Layin' the Law

  Layin' the Lawby

  Roxy Wood

  Copyright © 2011 One Handed Reads, LLC & Roxy Wood

  All digital rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

  Cover art copyright © 2011 by Roxy Wood

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A One Handed Reads Production

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  A few years back, I dated this cop. I know, right? Me and a cop seems about the most unlikely combination imaginable unless he was bustin' my ass for disorderly behavior in public. I mean, when faced with a choice between getting busted or giving head, I'll opt for something I enjoy doing anyway. It's my civic duty, to my way of thinking. Besides, Joey busted my ass plenty... just not in that particular way.

  I met him at this fancy thousand-a-plate charity function at the mayor's mansion. It wasn't long after I started that freelance cocktail waitressing gig my friend Jen drug me into. A short skirt and a big smile for a couple hours. Bare legs toned from lots of tennis. Thong. Nice tips, from the men and the ladies. There were far worse jobs that paid far less. Might as well use what the Creator gave me, right? It was easier that stripping, although stripping was like being paid to work out... just in spike heels.

  He looked so hot in his dress uniform, crisp shirt tight across his broad shoulders and khaki pants equally tight across his hard ass. Clean shaven and with his blond hair so sunbleached it was nearly as white as his teeth. Had to be married, I remember thinking. Had to. My pussy didn't care. It was already saying, "Let's go!"

  He was chatting with the mayor's wife, who appeared every bit as enchanted by his good looks as I was. He smiled graciously as she prattled, not the tiniest spark of interest in his steel blue eyes. Yet his attention never wavered. A true gentleman, that one.

  I tried to catch a glimpse of his left hand, but it was in his pocket, probably fondling his keys with thoughts of escape. I caught myself drifting into a fantasy of following him out the door and sliding into the passenger seat of his pick-up. I would kick off my shoes and put my feet on the dash, letting the air from the vents fill the cab with my scent. Fuck! I wanted him.

  I figured he'd just roll with it, given that he probably got as much action as he desired with those looks. He'd play with my wet pussy until we got to his place then take me from behind—hard and fast—as soon as we got inside. The second time would be more controlled. The third, exquisite.

  I shook myself back to the present and focused on my job, all the while continuing my reconnaissance. I had to know whether the object of my lust had his cart hitched to another wagon.

  Now, mind you I could have any man—or woman, for that matter—I set my sights on, married or not, but this here girl's got a code. I don't mess with no other sister's man... or brother's woman... or any other combination of consenting adults. It's my fucking golden rule. Literally. There are plenty of hot, horny people in this city. I don't need to cause anyone grief by stealing their squeeze. I might be considered a slut by some, but I'm a principled slut.

  I don't mess with the kids, either. Just because something sweet is in a bar with a drink in their hand doesn't mean they're legal. And their parents don't care what assumptions you made based on that fact. I'm just sayin'. So, if a target isn't clearly older than me, I have been known to ask for ID. Seriously.

  Finding a good lover under the age of twenty-five is rare, anyway. The dudes shoot their loads too fast—although they do reload quickly—and the chicks are just too full of angst, venom, or themselves. I'll take a well-seasoned lover any day of the week.

  That reception was so busy it was well over an hour before I finally managed to maneuver my short skirt, my big smile, and my tray of expensive champagne to his general vicinity. Joey, I overheard someone call him. Joey Malone. He had inched closer to the door, although he showed no signs of imminent departure.

  He was clearly older than me. Mid-thirties at least. Maybe forty. Well-seasoned indeed.

  "Careful, honey," Jen whispered in passing, her empty tray in both hands behind her back as she leaned toward me. "That one's got one hell of a rep."

  I put on my poker face and squared my shoulders. "I am certain I do not know to whom you are referring."

  She rolled her eyes. "Right. Just... well... y'know... be careful."

  I watched her walk away, curious about her warning and appreciative of her backside. Jen knew me well. She knew I had a weak spot for strapping white boys, especially those in uniform. Young or old. It didn't matter. It was the protect-and-serve bit that just melted me. The chivalry. The selflessness. Those who put their lives on the line for others usually knew how to give, if you get my drift. And they also knew how to take orders... and, for officers, how to give them. An absolutely titillating skill set.

  Plus, digging my claws into some granite biceps while he drove his hips into mine didn't suck, either. Oh, and that soft hair. I could already feel it sliding through my fingers.

  Until tonight, however, my infatuation had been with the military, especially the Marines. I was a bit too much of a wild child to mess with law enforcement... or so I believed.

  My daddy had been in the Marines. Tall and proud. He was killed when I was just a toddler, but my mother kept him alive in my memory. I grew up fantasizing about him. About how he'd extend that white-gloved hand and ask me to dance. About how he'd gallantly waltz around the room with his little girl standing on his feet. My officer. My gentleman.

  When puberty arrived, those fantasies developed right along with my ripe body. My hand became his hand, his tongue, his cock. He'd lavish me with attention, teach me how to please him, study how to please me. Without even being there, he took me to places no other lover could even approach.

  "Excuse me," a deep, gravelly voice came from behind. He stood so close; I could feel the heat emanating from his body.

  Already on edge, I shuddered. Get a grip on yourself, girl! I took a deep breath, brightened my smile a notch, and turned slowly. My eyes met his chest, and I looked up through my lashes before raising my chin. His presence was even more impressive up close. Poised, self-assured, and commanding respect.

  "What can I do for you, sir?" I added a little pause before the sir, for emphasis.

  The intended effect was not lost on him. He appeared as shaken as I felt, a very good sign.

  Smiling, he plucked the last remaining glass from my tray, tipped his head in thanks, and took a drink. "Ah, thank you. I was parched."

  "My apologies. I've been trying to make it to this side of the room for over an hour, but the guests have been like piranha—"

  "Biting you?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow.

  "Champagne piranha," I clarified as I tucked the tray under one arm.

  "Pity. I was rather enjoying the image of nibbling on your thighs."

  Oh, I enjoyed it as well, but before I allowed myself to
indulge further, I had to know if he was committed to anyone. "Mister—" I made a show of examining his name tag. "—Malone, I—"

  "Joey."

  "Joey," I corrected. "Are you with anyone?"

  He smiled, lifted his left hand, and waggled his fingers. "Single. No commitments. Why?"

  I glanced at the clock. My shift ended in fifteen minutes. "Before I seduce someone, I always check."

  His smile widened. "And here I thought I was the one doing the seducing. Shall we skip the dance altogether and proceed directly to the nibbling?"

  "Normally," I confided in all seriousness, "the dance is a big part of the turn on. The scent of prey. The thrill of the hunt. However, after being on my feet in these shoes for the past four hours, I very much like the idea of cutting the chase."

  Flirtation is intoxicating. Playing hard-to-get while someone pursues your horny ass is good for the ego. Grinding on the dance floor is wonderful foreplay. But, without exception, spending that time with nothing between the two of you but a layer of sweat beats all of those options by long mile.

  He blinked, as if surprised by my no-nonsense approach. "Very well then—"

  "Serenity."

  "—Serenity. I'll meet you by the door in fifteen minutes. Oh, and don't forget to bring your thighs, little girl."

  With a wink and light kiss on my cheek, he brushed past me and made for the head table to, I assume, pay his farewell respects. His last words—little girl—made me weak in the knees.

  It's not that I wasn't. Little, I mean. Five one on a good day and maybe a hundred pounds dripping wet. Even so, the words meant way more to me than a description of my physical appearance. They traveled through my ears, along my nerve endings, and straight to my clit faster than you could say daddy.

  I'm not sure how long I stood there, savoring those words, before Jen got my attention.

  "C'mon. Boss said we could take off a couple minutes early. There's a bottle of Southern Comfort at home with my name on it." Her keys were already in her eager little hand.

  "You go ahead. I'll see you later."

  She looked at me sideways. "Girlfriend, you will tell me every detail in the morning, hear?"

  "Count on it," I nodded.

  With a wave, she flounced away, carrying her strappy pumps in the crook of one finger. Again, I admired her retreat.

  I made a quick stop in the ladies' room to make sure everything was looking as good as it felt. For good measure, I slipped off my panties and stuffed them in my bag. I wouldn't be needing them for a while.

  Joey was waiting, right where he said he'd be, looking for all the world like a man about to indulge in some toe-curling, headboard-banging, nail-gouging, thigh-nibbling sex. Even his slacks betrayed his plans as they pulled slightly tighter across his crotch. I liked what I saw. Not a full blown boner. Just an anticipatory thickening. Flattering as opposed to desperate.

  I wondered if I'd get a chance to feel him harden in my mouth or if he'd already be rock hard by the time I got on my knees in front of him. With this one, I might have to wait until the second or third or even fourth round for that particular pleasure. First time around, if a guy isn't hard before his clothes come off, it makes me think that I really don't turn him on.

  That wouldn't be the case tonight. Not if the preview was any indication of the main event. I decided to shelve my "bold seductress" and let my "bad little girl" take center stage. I had a suspicion Joey would like that.

  To that end, I popped a piece of bright pink bubblegum in my mouth, kicked off my shoes and slung them around my Hello Kitty purse strap, then slowly walked toward Joey with my gaze intent on my phone. Any casual observer would've mistaken me for a self-absorbed mocha teen princess, blowing bubbles and texting. If Joey was as perceptive as he seemed, my little role playing would spark a night of fantasy fulfillment.

  "Young lady, where on earth have you been?" Joey's voice was serious and stern. "You were supposed to be here five minutes ago."

  My stomach did a happy somersault, and I fought the urge to smile. "I'm sorry, daddy." Might as well go for broke, I figured. I know my voice quivered, although out of anticipation rather than fear. "I had to use the bathroom."

  Joey didn't appear to be buying her excuse. "My time's valuable, little girl. You should keep that in mind when you're primping in front of a mirror."

  "I said I'm sorry, daddy. I just wanted to look nice, and I really did have to pee. Besides—"

  Joey looked at me and sighed, playing the part of an exasperated parent convincingly. "Besides, what? Don't even think you can lie to me and get away with it."

  I hesitated, then decided to push things a bit. "My panties were kinda, um, wet. I had to take them off." If I hadn't taken them off, I thought, they might've absorbed at least some of the moisture pooling in my slit and threatening to trickle down the inside of my thighs.

  Joey stopped short. I caught the wicked grin that pulled at the corner of his mouth before he reigned it in. "I can see it's time we had a little... talk."

  Without another word, he marched ahead of me. I followed obediently, still popping my gum and checking my texts. Inside, my excitement made it difficult to bring my eyes into focus so I could actually read the words on phone's screen.

  The police cruiser was waiting out front, back door open. Joey was leaning against it with his arms crossed.

  "Aw, gee. Do I have to sit in the back? I promise I'll be good. Please let me sit up front with you, daddy."

  Joey glared at me. That bulge I'd observed earlier was noticeably thicker. My mouth watered.

  "Pretty, pretty please?" I whined so convincingly that I wanted to spank myself.

  He nodded curtly, pushed the back door shut, and slid into the driver's seat, leaving me to circle the car. My legs, although shaky, managed to carry me to the passenger door. If I got any wetter, I would be making slurpy noises when I walked.

  I tried to sit on my skirt, but it was far too short. The vinyl seat of the cruiser was cool against my ass and my bare pussy, and my juices made it slick. If we rounded any corners too fast, I'd be in Joey's lap... not that that was a bad thing, mind you.

  Joey didn't speak on the drive back to his apartment. I continued to play with my phone until he grabbed it from my hands and tossed it in the back seat. Then, I sulked. I sulked just like a petulant teen whose father had just confiscated her connection to her friends. I found channeling my inner adolescent much easier than I thought it would be. The thoughts screaming through my mind, however, were anything but juvenile.

  He kept both hands on the wheel, his jaw clenched in mock fury, and his boner down his left pant leg. I so wanted to lean over and suck him right through his pants, hear him groan.

  Joey poured himself a jigger of Wild Turkey as soon as we got to his place and downed it in one gulp like a man about to tackle something challenging. Other than that one glass of champagne at the reception, I hadn't seen him drink anything. I don't believe he'd been on duty, though, in spite of driving the police car. I just think he was behaving himself in front of all those big wigs.

  All such musings fled my mind the moment I caught sight of the framed photo on his mantel. I made a bee-line for it. I didn't care if it angered my "daddy." In fact, things would undoubtedly be more fun if he had a reason to spank me... not that he needed a reason.

  The photo showed Joey, probably ten years ago, in Marine dress blues, his saber and several others held high above the heads of a beaming couple. I swooned. I literally swooned like a Victorian hussy in a too-tight corset.

  "Come here, Serenity." His voice was soft and benevolent, but commanding.

  I turned. He was sitting on the sofa, patting the cushion beside him.

  I took a step toward him and paused. "Are you mad at me, daddy?"

  "That depends on you, little girl. Now, come here. Sit down."

  I did as I was told. Knees together. Hands in my lap. Head bowed. Good girl. All that was missing was the pleated plaid skirt, white blou
se, and black patent leather Mary Janes with white bobby socks. That, of course, gave me a few ideas for future play dates.

  "Serenity, tell me the truth. Have you let any boys... touch you?"

  My head jerked up and I met his eyes. "Daddy, I—"

  "Don't even think about lying to me, little girl."

  I considered it, but figured the fastest way to get Joey's hand on my ass was to plead guilty and beg for mercy. "Once, daddy. I'm s-s-s-sorry. I know it was wrong, and I promise I won't let it happen again." I managed to make my eyes fill with tears, although remorse was the furthest thing from my mind.

  "Oh, you'll be sorry all right." He loosened his belt. "But first I want to tell me about it. Exactly where did this boy touch you?"

  Wide-eyed and chin-quivering, I put my hand on my breast. "Here."

  "Show me," he insisted, his voice filled with barely controlled rage that anyone had dared to touch his princess. "Show me how he touched you. Exactly."

  Trembling, I unbuttoned my blouse and shrugged out of it. Rather than removing my bra, which was quite insubstantial to begin with, I simply lifted my breasts from its cups. They're on the smallish side, but they fit my frame.

  Daddy's eyes were fixed on them, as if he'd never seen anything quite as lovely or desirable. "Go on," he prodded without shifting his gaze.

  I passed my palm across my nipples, hand open, and my already-hard nipples strained to reach it.

  "And did you like that—what he did?"

  With a gulp, I nodded. "It made me feel all tingly, daddy. Like I do right now."

  "What else did he do? Where else did he touch you?"

  I opened my mouth to reply, and Joey put his hand on his belt.

  "Under my skirt," I mumbled, as I avoided his eyes.

  "What's that? Speak up, little girl, or you'll make it worse."

  I looked up at him and he nodded. I stood, pulled my skirt up around my waist, and touched my bare pussy. "Here, Daddy. Right here."

  He cleared his throat, and I stole a glance at his crotch. The earlier bulge was considerably bigger.