Off Duty Read online

  Off Duty

  Gia Blue

  September 2011

  Published by i heart Smut. Copyright, Gia Blue. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  Gia Blue

  http://giablue.com

  Email

  [email protected]

  Editor

  Marisa Chenery

  Cover Artist

  Gia Blue

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Off Duty

  I’ve always had a thing for my stepbrother, Drew. Like a serious “fuck me all night long” sort of thing. And I don’t care if that makes me a slut. We didn’t grow up together. Far from it. His dad married my mom a couple of years after my father died. But even though I knew there was a son…a police detective, no less…I didn’t actually meet Drew until the wedding.

  Two years later, I’m still in lust. Tall and broad-shouldered with piercing blue eyes and close-cropped black hair, Drew should be the poster boy for the police. Then again, it’s a good thing he isn’t, since they’d have a shit-ton of women trying to join the force.

  He’s a little younger than me, but our lives couldn’t have been any different. While I’d gone to college to study business, Drew had gone into the Army. Some sort of elite commando deal. Sitting in my car outside my mom’s house, my pussy is aching, all wanting. I press my thighs together at the thought of all that yummy-ness poured into a uniform turning me on.

  Seriously.

  If I were anywhere else, like home, I’d run for my bedroom and the drawer of my bedside table. Hello B.O.B., my battery operated boyfriend. I’m single and have totally gotten used to my toys. But in my fantasies, it’s Drew all the way. From every angle and in every hole.

  Rawr.

  Unfortunately, I’m not home. To make it worse, I can’t even get to a place to give me privacy, so I can slip a hand into my panties. I always pretend it’s Drew’s between my legs when I rub one out. Thrusting in and o—

  Fuck, I need to get myself together. I check my watch and realize it’s almost seven and my mom always freaks if I’m late. Ever. It’s as if God decided to make her some sort of eternal timekeeper or something. Doesn’t matter I’m almost thirty…Then me being late somehow translates into the whole “pitter-patter of tiny feet” speech. How they connect, I’ll never know. She’s just…weird. And I’m totally not interested in kids. Practicing? Yes. Dealing with shitty diapers and midnight feeds? I don’t think so.

  I slide out of the car, push the tiny button on the remote and then head down the front path. Evening meal with the parents. Joy.

  *

  Three hours later, and I’m just this side of shitfaced and horny as fuck. I’m pretty sure the meal had been delicious. I hadn’t eaten more than a couple of mouthfuls, and hell if I knew what it’d even been. If I’m honest, I drank my dinner.

  Drew had shown up just as we’d settled into dinner, which forced us all to shuffle seats to make room. Coincidentally, his arrival signaled the disappearance of my appetite, ability to think, and I sure as hell couldn’t breathe. Because, of course, Mom had to plop him into the chair next to me.

  He looked good enough to fuck six ways to Sunday. Still dressed in his work clothes, his suit fit his broad-shouldered frame perfectly. When he’d slipped his jacket off to hang it on the back of his chair, I had to bite back a moan. His shirt pulled across the hard muscles of his chest and the fabric of his pants simply molded to his thighs. Fuck me, but he had nice thighs. God, he had to be a marvelous fuck with all that power.

  I wanted him. Hard core. Seriously. Hell, I’d had to give up on eating and only concentrate on my wineglass just to keep from grabbing his package to see if he were as real I as imagined. Sure, I might be pretty slutastic, I’ve never shied away from pleasure, but Drew had never looked at me as if he wanted to lick me all over. Plus, I really don’t feel like being featured as an epic fail.

  Exhausted, I stumble toward my car, fight with the remote to get it unlocked. Damn buttons got smaller while I was inside. Ugh. I finally get the door yanked open and then flop into the driver’s seat. “Fuck!”

  I’m too drunk to drive home thanks to Mr. I’m-too-sexy-for-my-badge back inside. My body is humming like a live wire, pussy primed and ready to go. The smart thing to do would be to go back inside and sleep it off. So not going to happen.

  “Jamie?” The smoky, male voice poured over my like warm honey. Honey, yeah, honey covered sex with Drew. That sounds nice. And it was pretty close to the one I hear in my dirty fantasies. Usually it said things like “fuck, you’re tight” or “I’m gonna fuck you all night.” And that was the clean stuff. Sometimes he got really naughty and…

  “Ms. Jamieson?” This time the sexy quality was gone and it held an annoyed edge. Bad voice. Bad. Then, of course, the normal snort bubbled up when I thought of my full name. Jamie Jamieson. I think my parents were way too into the seventies when I was conceived.

  “Ms. Jamieson, I’m going to have to ask you to get out of the car now.”

  A shiver races down my spine, the command touching me in all the right places. I rest my head against the headrest. I like these types of fantasies. When Drew gets all growly and takes control, making me do whatever his dirty mind imagined. And man, he was always punishing me for being such a naughty girl.

  “Ms. Jamieson, you’re under arrest.”

  A tap on my arm makes me squeak and nearly jump out of my skin. My knee jerks and I slam it into the steering column, shards of pain shoot along my leg and all thoughts of hot, sweaty sex are banished like they never existed.

  For all of two seconds.

  Cause standing over me, hand braced on the roof of my car, is the star of my smutastic dreams. In the flesh and all scrumptious. Still.

  Drew’s expression is serious as his gaze travels over me from head to foot and back again, something dark brewing in his eyes. That smoky look vanishes and is replaced with concern.

  “Are you okay?”

  I glare at him. “Yeah, fan-fucking-tastic. Thanks.” I rub my abused knee. Part of me wants to apologize for being so snarky, but my bad side wants to snag him and drag him into the car for some hot, sweaty backseat fun as soon as my knee quits aching. “I’d be better without some perv creeping around in the dark, scaring the fuck out of me.” Asshole. Sexy asshole, but, whatever.

  As if a mask dropped over his features, his face set. “Would you step out of the vehicle please, Ms. Jamieson.”

  I gape at him, mouth hanging open and try to ignore my hard-as-a-rock nipples rubbing against the inside of my satin and lace bra. Or the fact that I’m wet as fuck and he hasn’t even touched me.

  “Out. Now.”

  He sounded like he was losing his patience. So, of course, I took my merry time. Lots of alcohol and that split second peek of something in his eyes is enough to make me lose what few inhibitions I’ve got left. Plus, he’s got handcuffs, and I’ve had so many naughty fantasies about them.

  “Ooh, commanding.” I arch my back and swivel in the seat, extending one leg from the car, accentuating the movement so the hem of my skirt rides up on my thigh. Just high enough to reveal the edge of my thigh-high stockings. They’re trimmed in delicate lace and cost me an arm and a leg. Just because I’m slutty doesn’t mean I have to be trashy.

  “Are you going to cuff me, Officer Jones?” I do my best to purr the words, get all breathy and seductive.

  I slip my second alongside the first, ankles together just as my mother taught me, and I make sure he gets a good look at my cleavage as I slide out of the car.

  “Detective,” he bit out. “And I’m afraid so, Ms. Jamieson. You are drunk while in charge of a vehicle and I can’t let that pass. Not even for family.”

  Damn. A quick glance at his face proves he’s not moved by my little act and exposure of skin. A fact further proved when he gestures for me to hold out my hands. I do as he asks, cringing on the inside when the cool metal wraps around my wrists. Great, I’m being arrested by my hot-as-hell, dickhead stepbrother. I’d kick him if I were sure I wouldn’t get into even more trouble.

  “In the car.”

  Purse hanging from one of his hands, he uses the other to lock my car and then guides me down the path, nudging me along with his palm pressed against my lower back. It’s almost as if I can feel his heat through the fabric of my dress and I’m actually jealous of the material. Within moments, I’m settled in the passenger seat of his car and we’re headed down the road.

  “You’re an ass. You know that, right?” I’m trying my best to sound bored, but panic is quickly clawing its way up my spine. Am I really going to get booked for drunk driving? Seriously? I hadn’t even started the freakin’ car. “Don’t you think you’ve taken this game far enough?”

  He slides me a sideways glance, most of his face in shadow, so I can only see the set of his jaw. His entirely lickable jaw…with a lovely, tiny muscle pulsing near his ear. Huh. Is that anger over arresting his stepsister? Hell, if he’s pissed about that, he’d be furious over my lovely little fantasies involving him, his handcuffs and car.

  I lick my lips. Straightlaced, morally upright cop and I’d love to fuck him. All night. On the hood of his sexy, alpha-man, police-issue car.

  “Who said we’re playing a game? Now quit that, or I won’t be responsible for my actions,” he growls and turns his attention back to the road and guns the engine.

  We take the corner, the engine roaring and tires squealing in protest. I arch a brow and watch him from under my lashes, probably looking like sex incarnate.

  “Bit fast there, aren’t we, Officer Jones? Might want to be careful. Can’t have Mr. Uptight and Righteous getting pulled over for speeding, now can we?” I cross my legs, dress riding up, and I see his attention flick to them for a moment.

  He mutters something under his breath and swings the car into a driveway. A punch of a button on the remote and the garage doors slide open, the car barely missing the metal.

  “Hey.” I uncross my legs, sit up a little straighter and look around. “What’s going on? Where are we?”

  Drew doesn’t spare me a glance as he vaults from the car, a sexy swagger instead of his normal stiff gate. He rounds the hood, moving toward me with an intensity I’ve never seen. When he gets to my side, he wrenches open the door.

  “Out.”

  I do as I’m told. This is a bit outside of my comfort zone. But I obviously didn’t move as fast as I was told. Halfway through exiting the car—top of my thigh-high once again revealed—he grabs the chain holding the cuffs together and hauls me upright.

  “Enough of the games. I’m not buying them.”

  Well, crap. The overhead light shining on us reveals his thunderous expression, and now I realize I might have pushed this a tiny bit too far. Okay, maybe more than a tiny bit. Fuckity fuck. How the hell am I going to talk my way out of this?

  Except his look suddenly changes, the hardness morphing to something predatory, his eyes heating enough to scorch the skin from my body. Within that moment, my pussy grows heavy in my panties, cunt aching to be filled and fucked. By him.

  “Unless, of course, they’re my games.” I lick my lips, liking where this might be going, and I don’t resist as he pulls me around the car to the hood, presses my front against the still warm metal. “I think I’d better frisk you. You might be packing a weapon.”

  His voice is deep and seductive as he whispers in my ear, the lean, hard muscles of his chest pressed against my back. His body heat scorches through the fabric of my dress, and I squirm against him, love feeling the hard ridge of his cock settled against my ass. A hand on the back of my neck holds me still when his weight leaves me, the other strokes my ass, cups and kneads my flesh, before traveling down to the hem of my dress.

  “I’m sure I saw something here when you were getting out of the car.”

  He slides his fingers along my outer thigh until he strokes the lace of my thigh-high, toying with the edge, skimming the exposed skin just above the hem and sending a shiver of arousal down my spine. Any impression of the “good, moral cop” disappears while he continues flirting with it, easing my dress higher before he slides toward my inner thigh. My clit is aching, throbbing in time with my heartbeat, and I feel myself grow wetter, lower lips plumping and practically begging for his touch. My body is preparing for a long, fast fuck. Hardcore and any way he wants. Anything he wants, I’m game.

  I bit my lip, try not to whimper, as his fingers draw closer to my cunt, clit just demanding his touch, stroke, something.

  “I thought so, definitely packing something here.”

  He shoves my skirt over the curve of my ass to gather around my waist, revealing the stocking and garters I’d donned before I left the house tonight. I loathe and detest pantyhose. They’re passion-killers and a modern day torture device. Lingerie makes me feel sexy, attractive, like a seductress.

  Drew slides a finger beneath one of the suspenders, tugs until it releases and it snaps against my flesh. I flinch, then moan as the tiny sting goes straight to my needy pussy.

  “You like it rough. Good.”

  I melt. Fuck, yeah, I like it rough. I’m not into the full BDSM scene, but I like being tied up and an occasional slap on my ass. Especially when I’m stuffed with a fat, thick cock. I shove my hips back, inviting more. I figure I’m either dreaming or dead, and I’m not going to waste a second. It’s hard to believe Mr. Goody-two-shoes has his hand on the back of my neck, holding me still while the other explores the curve of my ass.

  “Perfect. You’re just fucking perfect,” he mutters while he slips a finger beneath the thin strap of my thong, tugging the material, stroking my sensitized nerves with the pull of fabric.

  That digit slides around from my ass toward my cunt, lifting the material from my crease and exposing the delicate flesh to the cool air of the garage.

  “Hmm, these are too concealing. They’ve got to go.” The sentence was barely finished before he rips the thin lace from my body. I squeak in protest, then groan as broad fingers stroke the moist slit of my pussy. I bite my lip again as a rush of liquid heat slips from me. I’m so fucking wet, so ready, and I’m sure my cream is coating my upper thighs, telling him just how turned-on I am.

  “Very hot. So fucking wet. What else are you hiding...How about up here?” His hand leaves the back of my neck to wrap around me, snake to the top of my dress. He hooks his fingers along the neck and yanks. Buttons pop and ping against the metal hood beneath me. Before I can complain about tearing my clothes, he has the front clasp of my bra undone, my ample breasts spilling from the confines of the lace.

  I whimper as my hardened nipples rub against the still warm hood. Fuck, I want it. Want him. Hard and deep and as rough as he wants to be. There’s just something about being spread over a car and unable to do anything about it, having a man pressing against me and ready to take what he wants. I wriggle, shove back against his thick cock, grow even more excited at the hardness just waiting for me.

  A fresh wave of heat washes through me. Fuck, he’s huge. Bigger than my biggest vibe and I can’t wait to be stuffed full of him. All of my toys are on the big side and I can take them all after a nice, hot bath and plenty of lube. But I’ve never had a real dick that thick. I can’t fucking wait.

  “Behave. Or else.” He growls the order and slaps my ass, a sharp swat against one exposed cheek. I jump, the skin stinging for a moment before a delicious, slow burn slithers through me and settles deep in my cunt. Fuck. Yeah.

  I rock my hips as his large hand soothes the little hurt. Despite the fact I’m cuffed and spread over the hood of his car, at his mercy, I can’t keep my mouth shut. “Or else what?”

  A large foot nudges my feet apart, lower lips chilling in the cool air, and I shudder as goose bumps wash over every inch of my skin. His hand on my chest leaves me, both hands moving to cup the round globes of my ass, exposing my wet pussy. I hear, rather than feel, him move behind me, and a deep rumble of approval wafts to me.

  “Or else…this.”

  A single digit rubs and presses against the puckered rose of my asshole, massaging in circular motions. I push back against him, aching for more, begging without words. I want something in my ass, my cunt…something. I moan, unable to hold back any longer. He keeps his touch steady, my pussy aching and clenching. I close my eyes and can imagine his dick buried deep in my ass. Fuck. Me. Now. Yesterday…all fucking day.

  Breathless, I answer him. “Gotta say it, bud. But if that’s all you got as a threat, bring it on.”

  Damn, I don’t know how he moves, but I’ve got a digit entering my asshole and fingers pressing against my mound now, splitting my slit and sliding through my cream.