cw: smut(mdni), semi-public sex, p in v, protected sex.
policeman!ony x black!fem!reader
The afternoon sun was beating down hard through your windshield, making the leather steering wheel hot to the touch. You were running late—your cousin’s baby shower started in twenty minutes and you still needed to stop for a gift. That’s why your foot had gotten a little heavy on the gas, pushing the speedometer past seventy on a fifty-five stretch.
The flash of red and blue in your rearview made your stomach drop. Fuck.
You pulled over to the shoulder, killing the engine and watching the patrol car slide in behind you. Standard Dodge Charger, black and white. You took a breath, already reaching for your license and registration from the glovebox. No point in being pissy—you were caught.
The door of the cruiser opened, and you watched in the side mirror as the officer stepped out. Tall. Broad. Uniform stretched tight across his shoulders. He adjusted his cap as he walked up, and you caught a glimpse of dark skin just like yours, sharp jaw, eyes that looked almost amber in the sunlight.
He tapped on your window once. Twice.
You rolled it down, and the heat outside rushed in, mixing with the cold AC. “License and registration, please.”
His voice was deep, calm. Professional. You handed them over, and he looked them over, then down at you.
“You know why I pulled you over?”
“Probably the speeding,” you said, keeping it honest.
“Mm-hmm. Clocked you doing seventy-two in a fifty-five.” He pulled a small notepad from his pocket, clicked a pen. “That’s a hefty ticket, ma’am.”
You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat. “Look, Officer, I’m already running late for a family thing. I ain’t got time for a lecture and a fine.”
He glanced up from his pad, and there was something different in his gaze now. A flicker. He let his eyes drop to your mouth, then down to the open neckline of your blouse before snapping back up.
“Late, huh?” He said it slow, like he was tasting the word. “Running late ain’t gonna save you from the law.”
“Maybe I can make it worth your while,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. It was a gamble, but his reaction told you everything.
He smirked, tucking the notepad away. “You think you can sweet-talk your way out of a ticket?”
“I think I can do a lot more than talk, Officer.”
He looked around at the empty stretch of road—just trees and fields on both sides. No cars coming. He opened your passenger door and slid into the seat beside you, the car dipping with his weight. He was big. Close now, you could smell his cologne, something woodsy and clean.
“You know what happens when you proposition a cop?” He said, his voice dropping lower.
“You tell me.”
He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Fuck, you bold.”
He reached over and unbuckled your seatbelt, his fingers brushing against your collarbone. Then he leaned in, lips inches from yours. “I ain’t supposed to do this. But you got me curious.”
You didn’t wait. You grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss—rough, wet, tasting of coffee and mint. He groaned against your mouth, his hand sliding up your thigh, slipping under the hem of your skirt.
“Mmph—fuck,” he breathed, pulling back just enough to look at you. “On the side of the road?”
“You got a better idea?”
He glanced in the rearview, then back at you. “Backseat. Now.”
You both moved fast, scrambling over the center console. The space was cramped, but you managed, him pushing the driver’s seat forward so you could stretch out. He climbed in after you, the door clicking shut, and suddenly the world outside felt miles away.
He was on top of you, his weight pressing you into the leather. His hands found your waist, your hips, tugging at your skirt until it bunched around your thighs. You reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle.
“Shit—hold on,” he muttered, his fingers working faster than yours. He unbuckled, unzipped, and you felt his cock spring free, hot and heavy against your leg. Your mouth went dry.
“You got a condom?”
“Glovebox. Driver side.”
You reached over, your arm stretched awkwardly, your fingers brushing the latch. He laughed softly at your struggle, then reached across you, grabbing a foil packet from the compartment. He tore it open with his teeth, sheathing himself in one smooth motion.
Then he was back, his knee pushing your thighs apart. He slid his hand between your legs, pressing against your panties. You were already wet—soaked, really. He felt it, his eyes darkening.
“Damn,” he whispered, almost to himself. He pulled your panties to the side, and you felt the head of his cock nudge against your opening.
“Yeah, come on,” you urged, your hips lifting to meet him.
He pushed in. Slow at first, then deeper, a long, solid inch-by-inch. You gasped, your nails digging into his back through the stiff uniform shirt.
“Oh—fuck—that’s… mmh, yeah…”
He bottomed out, his forehead dropping to yours. His breath was ragged, warm. “You feel… damn girl, you tight.”
You couldn’t form words. You just wrapped your legs around his waist and rolled your hips, asking for more.
He got the message. He started to move—a steady, deep rhythm at first, the sound of skin slapping filling the tight space. The car rocked on its shocks, a soft creak and groan with every thrust.
“Mmh… yeah, right there—don’t stop…”
He grunted, his pace quickening. “You gon’ make me—fuck—you gon’ make me cum too fast, talking like that.”
You reached down, grabbing his ass, pulling him deeper. “Then cum. I don’t care. Just—ahh—just keep—mmph, right there—”
He buried his face in your neck, his thrusts becoming sloppier, more desperate. The sounds were wet, raw—schlick, schlick—mixing with your moans and his low, guttural groans.
“Shit, shit, I’m—I’m gonna—”
“Yes, yes, yes—cum in me, cum in this pussy—”
His body tensed, a deep shudder running through him as he came, his hips stuttering against yours. You felt the pulse of him inside you, warm and thick through the latex. A guttural sound escaped his throat—half curse, half moan.
You both lay there, panting, the AC still blowing cold air, but your skin slick with sweat. He eased out carefully, disposing of the condom in a little wrapper he stuffed in his pocket.
He sat up, adjusting his pants, straightening his shirt. “Damn.” He ran a hand over his face. “You got my ass in trouble if anyone saw.”
You smirked, pulling your skirt back down. “Worth it?”
He looked at you, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah. Worth it.” He opened the door, stepping out into the sunlight. Before he closed it, he leaned back in.
“Slow it down next time, alright? Or I’ll have to give you another… warning.”
You laughed, watching him walk back to his cruiser. He didn’t write a ticket. He just got in, gave you a nod through the windshield, and pulled away.
You stayed there for a minute, catching your breath, the taste of him still on your lips. Then you started the engine, checked the rearview, and pulled back onto the road—going the speed limit. For now.
©corsetdevious, all right deserved.
