When I wrote the first part of this story, 'Arresting' Officer, I was just starting to post my work, having rediscovered my creative side. I'd like to hope I have grown and improved since then, nearly three years ago, but I suppose that's for you, the reader, to decide. Recently, a few readers asked if I had plans to continue this one, something I really hadn't thought about.
Now, after three years, it's almost like a brand-new story... So, here goes nothing. I hope you enjoy it.
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I was sitting in my study, staring at the uncooperative screen of my computer. Despite my best efforts today, very little of the thoughts that swirled through my head had found their way through my fingers. As a result, I was feeling a little stalled.
When I felt this way, time lost its meaning.
I don't even know how long I had been sitting there, but a familiar sound brought me back out of my stupor.
It was a whine. Not from a dog, although there was one in the house, downstairs somewhere. No, this whine was mechanical, and accompanied by a low rumble.
Emily was home. I stood up, and saw her Mustang, a Roush stage 3, pull into our driveway. I felt the same way I felt every day when she came home safely.
Relieved. Lucky. Thankful.
I was already on my way to greet her when I heard her voice.
"Davis? Honey? I'm home," she called. Her tone was happy. It wasn't always the case.
Her face lit up when she saw me at the top of the stairs, and she opened her arms to welcome my hug. I embraced her, squeezing her tight.
Most of the time, that hug would have her soft, voluptuous chest pressed tight against me, but today, all I felt was body armour. While it wasn't normal for her to wear it home, it wasn't that unusual either, a result of simple geography. Sometimes, she was closer to home than her precinct at the end of her shift.
Despite the Kevlar, I held her close. My hands caressed her back, feeling the extra mags for her service weapon in the back pouches of her vest. My arm detected that weapon in the holster under her left arm.
"Glad you're home, baby," I whispered in her ear, reluctant to let her go.
"Mmmmm, me too, honey," she said, softly. "Long day."
I had learned long ago, that asking her about that 'long day' was a double-edged sword. While I was interested in her job, there was plenty she couldn't tell me, there was plenty she was trying to shield me from, and plenty I really didn't want to know. It gave me a whole new appreciation for the police. They do an absolutely impossible job, day after day, for a public who don't give a shit about them, largely because they, the public, don't know how bad it really is out there.
Well, I, for one, now know how bad it is, and it scares the crap out of me. For almost three years, since Emily and I had met and fallen for each other, I had wondered, every time she left, if I would see her again.
She had warned me. She told me, very early in our relationship, that the prospect of loss was exactly why she had steered away from getting involved in the past. We had mutually decided to risk it, but still hadn't actually tied the knot.
Things had improved, somewhat, since she had left the uniform division. Early on, as Constable or Officer Brewster, she had been on the front lines, driving a cruiser around by herself. In our area, cops didn't have partners, like they do on TV. Apparently, we were better off than some parts of the country.
***
In reality? Not so much. I was reminded of it every day.
Like today, for example. Emily headed upstairs to change, and I followed, planning to help her. She let me help her off with her jacket, then turned to face me, smiling as she watched my eyes wander across the bulletproof vest that obscured her form.
There had been occasions when that same vest had been a sexual costume. Picture a beautiful, naked, buxom woman, riding your cock, while wearing such an anachronistic outfit as that armour. Modern necessity meets the most ancient of urges. Now I realized how foolish that attitude had been.
Peeling back the velcro that held it in place, I slid the vest off, then began to unbutton her blouse. She turned her back, letting me roll the fabric over her shoulders. There it was.
A reminder... of the day I came home in the early afternoon, to find her sitting on the couch. It was too early for her to be home, so I figured something was wrong, and I was right. The sling on her right arm confirmed it.
Six hours earlier, she had been called to the scene of a break-in. Backup was on the way, but hadn't arrived before she was confronted by an armed suspect. Fortunately, she was faster than he was, and her aim was better. Her bullet hit a more vital area than his did. He would live, but was in no shape to keep her from cuffing him.
With one hand.
The other hand, her left, was incapacitated by his bullet. It went through her hand, on the way from the gun barrel to the front lawn of the house, via her left shoulder.
At the hospital, x-rays had shown that somehow, almost miraculously, the projectile had missed every bone in her hand, and nearly every one in her shoulder, merely nicking her clavicle. Her wounds were considered non life-threatening, and after several dozen stitches, and plenty of bandages, she was sent home.
My opinion of her injuries was slightly different. To say I was shocked, and scared shitless, would be an understatement. The bullet had gone through the velcro strap, above the kevlar. A few inches lower would have tested the vest. A similar distance to the right would have made it a moot point, probably killing her.
Emily took it all in stride. It was her first wound, but not news to her. She had plenty of colleagues that had similar stories, and spouses with similar reactions.
Now, as I bared her shoulder and was faced with the scar of the exit wound, I was wondering if I would ever get used to that feeling of dread. I kissed the blemish, which was much more distinct than the three other wounds. The front of her shoulder was much less upsetting, and her hand was hardly noticeable, but I still had to open bottles for her, until the strength returned.
I sat on the bed, and watched her put her weapon in the gun-safe we had installed in our closet. She was now nude, and it was an oddly sexy picture of her handling the gun to render it safely unloaded. With the safe door closed and locked, she walked into the bathroom. I heard the water of the shower start.
"Care to join me?" she asked, peeking around the door frame.
This was our life. We had made a deal, almost three years ago, that she would be as careful as possible, and that I would confine my worrying to while she was away. I wasn't to let those fears contaminate our time together. To do so would be a waste of what might be a finite resource.
I stripped quickly, and walked in, finding her already under the warm spray. She smiled, still with eyes closed, and turned to snuggle against my chest, sighing as I wrapped my arms around her. We leaned against the shower wall, enjoying the warmth and closeness for a few minutes, before she tipped her head back, silently asking for a kiss. I was happy to comply.
Emily's body was what first attracted my attention. Along with her sparkling eyes, her spectacular curves were hard to miss. Now, I considered it a very fortunate bonus, as I couldn't picture my life without her in it.
"You know I love you, right?" I said softly, caressing her wet skin gently.
"Mmmmm hmmm," she nodded, rubbing her cheek against my chest. "I love you, too." When she kissed me again, I felt the stresses of the day melting away in her. I also felt her hand, which had found my semi-hard cock and was stroking it to a full erection.
She slipped slowly down my body, dragging her wet chest across my stomach, then lower, until her boobs were pressed against my thighs. I felt her tongue flutter over the head of my dick, and moaned.
"Oh, Emily, darling, yes," I sighed, as her mouth engulfed my cock slowly. If the shower was her way of unwinding after a difficult day, then this was her way of helping me do the same. She knew that I had been worrying about her, all day long, and this was a reminder that she was home safe,
Besides, she really liked giving me blowjobs, and she was very, very good at it. Along with every other aspect of sex, Emily was all I could hope for. I was lucky.
I watched her head bob slowly, feeling the exquisite combination of heat, wetness, and suction that marked her oral stimulation. She was moaning softly as she went, enjoying it nearly as much as I was, if that's possible.
