A/N: This was my submission to the "For the Love of a Man in Uniform" Contest...it won 2nd place in the public vote! Thank you to all of you who read and voted! I hope you enjoy the crazy, snarky, and kinky side of our little Bella...
"For the Love of a Man in Uniform" O/S Contest
Title: Disorder in the Court
Word Count: 4,223
Summary: Bella has a minor traffic violation. She ends up with much more than a fine at the courthouse…
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
I can't believe I had to take a day off from work for this injustice!
I'm currently sitting in my car in the courthouse parking lot, my head thrown back and my eyes closed. I am annoyed and pissed off. Almost as annoyed and pissed off as I had been four weeks ago when I got the stupid ticket. They told me my appearance in court was required to resolve the situation.
Apparently, I had a burnt out license plate lamp, which raised the suspicions of one Officer Newton as I drove by. And apparently, I should pay more attention to my mail because I failed to notice that my new car insurance card arrived.
First of all, how the hell could I have known that the lamp was burnt out? I mean, come on. How often am I standing behind my vehicle, while it's running, in the dark? Officer Newton was all prepared to give me a warning and let it go until I handed him an insurance card that had expired three days prior.
Are you kidding me? Three whole days?
Well, apparently, according to Officer Newton, the state is "cracking down on uninsured drivers." And apparently, Officer Netwon is gay, because all my feminine charms had no affect on the situation! The ass-wad didn't even look at my boobs once.
So here I sit, pissed and fuming. Whatever! Let's just get this over with.
I'm not usually this crude and bitchy… well, not all the time. Resolving that the longer I wait, the longer it will take until I'm back at my apartment soaking in a bubble bath, I quickly exit the car and head up the steps to the courthouse. The drizzle and gray sky match my mood and I take extra care not to slip on the damp pavement. Walking into court with a wet ass and bruised tailbone certainly wouldn't lift my spirits.
Walking through the double glass doors, I lock eyes with what I can only describe as the most beautiful man I have ever seen. And he's a police officer – Officer Edward Cullen according to his nametag. He's staring at me. Oh. My. God. He has the most incredible green eyes, crazy bronze sex hair, and a lopsided grin that is making my knees give out… and my nipples harden. Yeah, that's embarrassing.
I cross my arms over my chest because the only thing standing between my THO and Officer McHottie, as I'm choosing to call him, is a worn-out Guns and Roses t-shirt and my thread-bare laundry day bra.
Then I uncross them. You know, because maybe he wants to look at my nipples.
"Hi," I say shakily, attempting to smile in a sexy, non-creepy sort of way.
Officer McHottie smiles and I am fairly sure I hear some angels singing in the background.
I drop my purse on the conveyer belt that leads to the fancy-schmancy metal detector and various other weapon-finding equipment to make sure I'm not a terrorist or something.
"Jesus! Is your purse big enough? Are you smuggling any weapons or dead bodies in there?" Officer McHottie asks with a smirk.
So, yeah, I carry an enormous purse. How the hell should I know which of my ten lip gloss flavors I'm going to be in the mood for? Or if I will have the sudden urge to peruse a cookbook while in a waiting room somewhere?
And, quite frankly, days like this make that economy-sized bottle of Excedrin Migraine necessary.
With a huff, I briefly lose hold on my plan to play the innocent victim in this whole courtroom drama.
"You know, having a gun on your belt does not make you a comedian."
I should know – dear old Dad is a cop and he makes this face like his brain is going to explode every time he tries to figure out why I say "that's what she said."
The second this statement (regardless of how true it is) leaves my mouth, I immediately feel like I've taken the wrong approach here. Let's try a new direction…I lean in closer to Officer McHottie.
"And besides, I happen to like large accessories."
I wink as I say it. Score! Officer McHottie swallows audibly and his pretty green eyes seem to darken ever so slightly. That smirk is replaced by a smoldering, lop-sided grin.
"Oh yeah? I like a woman who can properly accessorize." And, fuck me, he winks right back. Cue the parade in my panties.
I get lost for a second in his eyes – he really is one fine specimen. I wish I could lick him. Or handcuff him somewhere and ride him like a merry-go-round.
He interrupts my internal pornographic ramblings as my purse shoots out on the conveyer belt with a thud.
"Ma'am, please step through the metal detector."
I shake my head ever so slightly and remember where I am – oh yeah, I'm in the middle of a fucking courthouse about to write a large check for a bogus ticket. I'm pissed all over again. Even some playful banter with a fuckhot policeman isn't enough to diffuse my inner bitch today.
I step through the rectangular walk-way. A shrill beeping just about makes me piss my pants (which, I'm sure, would not impress Officer McHottie, nor would it increase my chances of talking my way out of this stupid traffic violation.)
Officer McHottie rolls his eyes and then shakes his head with a grin.
"Do you have any metal objects in your pockets or on your person?"
On your person? Really? Who actually says that? And where else besides my pocket would I be harboring metal objects? It's not like I've taped a roll of quarters between my butt cheeks or something.
I dig into the pockets on my jeans. Yes – I'm wearing jeans to my court appearance. I've met the shirt and shoes requirement and that's just about all I care about. Although I certainly would have forgone the panties and threw on a skirt had I known Officer McHottie would be here. As I'm digging in my pockets, he holds out a small basket, in which I place one earring, a tube of chapstick (because, you know, there isn't enough in my purse), four quarters, and one used Kleenex, which erupts in a small cloud of dried snot dust as I pull it out of my pocket. Fuck, that is just not sexy. At all.
Officer McHottie chuckles as my cheeks erupt into my signature blush.
"Ok. Step through again."
This time it seems I am metal free, because there is no beeping. Too bad, since a full cavity search might have been fun. Maybe I should try the roll of quarters next time. Officer McHottie meets me on the other side and hands me my purse. He holds up the little basket and I start cramming things back into my pockets, including my used tissue.
"Good luck in there."
Officer McHottie sends me off with a wink and smirk. I try to smile back, but the drool probably makes me look like a rabid dog rather than the sexy social deviant look I was aiming for.
Shaking my head slightly, I take a deep breath and head into the main lobby of the courthouse. There are rows of seats in the center of the large room. A large sign points to the clerk's office at the right and another directs visitors to the courtroom on the lower level to the left. I head to the small staircase, noting that the shiny black floors combined with shiny silver railings give it a night club type look. How strange – is that really the atmosphere they were going for? Looks like something my best friend Alice would design.
I check in with the bailiff who sits at a desk in a waiting room filled with more chairs. He takes my information and pulls a file out from a stack. He gives me the stink eye as I lean over the desk to try and see what type of information they could have in that file – I mean, sure, I certainly don't have any type of record, maybe a couple of speeding tickets a few years back, but isn't it my right to see? Freedom of Information Act and all that? Whatever, grumpy-bailiff-man. I roll my eyes as I take a seat to wait for my name to be called.
After twenty minutes of watching people file in and out of a large wooden door, I hear my name called over the loud speaker. I stand and stealthily make my way over to the door. And by stealthy, I mean I managed to catch the toe of my shoe on one of the chairs and almost face plant in some criminal's lap. Thank goodness I zipped up my huge, overflowing purse or it would have been raining lip gloss, adding to the lovely night club theme already going on in this place.
Not being a regular here, I was expecting to actually be in a courtroom. Instead I walk into a small office with one bare wooden desk, behind which a petite brunette is seated. Her curly hair could benefit from a good palm full of Frizz-Ease, but other than that she is quite pretty. She looks to be barely 18 and I briefly wonder what the hell some little intern-type could have to do with my traffic violation. I also notice she is smacking her gum, which in my rule-book is a crime worthy of jail time. I mean, come on, close your damn mouth or spit that shit out.
And then she starts talking. Ugh.
"Hi, I'm Jessica. And you are Isabella?" She sounds bored. Well, it sounds like boredom combined with Rice Krispies, courtesy of her mouthful of gum.
"Yes," I reply, my voice laced with bitterness.
I wish we could speed this damn process up. I'm curious to know what her actual title is here, but I refuse to talk more than absolutely necessary.
"Since you have provided proof of insurance, we have dropped that charge. The second charge on the ticket is a defective license plate lamp. Would you like to plead guilty?"
"What happens if I don't plead guilty?" I try not to sound like a complete bitch, but that just doesn't seem to be working today.
"Well, it will go to trial." Chew. Smack. Crackle. Pop.
"Well, what happens if I plead guilty?"
"Look, Isabella, this is a zero point ticket – your license will not be affected in any way. You would just have to pay the fine and then we can all go on our merry way. SOOO, how do you plead?"
Jessica or whatever her name is no longer sounds bored. She sounds like one of the snotty, blow-job-loving girls I went to high school with.
And that is just not fucking ok. I narrow my eyes. I can feel my face heating up in anger. I take a deep breath, preparing to unleash all the wit and sarcasm that is Bella. Then my stupid inner voice pipes up, telling me I am in the fucking courthouse and I will probably be arrested. By Officer McHottie. Although being subdued sounds like it could be somewhat fun, it would probably also be pretty damn embarrassing. My dad would probably drive all the way from Forks just to kill me.
"Guilty," I mumble through my clenched teeth.
She fucking smirks at me. Bitch.
"Take this paper upstairs and wait in the lobby for the clerk to call your name."
I take the paper and book it out of there.
Back upstairs I find that most of the chairs are taken. This could take awhile. With a defeated sigh, I plop in the nearest seat I can find. I cross my legs and start kicking my ankle back and forth impatiently. This would be a good time to bust out that cookbook from my purse.
I look up and realize I have a perfect visual of the entryway and Officer McHottie, who happens to be leaning against the wall near the entrance, eyeing me with that panty-dropping smirk of his. Fuck the cookbook! I grin at him. Oh, Officer, the things I could do to you!
I hear some clinking noises to my left and become momentarily distracted, because apparently I have the attention span of a squirrel. I look over and see a sweaty kid sitting a few chairs down. In his lap is a gigantic glass jar. Squinting, I see it is full of change. Huh. I wonder how Officer McHottie, the comedian, handled that one with his fancy terrorist-detection equipment and smart-ass remarks.
"Tyler Crowley!" the clerk calls out from the office off to my right.
The sweaty-jar-of-change kid gets up and walks into the office. In his wake, he leaves a cloud of stink. Holy mother of pearl! I wrinkle my nose and shake my head in disgust – I may not be dressed all fancy, but at least I showered before my visit to the good ol' courthouse.
Tapping my toe on the ground, I'm starting to wonder how much longer this could take. I glance over at the clerk's office and I see the Crowley kid counting out change on the desk. My eyes widen and I let out a very unlady-like snort. Is he for real? He's paying his fine from a jar of freakin' change? I throw my head back on the seat and bite my lip to keep from full-on laughing. If I didn't get stuck waiting in line behind the smelly kid, I would actually be pretty impressed. There is certainly no better way to "stick it to the man" and protest against court fines than by paying in dimes and nickels.
I hear a low, sexy, chuckle that breaks me out of my inner ponderings. Looking up, I see Officer McHottie has caught on to the change jar situation and is looking right at me with an amused smirk.
I can't help but smile…that smirk is just all kinds of handsome. Yes, handsome. So I wait. And stare. And wait. And stare. I briefly wonder if I have enough time to hit the ladies room and do a quick round of self-lovin' while sweaty kid works on his math skills.
"Isabella Swan!" the now very irritated clerk calls out.
I see sweaty kid is smirking as he leaves the office. Yeah, thanks for warming her up for me buddy, and for that nasty stench you left behind.
I walk in and try to breathe through my mouth as I sit in front of the desk. The clerk, or Shelly Cope as the nameplate on her desk states, looks at me over her glasses and I can't help but feel like I'm back in high school sitting in the principal's office.
I look away and wait for her to say something or tell me what to do. I'm here because I have to be, not to make friends with the damn clerk. She clears her throat.
"Ms. Swan, you have pleaded guilty to your defective vehicle charge. The fine for this charge is $85. Would you like to pay with cash, check, or charge?"
Of course, in true Bella fashion, I lose it.
"WHAT? Eight-five dollars? For having a stupid light out? That is just completely unbelievable! You people are outrageous! It's not my fucking fault Officer Newton is gay!" Well, damn, I have just yelled at the courthouse clerk. Ok, so my filter has officially left the building.
"Ms. Swan! I suggest you watch your language, young lady," she hisses through clenched teeth.
Oh, shit. Shelly Cope is not a happy camper – I hope she's not having a heart attack or something – her face is awfully red.
I wisely hold my tongue. I dig through my purse and pull out my checkbook, mumbling incoherently.
As I'm handing her the check, she rolls her eyes and says, "You should really consider some anger management classes. I could give you some information if you'd like to check into it."
And there it is. Bitchy Bella has officially taken over.
I narrow my eyes and jump to standing.
"Whatever, lady! I do NOT have anger management issues. I have a problem with being pulled over and sent to court for an offense that CLEARLY should have only merited a warning. So you can take my eighty-five dollar check and shove it right up your ass!"
"OFFICER!" Shelly screams out and cowers back as if I'm some rabid animal.
Within a second, Officer McHottie is in the doorway, looking an odd combination of both angry and amused, as if he isn't sure whether to laugh or smack the shit out of me. Maybe he'll spank me. I mean, I have been pretty naughty, if I do say so myself.
"Please escort Ms. Swan out of the building before I press charges for assault."
Ok, dramatic much, Shelly? Assualt?
Officer McHottie gives me a stern look and then grabs my elbow.
"Come with me, Ms. Swan."
He leads me out the double glass doors and towards the parking lot, never letting go of my elbow. My face is about fifty shades of red right now. Could this be any more humiliating? When we near the sidewalk to the parking lot, he makes a sharp left, dragging me along with him. Holy shit! Am I being arrested or something? Surely I haven't actually broken any major laws, have I?
"Where are we going?" I ask, breathlessly….boy, Officer McHottie's long sexy legs can sure travel fast. I can barely keep up. God, I hope I don't trip!
"Be quiet," he growls.
Oh god – I don't know whether to scream in fear or cream my panties.
He leads me behind the building to a secluded little brick enclosure. Fuck. No one can see us from here.
He slams me up against the brick wall. Ok, that kind of hurt, but the smoldering look in his eyes distracts me from the near-violence of the situation.
Without warning, one of his hands grabs me at the waist and the other digs itself firmly in my hair, cupping the back of my head. His tongue is suddenly in my mouth. Oh GOD. My tongue meets his in a fight for domination. I can't help the breathy moan that escapes me.
Suddenly his mouth is gone and he's talking in my ear, a low, husky growl that makes me shiver from head to toe with longing.
"You couldn't just behave, could you, Isabella? What am I going to do with you?"
"You aren't going to arrest me, are you?" My voice sounds foreign in my ears, almost squeaky. I am in a sea of desperation and sensation. God, I want his tongue back.
"Tsk. No, although I probably should. But I do think you should be punished. Don't you, baby?"
"Yesssss," I hiss back, like the shameless hussy that I am.
Suddenly his tongue is back in my mouth. His hands are everywhere, squeezing, rubbing, oh it's too much! I want this man. I feel the button and zipper on my jeans give way – how did he do that so quickly? His hand is gentler now, working its way into my panties. Oh, yes, this is what I need.
"I bet you're wet for me, aren't you, naughty girl?"
My incoherent answer is nothing more than a breathless moan as I feel his fingers where I want them most. He caresses me, oh so gently. Harder – I need him to be harder! As if he can read my mind, he starts a punishing rhythm. One hand working my sweet spot, the other has snaked its way up my t-shirt and under my bra, teasing and pulling at my nipple. His lips are on mine, a wet, intrusive, passionate kiss.
"OH!" I can't take much more… it's too much. I'm so close.
"Fuuuuck!" I moan out. My head hits the brick wall behind me with a loud thud, but I barely register the sharp pain it causes.
His lips suck at the hollow beneath my ear for only a second before I hear his voice, nothing more than a whisper.
"Come for me, baby. Please, I want to feel you."
His words are my undoing. I feel my body tense and pulse and I cry out. The pleasure, wave after wave, is blinding and I can barely stand. My hips are bucking wildly against his hand. He keeps stroking me as I ride out the pleasure.
My words are nothing more than a mumble – I am completely spent. I open my eyes and instantly meet his beautiful green pools. I lean forward and my lips meet his with all the energy I can muster. Pressing close to his body, I feel his hardness through his uniform. It is straining so tight it looks painful.
Sinking to my knees, I look up at his beautiful face. Never breaking eye contact, I begin to undo his belt. His hands reach down and help me with the complicated buckles and the button of his black pants. Reaching in, I pull out his cock and my mouth starts to water at the sight – the size is impressive and hard, but his skin is baby-soft as I stroke it. I want to taste him, to feel him coming undone in my mouth.
I look back up at him and smile at the blazing look smoldering in his granny smith apple eyes. Oh yes, Officer, you know exactly what I'm going to do.
I tentatively lick down his length, starting at the base and working my way towards the gathering of salty goodness at the tip. Without warning, I plunge, taking as much as I can until I feel him hitting the back of my throat.
Oh yeah, Officer likey.
I pause for a few moments, sucking gently, taking care to breathe deeply through my nose. I know most women might think I'm on my way to crazy-town, but I love sucking a man's cock. It makes me feel powerful and wanton. In those few minutes, I feel like a bold and sexual creature. Which, let's be honest here, I'm normally not – I'm all jeans, t-shirts, random cussing and snorting. But looking up into Officer Cullen's face, I know right now, I am in charge.
Before I start to move, I reach up and grab one of his wrists, positioning his hand at the back of my head. His fingers immediately tangle themselves in my hair and I hear his gasp of surprise.
"Fuck, baby, you are so beautiful on your knees with my cock in your mouth. You like that, don't you, baby?" I hum my approval in response to his velvety voice.
His hand guides our pace, pushing and pulling, and I suck as hard as I dare and go as far as I can. In this moment, I would do anything for Officer McHottie. His panting and moaning is almost enough to make me cum again. I feel him swelling in my mouth and I know he is close. I reach up and stroke his balls gently and sure enough, that tips him right over the edge, coming violently down my throat. I greedily swallow him down, basking in the look of pure ecstasy I see on his perfect face.
I lick and suck gently until I feel him soften in my mouth, finally pulling away from my favorite treat. Officer Cullen seems incapable of movement and is panting softly, trying to regain his breath. I stand up and help him redress. His arms envelop me gently, but firmly, and I revel in the change in the atmosphere around us – from intense and domineering to loving and content. I nuzzle my face in the crook of his neck and feel his breath in my hair.
"Oh baby, I love you so much" he whispers in my ear and then kisses me softly on the forehead, so sweet and gentle. He slowly pulls back and smiles at me. His hand gently pushes the hair off my face and his thumb caresses my cheek. I lean into the touch.
"I love you too, Edward," I whisper. "What are you doing here by the way? I thought you were going to be on the highway today."
"Officer Newton called in sick. He was supposed to guard the court today and I had to fill in."
And there goes my happy bubble.
"Fucking Newton!" I hiss. Edward laughs and I can't help but smile.
"Maybe it's a good thing he wasn't here. I'm surprised you got through the experience without causing any physical harm or property damage as it is."
"Me too," I grumble.
With a sigh, he pushes off the wall and steps forward.
"I need to get back to work, baby. I'll see you at home in a couple of hours, ok?"
I smile up at him.
"Sure thing, Officer McHottie."
Oh yeah, his smirk is back. I reach up and kiss it. God, I love this man. I lean up and leave him with one last whisper in his ear.
"And don't forget, you promised to punish me. You better bring home the handcuffs."
A/N: Reviews are better than getting handcuffed by Officer McHottie...I'd love to know what you think :-) Thanks for reading!