Shut Up And Kiss Me (gxg)

25. F*ck The Police

      THEY WERE STRIPPERS. 

      And they had apparently been told to find the "prisoners."

      Through the haze of my mind, it didn't take long to realize why Skylar had dressed me in an orange jumpsuit. Because there was suddenly a female police officer in front of me, singling me out from the crowd.

       "You're under arrest," she crooned, taking off her hat and shaking out her black hair.

       Black hair. I couldn't help thinking of Monroe.

       Even though I saw her almost every school day, there was nothing but simmering, barely veiled tension between us. Magnified even more now that I knew what had happened to her parents, now that I knew the fucking truth.

       I almost wished Aaron had never told me.

       It hurt me to think it, but Monroe had been right. It was easier to hate her. To pretend that I didn't want to have anything to do with her.

       But I didn't have dwell on that. Not as the female stripper pushed me into a chair, her finger trailing over my chest.

       Magically, the first three buttons of my jumpsuit came undone.

       "Wait," I said, panicked—and maybe even turned on. "I can't—"

       "Oh, yes, you can," Skylar said.

       I realized then that her and I were in chairs, back to back, in the hallway. I was facing the door and she was facing the backyard.

       The rest of the party had continued—all loud music and cries for shots and drunken laughter. But in this moment, with a female stripper in front of me and the power of four, maybe five, shots within me . . . 

        I realized it at the same moment Skylar said, "Tal! I didn't know you were a horny drunk."

        "I'm not drunk," I argued.

        I heard Skylar's chime of laughter. "You didn't deny that you were horny."

        The police officer popped open another button of my jumpsuit. And she looked just like Monroe in that instant, if only I didn't look directly in her eyes.

        There was deep, sultry music playing somewhere. And between my legs, I felt the slow thump of my pulse.

        "You've been a bad, bad girl," said the police officer.

        Behind me, I knew Skylar had a stripper, too—but a male one. I wasn't sure where Aaron or Lila Bard had gone, and I didn't particularly care.

        A laugh got caught in my throat. It was funny, but—

        I was turned on. That was going to be a problem. I was really fucking turned on.

        "I can't," I whispered, trying to push the stripper off me. 

        But she caught both my hands, and suddenly, too fast for my brain to understand, I was handcuffed.

        Actually handcuffed.

       "You've been naughty," she teased, the gloss of her red, red lips as luscious as the skin of a cherry. "I think you need to be punished now."

        Those words sent a blast of heat rippling through my blood. My legs clenched together, but it only made it worse—only made it unbearable.