The Davenport Christmas Chronicles - Piper Davenport Page 0,26
get put on the sex offenders’ registry by an officer we personally knew. To make things worse, Corporal Aiello was as sweet as they came. He was a devoted husband and father of five, and still made time to play bass in a rock group called the Screaming Eyes. “How’s the band?”
“Doing great! Thanks for asking. We have a gig this Saturday night at The Lucky Seven. You should come out,” he replied with an enthusiastic smile.
“We’ll try to do that,” I said through my pasted-on nervous smile.
On one hand, I was extremely happy that we weren’t being interrogated by some random asshole cop. On the other, I was convinced that he knew exactly what Minus and I were doing in here and was going to write our names down in the official book of Portland’s perverts and park sex fiends.
“So, then...” Minus said.
“Oh, right,” Corporal Aiello snapped back to his official duties. “I was just checking you guys out to make sure there wasn’t anything funny going on. Had I known it was you and Ms. Wallace, I wouldn’t have bothered you.”
“No bother at all, Corporal,” Minus said. “We appreciate you keeping Portland safe. We were just about to move along anyway.”
“We’re headed off to our club Christmas dinner. My brother and sister in-law are hosting this year, but not at their place, well sort-of at their place.” I began to ramble nervously. I did the same thing when Hatch would bust me after sneaking out at night. “We’d just stopped to—”
“Look at the view,” Minus said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
“Well, you two make sure you don’t stay out here too long or that turkey’s gonna get cold,” he said.
“You bet,” Minus said, with a wave and started the engine, and Corporal Aiello headed back to his cruiser. I slid out of my underwear and righted my bra before buckling my seatbelt.
“Oh, my god, that was close,” I panted out. He’d pulled out of the park and took the freeway entrance while I tried to further clean up. “My heart’s still racing.”
“What did you think he was going to do, baby? Drag us off to sex jail?” he asked as we drove toward the compound.
I shrugged. “Your record isn’t exactly clean, honey, I wasn’t sure what he’d do. But he could have nabbed us for indecent exposure for sure.”
“We weren’t exposed.”
“You weren’t,” I ground out, shifting in my seat. “I’m kind of naked under this skirt.”
“You are?” he asked, his eyes burning with desire again.
“My panties were soaked, Minus. Had to get rid of them.”
“Jesus,” he hissed. The Dogs of Fire compound was located behind Big Ernie’s Body Shop, but you wouldn’t know the mass amount of land by the front of the shop. As we pulled into the lot, Minus asked, “Is there a back entrance—”
“Yeah, you can get into my back entrance anytime,” I interrupted.
“Kind of hard to crash when you’re barely going ten miles an hour, honey, but hurry up and park so you can fuck me again, mmm-k?”
“Where?”
“Oh, you can fuck me anywhere—”
“Where am I parking the truck, Cricket?” he ground out, and I tried not to laugh.
“Park behind the sign. There’s a blind spot where the cameras won’t see us.”
He didn’t say another word as he whipped the truck behind Big Ernie’s sign. Slamming the truck into park, he climbed out and jogged around to my side, helping me down and turning me to face the interior. “Grip the handle, Cricket,” he demanded, lifting my skirt up over my ass and undoing his jeans.
I reached for the oh shit handle and held on tight as he slid his dick inside of me from behind, reaching in front of me to finger my clit while he fucked me from behind. His other hand slid under my sweater, pushing my bra up so he had access to both breasts.
“Hold on, baby,” he directed, and I braced myself against the seat which was at chest level.
Palming my breasts, he slammed into me over and over again, slapping my pussy as his dick pulsed inside of me. I wasn’t far behind him, crying out as my climax hit hard and fast.
Minus pulled out of me, grabbing my tissues and cleaning me up before righting himself. I grabbed my overnight bag and found a clean pair of underwear, shimmying them on then shoving the dirty pair into the bottom of the bag.