Pressing her right foot to the floor, Chrissie Hansen smiled, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel as anticipation of the night ahead pumped through her body. The speedometer in the Ford swept to eighty-five miles per hour. "Don’t you recognize me, Chrissie Lacy-pants?" He raised his left hand and removed his sunglasses.
"Who the fuck is going to ticket us?" She laughed, gazing in the rear-view mirror. "The next mile is as good as a private road. Right, Cagney?"
Cagney stood in the back seat, wagging her bushy brown tail as she pushed her snout against the grate.
"Besides, could you think of a better reason to speed than possible makeup, or breakup, sex with Bill "the Bull" Geyser?" Chrissie blew out a breath and lowered her foot a bit more… ninety-five miles per hour.
Football season was over and Bill had come home to visit his family. Not that she had wanted to avoid him, but she hadn’t talked to him since their fight three months ago. Bill hadn’t called, and she’d assumed he had made his choice. A choice that did not include her.
It’d hurt to realize that she had simply been a physical distraction for the only lover she’d ever known, but deep down, she’d always known their relationship was temporary. The chemistry was there, but only when they were in bodily contact.
"Years worth of temporary."
In that time, she’d always been there for him when he’d come home, with no questions about where he went or who he did what with while he was on the road. Not one—not until last fall.
"So, sue me," she mumbled to the dog. "It nagged me that our relationship hadn’t evolved. We were together for three years and he never promised me a thing." She checked the side mirror before merging left. "Well, I’m pushing thirty. My biological clock is ticking. And, I don’t think I’m being unreasonable."
A low growl escaped Cagney, who sat smack center in the back seat as if studying the road.
"Whatever." Chrissie raised her shoulders and waved a hand in the air. "It was fun while it lasted. It really was. I couldn’t have asked for a better fuck-buddy than Bill. I mean, how many other men can make you come every time?"
Squeezing her legs together, she squirmed in her seat and wished she’d worn a skirt to work. Three months, almost four, with no sex had her so horny, she was ready to ride her flashlight all the way home.
Throwing her hat into the passenger seat, she shook out her hair and hit the automatic window button to let the spring air rush through her vehicle and soothe her heated body.
"Cagney, don’t ever do what I’ve done. It will make you so wanton that you’ll spread your legs for a man that has no possibility of a future. You’ll be an orgasm junky; hooked from the moment he issues the invitation. You’ll find yourself speeding home to your battery operated boyfriend just to survive the next five hours of waiting until his bulging cock slams your tonsils up the back of your nostrils or his five o’clock shadow chafes your freshly waxed pussy."
The dog let out an objectionable howl, and Chrissie laughed. Well she hadn’t spent sixty bucks on a Brazilian wax to keep it covered with white cotton panties. Red lace was the dress code tonight.
"Oh yeah, Cagney, three months is way too long to wait for some simple, low-down, straight forward sex. It’s not like I’m asking for prince charming to offer me the love of a lifetime. All I want is a good orgasm that I don’t have to work for all by myself. At least with the Bull, I know what to expect. Breakup sex will have to do for now."
A louder growl drew Chrissie’s gaze to her rear-view mirror again. Her trusted German Shephard was standing at attention, signaling danger down the road. Squinting against the afternoon sun, Chrissie could see a figure walking around to the back of a vehicle and lighting a warning flare.
Shit. Her Brazilian touch-up time went up in smoke as the bright pink sparks showered the road.
Sighing, Chrissie feared she’d have to wait another three months for the Bull to come back into town and meet her needs. It wasn’t like Littleville was crawling with gorgeous single men that she didn’t think of as a brother. Bill the Bull was the only safe release she’d ever known.
Turning on her cherries, she activated her dashboard camera, and signaled right. Probably a city slicker who’d missed the fork onto Main Street and hadn’t refueled in the previous town, which just happened to be miles away.
Pulling up behind the fancy Jaguar, Chrissie saw a pair of long muscular legs supporting the tightest ass and broadest shoulders as the figure jacked up the rear of the expensive car.
"Let’s go, Cagney," she said, releasing the dog and stepping out of her vehicle. "Mr. GQ needs rescuing," she whispered under her breath.
He looked over his shoulder, and a toothy grin flashed beneath his designer sunglasses. The line of his jaw was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
"Hello. Need some help?" she asked, stopping short of the motorist. She tugged on Cagney’s leash and signaled for the canine to remain by her side. The dog sat, surprisingly, relaxed and at ease.
"Chrissie?" drawled a dreamy voice. "Officer Chrissie Hansen. Well, I’ll be damned!"
His voice sent shivers down her back, but once again, she couldn’t place it. Taking a deep breath, she shifted her legs and squared her stance. Who was he?
He dropped the jack and stood. In five long strides he was standing before her, grinning and making no secret of the fact that he was checking her out.
Cagney was on all fours and ready to receive her command from her officer. Chrissie signaled for her to stay.
"Your license and registration please," she said, flipping open the lock on her holster.