Handcuffs and Lace 25 - The Policeman's Balls

Resplendence Publishing, LLC 2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349 Daytona Beach, FL 32118

The Policeman’s Balls
Copyright © 2011, Mia Watts
Edited by Darlena Cunha and Liza Green
Cover art by Les Byerley,
www.les3photo8.com

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

To Jambrea Jo Jones, fellow author I’m lucky enough to call my friend: thank you for always being my cheerleader and for kicking my ass to check in with reader loops. I’d be clueless without you;
and to Phuong Phan who never fails to make me feel like the talented writer I’ve always hoped I’d become: may I never disappoint you.

Brian McCray shoved his shoulder against the front door of his duplex. Again? He’d locked himself out of the house, again? He thought back. He remembered locking the door handle with a quick, practiced twist when his friend Tyler had picked him up for the movie. Tyler had since driven off with no more than a wave from Brian. It had been as the car’s taillights turned the corner and Brian slipped his hand in his pocket, that he realized he didn’t have his key.

He’d have kicked himself, but he needed a steady foot on the ground and a lot more force to boot his own ass properly. He glanced at his watch. Eleven o’clock in the evening was too late to be knocking on old Mrs. Jackson’s door for the duplicate copy of his key.

Brian blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair out of pure frustration. The outside security lights hadn’t come on. They wouldn’t either because Brian had been in too big a rush to flip the interior switch to activate the motion sensors.

He had been full of great decisions today. Another one facing him would be where to sleep if he didn’t find a way inside. Brian circled his half of the property, testing the windows. At the side of the house, he gingerly pushed his way between two box hedges, wincing when they scraped him. One branch dug deep, but Brian pressed on until he’d reached the windows. Whose brilliant idea had it been to plant these things with their tri-spikes on the end of each leaf? The association? They’d been there as long as he’d had the townhouse, five years. Damn the gardener who’d put them there.

The window didn’t budge. Brian stepped out of the bushes and walked to the back. He pressed his face to the sliding glass door, looking for a way in, as though the items inside were of use to him.

The soft shuffle of a shoe on grass startled him. Brian whipped around. A brilliant light shot him straight in the eyes.
“Sir, put your hands in the air and identify yourself,” a deep voice barked.
Brian hurried to obey. The light stung his eyes, and he squinted against the unrelenting onslaught of it. “Who are you?” Brian demanded.
“Officer Severn. Care to tell me who you are and why you’re trying to break in to this residence?”
Brian’s shoulders drooped with relief. “Oh, thank God! I locked myself out and I can’t get in.”
“Name?”
“Brian McCray. I live here.”
“May I see your driver’s license, please?”
“Sure.” Brian dropped his hands.
Officer Severn snapped at him to keep his hands in the air where they could remain in view. “Just tell me which pocket it’s in and I’ll get it for you.”
“Back left.” Brian held very still.
The officer drew closer. The light stayed on Brian’s face, blinding him to everything but the hint of broad shoulder and height. The man had four inches on him, easily. The stale scent of dry cleaning solution on his uniform, and fading Polo Black aftershave gave Brian a strange tightening sensation in his gut.
Officer Severn reached around him. Fingers fumbled at Brian’s ass cheek, dipped inside the back pocket and pulled out his wallet. The light made Brian’s eyes water, and the distinctive pre-sneeze tickle had seized the bridge of his nose. Fortunately Officer Severn retreated.
Brian inhaled sharply. His arm darted up to cover his nose and mouth as he sneezed in triplicate.
The cop didn’t flinch. “Bless you, Brian McCray of 5497 Chamblin Path.”
“Thanks,” Brian sniffled. “Officer Severn of Grand Rapids P.D.”
“Walker P.D.” he corrected, handing Brian back his wallet.
Officer Severn lowered his flashlight. Not that it did any good. Brian had been thoroughly blinded. He made out the officer’s reach for his shoulder radio attachment in silhouette. Officer Severn called in his status.
“Any chance you can help me break in to my own house?” Brian asked. “You really ought to have a duplicate with a neighbor or a friend.”
“I do. She’s an eighty-four-year-old woman who goes to bed around seven every night. My option is waiting for her to get up at five or bust in.”
“Ola Jackson?” Officer Severn asked.
How did he know about Brian’s neighbor?
Officer Severn must have seen his confusion. “She called in the burglary. How about we go over there and put her mind at rest, get your key, and end this night on a high note?”
Brian’s shoulders drooped with relief. “That sounds like a great idea.”
The officer chuckled, motioning with a shadowed arm for Brian to lead the way. Brian walked passed him, inhaling the man’s scent before he realized what he was doing. He’d never thought of dry cleaning as an aphrodisiac, but it certainly gave him a chubby now.
Mrs. Jackson’s front stoop light flickered on. Feeling a little guilty for disturbing her, Brian nonetheless rapped on her door. Through the side panel of windows, he saw the interior lights come on. Mrs. Jackson pushed aside the gauzy window dressing and peered out at him. He was actually relieved to see the thin pressed lips and familiar scowl.
“Hi, Mrs. Jackson. It’s me, Brian.”
The door swung open. “I know who you are, boy. What are you doing on my doorstep in the middle of the night?”
The broad shoulders pushed passed him. Brian got an eyeful of navy blue uniform and the wisping tendrils of dark brown hair along his collar. This close, Brian couldn’t help but notice the perfect fit of the navy blue shirt that spanned his wide back.
“Mrs. Jackson, I’m officer Severn. I responded to your call about a burglar. Your neighbor locked himself out and was trying to get in.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, Brian. Why didn’t you ring my bell and ask for the key?” she scolded.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” Brian defended.
“So you scare an old lady out of her beauty sleep? Come here so I can smack you.”
Severn stepped completely between them. Brian smiled at the protective gesture, as though Old Mrs. Jackson could actually inflict harm on him. “Can we just get the key, please ma’am?”
Mrs. Jackson harrumphed, looking up at him in a squint. It was the look Brian called
the stink eye
. She muttered something about mannerless young men and hobbled off, leaving the door ajar.
“Thanks,” Brian offered the blue back.
Officer Severn turned, looking down at him. “You’re welcome.”
His dark brown eyes warmed Brian like freshly brewed coffee. Brian intended to say something witty. Honest. But staring into those deep, bottomless eyes sucked every clever word right out of his vocabulary.
“Hi,” Brian breathed, stupidly.
Severn gave him an odd look. His gaze darted between Brian’s eyes. “Are you intoxicated, sir?”
“Possibly,” Brian speculated, if a man could get drunk from attraction.
“You didn’t drive tonight, did you sir?”
Brian blinked. “Uh, no. I don’t have keys remember?”
The officer nodded, gave him another searching look and reached toward Mrs. Jackson who’d miraculously reappeared with the key while Brian had been stunned by Officer Severn’s amazing good looks.
He handed the key to Brian. “Have a good night, sir.” Severn turned and walked purposefully toward his squad car parked across the street.
Brian’s gaze followed him. He didn’t know how, but he needed to see Officer Severn again. As schoolgirl crush as it sounded, the man’s presence left him breathless and tingly.
Mrs. Jackson’s door slammed. A second later, her stoop light went out. Brian lingered in the dark, watching Severn drive off until he was out of sight. Then, finally, Brian took a deep breath.
“Until next time, Officer,” he murmured into the darkness.

Brian had called ahead. He knew where Officer Joshua Severn patrolled, and he knew that his schedule alternated with first shifts as his primary work time and third shifts when he was taking on extra hours. The lady at the desk had been so helpful when he’d told her he needed to give the policeman a thank you for his help the other night.

Brian shook off the feeling that he was unusually interested in Severn and that his pursuit of the man might be a little stalkerish. He reasoned that he just wanted to cross paths with the man. Wanted to give Severn ample opportunity to ask him out. It was all about being available.

He turned off a smaller road onto the two-lane highway that led toward Lake Michigan several miles away. He floored his accelerator. This was his fourth pass. Severn hadn’t been there earlier. Hopefully, he was there now.

The speedometer climbed to eighty, the engine shifting through its gears automatically until it reached the happy hum of an open engine. The limit was fifty-five here, and it was late enough that the road was empty. He saw the nose of the cruiser poking out of a blind spot two seconds before he passed it. A thrill shot through him.

The cruiser’s wail filled the night. Lights swirled blue and red through the inside of Brian’s car. He took his foot off the accelerator and eased over to the shoulder of the road. Butterflies danced in his belly. And suddenly he realized he had absolutely no excuse for why he’d been speeding.

The patrol car pulled up behind him. A bright spot light pierced the darkness. Brian scrambled to come up with an excuse for speeding. A few minutes later, Officer Severn strolled up, flipping open a ticket pad as he came.

He wound his hand, signaling Brian to lower the window. Brian hit the button, hearing the motor whine of the window unit and feeling like it could just as easily have come from him.
“License and registration,” Severn droned.
Brian dug them out and handed them to Severn.
“Do you know why I pulled you over, Mr.—McCray?” Severn slowly leaned down to look at him. “Having a rough week, Mr. McCray?”
Brian didn’t know if he should be pleased or embarrassed that Severn had remembered him.
“You could say that,” Brian agreed.
“Have you been drinking tonight?”
“No, sir.”
An expression of amusement flitted across Severn’s face. “Step out of the car please.”
Brian slowly opened the car door and got out.
“See that white line? I want you to look straight ahead and walk the line.”
“Yes, sir.”
Brian couldn’t explain the breathlessness he felt in obeying Severn. Perhaps it was just that he really wanted to please him. Wanted to show him respect. He walked the line, turned and walked back.
“Recite the alphabet backward.”
“Yes, s—are you serious?” Brian broke off once the command registered. “I’m not sure I can do that
sober
.”
“Are you saying you’re drunk?” Severn questioned flatly.
“No! No, I’m not drunk. Z, Y, X—what’s before X? Oh, W, V... Can I just touch my nose or something?”
“No.”
“U, T, S, R, um, Q.”
“That’s good. You can stop now.” Severn shifted his weight as he scribbled in his ticket book. “Can you tell me what the rush was?”
Brian still couldn’t think of a good reason. At least, nothing that Severn couldn’t check out and find out he’d been lying. “Nope.”
Severn looked up from his pad. “And why is that, Mr. McCray?”
Brian blew out a breath. “Because I really don’t have a good reason.”
The officer folded his arms across his chest and looked down his nose at him. The authoritarian position and uniform wrapping Severn’s rugged masculinity and his great looks did nothing to stop Brian’s trembling insides. What he would give to have Severn look at him that way while standing over Brian sprawled on a bed. Brian’s cock woke with interest.
“No one dying? Your girlfriend didn’t just break up with you and leave you devastated? You aren’t racing to the side of your ailing mother?”
“I guess you get those excuses a lot.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “So what’s your reason?”
“My mother lives out of state. All my friends are healthy. The last boyfriend I had left the picture a year and a half ago.” Brian shrugged.
“Reckless driving for the sake of a joyride?” Severn pressed.
“I have a reason.” He just didn’t want to confess it. He also didn’t want Severn to think he was an irresponsible motor vehicle operator—or whatever he’d be written up for. “Does it matter what it is? I was speeding. I totally deserve that ticket.” He held out a hand to receive it.
Severn smiled. Brian stared. Even in the darkness, barely lit by the glow of the spotlight aimed behind him, Severn’s smile was a killer.
“You aren’t going to beg me to let this be a warning?” Severn asked.
“Nope.” The fact that the officer seemed pleased by Brian’s answers made him want to take responsibility for every ticket that was ever written. “I sped. I deserve the ticket.” He lifted his chin.
Severn ripped the ticket from the pad and handed it to Brian. “You need to take care of this at the courthouse within the next fourteen days, or a warrant will be issued for your arrest.”
“I’ll go tomorrow.”
Severn nodded. “Have a good night, now. Slow down out there.”
“Yes, sir, Officer Severn.”
Severn shook his head as he walked back to his patrol car. Brian climbed inside his own vehicle, restarted his engine, and cautiously pulled away from the shoulder. His hands shook. His mouth had gone dry, and all he could think about was taking that ticket home and studying the man’s handwriting.
It was official, Brian decided morosely. He was obsessed with Joshua Severn.