Resisting (Dirty Cops #1)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Ryker

G oddamn, I want to storm over there, pull that brazen girl straight from her car, and bend her over the hood. I’ll yank down those skintight jeans she’s got covering up those sexy-as-fuck legs and give her an attitude adjustment with the palm of my hand. Teach her how to show some damn respect. More importantly, that she can’t go around mouthing off to strangers. With that sinful body she’s got and a face made to bring men to their knees, she’s liable to find herself in a bad situation.

Even the thoughts running through my head are as low as the criminals I lock away. She’s eight-fucking-teen. Young enough to be my daughter. And yet, my dick isn’t getting the memo. He’s straining so hard my balls feel like they’re being held up in a noose. Damn, she’s a fucking knockout. But she’s a kid. And not only that, she’s the kid of the woman whose bed I was in last night. Whether I have feelings for Rhonda or not, doesn’t change the fact that I fucked her. Loud enough for her daughter to hear apparently. Fuck !

Why the hell didn’t Rhonda mention having a kid? I’ve been up at that bar every Wednesday for the last three months, and not once has she ever even hinted to being a mom. But maybe that’s because she wanted to keep that part of her life private. Most of the men that frequent that bar are drunks, so it’s probably a good idea for her to keep her personal life close. She probably only let me into her home because I’m a cop and she knew she could trust me. But here I am, fantasizing about the young girl, wanting to spank that little cunt of hers with the crown of my cock while I’m spanking that tight ass with my twitching palm.

Shit!

The guilt creeping up my neck has me dropping my arms and stalking over to my bike. I’m forfeiting this round on account of being completely twisted in both of my fucking heads. I throw my leg over my bike then walk it out of the spot. As soon as I’ve cleared the way, the little smoke show pulls out and drives off without even a backward glance in my direction. Damn. I wonder whether she really would’ve run my bike over. And—I wonder what I would’ve done if she had.

The ideas coming to mind have me marching back inside the trailer in search of all my shit. It’s time to get out of here before my mental state sinks even lower into the fucking gutter. I shouldn’t have even been here in the first place. But one too many beers and one too many months in a sexual drought had my dick soaking up Rhonda’s attention and had me going against my better judgement.

She snuck her hand into my pants as I was giving her a ride home from work and I couldn’t fucking stop myself from erupting. Then not wanting to be an ass and hightail it out of here right after she’d worked me out, I came in for a drink which turned into another as we got to talking. And when she dropped to her knees and took me into her mouth, all of my manners and morals went right out the fucking window and I fucked her for hours. Not only making up for lost time, but my trigger was numbed from the alcohol and it took me longer to get off. She’s also not the best lay I’ve had so I had to mentally improvise, but my brain was a little fogged up.

Her trigger, on the other hand, was working just fine. In fact, it seemed to be working on overdrive. She kept going off. One orgasm after another. And damn, she’s a screamer. That daughter of hers got to hear every word as she laid on the other side of the flimsy wall. Fuck me. Regret is hitting harder than this hangover I’m sporting.

I slip my shirt over my head and go in hunt for my boots, tiptoeing my way into Rhonda’s room. Trying to be as quiet as a shadow so I don’t have to deal with the awkward aftermath. Kind of sucks ‘cause now I’m gonna have to find myself a new place to wind down after those grueling days at work. Then again, maybe I should skip alcohol all together so I don’t make another shit decision.

Rhonda shifts on the bed, mumbling something as she turns toward me. My shoulders stiffen, my entire frame locking in place. I’m praying I haven’t woken her. Thankfully, her eyes remain closed, and seconds later, her snoring picks up again. She’s still out cold. Based on the amount of alcohol she drank last night, I’m not surprised. The woman can drink me under the table. Hands down. She was drinking straight up whiskey while I was drinking beer.

Have to say, now that the beer goggles have cleared, there isn’t an ounce of attraction running through my veins. Could also be because her cheeks are stained with streaks of black mascara and her lips are smeared with red lipstick, making her look like a clown. And without the dim lighting of the bar and the darkness shrouding us, her teeth are showing the years of cigarette stains, along with the wrinkles around her mouth. She’s only forty-two, but in the light of day and without all the makeup firmly caked in place, she definitely looks older. Not that I’ve ever been one to judge a person on looks, but my dick definitely isn’t stirring in her direction.

However, he shot right up when little miss wild thing ran those gorgeous green eyes of hers all over my body. And when that cute little tongue started licking across her plump bottom lip, my cock drooled in my jeans. The attraction, though seriously inappropriate on all levels, was heavy hitting. And it was definitely fucking mutual.

Rowan’s nipples didn’t rise to the morning sun or any cool air in the room since this place is like a furnace; they perked up when they got to the dark patch of hair I’ve got running from navel to groin. Those eyelids of hers growing heavy. And had she lingered on the spot between my thighs any longer, I would’ve unzipped and given her a peek at what I have hidden inside my jeans. I would’ve shown her exactly what that incredible body of hers was doing to me.

Another snoring sigh from Rhonda has me picking up my boots and moving to the door before I’m having to come up with a sorry-ass excuse for why I’m not interested in seeing her again. This is another reason why I’ve never been into one-night stands before—the day after is fucking awkward. I feel like an ass doing the walk of shame but I’ll send her a text later and place the blame on work.

With both boots in hand, I sneak out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind me as I go. I’m about to make my way outside when the closed door to my right catches my attention and has me stopping. Last night, I’d assumed it was a closet or a bathroom, but it must be Rowan’s room.

My curiosity fights to get the better of me, but I refuse to invade the young girl’s privacy. Plus, I don’t trust myself not to snag a pair of her panties like a sick fucking pervert, so I turn and head out the front door. I’m taking the long way back to my place in hopes that the fresh air will clear my head of all the sinful thoughts rattling through it.