10-7, Part Three: Habitual Offender

He released her, and her limbs gave way. She slid bonelessly into the well behind the front seat, quivering and panting. Above her, he caught his breath, sniffling like a diver returning to the surface. In the bright flash of lightning, she watched him rub his nose with the back of his hand. The light caught the moisture on his face and every fine, blond hair on his forearm.

"Come here."

She looked up at him. Certainly there couldn't be more than this?

"Come here. I'm not done with you."

He turned around and stretched his legs out along the back seat. He wrapped his fingers around his long shaft and began to move, stroking and pumping it slowly.

"Come here."

She raised herself on unsteady limbs, still shuddering. When her arm was within reach, he took hold of it and pulled her up until she lay atop him. The heat of him brushed her thigh and her hips moved toward him in response. He took hold of her waist, pulling her fully onto his lap. The ridge of his erection pressed against her core, and she moaned.

"Want some more? Already?"

"Yes," she whispered. She reached for him, but he pulled her away by the wrist.

"Lick me clean first."

She braced herself on his shoulders, savoring the feel of hard muscle under her palms. With the tip of her tongue, she traced a line along his firm lips, then up and over the bridge of his nose. She dipped her head to the slope between his lower lip and the rise of his chin and again touched the tip of her tongue to him. He felt like a fine-grade sandpaper, and she tasted the fine saltiness of sweat there, along with another flavor, an earthy, musky flavor that was her own. She pressed her mouth to him, seeking more. Her next lick was longer, a wide swath over the angles of his jaw and cheek. As she went on to the next, her hips began to move against him, slowly, back and forth.

She covered his face with frantic strokes, undulating against him. Something about the taste she found here intoxicated her, and her movements quickened. He put his hands on her hips and guided her to him; she took his cock in her hand and then lowered herself onto him.

She loved the way he stretched her, and she tried not to take him too quickly, but he thrust upward into her, making her moan as he filled her to capacity. She arched her back, baring her throat to him. He put his hands under her blouse.

"Take this off," he said.

She pulled it over her head and tossed it into the front seat. Then she undid the bra for good measure. His hands covered her breasts, and he made an approving sound as she began to take him deeper, grinding herself into him as she met each thrust. She leaned back, angling her hips so that he met the front of her, and his hands closed on her full breasts, pinching and flicking the hard nipples.

"Still tight for me," he said. "He can't give you what you need, can he?"

"No." It came out on a low, desperate moan.

He pulled her down onto him, pushing fiercely into her. She squealed, rolling her hips around on him. She tightened her thighs on the hard muscle beneath the rough fabric of his pants, her pussy closing around his heat. He slid his hands around until they met at the small of her back, rising and falling as her hips moved back and forth. Gradually, he let his hands creep up the line of her back and he pulled her down and down toward him. His mouth closed over her nipple, caressing her breast like low-hanging fruit, his tongue tracing the line of her hard, aching nipple. She began to ride him eagerly then, as he licked and sucked on her. She twisted her hips as she rose and fell on him.

He broke away from her then, the rush of air raising goose bumps on the moistened flesh. He let his head roll back, closing her eyes as he moved into her. His even teeth gleamed in the flicker of lightning.

"Yes," he growled. "Ride me." He slapped her thigh. "Make me come."

She tightened her grip on him, clutching him between her thighs, her fingers digging into him as she rode his thick cock, twisting her lush hips as she clenched her muscles around him. She moaned with each downward plunge, trying hard to pull him deeper, meeting his fierce thrusts eagerly. Her needy muscles ached when she arched her back, and finally, climax rolled over her as the head of his cock stroked her deep inside, where she was at her most sensitive. Her head jerked back on her shoulders as all her muscles went taut. Behind closed eyes, she saw a brilliant, almost blinding flash of lightning; she swore she could feel a rush of warmth alongside it. Then his hands took hold of her again, pulling her down hard on his rampant length as he exploded inside her.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and for several minutes, the car was all but silent. The sound of the radio seemed muted over her own heavy breathing, his panting breaths and the rush of blood in her ears. He tugged her up, lifting her off his still-hard cock as aftershocks made her twitch and gasp.

"Give me that pair of panties," he said finally.

She found them pushed into the corner of the back seat and gave them to him. He balled them up in his fist and wiped himself off. She half-expected him to mention her disobedience, but he sat up instead and regarded her in silence. She tried to meet his gaze but felt even more exposed than usual without her clothes. She looked back down at the floorboard, where her clothes lay in a heap. She was trying to decide whether she should begin to put them back on when he spoke.

"Why are you doing this?"

In the wake of the question, the near-silence of the car intensified.

"Does it matter?" Her voice was barely audible.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I said it does."

She regarded the floorboard in continued silence. In the dark, she could make out the leather of his belt, its silver buckle, the quiet reflection of light on the butt of his gun. He had taken it off somehow while she was in the back of the car, she realized. He had let himself out then, to better enjoy the sight of her.

She heard him moving toward her on the seat. A moment later, she felt his strong fingers on her chin, warm, a little sticky and still fragrant with her scent. He turned her face toward him until she was looking at him. Their faces were inches apart. She could feel the soft caress of his breath and wondered if his profession often demanded this level of proximity.

He raised one eyebrow. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"Why are you doing this?" he repeated.

She took a deep breath and let her eyes slide away to the floor.

"I need this."

When he was satisfied that no further response was forthcoming, he let go of her. He shifted back to his side of the seat and reached for his belt. When he straightened and rested it on his lap, she reached for her own clothes, starting with her bra. He hands shook as she slid the straps over her arms and when she couldn't make her fingers work well enough to connect the hooks, she burst into tears. The first sob exploded between her tightly pressed lips, and she clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle the rest.

Trent's hand closed around her slender forearm, and he hauled her up onto his lap. She hid her face in his chest, lying awkwardly across him, wishing desperately for something she could pull over herself, something to hide under. With his arms around her, she wanted to give in to the need to cry, but she bit back the rest of her tears.

"D-don't you have to leave?"

"No." He stroked her hair. "It's the end of the shift for me."

She expected to have to explain why she was crying as she would have with Charles, but for a long time, he was silent. The rain had quieted to a soft patter outside the car. A musical flourish announced the start of the news. They both listened to the weather report long enough to hear the weatherman from the local TV station say the storm was moving off. The regular DJ took over then, to talk about a rescheduled sporting event.

"What did you tell him?"

"Tell who?"

"Your husband."

"I said I was going to stop for the night."

The music started again. Jen's thoughts strayed to her battery.

"Stay with me tonight instead."

Very slowly, she unfolded herself from his lap. He stretched his arm across the back seat. One song ended, and the next, a popular ballad from some movie or another, began to play.

Her chest felt tight, and she looked into her lap where her hands gripped each other hard. She had imagined the feeling of his body beneath her hands for so long. Sometimes she really believed she had felt the hard muscle of his thigh along the inside of her legs, skin to skin, the heat of his body directly against hers.

She had wanted this so much. But she wondered if she had the strength to spend the night in his arms, and then turn away from him forever.

Her voice broke the silence. "Where should I meet you?"