I’m sorry, man. Trust me, I know procedure, and I know that was endangering the damn operation—”

“I’m not talking about the fucking job, you dick.” Blake turned and grinned at me.

“I’m talking about you getting to put your hands on that sweet little body, prick.”

I grinned back. “I swear, it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah well if it does, I’m doing the bikini pat-down, got it?”

I laughed, my cock still rock hard. “Got it.”

I knew the job was just to watch her. I knew the job was to observe, report, and stay the fuck away from her.

But I also knew one more thing: I knew that after putting my hands on Samantha Caraway once, there wasn’t a chance in hell I wasn’t going to do everything I could to make it happen again.

I would get my hands on her again, and next time?

Next time I wasn’t just going to use my hands.





4





Samanatha




With a deep groan, I sank back into the canvas of the chair, pushing my toes out through the sand as I stretched back and relaxed. The warmth of the summer sun radiated down on my bare skin, making my body tingle and glow under the mid-day heat. I closed my eyes behind my shades as I let myself totally relax out here in my element.

I loved the beach in the summertime; loved the way my bikini-clad body soaked up the sun and the way I could just relax out here.

Of course, I was hardly relaxing at the moment. My entire head was still back there on the side of the road; my whole body still bent over, spread, thrilling at the feel of the cop’s hands on my skin. I tried to let it all go, tried to clear my head and just let myself stare out at the ocean and relax. But try as I might, I couldn’t get out of my own head.

First, it was feeling the betrayal in my kitchen that morning, looking at the graphic pictures of the girl my fiancé was cheating on me with. But then being made to submit like that on the side of the road by those two hunky, commanding cops had added an entirely new element to the already confused emotions coursing through my head.

I squirmed in my beach chair, squeezing my thighs together and blushing behind my sunglasses as I felt the lips of my pussy rub deliciously together, still slippery with the heat of that moment on the side of the road.

Clearing my head be damned, the fantasy came rushing back full-force. In my head, I pictured the two cops walking up to me right there on the beach.

“Miss, that bikini is a bit too small for a place like this. We’re going to have to issue you a ticket. That is, unless you DO something for us…”

I could feel my cheeks go bright pink, from much more than the hot California sun as I let the fantasy play out in my head. I pictured the already sexually-charged pat-down from earlier getting even more physical. In my head, both of them were running their hands over me, pulling my bikini from my body and bending me over the car right there on the side of the road, the two of them taking turns and…and…

Yikes, get a grip lady!

Biting my lip, I looked around the empty beach. It was nine in the morning on a Tuesday — hardly prime beach time, especially at the more private, residents-only one off the beaten path here in our town. I could see one solitary other figure in a beach chair way down the shore, and much closer to the parking lot, but that was it.

Realizing I was basically alone with my fantasies lit a sort of a fire in me, and I suddenly felt myself thinking bolder and naughtier thoughts than I’d ever usually dream of. It felt so forbiddingly taboo to indulge the fantasy, to let my nipples tingle to hard buds beneath my bikini top, my aching pussy slowly getting wetter and wetter under my bottoms. I found myself moaning softly as I gently squeezed my thighs together, feeling the heat of my desire throbbing there as my aching clit begged for attention. I brought myself right back to the fantasy, there on the side of the road with the two muscled men in uniform.

I let my hand trail down to my waist, and then down over my hips to trail my fingertip up the edge of my suit by my thigh. I pictured the two cops tearing my suit from my body, making me gasp as my body was exposed to them.

I glanced around the empty beach once more, before I slowly pushed my fingertip beneath the suit and moaned as it slid over my lips. I slipped the finger up higher, feeling the sticky wetness of my opening and dragging it up to my throbbing clit as I slowly moved my fingers over myself beneath my bikini bottoms.