I stopped listening to Sheriff White a long time ago. Her lips were mesmerizing as she spouted off something about Garcia. That subtle amount of red lipstick was all she needed. My pants were so tight it was difficult to hide my throbbing cock. I imagined myself grabbing her ponytail and shoving her right in my crotch, watching those lips suck me off until cum poured out of her mouth.
I couldn't resist anymore. I grabbed her hand away from her face and went in for the kill. Her lips were as sweet as candy. I breathed her in deeply, our mouths working as one. I forced my tongue into her mouth and she loved it. My hand wandered to the back of her head and I almost thought about making her go down on me. But I couldn't get enough of her kiss. I pushed her against my mouth, harder, shoving my tongue deep down her throat. A quiet moan escaped her lips and I almost came right there and then.
Charlotte pulled away, wiping her mouth, looking like she had just committed the worst crime ever. I felt something cold against my wrist and looked down to see handcuffs around it. Without missing a beat, Charlotte was cuffing my other wrist and reading off my rights. This bitch was good. She played me like a fool.
She lifted me to my feet and pushed me forward and out of the meeting room. The entire MC glanced in my direction and there was an immediate uproar. Claire came from behind the counter. “What the fuck do you think you're doing, cunt?” Claire was known for her legendary cat fights. She could brawl with the best of them. Be easy on her, Claire.
“This man is under arrest,” Charlotte replied, walking me to the exit.
“To hell he is,” Claire screamed, blocking our path. Other members came to her aid, with arms crossed and furrowed brows.
“Easy, guys. She's just doing her job. I'll be out in no time,” I said in a calm voice. This could get out of hand very quickly. A dead sheriff would put all types of heat on us.
Claire huffed before stepping out of the way.
Sheriff White brought me over to her cop car and gently placed me in the back seat, covering my head to make sure I didn't hit it on the way in. The whole situation was a little ridiculous to me. I knew they didn't have anything on me. I didn't lay a finger on Garcia—even if it was one my men who did the shooting. This was just a way for Charlotte White to show off her newly-gained powers.
The ride to the station was filled with silence and watchful eyes in the rear-view mirror. I leaned forward in my seat against the grate that separated the front and back. “That kiss was really something, wasn't it?” I asked her. Charlotte didn't respond. “I mean the way your lips move against mine, the feel of my fingers on your skin.”
Sheriff White shifted in her seat. “I would advise you to stop talking.”
I relaxed in my seat and glanced outside at the passing scenery. “I bet your still wet right now.”
Charlotte gripped the steering wheel harder and kept quiet. She couldn't stop thinking about the kiss just like me. If she was going to play this game of arresting me, then I wasn't going to make it easy for her.
We arrived at the police station and Charlotte took me into the basement jail where there were four cells lined up in a row. Only one other guy was down there, patrolling his cell back and forth. He was obviously still drunk. The Sheriff produced a key from her pocket and unlocked the farthest cell to the right. She proceeded to undue my handcuffs and pushed me inside the cell before locking me in.
I put my arms through the bars and rested against them. “You're going to miss me, Sheriff,” I said with a big grin.
Charlotte approached the jail cell until our noses almost touched. I could almost taste her mouth again. My whole body tensed up. “You can't have this,” she whispered and walked away, swaying her hips back and forth. My eyes were glued to that hot piece of ass until she was out of sight.
I resigned to the small bench that was supposed to be used for sleeping. The guy in the cell next to me kept pacing back and forth, talking to himself about mayonnaise on hot dogs. “What's your name?” I asked him.
The man stopped in his tracks and looked up. “Name's Ronnie,” he said in a perfectly normal voice. He gazed back down at the floor and started doing his laps again.
Making conversation was the easiest way to pass the time while in lockup. “I'm Sawyer, what're you in for?” Even if your cell-mate was a little crazy.
Ronnie kept shaking his head and kicking his left foot. “No mayonnaise on hot dogs.”
Not going to get much out of him. I lay back on the cement bench and closed my eyes. Steps down the stairs woke me up only moments later. I sat up to see Officer Johnson come in. “Glad to see you back here, Johnson. Guess you wised up and took our advice.” Johnson was our inside guy at the police station. When he told us that he was going to quit because of the new sheriff, we told him to get back there or start digging your own grave.
“I didn't really have a choice, did I?” he replied. In his hands was a bottle of Jack Daniels. He slipped the bottle through the bars and into my hands. “Something to hold you over.”
“Much appreciated.” I unscrewed the top and took a swig. The alcohol burned so good. “Do they have anything on me, Johnson?”
“Just grasping at straws. The new Sheriff thinks she's hot shit. Has no idea how this town works.”
“Keep me posted and keep the booze flowing.”
Johnson nodded and left. I walked over to the edge of my cell and passed the bottle to Ronnie. “Take a drink, Ronnie, it might calm you down.”
Ronnie grasped the bottle with two hands and tipped it until the liquid poured into his mouth. He wiped his chin with his sleeve and handed the bottle back. “Mayonnaise tastes good.”
I took another sip. “It sure does, Ronnie.”