SWAT: Contemporary Cop Romance Read online

  “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

  He kissed me and I pulled out his cock. Our helmets bashed together and I rammed my tongue into his mouth.

  He groaned when I treated him to a firm stroke root to tip.

  But it wasn’t enough. Not for either of us.

  With our mouths locked I toed off my right boot.

  He reached for my zipper and drew it down.

  The need for his touch, his hands on me—fingers and cock in me—had me groaning and my head spinning.

  Fucking was all I could think of.

  No longer shooting and surviving.

  Fucking.

  I wriggled in my pants, ridding myself of the right leg, the one which didn’t hold an additional holster and gun.

  “Be quick,” I said, as cool morning air washed over my pussy.

  “I can be quick. Can you?”

  “Just do it, Ricardo,” I growled. “Stop wasting time.”

  The next thing I knew I was in the air, my butt scraping on the gritty brick wall and his big cock nudging my entrance. My underwear bunched out of the way.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist and clung to his vest.

  He stared into my eyes, nostrils flaring, jaw tense, and thrust into me.

  I cried out then stopped myself by biting my lip.

  He hit full depth, withdrew and pounded in again.

  “Yes. Yes,” I managed. “Oh God, just there. Ricardo.”

  “Shut up,” he said. “And come.”

  “Fuck me harder then.” I curled my hand behind his neck and drew him close so once again our helmets touched. “Fuck me as hard as you can.”

  “You’re really going to fucking get it.”

  He shunted into me, riding hard on my clit and stretching my internal muscles. He withdrew and penetrated with barely a pause.

  I hugged him with my pussy and met him thrust for thrust by canting my hips.

  A climax was imminent. And it was going to be hard and fast and unapologetic.

  He grunted and groaned with each intense, determined pound.

  I gasped as the air was knocked from my body.

  Our uniforms rubbed hard against each other, my pants dangled from my leg. My pussy was wet now, arousal making me slick for him.

  We were focused on one thing only. Reaching that high. Finding satisfaction.

  “Ricardo. “Don’t stop…”

  “Come.” He upped the pace. It had already been wild—now it was near violent, animalistic, primitive.

  I adored it.

  My adrenaline surged like fire and stoked my orgasm. It was there, waiting to be had.

  One…more…thrust…

  I hissed in a breath and closed my eyes. The pleasure bloomed, it was held suspended and then with an even deeper, harder thrust against him, it released.

  I cried out as my pussy spasmed around his cock and electric fingers of bliss spread over my skin.

  He caught my cry in a hungry kiss and came with me, shooting his cum deep and gripping my bare ass cheeks in his hands.

  The pleasure ripped through me. I was lost to everything but Ricardo and fucking in this dingy alley.

  “Jesus,” he muttered, pulling back. His top lip was damp with sweat and his breaths came in short, sharp pants. “You’re really something, Freya.”

  “So are you.” I grinned. “No time for post-fuck sentiments though. Backup and forensics will be here any moment.” I shoved at him and he withdrew.

  He set me on the ground.

  I was a little shaky as I pulled on my pants and did them up. I could shoot two men and have a hand steady enough to perform cardiac surgery. A hot, hard fuck with Ricardo outside—in danger of being caught by the force I’d dedicated myself to—and an unfamiliar tremor tugged at my nerves.

  “Here.” Ricardo passed me my pistol which had dislodged from its leg holster and landed on the floor. “Good job that fucker didn’t go off.”

  “Thanks.” I tucked it away, then straightened my vest.

  Ricardo swiped at his face, removing the tiny sweat droplets sitting there.

  “Do you think we smell of sex?” I asked. Moisture leaked onto my panties. I pressed my thighs together and tensed. I’d have to see to that later.

  “You do.” He grinned and drew my hand to his mouth. “My sexy little shooter girl.”

  “Don’t girl me.”

  He chuckled. “Then don’t call me a boy and tell me to fuck you in places that could get us both kicked off the force.”

  “He’s done what?” I stared at the chief and then at Ricardo and Jonathan. “But why?”

  “I guess nearly getting your head blown off does that to a guy. Makes him take stock of what he wants from life.”

  “But I… I saved him.” I held up my palms. “This can’t be happening. He’s one of the best. I mean, the amount of times I’ve seen him—”

  “Freya,” the chief said from behind his office desk. “He’s made his decision and it’s with immediate effect.”

  “So we don’t even get to say goodbye?” Jonathan said, folding his arms. His thick biceps bulged, making the material of his T-shirt strain.

  “I’m sure he’d be up for a beer.” The chief tapped his pen on a notebook. “Though he did say something about heading straight to LA with the family on the next flight out of goddamn Miami.”

  I ran my hand over my hair, dragging it back from my brow. This couldn’t be happening. This morning I’d saved Patrick’s life, and done so presuming he’d go on serving.

  Now his badge had been handed in and he was going to live life as a surfer dude in Orange County.

  I frowned. He was too damn old to be a surfer dude.

  “I’m afraid I have more bad news.” The chief sighed.

  “What can be worse than losing a member of our team?” Ricardo muttered.

  “Losing two.” The chief dropped the pen and it rolled to the edge of the desk.

  “Two!” I stood, hands on my hips. “What the fuck?” I turned from Jonathan to Ricardo. “Do you guys know what the heck he’s talking about?”

  Jonathan shook his head. His jaw was set so tight a tendon flexed beneath the stubble in his cheek.

  “Nope, not me.” Ricardo’s voice was thick with tension.

  “Carl,” I said, holding out my hands. “Don’t tell me you’ve got his badge in there too.”

  “It pains me to tell you I have.” The chief pulled open a drawer and tossed first one, then another badge onto the polished surface of his table. “Seems Enrique Feldon had some degree of success in obliterating your team, guys, even if he didn’t get a bullet in any of you.”

  “And what’s Carl’s excuse?” Jonathan said.

  “He’s been thinking of giving it up for a while.” The chief shrugged. “I knew it was on his mind, so while it’s a surprise for you folks, it isn’t for me.”

  “Yeah, it’s a surprise,” I said. “I had his back this morning and he had mine. How could we not know what was on his mind? We’re like family. I pride myself in that.”

  “Carl has a real family. And as you know his wife has been ill, one of his children…let’s say is ‘slightly off the rails’. He needs to concentrate on them. He’s going to be on light police duties for six months. But don’t give up hope—he can come back providing he can prove his fitness and maintains his SWAT skills.”

  “This is the fucking pits.” I stomped to the window and stared out at the lot. The day had heated and the air blistered from the tarmac in a fuzzy haze. “So who is replacing them?” I turned to the chief. “Or is it just us three now?”

  “No, of course not. You’ll be joined tomorrow by Officer Sean Mendez and Officer Balko Schichof.”

  “Balko Schichof. Where is he from?” I tutted.

  “Boston. They’re both coming down to be part of SWAT fifty-five, and I suggest you’re nice and welcoming. Bake them some cookies.”

  “Of course we’ll be nice.” Ricardo stood.

  “And show them the
ropes,” the chief went on. “They’ll both be a long way from home. Miami is a different kettle of fish to Boston.”

  “We can do that.” Jonathan stood and looped his thumbs over his belt.

  I grunted and folded my arms. Losing two members of the team was bad. We operated like one person, always knowing what each other would do without having to map it out. Training and working together in such a high risk, high-octane environment did that to officers. And now we had not one but two new members to get used to.

  To knock into shape.

  It was the last thing I felt like doing.

  I had enough shit to deal with.

  “We should go sink a few beers,” Ricardo said as we left the chief’s office.

  “Yeah, I’m up for that,” Jonathan said.

  “Nah, I’m going to go and fire a few rounds.” I shrugged. “It’ll make me feel better.”

  “You hardly need the practice,” Jonathan said. “From what I’ve heard, your shots this morning proved you’re one of the best in the business.”

  “And I want to keep it that way.” I gestured to the elevator. “I’ll be at the range for an hour or so. What bar you going to?”

  “The usual.” Jonathan shrugged. “See you there.”

  For a moment I hesitated. There was something in his dark eyes, something he wasn’t telling me. And I knew Jonathan well, really well. “What?” I asked.

  A small smile tipped the right side of his mouth. “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  He stepped close and bent so he spoke by my ear. “I know what would really make you feel better, Freya.”

  “I’ve had that, from Ricardo.”

  “Since this morning?” He pulled back a fraction and the scent of his cologne surrounded me.

  “It was quick, but hit the spot.”

  “Lucky you. Lucky him.” He smiled and twitched his eyebrows.

  “So…?”

  “So a trip to The Dungeon isn’t something you’d be interested in?”

  “The Dungeon?” Now my interest was piqued. Jonathan was heavily into BDSM and a member of the exclusive sex club just west of South Beach. He was a Master and the few times he’d taken me there it was clear he was an experienced and skilled Dominant.

  “I could be persuaded,” I said, going for nonchalant while trying to contain a bubble of excitement.

  “If you have to be persuaded, I’m not taking you.” He chuckled and straightened. “See you later, shooter.”

  I didn’t bother to hold in a pout as he turned and disappeared through the door with Ricardo.

  Damn it. Why hadn’t I just said yes straight away?

  Now I was really going to have to blow some holes in paper cut-outs.

  Frustrations with team changes were bad enough. But throw in sexual frustration and I was likely to go into meltdown.

  Chapter Three

  As it turned out I didn’t get to the bar for a drink with Ricardo and Jonathan. At the range I met up with Jenny, another female officer and one of my few girlfriends, and we went out for a meal and a chat.

  Her company bolstered me. We both lived and worked in a man’s world and there were times it was good to share what only another woman in the same situation could understand.

  When I arrived at the station the next day I was in my gym kit. Like all SWAT teams we had time allocated to working out and honing our skills. Being the best of the best was a full-time job.

  I bumped into Ricardo and Jonathan, both in grey sweats and white T-shirts on my way up the steps.

  “Seen our new crew yet?” I asked.

  “No.” Ricardo shrugged. “But I dare say we will.”

  We wandered into the lobby of the gym. “Did you go to the club last night?” I asked Jonathan, even though I’d told myself I wouldn’t enquire.

  “Why?” he asked, holding the door open for me.

  “No reason. Just making conversation.”

  “You’re curious.” He raised his eyebrows.

  “I couldn’t care less.”

  “Of course you could.” He glanced around, and, evidently realising it was only us and Ricardo, he slipped his arm around my waist and tugged me close. “You care if I’m working on another submissive, giving her pleasure and making her come over and over and over again.”

  “I’m not your submissive.” That was a better answer than to tell him I abhorred the idea of him with someone else. Jonathan was on my team. Jonathan was mine.

  “Not my submissive? Oh yes, you are,” he said. “When you wear my collar you do as you’re told. You bend to my will. You take what you’re given and say thank you the way any good little submissive does.”

  I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry as a flood of pleasurable—extremely pleasurable—memories filled my mind. Being submissive was against my nature. I was a woman in control. I was no pushover and I certainly didn’t belong to one man. My occupation, senior position and my relationships with both Ricardo and Jonathan proved that.

  “Say it, shooter,” he whispered.

  “I…” A hot flush was wending its way up my neck.

  When do I ever get ruffled?

  “Say it, Freya, say you’re my submissive. I know you can. You’re a strong, authentic female and it’s what makes you so appealing to me as your Master.”

  “You can’t be my Master. Not out there, in the field.”

  “I know that, you’re in charge. But in The Dungeon, wearing my collar, that’s when you hand yourself over to me. Now all you’ve got to do is say it when we’re not in that environment. Say you’re my submissive, Freya, while we’re standing here.”

  I stopped walking and turned to him. “And that’s so important to you?”

  “You’re important to me.”

  Jonathan Maine was a man any woman would want to be important to. He was not only tall, dark and handsome, he was one hell of a SWAT officer, a deadly shot, and one of the most honest and loyal people I knew. To say his moral compass was set on a perfect course summed him up.

  “Say it,” he said, a challenging glint in his eye.

  I glanced at Ricardo. He’d paused and was watching our exchange with interest.

  “I’m your submissive,” I whispered, enjoying the look of triumph in Jonathan’s eyes. He was pleased with my words and in turn that pleased me. “But only when I say so,” I added.

  Suddenly he wrapped his arms around me. He gripped my ass and dragged me close. I was aware of his cock beneath his sweats pressing on my belly and his hard muscles tensing.

  “You just earned yourself a flogging the next time we go to the club,” he said against my lips.

  “For telling the truth? Hardly seems fair.”

  “No.” He grinned, then with his lips still curved in a smile, he kissed me. “Not for telling the truth, for the defiant tone of your voice.”

  A snake of sensation ran over my ass. Jonathan knew how to deliver sensual pain. He’d turned my butt red on a few occasions with his palms. But a flogging? That was a new suggestion.

  “Come on,” he said, suddenly releasing me. “I bet our new team members, Sean and Balko, are already in there, keen to prove themselves to the female officer they’ve found themselves reporting to.”

  I steeled myself, clenching my fists and blowing out a breath that felt full of Jonathan’s scent and taste and touch.

  Ricardo winked at me, then headed into the gym.

  I followed, Jonathan behind me, and paused.

  There were two men in the boxing ring sparring without gloves and wearing only gym shorts. Neither of them I recognised, which could only mean one thing.

  They were Sean Mendez and Balko Schichof. Our new colleagues.

  “Hey,” Ricardo called, holding up his hand. “You the rookies?”

  The taller of the two, with pale skin, a tattoo of an eagle on his right pec and super-short brown hair turned with a grin. “Yes. That’s us. I am Balko Schichof.”

  I detected a slight accent in those few wor
ds.

  “Good to meet you.” Ricardo strode up to the ring and hung over the red ropes. The two men shook.

  “This is Sean Mendez.” Balko said. “We’ve worked together for five years.”

  “Hey.” Sean stepped forward and held out his hand to Ricardo.

  “Five years,” Ricardo said, shaking Sean’s hand. “At least it’s not all new today then.”

  “Goddamn hot in here.” Sean swiped his forearm over his brow, flashing pale brown underarm hair. He was younger looking than the other men around me. His features were neat, fresh, and he had dark blue eyes and a thick blond mop of hair.

  “Welcome to Miami,” Jonathan said, looping his arms over the ropes and grinning. “Hot every damn day of the year.”

  Balko grunted.

  “Good to see you’ve got straight into training,” I said, stepping up with a smile. “I’m Freya Sweeny, commander of SWAT fifty-five. Four years on the job here, most of that time with Ricardo and the last two with Jonathan. We lost two men yesterday. Job got too much for them.”

  “Two, that’s a bummer,” Balko said.

  “Yeah, it’s a shame. They were good guys.” I shrugged. What was done was done. Patrick and Carl had made their decisions. I didn’t have time to look back or be regretful for them.

  “Couldn’t handle being under the command of a woman, eh?” Sean raised his eyebrows at me.

  There it was, the elephant in the room, and it hadn’t taken long to charge into the conversation.

  “Had nothing to do with the line of reporting,” I said, holding his intense gaze. “And everything to do with them not wanting to get their heads blown off.”

  “I think we’d all like to keep our heads on.” Sean jogged on the spot, as if keen to maintain his raised heartbeat. He banged his fist into his palm.

  “Freya is one of the best shots in the department,” Ricardo said, glancing my way. “With several awards to her name. If you’re in someone’s sights, you want that person to be in hers.”

  I said nothing. Bragging about achievements wasn’t my mode of operation.

  “I’ll remember that,” Balko said. He clasped Sean on the shoulder. “Come on, buddy, I’ve still got to whip your ass.”

  “You can try.”