Free Position Secured by Olivia Brynn Page A

energy. She tweaked her nipples, pulling them until currents of need zinged through her. Still, she maintained her slow pace. She licked her fingers and spread her saliva on the tip of each breast. The new sliding friction sent her heart into a slamming tempo. God, it was going to be good. She lifted her head and blew on her nipples. The cool air made her stomach clench.
    She dropped her head back onto the pillow and stared at her ceiling. Her pussy begged to be touched. The moisture that coated her almost dripped onto the pillows beneath. She lifted her head again, this time blowing down the valley between her breasts and straight to her shaved pussy. She was so wet. She released her hold on one tit to slide her hand down her abdomen, slowly, feeling each inch of skin along the way, until she squirmed on the bed in anticipation. She loved driving herself crazy like this. Like she wasn’t in control of her own hands. Finally, she slid her two middle fingers into the heat of her sex.
    “ Aye, Mami .” She was so wet, so swollen, that the nerve endings surrounding her opening were pushed to the surface, amplifying each swipe of her fingers in her folds. Each became almost like a miniature orgasm of its own. One long drag down into her channel, then another back to her clitoris.
    Then again.
    She reluctantly released her other breast to pinch her clit. Her entire body jerked. Holy Mother, she almost came right there. She’d have to slow it down. She took a deep breath.
    Screw that. She fumbled for Bob, completely disregarding the lube. As wet as she was tonight, she wouldn’t need it. Maybe for round two, only because that warming action was so damn…
    Bam…bam…bam.
    The pounding on her front door echoed through the house. Chester raced into her room and under the bed. “What?”
    More pounding. Five steady beats that sounded like metal on wood. Mari shook herself out of her self-loving induced fog, and stood on shaky legs.
    Who in the hell? If her neighbor had locked himself out of his house again, she was going to throttle him. Her entire being pulsed with need. She wrapped herself in her robe and stomped to the door, swearing up a storm in Spanish. Now anger simmered right along with the need to come.
    “Who is it?” she barked. Never interrupt a girl’s orgasm, damn it.
    “Lieutenant Marcus Pearson with Denver Police. There’s an emergency. I need to secure the premises. Open the door.”
    She peered through the peephole. Sure enough, a man in a black T-shirt, black cargo pants and dark glasses held a mean looking rifle in one hand, his face partially obscured by the badge in the other.
    Her hand flew to her mouth at the sight. She’d grown up in the west, and she’d never before freaked out at the sight of a rifle, but this black monstrosity was nothing like Granddad’s Winchester. “What do you want?” She spoke with her nose against the door. Her second cop encounter of the night, but things were looking up. This guy wasn’t overweight and balding. In fact, he looked damn good through the fisheye lens. She rose on her tiptoes to look down. Nice.
    “I need to requisition your house. Please. It’s official business.”
    It might be the orgasm fighting to come out, but even his voice was sexy. She might forgive him for being a cop.
    “My house?”
    “I need the vantage point from your upstairs window. There’s a hostage standoff in the vacant house behind yours. Could you open the door?”
    “I was in the middle of something.”
    “Ma’am, I need to come in.” The fisheye did nothing to disguise the tightness of his face.
    “How do I know you’re for real?”
    “I showed you my badge.”
    “I can buy one of those at the dollar store.”
    He spun around and ran one hand through his dark hair, leaving tunnels through the thickness. Perfect—now she had a view of his ass.
    He whipped back around. “Lady…go to your southeast window and you’ll see what I’m talking about. This isn’t a