Good Cop, Bad Cop Page 9

  “Dillon, I—”

  He hit his mouth down on mine. Claiming me, owning me with his fervor and passion. I gave as good as I got, met him kiss for kiss, winding my tongue with his wild thrusting one.

  He held me close, trapping my arms between our bodies. Squeezed me so tight it was hard to catch my breath. “Oh, God, what are we doing?” I gasped.

  “Something that has to be done,” he said, steering me toward the long, padded bench at the stern end of the deck. “And the only thing that can happen if we’re going to stay sane while we’re on this boat.” He urged me down, all the time keeping our bodies closely connected and kissing me hungrily.

  I fed off him, absorbed his delicious flavor that was so darkly enticing I wondered if I’d ever get enough of it.

  “Like this,” he said gruffly, breaking the kiss and grabbing my wrists. “I want you like this.” He yanked my arms above my head and I heard the sound of metal on metal.

  I twisted to see what he was doing.

  He’d looped the central part of the cuffs over one of the rope hooks, wedging it in tight so that my arms were held aloft and there was nothing I could do about it.

  I tugged and pulled, looked at his face, shadowed by the bimini overhead. The glint in his eyes and the slackness of his jaw told me something new about Dillon, something I really should have guessed—the damn cuffs got him off.

  Conniving bastard.

  “You have too much on,” he said, looping his fingers into the waistband of my tiny panties and dragging them down.

  I bowed my back, arched and wriggled, kicked the panties away. How could I stay mad at him when he looked like a perfect package of sinful delights all raring to go? Jesus, when had I last fucked? I could hardly remember. But what I did remember was I hadn’t felt a hundred shades of excitement just before I was penetrated. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever feeling so high on anticipation over anything, so drugged on the thought of what was coming next.

  Oh my. That is coming next!

  Dillon had shoved his trunks down and off, allowing his cock to jut free.

  I stared at the sheer size of it, the domed head and the thick girth. His slit was already moist as were his jet-black pubes, still wet and heavy with sea water.

  “Dillon, oh my God, you know it’s been a while for me and…”

  “Shh.” He nudged my thighs apart and settled over me, his lusty gaze drifting up to my trapped hands. “Just relax and let me work my magic.”

  “But.” I stretched my legs wider, allowed the head of his cock to nudge my moist entrance.

  “I’m clean, I promise, department health checks and all that, and I won’t come inside you.”

  “Oh, but…ah…”

  He pushed in, just the head of his cock. I was clean too and I also had birth control covered since a pregnancy scare several years ago.

  “Oh, Dillon, please, I…” I didn’t know if I wanted him to just ram it home or take it slow. The nip of pain was so erotic, so delicious that it was hard to think coherently.

  He edged in some more, palming my left breast as he did so. “Ah, baby, you’re so tight,” he said, “relax more, let me in.”

  “Oh, God, yes, please, just give it to me.”

  His gaze caught mine.

  I held my breath, allowed my whole being to be at his mercy. I knew he would keep his promise of giving it to me good. Dillon was undoubtedly the sexiest, most gorgeous, maddening man I’d ever allowed to fuck me.

  “Okay. Get ready,” he said.

  I strained against the cuffs, pressed my chest to his and bit down on my lower lip.

  He forged in, right to the hilt.

  I cried out, locked my legs around the backs of his thighs and squeezed my eyes shut. He’d filled me so absolutely, brutally but blissfully. I harnessed all the wild sensations bombarding my pussy and combined them with the wonderful pressure his pubis had applied to my clit.

  “Ah, it’s never felt so fucking good,” Dillon groaned, his lips touching mine as he spoke. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

  “Oh, so do you, I—” My words trailed off as he began to move. “But I’m still mad at you for putting the cuffs back on.” I said, struggling to catch my breath.

  “Yeah, well, maybe if I hadn’t we wouldn’t be fucking right now.”

  “True.” I tugged my arms—I was truly trapped beneath him.

  He groaned, as though enjoying my brief struggle with the cuffs. “Ah, yes, take all of me, see how much I like fucking pussy.”

  “I think…I can…tell.” My words were staccato from his pumping hips knocking the wind from my lungs with each pound.

  He was catching my clit perfectly, and each time he withdrew and plunged back in the domed head of his cock gave my G-spot a deep and satisfying stroke. The pressure was building—soon it would over-spill.

  I closed my eyes, concentrated on the wonderful climax that was about to ravage my body. He was kissing me again and whispering hot, rude words of adoration.

  “Fuck, so hot and wet. You’ve made me so hard for you, so fucking hard.”

  I couldn’t kiss him back and his voice was like listening underwater. I was in a buzzy, desperate place where only sensation existed. Lost to the heated weight of his body and the hairs on his chest scratching against my nipples. The way his bone-hard cock was thrusting into me, relentlessly, indomitably, overtook my thoughts.

  Suddenly it was there, the point of no return.

  “Oh, yes, yes, don’t stop,” I cried, harnessing the bliss that was about to erupt.

  “Fuck, let it go already,” he said, nipping at my neck, biting, sucking.

  The added stimulus, the pain of his teeth and the suction he was creating toppled me into a free-fall of ecstasy. I spasmed and contracted around his cock, savoring every moment of coming with such a wonderful, satisfying intensity. He didn’t let up, continued to give me what I needed, just where I needed it, right until the waves of pleasure allowed me to breathe again.

  “You done?” he panted.

  “Oh, that was so—”

  “Thank fuck for that.” He pulled out of my pussy, reached down and fisted his shiny, slick shaft.

  I watched, mesmerized, as his slit widened and pearly cum shot onto my stomach, flooding my navel

  “Argh, yeah,” he groaned, jerking his shaft with violent force and releasing more semen. “God, I needed that.” He sucked in a breath, squeezed out another blast of liquid then tipped his head back and groaned. A low, belly-sound that vibrated from his body into mine.

  I gasped and writhed, still turned on and desperate to touch the milkyness basting my body.

  Dillon sat back between my legs, shoved his hand through his ocean-and-sweat-damp hair and looked down at me.

  “Now that is a sight to feed a man’s soul with.” He curled his lips into a smile and my heart flipped. It was the first genuine smile I’d ever seen him produce.

  “Well I’m glad you two have sorted out your differences.”

  I turned at the sound of Jose’s voice, and a dense weight crashed in my guts.

  Jose was sitting on the lounger staring at us. He was naked and had a hold of his cock, jacking it up and down with a lazy fist.

  “Jose. I, what…?” I was already hot, but a blistering flush seared over my skin. I tugged my wrists and tried to clamp my legs shut, succeeding only in locking them against Dillon.

  Oh, God, what must Jose think of me? Earlier on I was putting out for him and now here I was with his partner.

  I pressed my face into my arm, screwed my eyes closed. A knot of shame twisted around my heart and I wished Dillon would release me once and for all so I could curl into a ball and hide in a corner somewhere. Wait until all of this toe-curling embarrassment had gone away.

  “Hey, hey, sweetie.” Jose’s voice, soft and soothing. “I’m not being sarcastic. I’m genuinely pleased you and Dillon have got it together. It makes things so much simpler.”

  I opened one eye, looked at
him as Dillon rubbed a hand up my leg, the callouses on his palm scratching my thigh.

  “You are?” I asked hesitantly. “It does?”

  He stood and walked under the shade of the bimini. Pulled at his cock and smoothed his thumb over the head. “Sure, Dillon and I are partners, what goes for me goes for him and vice versa.”

  “Yeah, we both like you,” Dillon said, dropping a kiss onto the rise of my hipbone. “And luckily it seems you like both of us.”

  I do. But what does that say about me?

  Jose suddenly released his cock and rested a hand over his eyes like a makeshift visor. He stared out to sea. “Ah, fuck. Looks like we’ve got more company.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Get her the fuck out of sight, Dillon,” Jose said, strolling over to his lounger and pulling on his shorts. His cock had deflated to a semi, the thought of unwelcome visitors enough to dampen his desire for the horniest woman he’d seen in a long time. And, Jesus, he’d been hard, because Dillon sure had given it to India good. He couldn’t wait for his turn; if she would have him, that was.

  He glanced at Dillon, who’d unhooked India’s cuffs and was speaking in a harsh, urgent tone. “Stay low so you’re not seen. Crawl to the steps.”

  “What?” she said, peeking over the bench at the other boat.

  “Just do as I say. We need whoever it is to think there’s only two of us.”

  “But I—”

  “But you’re India fucking Moore, someone they’ll recognize,” Dillon snarled.

  “You didn’t recognize me,” she shot back.

  “Look, don’t mess me about here. Crawl to the damn steps!”

  She obeyed, keeping her head down.

  Jose glanced across to the approaching boat. It had grown bigger, was going at quite a clip. He went to the helm while Dillon and India disappeared and watched it come closer, spotting someone on board waving their arms. They wanted him to stop the boat. Fuck. Last thing they needed was to deal with anyone searching for India.

  Jose quickly did the necessary. Their boat slowed, and he walked back out on deck to wait for the other vessel. It drew up alongside, a speedy little white yacht mainly used for pissing about on and showing off he reckoned, nothing to write home about.

  A guy—the one who had been waving presumably—was a hand’s reach away. His chin sported black stubble but his head was clean, tanned and shiny, and he had sideburns that made him seem a big lump of mean. Going by his looks, this was a guy no one wanted to mess with. India’s bodyguard? His white T-shirt was over-bright from the sun’s glare, and Jose wished he had his shades on.

  “All right,” the man said, voice that of someone who had shitloads of confidence but didn’t exhibit it with a swagger or a puffed-up chest.

  “Yep. What’s up?” Jose hoped this man was more forthcoming than the guys from the last boat. Information was key.

  “You on vacation?” the man asked, palming sweat off his head.

  Jose eyed him. People didn’t just stop on the ocean for a fucking chat. He wanted something—or was up to something. “Yep. Anything wrong?”

  He shook his head, gripped the railing with one hand, and leaned forward as though about to reveal a secret. As though they were in a damn crowd and might be overheard. “You need anything?”

  Ah.

  “No thanks.” Drugs. Motherfucker.

  “You sure? I mean, there’s no fun to be had out here, unless you like a drink.”

  Jose laughed, the only way he could mask the twitch in his jaw. “Yeah, drink’s cool. We manage fine on that.”

  “Yeah?” He nodded. “I saw more than one person. Your friends need anything?”

  Shit. Jose shook his head, lifted his hand to block the sun. “Fuck, no. My partner wouldn’t go for that.”

  “She a good girl, then?”

  Uneasy at the pressing question, Jose stiffened his spine. “He.”

  “You’re a fucking shirt lifter?” He raised his eyebrows and stepped back. “Whoa! I mean, all right.”

  It didn’t look as though it was all right. Seemed to Jose the man found that snippet repulsive.

  Baldy grimaced, his nostrils spreading, eyes narrowing. “Still, even gays like a good time, yeah?”

  “I’m not gay.”

  “Bet that’s what they all say.”

  “Look, buddy…” Jose straightened his shoulders and lowered his hand. “I get what your game is, but we don’t want to play, right? Just fuck off and I won’t report you to the damn coastguard.” Or haul your ass in, motherfucker.

  Baldy raised one hand as if to imply acquiescence, but Jose recognized the move from old. The guy whipped a gun from his shorts waistband with his free hand and pointed it at him.

  Jose’s heart beat so hard it hurt. His chest constricted, and he released a long breath through pursed lips. This reminded him of— Shit, he couldn’t think about that now.

  “Don’t look buddy me,” the man said. “Get your fucking partner out here so I can ask him if he needs anything.”

  Knowing Baldy’s type, Jose nodded. “Give me a second.”

  He turned his back, praying the guy wouldn’t shoot. He cursed under his breath, entertaining every scenario he’d encountered in the past. If the man pulled the trigger, Dillon would hear it and act accordingly—might even now be watching and listening below. He thought of radars, of the seas being monitored, and if it was any consolation, if the worst came to the worst, they’d find this guy’s boat eventually. Find him, Dillon and India.

  Dead?

  He made it to the steps without incident and turned to glance across at the other boat. Baldy was still there, gun still pointing, and the damn thing didn’t shake in his hand.

  “Go on,” he called. “And be quick about it.”

  Jose sped down the steps. “Where is she?”

  “Bedroom. Told her not to come out or go to the window.”

  “Did you take—”

  “The cuffs off? Yeah.”

  “What’s the plan? Got to be quick.”

  Dillon turned around, the bulge of his gun prominent beneath his shorts. He faced Jose again. “We both go up. Buy something off him if we have to. Get rid of him.”

  “Not as easy as it sounds. He’s armed.”

  “I’m not surprised but we’ll deal with it, all right?” Dillon gave a tight smile. “We always deal with it.”

  “Yeah, but not out at fucking sea.”

  “Nope, but there’s a first time for everything. You lead.”

  Jose walked to the steps, his stomach knotted with apprehension. He breathed steadily, and by the time he came out on deck he’d got himself under better control. Baldy was in the same place, as was his gun, and Jose swallowed, strolling to the railing.

  “Your partner?” Baldy asked as Dillon came up beside Jose.

  “Uh, yeah.” Jose needed to act like a civilian and it wasn’t as difficult as it should have been. He was trained for this kind of thing, should be able to take it in his stride, but he was scared. For the first time since…he was scared. And he knew why too. It was because she was here. Someone, a woman, he’d promised to keep safe was relying on him. He gritted his teeth so the memories didn’t come back and fuck everything up. “Partner at work.”

  “What kind of work?”

  Dillon cleared his throat. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Baldy said, keeping his gaze on Jose. “I was talking to your partner not you. So, answer my question.”

  “Architecture. We build houses.” Jose swallowed again. A visual from back then entered his mind, the palatial river-front home, him assuring Dillon it would be all right. Shots being fired. People being killed because he’d believed the wrong damn thing. Hadn’t thought ahead to the dangers. Hadn’t sussed out the enemy properly.

  “Right.” Baldy sounded like he didn’t believe him. “So,” he turned to look at Dillon, “now you can speak. You need anything?”

  “What you got?�
�� Dillon smiled. “Jeez, I haven’t smoked in a long time. High school, we used to get together and smoke all damn weekend.” He laughed, staring at the deck, feigning that he was remembering times past. “Fucking munchies. Used to drive us all crazy.”

  “Weed!” Baldy said. “I haven’t got any of that shit, but I got something else you can smoke, know what I’m saying?”

  Dillon looked up, slapped his thigh. “Hell yeah! I’ll have some of that. Haven’t chased that dragon in a while either.”

  “Aww, man!” Jose said, forcing himself into role. “I thought you’d stopped that crap.”

  “Who me?” Dillon widened his eyes. “What you didn’t know didn’t hurt you, right? We’re on vacation, for fuck’s sake. One hit won’t hurt.”

  Jose frowned. “But one hit leads to—”

  “Another. Yeah, yeah.” Dillon waved him away. “Heard it all before and it still sounds a bunch of bullshit.”

  Baldy smiled, showing pristine white teeth bar two gold front ones. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He lowered the gun. “I need to see the green first.”

  “Sure,” Dillon said, turning to Jose. “Go and get the guy his money.” He looked at Baldy. “How much?”

  “Two hundred.” He shook his hand, bringing attention to his gun. “Yeah, two hundred.”

  Jose pursed his lips. “Man, you really shouldn’t start that shit again.”

  “Aww, fuck off with the mothering, will you? Go and get him his money.” Dillon’s mouth quirked in a lopsided grin. A what-can-you-do-about-it expression.

  Jose turned and headed for the steps. Took them two at a time, coming face to face with India. She was wearing his navy Hard Rock Café T-shirt, the base of which skimmed her mid-thigh. “What the fuck are you doing out of the damn bedroom? Get back in there. We’re nearly done.”

  “I needed a drink. My mouth went dry. Jeez.” She shrugged.

  “That isn’t some fucking tête-à-tête Dillon’s dealing with up there. This is serious. Get back in the bedroom.”

  He’d been harsher than he’d intended, but he wanted—no, needed—her to go back into hiding. If Baldy caught sight of her, the shit would hit the motherfucking fan—and probably not the fan, if Baldy knew who she was and had a thing for her. It’d be him and Dillon facing the business end of that gun while Baldy and God knew how many of his friends on that boat used India as a roulette wheel, them the ball bearing that landed on whatever part of her they chose.