Good Cop, Bad Cop - Sunday Snog!

Good Cop, Bad Cop was so much fun to write with Natalie. Here is a steamy excerpt from about half way through the book...

I sucked in a breath and frowned. “Get these off,” I said again, this time snapping my wrists apart and straining the cuffs.

“Jose had no right to remove them.” Dillon shrugged. “He broke the rule.”

“What rule?”

“He who cuffs, uncuffs.”

“Oh, for crying out loud. This is just pathetic.” A wave of intense irritation surged through me and I stood from the lounger, adrenaline spurting into my system and requiring me to move. “I insist that you take these off right this instant, and not only that, I insist that you go and radio in that you’ve found me so I can get picked up by the coastguard.”

Dillon stood, his big body generating a shadow that engulfed me. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Damn it, do I really mean that?

“Because,” he said, “I thought you were worried someone on your team is involved in these hate notes and death threats.”

“So what if they are? I would rather cope with that than be here with you.”

“With me?”

“Yes, you!”

“But not Jose. You two are all cozy now. You like being with him.”

I stepped away, moved to the edge of the boat. Looked down at the rippling dark water below. “You have no idea what I do and don’t like.”

“Oh, but I think I do.”

He chuckled and the sound made me want to slap his face so hard it would leave a red handprint on the side of his stubbled cheek.

“I know you like Jose touching your pussy,” Dillon went on, “and that you like it when he fucks you with his hand and makes you shout yes, yes, yes.” He’d put on a silly, high voice for the last few words.

“Oh, grow up, Dillon. What’s the matter with you?” I turned to face him. “Are you jealous of the fact Jose was the one to touch me and not you or...” I purposefully allowed my gaze to drop down his body as though studying him, seeing into him. I lingered on his hair-­coated chest, his ripped abs and the way his orange swim shorts sat low on his hips, exposing the indentation of his oblique muscles. Damn the guy was hot. If only he wasn’t such a number one asshole. “Maybe it’s because you want Jose all to yourself," I said, "is that it, Dillon? Are you two an item and this was meant to be your lover’s break away and I’ve turned two into three and made it a crowd?”

In a single stride he was in front of me, his face creased with anger. “You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.” He gripped my upper arm and held me tight, jerked me to him. “So shut the fuck up.”

I tried to wrench away but jostled both of our stances and bumped my thigh on the tight wire rope that stretched along this outer section of the boat. “Your reaction speaks for itself,” I said. “You have feelings for Jose and you don’t want me to distract him from whatever your intentions are with him.”

“Of course I have feelings for him, the guy has been my partner for the last five years and we’ve been through a pile of shit together.” He lowered his face to mine and the heat of his body radiated onto my chest. I could smell his skin and breath; raw male, fresh sweat and a hint of coffee.

“But,” he said, “those feelings are not what you’re suggesting, got it?”

I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes. Gave a small shrug and made my voice purposefully light. “Whatever you say.”

He grunted and released me at the same time as I yanked my arm away from him. Suddenly my balance was gone and the wire that had been against my leg was no more. My footing was free of the deck. My body light in the air, tipping and spinning.

I was falling toward the water. “Argh,” I cried, alarm racing through me as I looked up at Dillon’s shocked face.

His mouth was parted and his eyes wide. He’d outstretched his arms and splayed his fingers as though trying to catch me.

It was no good.

The sound of my body hitting the ocean was deafening, a sonic boom. Ice-­cold folded around me. My world went dark and the hiss of bubbles eerily replaced the bang. It was so cold, like a thousand bee stings. I kicked out, strained to keep the breath in my lungs and struggled toward the surface. I could see wavy sunlight shining like a distant, fog-­swamped beacon.

But swimming was hard—no, make that impossible. My cuffed wrists hindered my arm movements and injected terror into my soul. Frantically I flailed and thrashed, but the surface seemed to be drifting away rather than closer.

My lungs were screaming for air now. Blackness was seeping into my peripheral vision. I wanted to open my mouth and suck in, hopefully oxygen. Panic welled within me, a panic only associated with not being able to breathe; primeval, instinctual, a basic, undeniable knowledge that soon death would be knocking at the door.

Suddenly a strong surge captured me around my waist and I was thrust upward. My head burst through the surface and out into the air. I gulped wildly, greedily sucking in breaths.

Dillon was holding my back against his chest, secure and strong, kicking for both of us, keeping me afloat.

I spluttered and tried to twist, frantically attempting to latch onto him; if he let me go I knew for definite I would drown.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he said breathlessly into my ear and holding me firm. “Don’t struggle and I’ll get us to the swim-­deck.”

“Oh, God, please, don’t let me go,” I said, blinking water from my eyes and focusing on the boat that was about twenty feet from where we were bobbing.

“I won’t, I promise, but for fuck’s sake quit the squirming.”

“Please, just hurry.” I was still wriggling. I couldn’t help it.

He turned us and began to move toward the boat with powerful kicks and one arm swooping through the water as I stared up at the cloudless sky and prayed he wouldn’t release me.

Finally we reached the solidity of the boat. I hooked my elbows over it, almost ready to kiss the bumpy surface of the metal step. “Oh, my God,” I said, “That was awful.”

Dillon didn’t reply. Instead, he cupped my ass and shoved me onto the hard, hot swim deck.

I landed in a heap, my dress clingy and tight around my body and my panties on display. “Hey,” I said, scrabbling to my feet.

He hauled himself out of the water and stood. The sunlight caught on the drips in his hair and on his body, making him look like a goddamn Roman warrior, all caramel tan, brooding gaze and a few dinks and imperfections from past battles.

“Watch it,” he said, eyeing my chest. “You don’t want to fall in again.”

I tore my gaze from a silvery scar on the right side of his abdomen and glanced down at myself.

Goddamn.

My nipples were like two bullets pressing against the sopping material and the left side of my dress was dislodged, showing more cleavage than normal. Hastily I trapped my arms over my breasts and turned from him. Stepped up onto the main deck and searched for a towel.

There wasn’t one, not anywhere. My eyes began to moisten, but to hell with it, I wouldn’t cry, not in front of Dillon. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“So are going to say thank you to me for saving your life?” he asked breathlessly.

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of that either. “If you think about it, Officer,” I said stiffly and spinning to face him. “If you hadn’t insisted on cuffing me and then pushing me into the ocean I wouldn’t have needed you to save me at all.”

He dropped his mouth open. “I did not push you.”

“You might as well have. You grabbed me and then let me go.”

He stepped closer. “I grabbed you because you were talking shit.”

I stared up into his eyes. They were wild, the icy blue bases deep vats of fury.

So what, I'm furious too.

“But your stupid insistence on cuffing me,” I said, “just about caused me to drown, even you have to admit that. So why the hell should I say thank you? You only did what you had to otherwise you would be a murderer.”

A small muscle twitched in his cheek and he swallowed. He was silent. The tension crackling off him sizzled in the air between us.

“Dillon,” I said eventually, my heart rate increasing rather than settling. Something about the way he was looking at me had turned him from just plain dangerous to downright dangerously sexy.

“I am not a murderer.” His right nostril twitched, pulling his lips and balling his cheek.

“I never said you were. I said you would have been.” Oh God, why did he have to be so damn gorgeous when he was mad? Now my nipples were tight and tingling not just from the cold but our proximity. What the hell was the matter with me? Years without sex and now it was all I could think about, even though I was shaking with anger and had just had a near-­death experience.

Maybe that was why. Perhaps it was some weird reaction to facing my maker.

His gaze dropped from my eyes, down the channel of my neck onto my chest. I could see him inhaling and exhaling rapidly, his breaths matching the pace of mine.

“Dillon?” I whispered.

“You should get out of that wet dress.” He spoke through gritted teeth, moving his lips but not his jaw.

“Yes,” I said, dropping my arms from their protective position over my chest.

“You want some help with that?”

He still looked mad as hell but now he also looked like he wanted to eat me alive or something.

Or something.

“Yes,” I said, “I reckon I do need help.” The cuffs, how could I get undressed with the cuffs still on?

Dillon reached forward, poked his fingers into the top of my dress, either side of my cleavage, and yanked—hard.

A ripping sound accompanied the freeing of my breasts. Cool breeze washed over my skin and my nipples hardened further until they were tight twists. I gasped and steadied my stance on the deck to recover from the abrupt tug.

“Fucking hell, you’re beautiful,” he said on a heavily exhaled breath.

I was exposed but all I could think of was pressing my breasts to his chest, feeling that wiry body hair scratching my flesh and the heat of him penetrating my skin. “Dillon, I—”

My words were cut short when he dipped his head and sucked my left nipple into his hot mouth. I buckled my knees and swayed again, only to find he’d pressed his palm into the small of my back and was holding me steady.

Damn, he was good with his tongue; hot, stiff licks and powerful sucks. My breasts felt so heavy, engorged with blood and greedy for more.

“I want you,” he groaned, switching to the other nipple and treating it to the same wonderful treatment.

“Yes,” I gasped.

He stood, loomed over me again and dragged my body up against his. The solid length of his cock dug into my stomach, rigid, vital and demanding. “And I want to show you that I like women just fine.”

I caught my breath. It was the second time in a day I’d become acquainted with a cock this way. I wasn’t complaining.

What have I become?

“I can tell that you do,” I said breathlessly. “Very much so.”

That cocky smile he’d perfected danced across his face, but only for a second, because then he turned all serious and business-­like.

A shiver of anticipation tapped up my spine.

“You know you’re going to get it good, don’t you?” he said, sliding his hands around the rips in my dress. “Probably better than you’ve ever had it before.”

I swallowed, felt my pussy quiver and a delicious heat pool in my belly. “Okay... good.”

The muscles on his shoulders contracted and once again he ripped at the dress, this time severing it completely in half and breaking the straps. It fell to the floor forgotten, a pathetically tiny piece of soggy material that had once graced a Parisian catwalk.

“Dillon, I—”

He hit his mouth down on mine. Claiming me, owning me with his fervor and passion. I gave as good as I got, met him kiss for kiss, winding my tongue with his wild thrusting one.

He held me close, trapping my arms between our bodies. Squeezed me so tight it was hard to catch my breath. “Oh, God, what are we doing?” I gasped.

“Something that has to be done,” he said, steering me toward the long, padded bench at the stern end of the deck. “And the only thing that can happen if we’re going to stay sane while we’re on this boat.” He urged me down, all the time keeping our bodies closely connected and kissing me hungrily.

I fed off him, absorbed his delicious flavor that was so darkly enticing I wondered if I’d ever get enough of it.

“Like this,” he said gruffly, breaking the kiss and grabbing my wrists. “I want you like this.” He yanked my arms above my head and I heard the sound of metal on metal.

I twisted to see what he was doing.

He’d looped the central part of the cuffs over one of the rope hooks, wedging it in tight so that my arms were held aloft and there was nothing I could do about it.

I tugged and pulled, looked at his face, shadowed by the bimini overhead. The glint in his eyes and the slackness of his jaw told me something new about Dillon, something I really should have guessed—the damn cuffs got him off.

Conniving bastard.

“You have too much on,” he said, looping his fingers into the waistband of my tiny panties and dragging them down.

I bowed my back, arched and wriggled, kicked the panties away. How could I stay mad at him when he looked like a perfect package of sinful delights all raring to go? Jesus, when had I last fucked? I could hardly remember. But what I did remember was I hadn’t felt a hundred shades of excitement just before I was penetrated. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever feeling so high on anticipation over anything, so drugged on the thought of what was coming next.

Oh my. That is coming next!

Dillon had shoved his trunks down and off, allowing his cock to jut free.

I stared at the sheer size of it, the domed head and the thick girth. His slit was already moist as were his jet-­black pubes, still wet and heavy with sea water.

“Dillon, oh my God, you know it’s been a while for me and...”

“Shh.” He nudged my thighs apart and settled over me, his lusty gaze drifting up to my trapped hands. “Just relax and let me work my magic.”

“But.” I stretched my legs wider, allowed the head of his cock to nudge my moist entrance.

“I’m clean, I promise, department health checks and all that, and I won’t come inside you.”

“Oh, but...ah...”

He pushed in, just the head of his cock. I was clean too and I also had birth control covered since a pregnancy scare several years ago.

“Oh, Dillon, please, I...” I didn’t know if I wanted him to just ram it home or take it slow. The nip of pain was so erotic, so delicious that it was hard to think coherently.

He edged in some more, palming my left breast as he did so. “Ah, baby, you’re so tight,” he said, “relax more, let me in.”

“Oh, God, yes, please, just give it to me.”

His gaze caught mine.

I held my breath, allowed my whole being to be at his mercy. I knew he would keep his promise of giving it to me good. Dillon was undoubtedly the sexiest, most gorgeous, maddening man I’d ever allowed to fuck me.

“Okay. Get ready,” he said.

I strained against the cuffs, pressed my chest to his and bit down on my lower lip.

He forged in, right to the hilt.

I cried out, locked my legs around the backs of his thighs and squeezed my eyes shut. He’d filled me so absolutely, brutally but blissfully. I harnessed all the wild sensations bombarding my pussy and combined them with the wonderful pressure his pubis had applied to my clit.

“Ah, it’s never felt so fucking good,” Dillon groaned, his lips touching mine as he spoke. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

“Oh, so do you, I—” My words trailed off as he began to move. “But I’m still mad at you for putting the cuffs back on.” I said, struggling to catch my breath.

“Yeah, well, maybe if I hadn’t we wouldn’t be fucking right now.”

“True.” I tugged my arms—I was truly trapped beneath him.

He groaned, as though enjoying my brief struggle with the cuffs, then, “Ah, yes, take all of me, see how much I like fucking pussy.”

“I think...I can...tell.” My words were staccato from his pumping hips knocking the wind from my lungs with each pound.

He was catching my clit perfectly, and each time he withdrew and plunged back in the domed head of his cock gave my G-­spot a deep and satisfying stroke. The pressure was building—soon it would over-­spill.

I closed my eyes, concentrated on the wonderful climax that was about to ravage my body. He was kissing me again and whispering hot, rude words of adoration.

“Fuck, so hot and wet. You’ve made me so hard for you, so fucking hard.”

I couldn’t kiss him back and his voice was like listening underwater. I was in a buzzy, desperate place where only sensation existed. Lost to the heated weight of his body and the hairs on his chest scratching against my nipples. The way his bone-­hard cock was thrusting into me, relentlessly, indomitably, overtook my thoughts.

Suddenly it was there, the point of no return.

“Oh, yes, yes, don’t stop,” I cried, harnessing the bliss that was about to erupt.

“Fuck, let it go already,” he said, nipping at my neck, biting, sucking.

The added stimulus, the pain of his teeth and the suction he was creating toppled me into a free-­fall of ecstasy. I spasmed and contracted around his cock, savoring every moment of coming with such a wonderful, satisfying intensity. He didn’t let up, continued to give me what I needed, just where I needed it, right until the waves of pleasure allowed me to breathe again.

“You done?” he panted.

“Oh, that was so—”

“Thank fuck for that.” He pulled out of my pussy, reached down and fisted his shiny, slick shaft.

I watched, mesmerized, as his slit widened and pearly cum shot onto my stomach, flooding my navel

“Argh, yeah,” he groaned, jerking his shaft with violent force and releasing more semen. “God, I needed that.” He sucked in a breath, squeezed out another blast of liquid then tipped his head back and groaned. A low, belly-­sound that vibrated from his body into mine.

I gasped and writhed, still turned on and desperate to touch the milkyness basting my body.

Dillon sat back between my legs, shoved his hand through his ocean-­and-­sweat-­damp hair and looked down at me.

“Now that is a sight to feed a man’s soul with.” He curled his lips into a smile and my heart flipped. It was the first genuine smile I’d ever seen him produce.

“Well I’m glad you two have sorted out your differences.”

I turned at the sound of Jose’s voice, and a dense weight crashed in my guts.

Jose was sitting on the lounger staring at us. He was naked and had a hold of his cock, jacking it up and down with a lazy fist.

“Jose. I, what...?” I was already hot, but a blistering flush seared over my skin. I tugged my wrists and tried to clamp my legs shut, succeeding only in locking them against Dillon.

Oh, God, what must Jose think of me? Earlier on I was putting out for him and now here I was with his partner.

I pressed my face into my arm, screwed my eyes closed. A knot of shame twisted around my heart and I wished Dillon would release me once and for all so I could curl into a ball and hide in a corner somewhere. Wait until all of this toe-­curling embarrassment had gone away.

“Hey, hey, sweetie.” Jose’s voice, soft and soothing. “I’m not being sarcastic. I’m genuinely pleased you and Dillon have got it together. It makes things so much simpler.”

I opened one eye, looked at him as Dillon rubbed a hand up my leg, the callouses on his palm scratching my thigh.

“You are?” I asked hesitantly. “It does?”

He stood and walked under the shade of the bimini. Pulled at his cock and smoothed his thumb over the head. “Sure, Dillon and I are partners, what goes for me goes for him and vice versa.”

“Yeah, we both like you,” Dillon said, dropping a kiss onto the rise of my hipbone. “And luckily it seems you like both of us.”

I do. But what does that say about me?

Jose suddenly released his cock and rested a hand over his eyes like a makeshift visor. He stared out to sea. “Ah, fuck. Looks like we’ve got more company.”

I hope you enjoyed that excerpt! If you want to read the whole of Good Cop, Bad Cop, click here.

Have a wonderful Sunday.

Lily x