Pretty Dirty (Dirty Bad Things Book 2)(47)

Whatever it was though, somehow, I was able to look at the scene in front of me and feel the raw desire pulse between my legs.

With the binoculars, I had a full, close-up view of them, and as much as I wanted to pretend it wasn’t, my own pussy was getting wetter and wetter by the second. I could feel my own slippery heat soaking the thin thong panties I’d tossed on under a little summer skirt as I’d dashed out the door back home. I was still wearing my bikini top, and as I parted my legs slightly in the front seat of the convertible, I felt deliciously naughty — almost as if I was sitting there practically naked.

The aching need in my pussy demanded my attention more and more, and as I watched the trampy girl upstairs move down and sink her pussy over Tim’s wildly unsatisfying cock, I found myself moaning and letting my own hand trail up under my skirt. I pushed the short material higher to my hips, giving my fingers access to my aching pussy and the soaking wet thong clinging hotly to it. I moaned quietly as I pushed my fingertips beneath the fabric, teasing them over the slippery lips there as I stared through the binoculars, mouth hanging open.

I was so wrapped up in watching, in fact, that I never even heard the car pull up behind me, never heard the two doors opening and quietly closing, or the footsteps walking towards my side of the car.

"Well, well, twice in one day, miss?”

I about jumped out of my skin as I yanked my hand from my pussy and jerked my head around to my side window.

It was both of them, the blond and the dark-haired cops.

And they looked pissed.

"Out of the car, miss. Now."





7





Dustin




"Officer! I—”

“I said OUT. Now,” I growled, reaching out, unlatching her door, and swinging it open.

I froze.

When we’d spotted Samantha’s car — well Maria’s car, I guess — parked out front of the house we were surveilling, the plan was—

Well, in truth, there was no plan, we’d just acted like a single mind when we’d seen her. I wasn’t sure what we’d been thinking we’d do, but I know I spoke on impulse when I’d stepped up to the car to see her peering through binoculars at the house. It was the same “gruff bad cop” voice I’d used before when we pulled her over.

Maybe I was expecting that wide-eyed blush again, or maybe a smile. Maybe I wanted to see if she remembered us, or if her eyes would light up again like when I’d had her bent over the front of her car.

What neither of us were expecting was that when we stepped up to that car, we’d see Samantha Caraway with her hand buried between her thighs and a low moan on her lips.

Yeah, not expecting that by a fucking mile.

And so, when I yanked her door open, we both froze, our bodies going rigid as we stared at her staring up at us, those big blue eyes like deer in headlights and that guilty blush across her face.

"Well, well, well…” I whistled lowly, my pulse jumping inside of my chest, my cock thickening to steel in my pants as Samantha quickly jerked her hand away from her panties. I dragged my fingers across my stubble, my eyes hungrily drinking it all in.

Shit.

I’d already crossed one line with her, when I’d done that ridiculously unnecessary pat down on the side of the road. And now? Seeing her like this?

Well fuck, now I knew I was going to be stepping over that line again, in a very big way.

"Having a nice time out here by yourself tonight?”

She blushed furiously at Blake’s words, her eyes darting down. Quickly, she smoothed her skirt down over her thighs, hand clasping together as her eyes darted to the binoculars sitting on the seat next to her.

And then, as if on cue, the soft lilting giggle of a woman’s voice came tinkling through the dusky twilight from the Santiago house, followed by some pathetic-sounding male grunts.

Blake and I glanced at each other; suddenly what was going on here sunk in. Blake’s brow twitched in that way it did when he was fighting back his demons — in the way that I knew meant my friend was wrestling with his own control.

Fuck, I was too, with Samantha sitting there in that tiny skirt, that white bikini top, and that very guilty blush on her face. I also felt bad for her, though. I mean, shit, a girl like Samantha did not deserve the shit Tim was putting her through, or would put her through when he went to trial.

Her eyes darted back to us, and this time, they lingered. This time, she bit her bottom lip in her teeth, and that same fiercely hungry look we’d seen before came flashing back to her face.

She was embarrassed, for sure, but there was something else there, something wild, and something begging for more. She swallowed thickly, her eyes dipping down over us, and I swear to God, they lingered on the probably-obviously bulges at the front of both our uniforms.

And she licked her fucking lips.

Fuck.

I felt my hands clench into fists, my pulse racing faster and faster. We’d pushed things too far when we’d pulled her over, and when I put my hands on her. But hell, we’d pushed things too far when they’d put us two on surveillance duty on her. Because for a month now, my friend and I had been slowly obsessing over this girl. For a month now, we’d been watching her, and seeing how fucking incredible she was, and learning how damn perfect she was.

For a month now, we’d been falling for the girl it was our job to watch.