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Saturday, July 18, 2009

Speed Zone by J. S. Nichols

Swirling blue and red lights reflected in her rearview mirror. Lisa stopped her beige sedan on the side of the road. She pulled out her license and registration then waited. The warm August breeze, heavy with the scent of lilacs, blew through her open window.

Boots crunched over the gravel then stopped beside her car. A light swept first through her back seat, traveled up her body then landed on her face.

“Hello Lisa,” Jake said, a predatory smile curling his lips. “Remember what I said would happen if I caught you speeding in my jurisdiction again?”

He opened the car door, reached across her lap and unbuckled her seatbelt. Along the deserted, darkened back road of rural route 632, she knew the likelihood of another car passing was slim to none; especially at this hour. Her body tingled.

“Jake, can’t we talk about this?” she asked, exiting the car. “I’m sorry, but it’s nearly midnight and the sitter’ll charge me double if I’m late.”

“It’s Sheriff Winters. You should have thought about that, before you decided to do eighty in a fifty-five.”

He spun her around and spread her hands wide on the side of her car. Lightly, he kicked her feet as far apart as her pencil skirt would allow.

“Is this really necessary?” she asked. Her breath caught.

Strong, lightly calloused hands frisked up and down her spine. His touch was gentle, light and very, very personal. Jolts of awareness rocketed from her toes to her core.

“Turn around, Lisa.”

She obeyed. Her breaths went shallow. His sinful fingers blazed a trail down her stomach as he continued to search her. The heat of him burned through her thin shirt. He knelt, sliding his hands down one leg then slowly up the other.

Lordy, but he was handsome, even when he wasn’t smiling. There was something about a man in uniform. Jake Winters was the epitome of sexy; a face straight out of a commercial, wide shoulders, narrow waist, and a trim taut backside. His sheriff’s hat hid his blond hair and shaded his storm-gray eyes.

“This time, it’s reckless driving,” he said briskly. “That’s worth a night in jail.”

“My speedometer’s broken,” she lied. He chuckled and she knew she’d been caught. “Okay, it’s not. But come on, Jake. Can’t you give me break?”

He answered by cuffing first her right wrist behind her back and then her left.

Headlights peered from atop the hill in the distance. What were the odds?

“Please,” she begged, her cheeks heating. “I’ll do anything, but don’t let anyone see me like this.”

His breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “Anything?”

Jake hurried her past the front of his cruiser, pausing only long enough to douse the lights. Cloaked in darkness, he ducked them both down behind the side of the car. His body wrapped around hers, shielding her from view, while they waited for the other car to pass.

Hauled to her feet, she heard the click of the lock springing free. The cuffs were off. His sensual hands covered hers as he planted them wide against the hood of his cruiser.

“Do you mean it?” he asked, his erection bulging at the seam of his pants and jutting against her back. “You’ll do anything?”

“Yes.”

What else could she say? She’d wanted him since the first time she’d seen him. How many times had she risked a speeding ticket on the off chance he’d catch her? He promised retribution if she broke the law. And Jake always kept his promises.

He slid her skirt to her waist. He unzipped his pants sending her heart rate soaring. They were really about to live out her fantasy.

“No panties?” he groaned in admiration.

Before she could reply he touched her, rolling and pinching her clit lightly between his fingers. Electric currents rippled through her. Her hips bucked.

“Laundry day,” she gasped, vaguely aware he’d laughed at another of her fibs. Steadily, he stroked her into a frenzy of exposed nerve endings.

“Really? Lucky me.” He guided his enormous erection inside her, while keeping her on an orgasmic cliff. “So wet. I should have done this to you long ago.”

She wanted to answer him, but her world had narrowed down to moans of bliss. He slid in and out of her at a deliciously increasing pace, yet he never neglected to caress her clit. His erotic touch kept her on the edge of climax, until release became a burning need. Clutching the hood of the car, she parried to meet his thrusts. Rising onto her tiptoes she half-demanded, half-begged, “More.”

Jake groaned her name then answered by gripping her hip and driving harder, faster, deeper.

Lisa’s breath dwindled down to sips of air when he pulled his hand away from her clit. He touched her again and his fingers were slick. He’d licked them. The cool sensation of his wet fingers followed by something cold and metallic against her sent her spiraling. Ecstasy pulsed through her.

He pounded into her, his fingers digging into her hip so hard it should it have hurt. Then he strained, grunting in satisfaction before tenderly kissing the side of her neck.

Panting for breath, she stretched across the hood of the cruiser. Languid and replete, she could only tremble as he dragged the metal up her body then pressed it into her hand.

A motel key.

“I called the sitter,” Jake said, sliding out of her. “She’s agreed to stay all night. Let’s go. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Will this keep me out of jail?” she teased as he straightened her skirt.

He pulled up his pants and spun her around, crushing his mouth to hers. He tasted like warm cinnamon. Potent and sexy. Her heart beat wildly. She wanted him again.

Sixteen years and he could still get her wet with a kiss.

“You won’t go to jail, Mrs. Winters,” he said, laughing. “But tonight, you’re my prisoner.”

About the author: J.S. Nichols spends her days teaching life saving skills and her nights dreaming up sexy heroes she'd like to come to her rescue. For more stories visit her website at http://jsnichols.net

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