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Indecent Exposure

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Nicole can feel her heartbeat pounding in her throat, but she can’t swallow it down.

Waverly’s dancing in front of her, moving with all the fluid grace her lithe body is capable of. She’s strong but sinuous, the edges of her pleated skirt flipping out with each pop of her hip. It’s a painful, beckoning tease, one that sends a lance of heat straight to Nicole’s gut.

Then there are Waverly’s arms. They snake like ribbons only to stop at sharp angles, framing the subtle swell of her breasts beneath her Blue Devils top and the strip of pale, vulnerable skin at her midriff.

Nicole feels the sudden urge to peel the shirt off with her teeth, to nip the flexing muscles there, to kiss her way down those tight abdominals and then up Waverly’s flexing thighs until…

She can’t help it. It’s stereotypical, straight out of a porno, but it’s also Waverly. And like she says, this is everybody’s thing, whether they want to admit it or not. Waverly is her thing, in a cheerleader uniform or out of it.

Nicole’s wide eyes are stinging-dry from her reluctance to blink, but she doesn’t look away. She can’t look away. Hot damn, Waverly’s hair is a shimmering sandy waterfall, flying everywhere only to flow perfectly around her shoulders as it lands in a rustle of shifting silk.

And her legs. Oh God, Waverly’s legs. They’re the long, silky, wrap-around-the-waist kind that make Nicole want to grab them and yank them apart. She’d have to flip that tiny blue skirt up and out of the way first, though. Just toss it up so she can yank down whatever panties Waverly’s wearing underneath…

Waverly does a high kick and Nicole’s breath stops. Her heart leaves her throat, only to slide straight down between her thighs and throb there like a drum.

Oh God.

Oh Sweet Merciful God in Heaven.

Waverly isn’t wearing panties.

All Nicole is able to catch is a flash of pink, but it’s enough. Waverly is shaved and bare and not wearing panties, and all that’s covering the tight swell of her ass as she whirls around to strike a pose is that swishing, pleated blue and white hem.

Nicole can’t take it anymore. The thoughts of what she has to do later today, all the unpleasant tasks, ignoring Black Badge while she takes care of the town’s boring drunks and perverts, suddenly fly from her head. It doesn’t matter anymore. She’s got this, she’s got Waverly, and Waverly can turn any crummy day around.

(At least when she’s being normal. But she seems pretty damn normal right now.)

When Nicole stalks forward, Waverly whirls to face her, striking a final pose. She’s panting, a glittering line of sweat rolling down one collarbone, her hair tousled in the prettiest way Nicole has ever seen, or even imagined. She could have come straight out of a made for TV cheerleader movie.

“So? How was it?”

Nicole licks her lips, reaching down to adjust her belt. “A very nice performance,” she says, modulating her voice when it comes out too breathless and eager. She doesn’t want to play desperate, even though she is. “But I’m afraid we have a problem.”

Waverly’s smart. She picks up what’s being put down almost immediately. “A problem, Officer Haught?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m afraid I’m going to have to book you.”

Nicole gives her belt another tug, making sure her handcuffs are on full display. She doesn’t do this—she promised herself in the academy, and with previous girlfriends, that she wouldn’t do this, because she respects her job like crazy and the whole sexy officer thing is unrealistic and overrated anyway—but she knows Waverly likes it. And like cheerleaders, hot cops are just about everyone’s fantasy.

Waverly’s eyelashes flash innocently, bestowing butterfly kisses on her flushed cheeks. “For what, Officer?”

“Indecent exposure.”

Nicole takes another step forward, crowding into Waverly’s space, backing her toward the couch. She pauses, searching for the consent in Waverly’s eyes. She finds it there in spades, along with a wave of green heat—and there isn’t a hint of the curious coldness that sometimes spikes through them lately.

(Maybe it has something to do with Willa’s death, and possibly not being an Earp. Maybe those thoughts intrude on Waverly like her own thoughts of being a useless, donut-eating cop rejected by Black Badge intrude on her?)

“But Officer,” Waverly says, pleading in a voice that is entirely too innocent, and entirely too sexy. “Can’t we work something out? I didn’t mean to forget my panties…”

Nicole takes one last step, closing last of the distance between them. “I think you did,” she says, trailing her fingers up along Waverly’s bare arm. (Lord, her skin is soft as melted butter.) “I think you left them off on purpose.” Nicole runs her fingertips along Waverly’s collarbone, right where the sweat is, pressing in where Waverly’s pulse pounds at the dip of her throat. “I think you were trying to distract an Officer of the Law from her job.”

“But you can’t arrest me,” Waverly protests, barely fighting a grin. “I’m too pretty.” It’s an all too silly, and all too human moment, one Nicole can’t help but echo as she grins back. This is her Waverly, all right. Dorky in the extreme.

“Pretty girls get arrested all the time.” Nicole clears her throat, putting on her best authoritative voice. “Now turn around and assume the position, Miss Earp.”

She almost expects a slight stiffening at ‘Earp’, but Waverly ignores it or doesn’t notice or is distracted by what they’re doing, because with one last pout, she turns around.

That gives Nicole an even closer look at the backs of her legs, which are almost completely visible beneath her skirt along with the round curve of her ass. Waverly’s got more padding there than it seems from afar, but Nicole knows from personal experience just how firm it is. She can’t help herself. She runs her fingertips up along Waverly’s thighs, enjoying the gasp and shiver she causes.

“Spread ‘em. I need to check you for concealed weapons.”

Waverly almost laughs at that, but she plays along. She grips the back of the couch and spreads her thighs, even sticking her rear out a little for good measure. Nicole has to swallow again. Her mouth has gone dry, but her underwear is uncomfortably wet. Just looking at Waverly can have that effect on her, but touching? Touching drives her wild.

Nicole can’t keep her touch teasing and light for long. She slides under Waverly’s skirt and kneads the bare cheeks of her ass, groping them hungrily. It’s still not enough, so she nuzzles Waverly’s flowing hair aside to nip at her shoulder, causing both of them to groan as one.

Waverly always tastes so good. Nicole doesn’t know whether it’s her body wash or some kind of lotion or just her sweat, but her skin’s like honey straight from the hive. And she knows where she can find more, too. Only a little reluctantly, she lets go of Waverly’s ass and removes her handcuffs from her belt.

The clink of stainless steel has Waverly trembling. Nicole can see it in her thin frame and it gives her a swell of pride. The things Waverly does to her are incredible, but she can pay it back in equal measure, just by being herself. She pulls Waverly’s arms back and clicks the cuffs around her wrists, leaving them on the loosest setting so they don’t hurt. The rings are so wide that they almost fall off Waverly’s small hands, and she could probably escape if she wanted, but they’re just tight enough to dangle there.

It’s the symbolism of the act that counts, really.

Waverly whimpers, rocking her hips back just a bit, and Nicole returns to what she’s been doing. This time, when she runs her hands up Waverly’s perfect legs, she doesn’t stop until she’s cupping between them. Her eyes roll back and she can’t help moaning when she realizes Waverly is just as wet as she is. Waverly’s bare lips are dripping with sticky heat, and Nicole swirls it around with her fingers, thrilled by the thought that she made this.

“Inside,” Waverly gasps, as if she’s forgotten they’re supposed to be role-playing.

Nicole doesn’t care. She wants nothing more than to be inside Waverly anyway. She thrusts up with one finger, then two, surprised at how easily Waverly takes them. Her entrance is so incredibly tight, grasping Nicole’s knuckles, and the muscles inside ripple and clutch as soon as she pushes in.

It only takes her a few short curls to find Waverly’s special spot. Waverly sags forward as soon as she hits it, crying out loud enough that anyone else in the house could probably hear. Thankfully, there’s no one else home. So Nicole does it again, and again, savoring the sounds Waverly makes, taking them as prizes of conquest.

“This is what you wanted, right, Waves?” Nicole growls, nipping Waverly’s ear.

Waverly melts. “Yes,” she hisses, bucking her hips back in desperation.

Nicole pins her against the couch to keep her in place. “That’s why you skipped the panties. Wore this short skirt. Did a cheer for me. Teased me. Because you wanted me to fuck you.”

Waverly’s noises have devolved into whimpers. She’s helpless, shuddering, and Nicole is surprised by how much she likes it. She’s not usually one for power games, but this? This is heady stuff. She’s drunk with it, but a thought comforts her and makes the red dizziness okay: it’s Waverly. She can trust Waverly.

(At least, she can when Waverly’s like this…)

“If we’d met back in high school, I would have taken you under the bleachers,” she whispers. If she’s going to go in on this fantasy, she might as well take it all the way. “Fucked you like all those muscleheads out on the football field or the hockey rink only wished they could.”

“You,” Waverly whines, clutching even tighter around her, drooling wetness into her hand and down her wrist. “It would have been you.”

“Damn right it would have been me.” Nicole reaches around Waverly’s neck, sliding two of her fingers between Waverly’s lips. She can feel the slide of sticky pink lipgloss along with the heat of Waverly’s tongue darting to taste her. “Now come. Come all over my hand, baby.”

She rolls her thumb over Waverly’s clit, and that’s the end. Waverly squeals and shivers and comes, sucking one set of fingers and milking the others at the same time. Her teeth dig in a little, but Nicole doesn’t mind. She sinks her own teeth into Waverly’s shoulder, only hard enough to leave a faint mark. She wants Waverly to be able to cover it up later, for professional reasons, but she also wants it to stay a while. She wants Waverly to have a little reminder after this is over.

Only when her wrist is burning and she’s fucked Waverly dry does she stop pumping her fingers and circling her thumb. By then, Waverly has gone limp over the couch, knees buckling, barely supporting herself. Her arms are slack behind her, and Nicole withdraws despite Waverly’s whimpering. She begins to undo the cuffs while instinctively checking for any bruising.

“No,” Waverly says, her voice small and muffled by the couch cushions.


“Leave them on. Please?”

Nicole’s brow lifts in surprise. She had thought they were finished, but apparently not, because Waverly turns in her arms, suddenly possessed of new strength. Her deep kiss proves she’s recovered, and as their tongues tangle together, Nicole is left breathless once more when Waverly’s taste fills her mouth.

Damn. This girl. This beautiful girl. Problems or not, this girl owns her. She’s the one who should be in cuffs.

When Waverly sinks to her knees, all Nicole can do is stare. She doesn’t interfere as Waverly nuzzles the front of her khakis—which Nicole has never loved wearing more than in this moment. She watches in amazement as Waverly actually manages to undo the button with her lips and tongue, then peel down the zipper with her teeth. Then she stares up beseechingly, hair tossed back, plump lips shining.


Nicole hurries to pull down her pants, hooking her thumbs in her underwear too. The moment she’s exposed, Waverly goes to town. She burrows her tongue deep, licking like she hasn’t had a decent meal for years, and her enthusiasm has Nicole reeling. She has to reach over Waverly’s bent head and grasp the couch herself so she doesn’t fall over. She might be the first girl Waverly’s been with, but the woman eats pussy like she was born to do it.

Within a matter of moments, Nicole is staving off an orgasm of her own. Fucking Waverly had gotten her embarrassingly close already, and looking down at her girlfriend now, still in that tight, clingy, revealing uniform, moaning and licking and sucking, is almost too much to bear. Nicole grasps the back of Waverly’s head, planning to urge her to ease up, but she can’t bring herself to do it. She wants to come. She wants Waverly to make her come.

Waverly seems to be in her own little world. She thrusts her tongue in and out of Nicole’s entrance for a while, a slippery glide that makes Nicole’s inner walls clench with need, and then teases her clit, drawing it between her lips and lashing the tight bud over and over.

Nicole grits her teeth against a scream. The train is coming and she’s frozen in the headlights. She searches for a distraction, maybe more filthy words, but they don’t come. All she manages to release is a hoarse, desperate roar as she hits her peak, fisting Waverly’s hair and shaking like autumn’s last leaf.

Her orgasm is a long, shuddering thing that claws all the guts out of her. She can’t stop, and she can’t get enough. She rocks hard into Waverly’s face—this is probably the roughest she’s ever been, since their first few times were all tender kisses and smooth touches—soaring over the ocean for as long as she can before she plunges back into the salty waves. And there’s definitely an ocean pouring out of her, one Waverly drinks up with the same eagerness she started with. She hasn’t tired out one bit.

By the time Nicole comes back to herself, she’s almost numb to the flicks of Waverly’s tongue. Her body is heavy and tingling and she can’t feel much of anything. Never has a single orgasm exhausted her so thoroughly. She gazes down at Waverly, a huge smile on her face.

“Oh wow.”

Waverly pulls back, grinning with her wet lips and chin. “Wow yourself.”

Nicole shakes her head in awe. “How are you… like this?”

(How does Waverly make her do these things? Make her feel so much?)

Waverly laughs. “I thought you liked me like this?”

“Baby, everybody likes you. But I’m the one who… likes you best.”

It’s a lame finish. She knows it. But with things still so delicate between them, she doesn’t want to push a love confession. Maybe it’ll be right the next time the world’s about to be consumed by demons. Or maybe, even better, she’ll say it on their first vacation in the mountains, while they’re at peace watching the sun set. She can just picture how beautiful Waverly’s already-beautiful face will look, cast in the otherworldly pink glow…

“Holy fucking shit!”

Nicole starts to whirl around, but has the sense to grab for her pants first. She struggles to pull them up, fumbling with her belt while Waverly huffs. “Wynonna… hi.”

Great. Wynonna’s caught her bare assed, literally with her pants down.

“Keep it to the bedroom, girl!” Wynonna says, closing the front door behind her with a huff. “I use that couch, you know.”

“Yeah you do,” Waverly says sourly, clearly not happy about being interrupted. “For exactly what we were doing.”

“Come on, when’s the last time you’ve seen some guy’s bare ass while walking through this door?”

“Nicole’s not some guy,” Waverly starts to protest. “And since when are you such a prude?”

“Since I found out my baby sister’s into freaky roleplay. Is that a cheerleading uniform? And are those handcuffs?” Wynonna chuckles, and if Nicole isn’t mistaken, she almost sounds pleased. “Damn, girl.”

Nicole clears her throat. She doesn’t want this to escalate any further. She hurries to undo Waverly’s handcuffs, deliberately avoiding Wynonna’s eyes.

(Damn it, Wynonna. Perfect moment ruined.)

“You know what? I gotta get to work.” She checks her pants again, almost running a hand through her freshly cut hair before she remembers Waverly’s come and lipgloss are all over it. (She thinks—hopes—she has some hand sanitizer in the car.) But she can’t leave without at least a goodbye for Waverly. “You gonna come by?”

“Hanging from afar while my lady works?” Waverly gives a little shimmy that’s more awkward than sexy, probably to break the tension. She clicks her tongue, putting her hands on her hips. “That’s my jam.”

Nicole hurries out the door, her face burning hotter than Hades, but just before she closes it, she hears Wynonna say. “Officer Haught? Your fly’s unzipped.”

(Damn it. She really hates these khakis. They’re even more uncomfortable when her underwear is soaked.)