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Dad’s Irish Friend
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My dad’s best friend is a hot Irish cop.
But can this small town older man have eyes for such a big city younger woman?
The first time I visit the city where he serves as police captain is the first time I think there might actually be a chance…to share another kind of first time…with him.
Will my dad’s best friend risk my father’s friendship, and his job, for me in the hopes of the HEA I’ve always wanted, or will this older man leave this younger woman heartbroken on Saint Patrick’s Day…and forever?
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The siren wails and lights flash in my rear view mirror causing my eyes to dart from Main Street to the speedometer.
I breathe out hard and bite my lower lip, keeping me from cursing under my breath.
“Please…not right now.”
I ease off the gas and roll to the side of the road. When I come to a complete stop I slap the steering wheel with both hands, accidentally catching part of the horn with my palm.
My car’s horn sounds about as aggressive as an angry duckling, but it is loud and I know the cop who’s quickly making his way around to the passenger side of my car, to avoid being clipped by a passing car, heard it.
Great. Now I’ve got two strikes against me in this little podunk town I didn’t even want to come to.
I should be back in Boston helping plan their St. Patrick’s Day parade, but apparently you have to know somebody to get involved in a project of that size. That means the rest of us, like me, are left with the scraps.
My scraps happen to be North Adams, Massachusetts and their St. Patrick’s Day parade.
My mom and dad recently moved here so my dad could finish out his twenty-five years as a police officer in a city with a slower pace of life. Well, North Adams is that, or at least I expected it to be…until now.
“In a hurry today, ma’—“
The officer’s deep, gravelly voice hits a break like a freight train mid-sentence. The angle of the sun is hitting those Ray-Bans of his just right and I can see his eyes, even through the tinted glass. They’re locked on mine just as much as mine are on his.
Here I was expecting some little town that’s so backwards and antiquated I’d leave the work I came here to do completely off my resume.
But now, completely unexpectedly, there are a bunch of other things on my mind that won’t leave.
Like the first time I was ever pulled over in my life and the hot cop who did it.
Like the naughty thoughts I’m suddenly having that entail all the things he could do to me.
And like leaving my virginity here in this little town with the man who seems to have an Irish accent.
A moment passes and neither of us say anything. I wish I had my sunglasses on so I could ogle him a bit better, but I’m so captivated by his light eyes that I can’t imagine looking anywhere else.
My eyes flutter as they rake along the scruff on his strong, square jaw before I lock eyes with him again.
“Sorry, officer. I was…uh…running late.”
“Wait right here,” he says as his back straightens but he manages to keep his eyes on me until the hood of the car blocks all of his body above his chest.
I use the opportunity to let my gaze wander across his taught shirt that covers what must be washboard abs. His big, black belt is cinched tight and I can imagine it cracking across my backside.
What has gotten into me?
My line of sight drags down and I come up in my seat just a bit so I can get a good look at his length…all of it. But even as I straighten my back ramrod straight and bring my shoulder down and stretch my neck up I can see his thickness continues down his leg farther than I can see…and I can see a lot. I’m seeing at least a good six or seven inches and his dick is pressed right up against his pants, and there’s no sign of his crown in sight yet. That’s at least another inch or so.
How big is this man?
Minimum seven or eight inches?
The sound of the gravel grinding under the heel of his boot makes me jump. He pivots and marches back to his police car.
My eyes follow him in my rear view, watching his firm butt as he moves with a wide stance, like a real man.
I slide down in my seat feeling my panties moisten for the first time in I don’t know how long, yet still I don’t take my eyes off the mirror as I track him back to his car.
He opens the car door but he faces forward, looking right into my rear view mirror.
He’s watching me, watch him.
Cops are notorious for hiding behind obstacles and then storming out just as you pass their speed trap. It’s the oldest trick in the book and one that keeps the city’s coffers overflowing.
But there’s nothing over flowing about him…except his muscles and what they’re doing to me.
He just stares forward, his lips not moving, his hands not visible, and his body stiff…as he stares at me staring at him.
The last thing you should do is be aggressive with police officer, and starring certainly qualifies.