Catherine had a dirty mind. She didn’t often worry about it—came with the territory she’d covered in a long and overly rough life so far. In her formative years she’d learned to accept her libido; at certain times she’d catered to it, flaunted it. More recently she merely pushed it aside for the more germane matters in the day-to-day scheme of things.
Most of the time Catherine could compartmentalize different aspects of her thoughts: concentrating on the evidence task at hand, her grocery list and Lindsey’s schedule without breaking into a sweat. At work it was usually easy to multitask and keep her thoughts clean but once in a while something would reach out and tweak her inner Wild Woman hard.
Like Nick’s ass. Right now.
He was bent over, examining a skid mark along a length of highway out in the middle of the desert, and Lord Almighty those were some DAMN fine buns in that pair of jeans. Catherine felt her face flush with a warmth that wasn’t coming from the weather. Eyeing up a colleague, especially a much younger one was a little unusual, even for her.
But that ass—hard and tight and God, her hands would fit PERFECTLY around it—
Nick straightened up, scratching his head, sighing.
“Judging from the length of the skid, our victim must have started fighting with the hitchhiker about half a mile back—“
She quickly brought her focus back up to Nick’s face as he looked over his shoulder at her, flashing a quick smile.
“Okay, but why the wobbly line? Wouldn’t the mark be---straight?”
part of her brain bothered to listen to the answer Nick was spouting;
part was letting her register some new and much more interesting
about her partner. Nick was dressing left. Nick in fact,
was hung. Oh yeah, no mistaking THAT outline pressing hard through the
“Earth to Catherine—“ came Nick’s amused voice, breaking into her reverie. She shook her head and guiltily averted her gaze to the SUV instead, wondering if the desert heat was finally cooking what few brain cells she had left. She shifted a little, shading her eyes from the setting sun.
Nick moved in front of her, parking his hands on his hips. Catherine lifted her chin.
“Sorry—daydreaming for a moment there—“ she explained in a faint voice, fading off again—
And Nick grins, boyishly. He drops his head to look at his boots, a laugh racking his shoulders as he does so.
“Wow, I think Hell just froze over—You? Daydreaming?”
“I daydream once in a while—“ Catherine protests, a little hurt at Nick’s amused tone. She doesn’t like the implication here, that she’s some humor-dead soulless drone.
Nick shoots her a sidelong glance full of speculative sweetness, his lashes long and full against his high cheekbones.
“So—what was it about, then? What could possibly be SO fascinating that it supersedes my crime scene analysis?”
Catherine meets those roguish brown eyes and decides to go for the kill, metaphorically speaking.
“Nothing much. Your ass, mostly.”
That does it, oh yes. Nick’s eyes go wide with shock, and Catherine is gratified to witness him speechless for a moment. She gives him a sweet smile.
“Had me going there for a second,” he wheezes, recovering, laughing.
“Nnnnnnno, I wasn’t kidding.”
Another shocked pause as Nick sizes up her expression, his own suddenly as wary and still as a rabbit in the headlights of a Semi. He swallows hard.
“I don’t see why you’re so startled, Nick—you’ve been waving it in my face since we got OUT here you know—“
“Have NOT!” he protests, blushing now. Catherine likes seeing Nick off-balance like this, likes it a lot. Under all that smooth talk he’s so young. So sweet—
She steps closer, looking up into his face and the irony of the gamble isn’t lost on her. Catherine’s upping the ante out here in the shimmering heat of sunset. Something about being miles from anyone else, about seeing that trickle of sweat running down Nick’s cheek and wanting to lick it off—
“I mean it--you’ve got a hot ass, Nick.”
He starts, paces away from her, busies himself with the kit and the skid marker in an attempt to regain some normalcy. Catherine can tell from the set of his shoulders he’s upset, and from the bulge at his crotch he’s aroused. She smiles a little to herself and takes off her butterscotch leather jacket, draping it on the hood of the SUV.
This leaves her in the black tank top. Her black silk tank top, and wouldn’t you know it’s one of those days she’s going bra-less? Catherine raises her arms up and stretches, letting her navel flash under the short top.
Getting to Nick.
Nick’s trying not to look, but she’s definitely getting him. His handsome jaw is tight, and Catherine can tell EXACTLY what’s going through his mind as he kneels on the asphalt studying something: Harassment questions, drug suspicions, wary desire. She saunters over and plants one booted foot on the toolbox, closing it.
“Hey Nick, you’re thinking too much. The case is moot, honey. The driver and the hitchhiker weren’t fighting.”
“Sure they were,” Nick sounds relieved to be on safer ground. He stands, angling away from her so she won’t see his bulge, but she shakes her head again.
The big bruise at the back of the hitchhiker’s throat? The bump on the back of her head? I know what happened. Get in the SUV and I’ll show you—“
Nick’s curious. He’s still suspicious of her tone, and frankly he’s letting his whisky-colored eyes roam over territory he’s been much more careful about staring at before, but this is still an investigation, so he follows her to the SUV. Catherine motions to the driver’s side with a little mocking gesture watching Nick settle his fine ass into the seat. Swinging around to the other side, she opens the passenger door and leans in, letting Nick get a nice eyeful right down the front of her gaping tank top.
“I’m the hitchhiker—young, pretty, on the move. I flag you down for a ride.”
“Okay—“ he nods, following her lead. The minute Catherine climbs into the cab though, he’s nervous. The space is confined now, and Catherine smells the scent of Nick’s sweat, tinged with arousal in the heat.
“So now what?” he blurts. Catherine smiles.
“Now comes negotiation time. I don’t have any money, and you’re open to some alternatives, right?”
Nick’s eyes widen, but he nods, gamely. Catherine leans closer, running her hand up his demin-covered thigh. The muscle there is lean and warm under her fingers. Nick clears his throat, and by the look in his eyes, he’s catching on.
“Pumping for gas?” he guesses in a low choked voice. Catherine pretends to consider this, her hand sliding higher.
“For openers, probably. I’d be willing to bet Sara finds hitchhiker hair along the driver’s pants back in Trace—“
Her voice is slow, but her hand isn’t, moving with relentless skill to settle lightly on the straining demin bulge between Nick’s thighs. He quivers, but keeps his eyes straight ahead along the desert through the windshield, not daring to move or speak. Catherine chuckles, low.
“I have no doubt she primed him with some manual dexterity—“ Catherine’s fingertips circle with teasing pressure and Nick’s breathing is a little rapid now. Truth to tell, so it Catherine’s—despite Mr. Stokes being such a young guy, there’s nothing boyish down HERE.
Grade A Prime.
For a tense lusty moment she caresses him, the growl of his zipper loud when she tugs on the tab.
“Cath—“ Nick chokes a bit, finally turning his face to her, eyes as dark as burnt oak. She wriggles on the seat as a spike of lust lances down her stomach in response to his hot-eyed stare.
“Just—reenacting. Have to be thorough—“ she whispers against his lips. Nick moans.
Kissing, hot wild and slick; Catherine savors the taste of Nick’s lips. He’s bolder now, inviting her in, letting her slide her tongue deep into his excited groan. Nick kisses like a dream; deep and slow, soft and teasing. Catherine lets their tongues duel a bit, playing over teeth and palates, igniting that sweet syrupy lust.
And it’s gooooood, mindlessly sensual, this hungry kissing. Nick’s hand comes up, but Catherine grips it, guides it right to her shirt, where his fingers slip over the curve of the silk. Big hand, cupping her chest just right, hefting the weight of her breast, thumb grazing over the nipple in a way that makes her quiver and moan.
“Jesus—“ Nick gulps, his breath hot on her lips as he tries to suck in air before moving back into her mouth. Catherine’s hands have been busy, liberating him from the confines of his jeans; Nick helps by shifting so they can come down to his knees, along with his briefs. He’s thick, and his cock feels like heated suede in her palm.
“And she—“ Catherine sighs, “—Goes down on him—“
Suiting her action to her words, so does Catherine. Nick tenses, a deep helpless groan erupting from his heaving chest. All Catherine focuses on though, is his musky flavor on her lips, deep in her mouth.
“Gaawwwwwwwd!” His Texan accent deepens as Nick’s head lolls back. Catherine can feel his hard stomach tighten where she’s got her ear pressed; the gratifying power of this moment turns her on so damn much she can barely keep from squirming.
Nick gasps, and his ass tightens; she can feel it trying to pump him deeper into her mouth. Deftly she grips his shaft and pulls up a little, enough to speak for a moment.
“A big like guy like you, slamming deep in my throat? That’s going to leave a bruise, Nick baby—“ Catherine growls, just to feel Nick writhe and thrust again, helpless against the drive of his lust.
And she loves it. With deliberate, lingering suction Catherine pulls Nick to the edge of coming, tongue swirling around his cock. He’s panting now, and by the taste of him, so very close to coming—
Catherine turns her head to look up at Nick.
“She doesn’t finish him. He’s trying to hold her down on his cock, but she jerks away and hits her head on the bottom of the steering wheel—“
Her hands continue to slide around him, caressing the thick vein on the underside.
“Ngggghhhh!” Nick protests, eyes unfocused as his brows draw together. His hands reach for her, but Catherine laughs a little and shifts back, sitting up. Confused, Nick’s chest heaves.
“Now that we’ve figured the case out, let’s celebrate—“ she coos at him, tugging on her jeans. Nick’s eyes widen and he nods, reaching to slide a hand under her tank top.
Catherine peels her jeans down to her calves and moves to straddle him, hungry to feel that heat driving into her. Knees on either side of his strong hips, she lowers herself onto Nick’s cock groaning happily.
With a little pushing and wriggling, their bodies fit, slick and full and hot. Catherine rolls her hips in an old familiar dance move, milking her pleasure from the thick pillar sliding into her. Nick’s hands cup her ass possessively and he meets her mouth head on, his smile so full of sexual hunger that she gives in and tries to kiss it off his face.
They rock hard and long, relishing this sunset pleasure, this wild and perfect moment of mutual lust, making the SUV shake—
“Sorry, but you looked a little flushed there. Gris will kill me if we end up with heat stroke from standing out here too long.”
The daydream faded as Nick handed her a lukewarm bottled water from the crime kit. Catherine opened it, and debated for a single long moment whether she ought to dump it on her own head instead of drinking it.
“So what’s your theory?” Nick sighed, packing the kit up.
“Same old, Same old. She gave him a blowjob for the ride, he lost control, tried to get to the side of the road and went too far off the shoulder,” Catherine muttered.
“Fits the evidence. Let’s go home—“