Love and Law (12 page)

“Lie down on the floor,” I instruct.

Relief floods her features as she realizes that I’ve dropped the subject about the phone. She does as she’s told and I’m rewarded with a beautiful, dark-skinned goddess sprawled out and patiently awaiting my next move.

“Now spread those legs, baby girl. I’m going to make it up to you for not having a condom. You aren’t getting up off this floor until I’ve made you come with my tongue at least twice. So grab the backs of those sexy thighs and hold on because you’re about to be in for one helluva ride!”

EACH CURVE OF HIS MUSCLED chest glistens with a light sheen of sweat. Sweat I put there when I gave him the blow job of a lifetime. His eyes are determined as he drinks in the sight of me spread before him. When he licks his lips, eager to dive in, my pussy tightens in anticipation.

He drops to his knees, brings his face right to my hot center, and blows cool air that does nothing but make me hotter. It serves as a tease of what’s to come, and I shiver. His tongue drags along the inner part of my thigh until he reaches my knee and playfully bites. I let out a giggle, and he grins at me before dipping his head back down, this time his tongue connecting with my clit.

Almost lazily, he licks me between the lips of my pussy slow enough to make me crazy. I’m about to tell him to go faster when he sucks my clit into his mouth. Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I tighten the grip on the back of my thighs and spread wider for him. He rewards me by slipping two long, thick fingers inside me, quickly followed by a third, filling me much like his cock would.

My hands find my breasts and finger my nipples as he keeps thrusting his own fingers in and out of me. His mouth devours my sensitive spot and I feel my entire body go taut. He knows just how to drive me insane, and within moments, I’m screaming out his name.

When I’m finished convulsing from my all-consuming orgasm, he pulls out his fingers and climbs on top of me. I know we can’t have sex, but I want this skin-to-skin contact as much as he seems to. He presses his chest against mine and rests on his elbows, which are on either side of me. His lips find mine and he kisses me slowly. I’m completely turned on as I taste myself on his lips.

His cock is now flaccid and pressed between us. We’re lying here on the floor of an office in the middle of the ghetto, completely wrapped up in each other’s presence. When we’re together, nothing else matters. I’m blown away how easy it is to forget Miguel, my job, the law—and only focus on his smell, taste, skin, voice.

“I want you to stay with me,” he says softly between kisses.

My heart thrums to life. I’m torn because knowing where he lives will be a critical piece of information for our case. But sleeping in his bed, cuddling with him, seems like perfection. I want him to make love to me slowly and unrushed. Right now, with him protectively on top of me, I want nothing more than to be with him. Gathering evidence for the case seems unimportant to me. I’m quickly losing a grip on my job and for once focusing on my needs—and right now, I need this man like I need air.

“Tonight? I want to make love all night—no interruptions—in a comfy bed rather than on desks and shitty carpet. Your bed better be comfortable or I’ll change my mind,” I tease with a laugh.

His eyes darken and he frowns down at me. “Not tonight, baby girl. I’ve got some shit I need to take care of, but tomorrow night, your ass is in my bed. Got it?”

I nod, and he kisses me again. I can’t help the pang of disappointment that stings me right away. I’m willing to sacrifice the duties of my job, but he blows me off a lot for his. Biting my lip, I glance away to avoid his stare. It seems stupid that I want to cry over something so silly.

His hand strokes my cheek. “You’re upset with me.”

Now I really am getting upset and shake my head unconvincingly. But my voice seems like it would be traitorous and give me away, so I keep quiet.

“Maya, look at me,” he gently instructs. The concerned look in his eyes causes tears to fill my eyes, and I feel like a crazy person. “What’s wrong?”

A tear slips out, and I try to smile. “I just really wanted to spend some time with you. But I get it. You have an important job to do. Don’t worry about me. I’m just a hormonal girl,” I laugh.

He doesn’t laugh back and narrows his gaze at me. “Maya, I’m so fucking sorry. You deserve better.”

I’m already shaking my head no again. “No, I want you.”

Dipping down, he kisses my lips again. “How old are you?”

It’s almost laughable that we’ve been so physically and emotionally connected but we know nothing about one another. I’ll do my best to give him what information I can. He deserves that much.

“Twenty-six.”

He smiles and rewards me with his age. “I’m twenty-eight. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

I shake my head at him. “Nope. Just me. What about you?”

“Just me and Grammy,” he replies sadly.

“Where are your parents?”

This time, tears fill his eyes and I feel sick to my stomach. “They were killed by a drunk driver when I was twelve.”

“Oh, Ben. I’m so sorry. My daddy was killed when I was a little girl.” His look is one of sympathy but also one of understanding. We have a mutual level of pain, and that instantly draws us closer together.

Suddenly, he tenses from above me. “Wait—you said you ran away from your parents? But now you’re telling me your dad is dead?”

I nearly choke from being caught in a lie but quickly recover. “Stepdad.”

He exhales sharply in relief, but my heart is still pounding a hundred miles per hour. Thankfully, he continues on with his harmless questions.

“What are your interests? What do you do for fun?”

I smile at him. The guys at the station, Miguel included, always give me shit about what I’m about to tell him, but I don’t care. I love it.

“I’m an active member of the National Genealogy Society. In college, I took some genealogy courses and became addicted to learning about my ancestors. My friends give me shit about it all the time. I’ve researched all of their family lines,” I giggle.

He smiles broadly at me but then quickly drops it. “You went to college? Did you finish and get a degree?”

Shit. I seem to tell him too much truth and he’s so damn perceptive.

“Uh, yeah.”

He glares at me, knowing that I’m avoiding the subject. “Which part?”

“Both,” I sigh. He’ll ask the next question and I will have to lie on this part. There’s no way in hell I’m telling him what my degree really is in. Telling your drug-dealer lover that you’ve got a degree in law enforcement seems like a bad idea.

“Might I ask in what? What is a smart, sexy girl like you doing on this side of town selling drugs for me? You could be doing anything other than this shit right now.” He seems angry, and my heart pounds anxiously in my chest.

“Um, business. The economy is bad,” I lie. Expecting him to demand the truth, I brace myself for it. But what he does instead breaks my heart.

“Fucking liar. Unbelievable,” he snaps and lifts up off of me. He begins quickly pulling on clothes while I scramble to my feet.

“Ben, please. Just let that part of my past go. It isn’t worth knowing.” I try and grab his shoulder.

He wrenches away from me and shakes his head. “More fucking lies. It isn’t that your past isn’t worth knowing. It’s that you want to hide it from me. I’ve only ever been honest with you since day one. My mantra is ‘DON’T LIE,’ yet you fucking do it anyway. I’m out,” he grumbles as he buttons his jeans and slides into his shoes.

Standing there, naked, before him, I tearfully watch him grab his shirt and leave me alone. As much as I want to tell him, I just can’t. The outcome from the truth would have been worse. I feel absolutely gutted right now.

Last night was a nightmare. After Ben left, I showered and lay in my bed, spending all night doing a little soul-searching. Our argument only served to clarify that I am a delusional bitch. I let my hormones get in the way of my job once again. But I am done. He never came back for me, and I haven’t seen him at all today.

Just like every day so far, I accept my supply from CJ and head outside to walk the streets. Normally, I cut between houses until I meet up with Miguel or Jake on a side street and swap the load of drugs for the required money. After that first night, I was able to sneak in and call him the next day. We’ve been going through this routine ever since. Each time, Miguel begs me to just turn in what I have so Sommerhaul will let me come back to the station. Of course, I know I need to find Oculus’s location and where they keep the bulk of their drugs. If they’ll leave me alone, I’ll find out eventually.

I’m walking out of the alleyway when a familiar voice stops me.

“Where you headed, Ghetto Barbie?” Tameka demands. She’s got her backpack on, just like me, full of today’s load of drugs.

“None of your business, Bitch Face,” I snap back at her. I’m grouchy today after having had my blowup last night with Ben.

“I bet you’re running over to Blaze,” she taunts.

Ignoring her, I stomp past her and continue on down the sidewalk. I’ve only made it a few steps when she yanks my hair and pulls me back. My first response is to fight back, and since I don’t have to impress Ben anymore, I take out my anger on her.

“You won’t quit, you fucking bitch,” I snarl as I spin around and grab her neck.

We stumble and fall onto the sidewalk, skinning elbows in the process. She tries to punch me, but she punches like a damn sissy. However, when I straddle her and punch her in the face, she screams because I fucking punch hard. Her fingers scratch at my arms as she attempts to make me stop hitting her, but I’m beyond stopping.

I’ve just began choking her out again when two strong arms effortlessly rip me of her. When I recognize the smell of the person who yanked me away, my heart races in a panic. He spins me around to face him, and I’m now looking at one of Detroit PD’s finest—Miguel Lopez.

His look tells me to be quiet and go with the flow. I nod my head slightly, indicating that I understand. Jake has already pulled Tameka to her feet. I can’t help but grin when I see her bloodied nose. Damn bitch deserved it.

“What are you two ladies doing in the middle of the day fighting on the sidewalk?” Miguel asks.

Of course, Bitch Face tries to pin it on me. “I was walking along, minding my own business, when this cunt attacked me,” Tameka lies.

I roll my eyes over at her and flip her off.

Miguel studies each of us and zeroes his gaze in on her backpack.

“What’s in the backpacks?” Miguel asks, nodding his head to each of us.

This time, the bitch has the brains to shut the fuck up. She looks terrified.

“Nothing,” I tell him convincingly.

He shakes his head at me. “I’m going to need the both of you to remove your backpacks and set them down in front of you. Thread your fingers together and place them on top of your head,” Miguel instructs.

We both do as we’re told, and Tameka nervously keeps eyeing her backpack. Miguel keeps his attention trained on us while Jake, with a stupid fucking smirk on his face, kneels down in front of them. He goes through mine first and immediately locates my daily supply of cocaine.