【 𝐿𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑆𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑠 】

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〖 𝑇𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒 〗: 𝑃𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑂𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑟

〖 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 〗: You have too much to drink one night, and Officer Reed asks you a few questions. Unbeknownst to you, he's not going to let you off with just a warning

〖 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 〗: nsfw 18+, allusions to drinking & driving, dirty talk, inappropriate use of a police car, oral sex, slight orgasm denial, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, public sex

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Your heels scrape against the pavement as you make your way back to your car. You aren't as young as you used to be, but you party like you are. It isn't every day that you can celebrate your friend's birthday, and you intend to make the most of it.

You dig through your purse and search for your keys as you approach your car. You mumble out a curse as your car keys tumble out of your fingers and onto the pavement under your car. You crouch down and blindly pat under your car, hoping your fingers will brush against the cool metal of your keys.

You're pulled out of your search by the familiar whoop of a police siren and blue and red flashing lights.

"Excuse me, miss," a voice calls from behind you.

Curses tumble past your lips and you slowly make your way to your feet. Your tiny, snug dress had made its way up your hips, and you hastily tugged it down, hoping you didn't flash the poor officer.

He clicks on his flashlight as he nears you, cutting through the darkness of the dingy, desolate parking lot.

"Evening Officer," you greet sweetly, attempting not to slur your words.

He flashes the light in your face, taking in your appearance. You squint and bat your eyelashes as he clicks the light off.

"You planning on driving tonight?" the officer questions, raising a brow.

You can barely make out his face in the dim light of the parking lot. He's attractive, around your age, or maybe a little older. He's rugged, but a little disheveled. His gray eyes glint in the light as he meets your gaze. The small, metal tag on his shirt says "G. Reed," and you look up at him.

You shake your head, "No, Officer Reed. I just wanted to get something outta my car."

He hums, pursing his lips. Your heart hammers in your chest as he observes you. He crosses his arms, "How many drinks have you had tonight?"

"I'm not drunk, sir," you reply with a small smile, looking up at him through your lashes. You hope the innocent act will earn you a slap on the wrist and maybe a ride home.

He grunts out a laugh. He leans forward, "I can smell it on you, sweetheart."

Your facade falters for a moment, and your heart pounds within your chest. "I stopped drinking hours ago," you reason.

"I'm gonna need you to step to the side," he says, grabbing your bicep and tugging you closer to his police cruiser. He opens the back door and pushes you toward the backseat. You nearly trip in your heels, and you throw your hands out to catch yourself as you land ass-up in the backseat. You could've sworn your heard him suck in a breath, and he leaves you momentarily to dig through the driver's side of his car. You take the time to right yourself in the backseat. Your legs dangle outside the car, and he returns to your side of the car with a small device with a tube on the end.

"You can't be serious," you utter, rolling your eyes.

He steps in between your legs and holds out the tubed end of the device in front of him. "Inhale deeply and then blow until you're almost out of breath," he commands.

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