Marcos & Nii

Marcos always hated working the nightshift on weekends. Some of his reasons were understandable; being an NYPD officer in our Brooklyn precinct meant that he never knew what he'd be up against when he put on his uniform and drove out into the semi-dark streets. That concerned me, too, of course. I worried a lot about his safety, even though I'd seen his flawless weapons-handling at the shooting range, watched him beat countless opponents in Karate tournaments, and observed the close relationship between Marcos and his partner. I knew that he was as safe as a cop possibly could be.

The danger wasn't his primary worry, though. When he and Anthony pulled Saturday night duty, he knew where I could be found. For a white girl, he told me, I had the soul of a Latina and I truly loved Salsa music. I really enjoyed dancing at a small club near our apartment, El Boríqua, which just happened to be within Marcos' territory. It wasn't as though I would be unprotected. Since Marcos also worked security for them occasionally —in addition to taking me there when he got the night off— I knew not only the owner of the club, but every bouncer in the place. Even though no one ever mentioned it to me, I knew that Marcos had made arrangements for me to be carefully —yet unobtrusively— watched.

Even though Marcos knew where I'd be and who would be with me, namely Anthony's wife Clarisse, my two girlfriends Olivia and Cristina, and their boyfriends-of-the-moment, he never ceased to worry that I'd get myself into some sort of trouble. Uppermost in his mind was probably the sensual nature of the dance and the fact that I never lacked for dance partners when he wasn't with me. Don't get me wrong; he knew I'd never cheat on him, but he still didn't want anyone to try to pick up on me. Men!

Last Saturday, Marcos and Anthony pulled night duty, completely ruining our plans for a romantic dinner at home. As soon as I found out, I called Olivia and made arrangements for us to go to the club. A few days earlier, New York had been hit by a late-winter storm that had practically immobilized the City, but this morning had dawned with clear skies and above-average temperatures. Since it was finally nice enough to venture outside, knowing that I'd be spending the evening without my beloved, I just couldn't stand the idea of staying in and watching old movies. When I told Marcos of my plans, he got that LOOK, the faintly disapproving, but a bit indulgent expression that always had me rushing to kiss it off his face.

That, of course, led to a long, leisurely morning of lovemaking that left me shaking and breathless. Although we'd been together for a couple of years, I was still amazed that Marcos was mine. He drew admiring looks from many women (and some men, although his machismo would make him deny that) everywhere he went. I didn't mind; hell, I looked at him like he was dessert. Biased as I was, I couldn't deny that he was a striking man. Puerto Rico-born and raised, he was 6'3" —a good ten inches taller than I— and his muscular, broad-shouldered body had been developed by years of weightlifting, boxing, martial arts, and work on the force. His square-jawed face was olive-complected, his brows thick and arching. The eyes beneath, being a deep, piercing green, were a breathtaking feature. He had the most beautiful mouth I'd ever seen, wide and ready to smile, his full lower lip giving him a sensual appearance. As much as he hated it, the single, small dimple in his right cheek was the only thing that kept him from looking unapproachable.

As Marcos left for the precinct in the afternoon, I stopped him at the door. I slid my arms up his chest to his shoulders and took his jacket collar in both hands, in an attempt to pull him down so that I could reach his mouth. Dropping the garment bag holding his uniform onto a nearby chair, he smiled and, instead of bending, he wrapped his arms around me and brought me up to his level. I brushed my mouth over his, my tongue slipping out to caress the outline of his lower lip. He groaned and pulled me closer, murmuring, "Nikita, no tenemos tiempo suficiente para estar haciendo esto," before his mouth closed over mine in a hard, possessive kiss. With a quiet whimper, I anchored myself by linking my hands behind his neck, opening my mouth wide for his sensual assault, wishing like hell that he was wrong and we had all the time in the world. He moved his hands from around my waist, sliding them down my hips, to settle firmly on my bottom. I wrapped my legs around his waist and gave myself completely to the kiss. His hands now free, Marcos wrapped my long, brown hair in his fingers and proceeded to turn me inside out before setting me back on my unsteady feet. "Oh, God, I'd give anything for another half hour or so, mi amor, but I'll be late if I don't leave now."

I smiled up into those piercing green eyes, thoughtfully rubbing my thumb across my swollen mouth. "I understand, querido," I whispered. "The force comes first. No hay problema, Marcos." He raised an eyebrow at my easy acceptance —something a bit unusual, since I frequently tried to make him late. I think it had a lot to do with the thought always in the back of my mind. Every time he left for work, could be the last time I'd ever see him alive. I smiled slyly and caressed his smooth, dark cheek with my hand, saying, "I just wanted to give you something to make sure you'll come home safe to me, my love."

He hugged me hard against his chest, and dropped a kiss on the top of my head, murmuring his love for me. Then he released me and, recovering his gear, headed out to keep Brooklyn safe. I knew that he stood outside the door, waiting until he heard the two deadbolts and the chain lock slide into place. I leaned against the door, looking through the peep-hole at his swaggering, retreating form until he disappeared into the elevator before hurrying to get ready to go out.

---

By midnight, the girls and I were having a fabulous time. The nice weather had brought out a lot of customers to El Boriqua, more than a few of them solitary men who were looking for —at the least— a dance partner who could keep up with the rhythm set by the live band. I never had to sit out a dance, which probably had as much to do with the body hugging white blouse and short, flouncy, black skirt I wore with a pair of black stiletto pumps as my dancing ability. The shoes killed my feet, but they made my legs look fabulous. So, being a little vain, I suffered.

I was on the floor with a tall, dark Dominicano. He was a nice guy, wearing an Armani suit and more gold than I owned and I'd danced with him frequently when I was without Marcos. Everyone was enjoying the music when a pretty violent fight broke out at the front bar. For a few moments, the crowd ignored the scuffle as the security guys tried to separate the two combatants. Luckily Rudy, El Boríqua's owner, believed in heavy security and the three guys on duty in the front were all off-duty NYPD officers. One of them, a good friend of mine and Marcos', easily disarmed a short, stocky man when he pulled a knife. Fistfights weren't all that unusual, considering that the mixture of Latin tempers and liquor was an explosive combination and the machismo-driven men were quick to retaliate at imagined slights to themselves or their girls.

But having a weapon drawn changed everything. The seriousness of the situation escalated to an unacceptable level. At that point, even the band stopped playing. Conversation came to a stop among the club's patrons as Rudy ordered his manager, Johnny, to call the police. The two men involved in the fight were quickly detained in Rudy's office, accompanied by a very large security man, whose suit jacket didn't begin to hide the bulge of the gun in his shoulder holster. By the time I heard the sirens, the music had started again and I was dancing with a new partner, Olivia's boyfriend, Mauricio. Although he was quite charming, he was trying to get a bit closer to me than I liked and I spent most of the song firmly, but politely, removing Mauricio's hands from my ass. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that four officers had responded to Johnny's call, one of them quickly cuffing the man with the knife. Two more had their backs to me, taking statements from the attacked man and the witnesses close enough to know why the conflict had erupted. I couldn't see the fourth officer through the crowd. The situation was well in hand, so I wasn't concerned.

I was handling the grabby-hand situation quite well, I thought, when I suddenly saw Marcos stalking across the packed dance floor, his hand resting on the handle of his revolver. He looked devastating in the navy uniform and wore a look of quiet rage as he stopped behind Mauricio and placed his large, long-fingered hand on the other man's shoulder. "¿Qué piensas que estás haciendo con mi novia, Mauricio? ¡Suéltala! por favor. Házlo inmediatamente. No te lo vuelvo a pedir." Turning toward Marcos and seeing his very possessive and dangerous expression, Mauricio obediently dropped his hands from me and stepped back, blanching white under his dark complexion. He murmured a quick apology in Spanish and practically ran to Olivia's side to nurse his drink and brood.

I smiled up at Marcos in an attempt to alleviate any worries that he might have, but his expression didn't change. Making eye contact with Anthony, Marcos motioned questioningly to his stocky blond partner, who had watched the exchange from the bar and wore a very concerned expression. Anthony nodded, giving him the "all's clear" sign. The other team of officers was transporting the suspect for booking, so Marcos and Anthony weren't in any apparent hurry. Still looking grim, Marcos took my hand and firmly led me to a little-used room near the back bar. He flipped on a single set of lights and remained silent. The only sound was the muffled music from the dance floor and the low buzz of conversation. Once the door was firmly closed and the lock slid into place, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. It started angry, but quickly turned tender. When he released me, he muttered, "What the hell was that I interrupted just now?"

That one kiss had me so aroused that I could barely lift my eyelids to look at him. "No te preocúpes, Marcos. That was nothing I couldn't have handled, mi amor," I whispered, taking in his appearance. He was never more handsome than when he wore his uniform, its custom fit tailored to his broad shoulders and lean hips. I moved closer to him, relieving him of his hat, so that I could better see his gorgeous eyes. Their troubled expression unnerved me and I slowly wrapped my left leg around his and ran my hands across his shoulders, feeling the comforting bulk of the Mylar vest that kept him safe enough to come home to me at the end of the day.

"I can't stand to see men putting their hands on you like that, Nikita," he whispered, crushing me to him. He tipped my chin up so that his green eyes met my grey and kissed me like we hadn't seen each other in years, instead of just a few short hours. He slid his hands down my back to caress my bottom, leaning in to whisper against my ear, "Have I told you how much I like you in these shoes?" He nipped the lobe and chuckled softly before continuing, "They put you up closer to my level."

I arched a brow at him and grinned. He laughed, the sound rumbling through my torso. "Have I told you how much I love you?" I whispered, leaning in to drop soft, wet kisses against his neck. That was a sure-fire method of getting him instantly hard, so I fit my hips tightly to his and rubbed sensually against his erection. "¿O cuanto que te deseo?"

I could tell that he wanted nothing more than to kiss me again, but he held back, murmuring, "I'm on duty, amor," in what was supposed to be a stern tone, but came out as a frustrated sigh.

"I know," I whispered back, taking his hands and moving toward the sofa that took up one wall of the room, "pero no me aguanto más."

He looked at his watch and swore under his breath. "You're so impatient! I'm on for another hour and a half, baby," he said, torn between duty and what he really wanted. He sat on the sofa and pulled me into his lap, turning the volume on his radio down to a low murmur with an unconscious motion. I knew from experience that the very instant something came through from dispatch, he'd be out the door and in the car with Anthony, sparing me little more than a backward glance and I truly admired his dedication, as frustrating as it could be. But, for the moment, he was unoccupied and he couldn't help taking advantage of that. His hand slipped under my skirt and he worshipfully caressed my inner thigh. When I gasped softly, he swore again, this time much louder. "We can't do this, my love, not here," he said softly. His actions contradicted his words as his fingers slowly ventured higher until they slid under the edge of my thong.

Of course, he found me wet and needing him desperately, which —given his expression— must have taken him a bit by surprise. He bit off a third, harsh curse and turned so that I was under him. Before he realized what was happening, my panties were tossed on the floor, I had unzipped his fly, and he was inside me, long and hard. He hesitated for only a moment before drawing my legs up around his waist and beginning to unbutton my blouse with shaking fingers. The front clasp of my bra surrendered easily to his determined fingers and he lowered his mouth to my breast, his fingers firmly shaping it. He loved my breasts more than anything, so when I felt the wet heat of his mouth pulling slowly at my nipple, I knew he'd given in. I moaned softly as he nipped me, then buried his face in my cleavage. He stayed motionless within me, all of his attention given to kissing and caressing my chest, as I tried to circle my hips around him to ease the ache his mouth and fingers were causing.

He held me pinned securely and stilled my movement with a murmured endearment and a barrage of kisses along my collarbone before giving me what I wanted. He loved to make me wait, to have me on his terms. I'm sure he got off, watching me suffer and beg for him. Finally, with a hard, quick thrust, he was completely buried inside my slick heat and he moved his hands to my hips, holding me motionless as he began to move inside me. Each thrust of his hips had the head of his dick hitting my cervix, a half-painful feeling that soon had me coming. He covered my mouth with his to quiet my gasps and whimpers as he felt me contracting around him. He slowed for a moment and I opened my eyes. Looking up at him, I could tell he was torn between the need to come himself and the desire to prolong our lovemaking. I slid my fingers through his regulation-short hair, loving the silky feel of it at his nape, and whispered, "We probably won't get much more time before your next call, amor."

With a groan, his willpower broke and he began to slide in and out of me in earnest. I stroked his shoulders and back over his uniform and whispered encouragement to him. His breath coming hard and fast, he buried his face against my neck and I felt his body shudder powerfully. With a whimper, I felt the heat of him pouring into me and, as he hilted one last time, it sent me over the edge once again. We lay on the sofa for a few moments afterward, our breathing ragged as we continued to kiss and caress each other. I would have given just about anything to stay there with him all night, but that wasn't meant to be.

The voice of the dispatcher caught Marcos' attention when his unit number was called and his partner's voice responded. I moved before he did, which was a surprise, and readjusted my clothing. He stood and, just as he was zipping his fly, a soft knock came at the door. "Umm, buddy?" Anthony called hesitantly, "Do you have your radio on in there?"

With a chuckle, Marcos answered, "Yeah, it's on, damnit!" He turned back toward me to make sure that I was decent before he opened the door. He winked and grinned and I reached up and wiped the smear of my lipstick from his mouth. He mouthed the words, "I love you. Be home when my shift's over?" I nodded and, then, out the door my love went.

As the two men walked down the hallway, I heard Anthony's quick bark of laughter. "Where's your hat, Officer?" he snickered. Marcos cursed loudly and I had his hat in hand before he reached the door again. He took it from me, put it back on his head, kissed me hard, but briefly, then dashed back out. His partner still laughing, they started back down the hall. "So," Anthony asked, just loudly enough for me to hear his retreating voice, "did you have enough time, partner?"

"Not as much as I wanted, but, yeah, it was enough," Marcos admitted with a tone that carried his grin. I had composed myself enough to start back down the hallway myself on trembling legs, so I heard him say, "How long have I been on the force…? Five years now, right? I've never even thought about doing that before."

Anthony chuckled, shaking his head, and told Marcos, "It's no big deal, buddy. Things have been pretty quiet tonight and, looking at Niki and that perfect body of hers, who could blame you for taking advantage of the opportunity. Hell, you'd be surprised how many guys show up late for calls because they're having sex with some girl they just met."

As they reentered the main part of the club, Marcos turned to look at me as I trailed a couple feet behind them. He winked and answered his partner, "I was helpless, man, I tell you. She took me in there and seduced me. What was I supposed to do?"

"Enjoy it and come out with a big fucking grin on your face," Anthony replied, "just the way you did. You need to get that under control before we get to our next call, you know, or someone's liable to think you've—"

"Just had the fuck of my life?" Marcos finished for him, cheerfully. When Anthony nodded in agreement, Marcos slapped him on the back, saying in a mock-angry tone, "Now am I going to have to worry about you moving in on my girl, Frederickson?"

"No way, Melendez," came the reply. "And that's only because I don't know who'd hurt me more, you or Clarisse."

I stopped at the table where my friends had been and Olivia took one look at my flushed face and swollen mouth and couldn't resist a quick jab, "How was he, girl?" Her brown eyes sparkled mischievously as she opened her bag and offered me a lipstick. My only reply was a smug grin as I retouched my make-up.