I've attended more nursing conferences than I care to count, but this is the first one where I'm hoping to leave handcuffed with a cop instead of the continuing education credits. These things are mandatory for tenured faculty; it’s where we present our research, learn, and mingle with other faculty, practitioners, and students at dinner events. Everyone smiling politely, making small talk, pretending they aren’t counting the minutes until they can leave.
I stand on my tiptoes. “Thank you for coming,” I whisper in his ear.
He smiles down at me and winks. “Hmmmm. Sounds like you owe me. I like the sound of that.”
He reaches for my hand, holding it close and threading his fingers through mine.
Before long, we’re caught in a trap with an overly talkative faculty member who has brought their wife, who are going on and on about their latest gluttonous adventure on a Carnival cruise. The complete horror, I inadvertently roll my eyes, but he smiles politely, nodding at all the appropriate moments.
Then, without changing his expression, he moves our joined hands to the front of his pants, pressing my palm against the unmistakable hardness beneath them.
I’m immediately wet.
Fuck.
I break into the conversation abruptly. “Is it hot in here?”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” he says casually, unbuttoning the top button of his crisp white shirt.
Then he positions me in front of him.
One hand settles across my abdomen while the other gathers a handful of my hair, lifting it away from the back of my neck. He leans down and blows softly against my skin.
I can feel him stiff against me.
My heart races. I swallow hard, trying desperately to look casual while the couple continues talking as though nothing unusual is happening at all.
“Have you two ever been on a cruise?” The man asks.
I open my mouth, but he cuts in. “Cruises make me nervous. You could get stuck talking to people, and there’s literally nowhere to go but overboard.”
I laugh. They do not. They make a polite exit shortly afterward, and the second they’re out of earshot, I turn and bury my face in his chest, smiling.
“You’re terrible,” I mumble against his shirt, although the laugh in my voice betrays me.
My fingers catch the edge of his shirt and tug it loose just enough to slip my hand beneath it. My palm glides up the warm skin of his abdomen to his chest, my thumb brushing lightly over his nipple.
I bite my lip and look up at him.
He grins, but instead of looking at me, his eyes casually scan the room, checking who might be watching. That somehow makes my pulse jump even harder.
He casually unbuttons a second button and tugs the opening apart slightly, revealing just a hint of chest hair. I lift one foot behind me and reach back as though I’m adjusting my high heel, letting my head dip toward him. For the briefest second, my lips and tongue brush the exposed, sensitive skin of his nipple before I straighten again, my eyes finding his. The expression on his face changes instantly. I bite back a smile.
Yes, it’s time to go.
As we make our way toward the door, we’re stopped every few feet to say hello or goodbye to someone else. Each time, he waits until they turn away before leaning close, his mouth brushing my ear.
“Another button.”
A few steps later, someone else catches us.
“Your hands,” he whispers when they finally move on. “I can still feel your hands exploring on my skin.”
I glance up at him, trying not to smile.
We make it another ten feet. At this rate, we may never make it to the door.
He leans in again, his voice lower this time. “And that little stunt with your mouth? You’re going to pay for that later.”
My smile widens.
Eventually, we do make it to the parking lot. He opens my door, and I slide into the passenger seat. It's clean, smells like new leather. A moment later, he’s behind the wheel. Gives me a wink, and his hand glides like silk up my thigh before he finally reaches for the gearshift and puts the car in reverse.
Chills.
I stare at him as we wind our way toward the main road.
“My place?” he asks, shooting me a hopeful glance.
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, dragging them slowly over it. I hesitate; we’re both married, both have our reasons for this, but I'm not sure I can go to his place. That feels like a line I can't cross.
“Well, it’s my sister’s place,” he adds, probably sensing my hesitation. “Ironically, she's on a cruise.”
I laugh, and he smiles and reaches for my hand. “Yes,” I whisper.
His grin says everything, and he takes a sharp left.
This is our first date.
I was drawn to him immediately, beyond sexy, to be sure; a cop and I’m a nurse, so original, I know. We’ve flirted for months. Played online. Tested boundaries from behind the safety of our screens. But we live a thousand miles apart, so when I came to his hometown for the conference, I reached out. I was surprised when he agreed to come to my work function without hesitation, no questions asked.
Truth is, the decision to go home with him tonight was made the moment he accepted my invitation. I’ve been fantasizing about this with him since day one.
I roll down the window and crisp autumn air off Lake Michigan rushes in. I shift in my seat, deliberately letting the hem of my dress ride higher.
He glances over. Then back at the road. Then over again. I smile to myself, enjoying how hard he’s trying to keep his attention where it belongs.
My fingers tease the hem of my panties, tugging the fabric slightly aside. I let my touch linger, slow and deliberate, savoring the anticipation before drawing my hand away. For a moment, I bring my fingers to my lips, my tongue brushing over them, tasting my own essence before letting my hand drift teasingly back between my thighs. I start to play with my clit, I need a little relief. The anticipation for this man is almost unbearable.
“Mmmm fuck, you know I love when you play with your pussy, baby,” he groans. He looks at me like a man who’s been away far too long.
I smile at him as he moves his hand back up my thigh, making me quiver, and when he slips his fingers inside my panties, that slightest touch floods me with desire.
By the time we reach his sister’s place, every nerve in my body is on fire.
The door opens into a clean, modern, open-concept space. It’s unmistakably a family home. Smells of vanilla and linens. I barely have time to take it in before his hand settles against the small of my back.
My stomach flips.
He curls his fingers lightly around my arm and turns me toward him. Looking down at me, a small grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“So, El,” he murmurs, “you like to tease?”
I glance down, a little embarrassed by his comment, though the heat rushing through me makes it impossible to pretend I’m unaffected.
His hand is still curled around my upper arm as he guides me toward the couch. He sits down first, stretching both arms along the back cushions and leaning into them with an ease that only makes me more nervous. Then he raises his eyebrows and gives me a small, deliberate nod toward his lap.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Officer Quinn, are you implying you want me on your lap?”
His mouth curves faintly. “No, baby. Across it. I told you, you’re going to pay for that little stunt at the conference.”
My heart immediately starts racing.
Part of me wants to challenge him; it's my nature, but excitement wins out over nerves, and before I can overthink it, I lower myself across his lap, bracing my hands against the floor.
For a moment, he does nothing.
Anticipation floods my veins.
Then he leans forward, his hand settling low against the back of my thigh before traveling slowly upward. The unhurried movement sends a shiver through me, every nerve suddenly tuned to him and whatever he intends to do next.
I turn my head just enough to glance back at him.
Quinn catches my eye; he looks calm and has a look of satisfaction in his dark eyes. His hand continues over the curve of my backside, fingers slipping under the waistband of my panties as he pulls them down to my knees with ease; my breath catches.
His hand stays there on my skin long enough for me to become aware of every point of contact. There is something calming in its weight, even though I know it won't remain gentle. When he pulls away, my pulse spikes, and the air against my skin feels suddenly cold enough to make me shiver.
He hesitates a long moment and then anticipation is killing me. Then comes the contact, a sharp and stinging slap. The sensation burns for a moment, but the anticipation has vanished, leaving only warmth, awareness, and quiet. He runs his palm slowly over the warm, tender skin, and I feel my breathing begin to settle as the tension leaves my shoulders and back.
Then his hand moves lower between my thighs. I shift instinctively against his lap, surprised by how quickly my body reacts. His fingers brush lightly between my legs, the slightest touch flooding me again with heat. When he presses closer, my muscles tighten for a second before relaxing again, and when he slips his finger inside me, a moan escapes me before I can stop it.
“You like that, baby?”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes,” is all I can manage.
He gently guides me onto my knees in front of him, my panties still caught around my ankles. He unbuckles his belt and slides it free slowly, never taking his eyes off me. Then he leans forward and draws me closer until my head rests across his lap.
I hear him open the drawer in the table next to the couch. My heart is pounding. He guides my arms behind my back, arranging my hands carefully. I see briefly what he intends to do right before he handcuffs my wrists. The metal tightens with each click, unfamiliar against my skin. For a moment, I can feel nothing except my own breathing and the pressure holding my hands in place.
His hands settle on my shoulders and encourage me upright again. Then the mood shifts. He cups my face in both hands, brushes my hair back, smooths it down, and tucks a few loose strands behind my ears.
This is new to me, and I can’t decide whether I’m more excited or nervous. Probably both. But then I look at him. There’s a faint smile on his face, calm and almost reassuring, and some of the tension leaves me.
He unfastens his pants, pulling his erection free. I swallow hard. His fingers trace slowly along my jaw, his grip tightening just enough to nudge my mouth open. His fingers are still glistening with my heat from between my legs as he pushes them onto my tongue. I roll my tongue around them, keeping my eyes on him.
“Good girl.”
He loops his fingers under the straps of my dress, pulling them off my shoulders and allowing my dress to fall to my waist, catching on my cuffed wrists. No bra, the cool air hits my breasts, his eyes fixed on my hardening nipples.
He leans down, kissing along my jaw and my neck before his hand is on the back of my head, fingers entwined in my hair, pulling my head back for a kiss before guiding me down onto his waiting cock. He lets out a deep groan as soon as my tongue touches and slides across the top.
“Fuck baby girl, I have thought about your lips wrapped around my cock every day.” His head falls back, I circle my tongue slowly over the tip, once, twice, and close my mouth around it before sinking down his length, lower, taking him fully in my mouth.
Not having my hands to steady me, or to have control over the depth of his thrusts, is making me gag and causing me some anxiety until he pulls back slightly on my hair, making me catch his gaze.
He holds me steady for a moment. “Relax, baby. I won't hurt you; we talked about this.”
We had all those discussions online, but reality is hitting different. However, his ability to sense my apprehension immediately put me at ease.
I don’t say anything but give a slow blink, his cock still full in my mouth. The heaviness sets in my eyes before I sink back down onto him, relaxing and taking him in even deeper. Each time he brushes the back of my throat, my mouth surges with saliva. It streams down his length and between his thighs. I sit back on my legs, lowering my mouth to take in his balls, wet and warm in my mouth. I take one, and then he helps guide both into my mouth and out again.
At one point he lifts them high and with slight pressure guides me lower. I hesitate at first, but the sounds of pleasure coming from him when my tongue presses the sensitive skin below his sacs make me want more. He adjusts himself, and I allow my tongue to circle even lower. I’m surprised at my willingness to explore; he makes me feel safe. It makes me wonder just how far I’d be willing to go.
He lifts his knees and rests his feet on either side of my head as I continue exploring with my tongue. He grabs my hair, suddenly lifting my head to meet his eyes.
“Baby, be my good girl and turn your attention lower.” He raises his eyebrows, his grip on my hair tightening. “Understand?”
I nod; I know exactly what he wanted me to do. “Officer Quinn, may I use my hands?”
He stares at me with these dark, glossy eyes for a long moment before grabbing the key from the table, leaning forward, and uncuffing me. He sits back afterward, setting the keys and cuffs on the couch.
I rub my wrists, leaning back and adjusting my position lower; he arches his hips higher. I spread him wide with my palms, admiring him and rimming him, soft groans escaping from deep in his chest.
My thumbs spreading his tight opening, I return to his cock, pushing down deep, saliva filling my mouth again. He starts stroking himself as I lower myself back again to his tight hole. I spit on it and run my thumb up and down, applying pressure. Using my tongue and thumb, I push gently, making sure he’s so wet, until my thumb breaks through, stretching his skin and pushing in slightly.
“Fuuuck,” he moans in encouragement.
He reaches back into the drawer and pulls a small bottle of lube and hands it to me. I open it, applying it to the head of his cock first and using my hand to spread it up and down. He takes over stroking again, and I apply more to his balls. The thick white lube drips lower slowly.
With my pointer finger, I circle his rim slowly, pushing in gradually. I hook my finger upward, and when I enter him fully, his rhythm on his shaft picks up. I play like this for a while, slowly pushing my finger in and pulling out until I can hardly take it. Between his moans and the way he’s stroking his cock I’m throbbing with the need for him to be inside me.
“Baby, please, I need you,” I beg. He helps me up, turns me facing the opposite direction, my back to him. I straddle his hips, and he guides himself into me.
We fall into a steady pace, my hands cupping and gently squeezing his sacs, his hands tugging and twisting my breasts. My hand finds its way lower, and I start to stretch his tight hole with one finger again while riding him steadily. His fingers find my clit, and it doesn't take me long to completely lose it, and a sudden wet release floods all over him. I pull my finger out and lean back against his chest, trying to catch my breath.
I crawl off and turn toward him, and whisper in his ear, “Lie on your back, baby.”
I position myself to straddle his face. He immediately dives into my wetness. I know it’s all over his face as he licks and pushes his index finger in, immediately pushing hard against my G-spot as his tongue flicks my clit. I swear my body is already responding as if I can cum again. I grind down into him.
I keep rhythm using my mouth and hands to stroke and cradle his balls. His groans get louder, and he breathes heavily, “Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum.”
He pumps hard into my face, using his hands to push me down deeper. He groans again, telling me he’s about to cum as he starts to shudder hard, and I'm flooded with several waves of his hot seed in my mouth. I don’t pull back; I don’t release my suction with my tongue and lips; I take every drop like he said he wanted his good girl to do.
He finishes me as he catches his breath, playing and sucking on my tender bud until I explode again. After a few minutes, I spin around and lie beside him on the couch.
“Rest up, baby girl; these cuffs weren’t on nearly long enough, and the things I still want to do to you border on illegal.” I can feel his smile against the back of my neck, and it sends goosebumps.
I have a good life. I like to believe I’m a good wife. But this? This kind of intensity is impossible to ignore. Marriage, from everything I’ve seen, heard, read, and experienced, has a tendency to go stale, as a friend of mine once so aptly put it.
This connection is intoxicating, and so damn alive. And this man? He’s a full-blown cardiac event. Good thing I’m a nurse.
Apparently, there are still adultery laws lingering in a few states.
Go ahead, Officer Quinn. Arrest me.
And please, use the handcuffs.
