"I can just warm your butt sweet," he said calmly as he lifted her to his chest. "Or I can sear it so it burns for a week. Your choice, doll," his words firmly spaced, his voice low and his eyes daring her.
"Police brutality!" she spit and tried to swing at him but her head was still spinning, her stomach lurched again and it seconds, the rest of what she had imbibed that day erupted all over his chest.
She was mortified and certain he'd take a swing at her - that's what her boyfriend always did when he was ticked off at something she said or did. "I'm... I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, her vision blurred and her body shaking at the realization of what she had done. "I'll wash your clothes," she hiccuped and tried to think of what else she could do to make amends.
But Joe Taggert wasn't angry. He kicked himself when she hurled again. He should have known her stomach was still queasy. He wasn't sure what she was babbling about - "sorry" and "clothes" the only words he understood as he rushed her back to the bathroom. With one hand, he got rid of his smelly shirt and T-shirt and with the other, he held Louise back over the commode. When it finally looked like her stomach was going to stop heaving, he lifted her to his lap, a cool washcloth in hand and wiped her mouth and neck.
"Feel better, doll face?" he asked gravely as he waited for her to rinse her mouth. "A little one like you can't hold too much beer, you know."
"I apologize," she said swiftly, ducking her head beneath his chin and then realizing her cheek touched his bare chest, she recoiled from him.
"You don't have to be afraid of me," he said softly with just a tinge of regret. "I won't hurt you."
"Hello?" she said with some sarcasm, her bravado rejuvenated now that she felt better. "Aren't you the same man that just threatened to sear my butt? Am I hearing things or are you one of those schizoid cops who can't remember if he's the good cop or the bad cop?"
"And you're a dumb cop, right?" she added fuel to a growing fire.
"As dumb as they come," he said in a monotone with a poker face and flipped her over his knees right there on the bathroom floor.
"Wait!" she screamed. "What are you doing?"
"Sorry, ma'am," he said with great patience. "This dumb cop doesn't understand too much." And then he yanked her slacks and panties down and shut up and let his hand do the talking. And it talked... and talked... and talked... and didn't waver when she yelled and then screamed curses and then finally sobbed as if her very best friend had died and she had no one left in this world or in the world to come.
"I suppose I shouldn't expect an apology and a thank you for helping you out," he said in that same monotone when he lifted her upright and held her shaking body to his chest.
"I'm going to sue you for police brutality," she sobbed and sniffling, reached back to rub her tender butt. "And don't think I won't do that!"
"Should we take pictures of your sore bottom or were you planning to drop your pants in front of the judge?"
"You're a miserable son of a..."
"Uh uh," he said softly and put a finger on her lips to silence her and when she looked up at him, he saw her big brown eyes and the tears that lingered on her cheeks and he remembered again that she was the prettiest little doll he'd ever seen. She'd had a rotten few months and a miserable day and evening and she was in his arms and despite everything that had happened, she was still soft and delicious. It was true... her mouth needed washing and her butt could use another hard spanking but he wanted to lock lips with her, squish her tight and never let her go.
He went with his gut and kissed her.
She kissed him back and then the realization of her actions slapped her hard and she pulled away from him.
He pulled her back, tightened his hold on her and kissed her again, his tongue demanding entrance between her lips.
She tightened her lips against his invasion. He lifted her slightly and swatted her butt hard... twice... and her mouth opened to him.
"You're a bully," she managed between kisses, her chest beginning to heave as she sucked air into her lungs.
"I thought I was Mr. Hunk Stuff," he chuckled.
"Mr...? Oh!" she remembered and blushed.
"I was pretty out of it, I think," she said, her eyes on the fur on his chest, wondering what he'd do if she wound her fingers in it.
"You propositioned me, too," he chuckled.
"Did not!" her exasperation at his words making her huff.
"Yes, you did," he asserted and tilted her chin up so he could kiss her again.
"Did not!" she insisted.
"Did too," he declared as one hand cupped her head so that she couldn't avoid his mouth and the other cupped her bare bottom.
The feel of his hand on her bare bottom didn't penetrate her brain until the kiss had ended. The kiss didn't end until his tongue had made more than one naughty move and as it played in her mouth, she yielded to its demands. His lips had covered hers like morning dew on freshly opened petals and like those petals, she drank in all he had to give.
And she was nourished and replenished.
And when he finally let her up for air, her brain registered the ache in her bottom cheeks and then the heavy weight of his hand cupping the soreness there and all the rage and fury of her life rose to the surface, boiling over.
Call it instinct. Call it reflex. Call it a gut feeling for survival. That adrenaline surge of incoming fire... on the midnight streets of any town in America... any town in the world... on the front lines of war... you know you are about to be attacked and you do anything and everything to thwart the firepower headed your way.
Detective Joe Taggert did the only possible thing he could do. He pushed one angry little doll onto her back and covered her mouth with his own, kissing her until she gasped for breath. When her hands flailed near his head, he captured both in one of his own. When he let her breathe, she screamed in his face and then was abruptly silenced when his mouth found the hollow in her throat... his free hand - moving on its own - cupped... and explored a soft round breast...
...and then all hell broke loose!