“Or having me as a bit on the side while he gets on with his real life,” I thought, wondering whether privacy really did go with the territory.
That was why I had been so thrilled when he’d suggested that I come into the police station with him at 2 AM. “You’re actually going to introduce me to your work colleagues?” I asked, wondering who would be around at such an unearthly hour. “You’re not just going to leave me sitting in the car again?”
“No. I’m definitely taking you in this time,” Mick said, with a guilty shrug. “And don’t worry, this is our busiest time. All the guys will be around.” I turned away, looking out into the night through the passenger window, trying to hide the smile on my face as I thought about engagement rings and parties and weddings.
This could be the start of all that – such a contrast to the night which had been spent fending off questions about my “imaginary” boyfriend. He’d abandoned me again – leaving me alone at Laura’s 30 th … and that after I’d put so much effort into my outfit.
For him.
So that he’d be proud of me.
The cold feeling of abandonment had been partially washed away by the texted offer to pick me up.
Meeting Mick’s colleagues went beyond an apology: it was renewed hope that what we had was real.
“Are you sure I’m OK to go into a Police Station dressed like this?” I asked, wrapping Mick’s beloved black trench coat tightly around my body.
“Of course,” Mick insisted. “And don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll love you just as much as I do.”
“What? What did you just say?” My head was in a whirl.
First he was bringing me in to see his colleagues and now… now he’d used the ‘L’ word. The ‘L’ bomb.
I came to a determined stop as he reached for the front door of the station. “What did you just say?”
He gave me that guilty shrug again, steadied himself and then… “I said I love you.”
“Oh.” I swallowed, feeling giddy.
Mick steadied me.
There was a metallic ‘click’ behind me and I suddenly found that I no longer had free movement of my arms.
“What…?” With practised ease, Mick bundled me through the heavy double doors and guided me by the elbow to the reception desk.
Handcuffed and in a cop-shop? I looked to Mick for an explanation and immediately noted the wicked glint in his eye.
“You fucking…”
“Now, now. Be nice. You don’t want to get into any more trouble than you’re already in,” Mick said.
I stared at him.
He stared back with an utterly stony expression.
“But I’m not in any trouble,” I hissed.
Mick smirked. He definitely smirked.
“Can you check this one in for me, Sarge – soliciting. I’ve just got some enquiries to follow-up.” And Mick left me there.
The bastard – the man who supposedly loved me – just left me. Having punched a code into a keypad, he slipped through into a back office without so much as a backward glance in my direction, leaving me handcuffed and utterly bewildered.
My mind was in a whirl. What kind of utter wanker was I dating?
“Name?” The Sargent asked, doing nothing to hide the distain and tired boredom.
“Why do you need my name?”
“First time is it love? It’s just procedure. Filling in the forms.”
I laughed. “What is it you think I’ve done?” The desk sergeant looked me up and down. With my hands cuffed behind my back, Mick’s trench coat was hanging open, revealing my night’s carefully-chosen attire.
“Soliciting: to loiter or solicit in a street or public place for the purpose of prostitution.” As the words were read out, I looked up from the four-inch spikes of my heels, to my fishnet-clad legs, over my tiny black skirt and across the escaping flesh of my cleavage.
Oh right.
Why wouldn’t he think I was a prostitute?
I went scarlet and quickly scanned the line of faces in the little waiting room behind me. Thankfully, I didn’t know any of them and besides a leery teenage boy ogling my body, no-one was paying me any attention.
I decided that it’d be in my best interests to do as I was told and not kick-up a fuss; to rely on Mick to come good. I thought about giving a false name and address but changed my mind; lying to the police would surely only make matters more complicated than they already were.
The form was coming to an end and I began to wonder what would happen next. Would I be carted off to a cell for the night?
I shivered. Would I have to… spend the night with a real criminal? All I’d wanted to do was spend the night with my bastard of a boyfriend.
Mick. His reappearance at that moment wouldn’t have been more welcome if he’d been wearing recently-polished armour and riding a mighty steed. Bastard he might be, but he was the only one who could get me out of this situation.
“Thank God,” I muttered, under my breath.
“Sorry? What was that?” the Sargent asked, leaning forward.
“It’s alright Sarge, her story checks out: it was just a fancy-dress party.” Mick reached across the desk and, to the Sargent’s obvious disgust, scrunched-up my paperwork.
I sagged with relief as Mick undid my cuffs. He’d only been away for a few minutes but it felt like a lifetime since I’d seen him. “I’ll just take her through to the back and give her a bit of advice.”
The door behind us closed and Mick turned the lights on. “You bastard. You utter, utter bastard,” I hissed angrily, thrusting a dangerously-pointed red nail into Mick’s chest.
“What’s the problem?” he asked, with a cheeky smirk. “You said you wanted to meet my colleagues and see where I worked,”
“Not as a fucking suspect!” This time I poked his tie against his chest, pushing him further into the office. My admiration for the brilliant set-up meant I wasn’t entirely angry with him but I gave him the silent treatment as I walked round to the far side of the desk.
“So, what do you think of my office?” I looked around, seeing it properly for the first time.
“No you didn’t.” His lips were brushing my neck, his nose in my hair breathing in my scent as he pulled me back against his body. I could clearly feel the outline of his cock against my lower back. Big, hard and throbbing with urgent need.
“Perhaps it’d be easier to show you?” We turned together and my skirt disappeared around my waist as I perched on his desk and used my thighs to pull him in against me. “And I thought you were such a good girl.” Mick sighed as he teased my cheek with his lips.
“Oh, I’m good,” I replied, easing my hand inside the front of his trousers. “I’m really, really good.” Mick gave a little whimper as I squeezed his cock much harder than I usually did. “How much have you got in your wallet?”
“How much do I need?” Mick asked, trying to push his way between my legs.
“Twenty five for a hand job. Fifty for a blowjob and a ton for a fuck.”
“That’s steep,” Mick said, crushing my tits in his hands.
“You could have had it for free,” I said, twisting myself free of his grip, “if you hadn’t threatened to throw me in the nick. But as it is, you need to flash the cash if you want access to my gash.”
“You want me to pay you a hundred pounds?”
“Believe me, I’m worth it.” I bucked my hips while running my hand down the curve of Mick’s cock. He moaned softly with pleasure as my fingers ran over the bulge of his glans.
“OK. Take it. Take it all,” Mick said, taking his wallet from his back pocket and dropping it on his desk where I could reach it. A pained groan sounded in his chest as he tried to pull me onto his cock.
“Uh-uh,” I scalded, locking myself in position with my bare thighs as I pulled out five twenty pound notes, folded them and tucked them into the cup of my bra. “That,” I said, tapping the hidden money, “gives you access to this.” I spread my legs and instantly pulled my panties across to expose my prostituted-pussy, hoping to hide the dark patch revealing just how excited the scenario had made me.
I was no longer interested in meeting Mick’s work colleagues; in my head, I was the prostitute Mick had made me out to be. As Mick struggled with his belt and zipper, I rubbed my fingertips over my crotch, the sharpness of my stubble reminding me of the manly feel of Mick’s jaw as I left a tingling trail across my skin. A growl of pleasure rumbled in Mick’s chest as he saw me touching myself, and a sexual thrill penetrated directly into my core as I pushed my fingers down into my slippery slit. Easing my labia apart was torture; the fluttering pleasure of desperately sensitive flesh combined with the cooling effect of exposing that same flesh to the draft of the office’s air conditioning.
I was hot and cold and couldn’t wait for his touch. Writhing helplessly, I gave in to temptation and simply rubbed.
Suddenly, I was on my front with my breasts squashed against the desk. “Don’t move,” Mick hissed, holding me in place with a strong hand on my neck. “Give me your hands.” I thought about being a smart ass, as ‘not moving’ contradicted the instruction to ‘give me your hands’. However, I was distracted by Mick’s cock bashing against the insides of my thighs just an inch below my hungry, gaping snatch.
I gasped as he handcuffed me again.
Not being able to see what he was doing was torture. Why wasn’t he simply jabbing his cock into the place where it belonged. Subtly bending my spine, I thrust my bottom up while easing my feet apart.
All I could do was wait.
A puff of breath against my bum was the only warning of what was to come. “Mick-“
He buried his face into the gap below my obscene skirt. His nose pressed in against my anus as his tongue made wriggling progress into the opening of my vagina, ignoring the needs of my tingling clitoris. The sensations were heady even before Mick moved his concentrated efforts down.
“What are you…” The tingling changed into sexual pressure. “Oh God. What are you doing to me?” I tried to close my legs against the pleasure but found Mick’s shoulders holding my thighs apart. With my hands cuffed, there was no way to stop him. “Please, Mick. Stop it. Don’t make me…”
It was too late.
I became mindless as the tip of Mick’s tongue circled my exposed clitoris; my handcuffed body writhing like a stranded eel across the slippery surface of Mick’s desk. I became a prisoner of pleasure as Mick’s merciless tongue dragged maddening waves of joy from my clitoris.
I came hard that first time but it wasn’t enough and we both knew it.
Mick’s tongue kept going, forcing another orgasm out of me… and another, and still he didn’t stop; he didn’t stop until he felt me slump bonelessly onto the desk.
“And now it’s time to earn your hundred.” I sensed Mick standing up behind me and prepared myself for his cock.
There was no way to prepare for that type of penetration; the way he roughly drove the head of his cock right up against my cervix sent ripples of delight and satisfaction through my every fibre.
He stayed fully inside me and the sensations grew more and more heated.
Satisfaction turned to frustration. “Please, Mick,” I begged, wriggling my fingers in encouragement then pushing myself back against him when he didn’t respond. “Fuck me.”
A single thrust of Mick’s pelvis drove a wave of pleasure through my body. The next thrust was powerful enough to shunt Mick’s desk forward – with me firmly attached. “You’re going to make me come, you little tramp.” I groaned at the dirty name – the first time Mick had called me names. “Seeing you dressed like this.” Shunt. “Behaving like this.” Shunt. “Sprawled across my desk.” Shunt. “Leaking pussy juice.” Shunt. “Everywhere.” Shunt. “I love it.”
“I am a little tramp,” I said, preparing to unlock the furnace door to Mick’s orgasm. “Your little tramp.” Mick groaned an indecipherable curse as he managed a half-thrust before his complete capitulation. Delicious, aching heat spread out from my groin as my pussy gathered the spunk from Mick’s spasming cock.
Apart from his cock, Mick seemed paralysed; the weight of him still pressing my hips into his desk. “That,” he groaned eventually. “Was amazing.”
Mmmm. It really was.
“You know these handcuffs?” I said, wriggling my fingers for attention.
“Yes?”
“Are you allowed to bring them home… you know… to play with?”
“Are you going to wear that outfit again?” I nodded. “In that case, I’ll definitely need my ‘cuffs.”
