Honeytrapped

“I…don’t mind,” he panted. “I don’t…care who knows…that you’re mine.”

“Oh.” Tilly’s groans spurred him on. She offered him her neck, which he feasted upon as he worked her. At either side of her face, she could see the muscles and sinews in his forearms flexing and knotting with each thrust. She could not see beyond his body, sexy and salty and damp, enclosing her in this tight dark space.

The air was humid now and the windows opaque with condensation. The leather creaked and the footboard thumped and her body filled and bloomed with sensation, pouring into her unstoppably. It really didn’t matter if they were seen. If the local paper headlined tomorrow’s edition with TILLY TURNER FUCKED IN A CAR BY CALUM THE TANGO MAN - PICTURE EXCLUSIVE!!! she would be proud to own herself the woman in the story.

There was nothing in her life now but the hard, steady thrust of his cock and the answering stretch of her pussy, shuddering with rapture at each sweep of her nerve endings. He hit the spot and she kicked out at the steering wheel, dislodging the indicator so that it clicked on and off as she moaned out her climax.

“Oh fuck,” groaned Calum, jackhammering until the force of his orgasm wrung him out and he collapsed, boneless and melting, on top of her.

It was a while before Tilly was compos mentis enough to wipe across a steamy window and check on Norman. He had gone.

* * * *

“So, are you coming to my class again?” Calum smirked over the bottle of red wine that stood between them on the bistro table.

“I’m not sure tango’s for me,” said Tilly, needing another gulp of burgundy to settle her nerves. It had been that kind of day.

“Oh, I think it is.”

“Actually, I’m not sure this job is for me either. Breaking the bad news to Melinda earlier was just awful. I hate having to tell people things that are going to upset them. I just don’t think I’m hard enough.”

“I am,” purred Calum, his booted foot halfway up Tilly’s thigh.

“Ugh, Mr. Sex-on-the-Brain, can we talk about something else for half a second?”

“Okay.” He removed his foot, contrite and serious now. “I’m sorry. That must have been horrible for you.”

“It was. She cried. And that made me cry. I really don’t want to make a living out of trying to seduce other women’s men either. It’s just so sordid.”

“So what are you going to do instead?”

“You know, I really have no idea. I’ve never wanted to do anything else apart from detective work, but since I’m too short to join the police force—”

“Stop, stop, stop, rewind. What did you just say?”

Tilly put the glass back down on the table with a plonk. “I used to want to be a police officer.”

“No, the reason you gave for not joining up.”

“I’m too short.”

“But you aren’t.”

“Yes I am. Five two is too short.”

“No, it isn’t. The police got rid of the minimum height requirement years ago.”

“They…didn’t. Did they?”

Calum laughed disbelievingly. “Unless the man I used to work with was lying when he said he’d joined up. He was five foot five. Under the old rules, a man had to be five foot eight.”

“And a woman five foot four,” she said, light dawning. “Are you serious? I’ve been held back in life by my own wrong information?”

Calum’s mouth twisted sympathetically and he took hold of her hands. “It looks that way. But cheer up! You can go and get hold of an application form tomorrow. There’s nothing stopping you. Though I’m sure you realise that police officers have to deliver a fair amount of bad news as part of the job.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m going to be a detective! Not a uniformed officer.”

“Oh, no uniform? Bit of a shame.” He winked. “Do detectives get handcuffs?”