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Love, Mina 💚💚💚
💚 The Hothead & The Hotpants 💚 (5.5K)
Clary is a young 20-year-old who has her own parole officer after having often spent one too many times at the juvi hall. She enjoys her life as it comes until her parole officer is replaced by a new young and sexy officer.
‼️Rated M - {Out Of Characters/All Human/Alternate Universe}‼️
‼️Humour/Lemon/Language/kink‼️
‼️Jace Wayland/Clary Fray‼️
Clary's PoV
As I come out of the university, I take a puff out of my cigarette, trying to figure out what to do with my night. It is Friday night, and I'll be damned if I do not enjoy it to the maximum. But I've been barred from two different establishments because their owners are pussies. I walk to my bike, thinking about going to Luke's bar. I actually like this place, it is the only place where I can drink without an idea, and where I could get tattooed before my eighteenth birthday. Only thing is, Lucky's bar is rather far, and after drinking, I won't be able to drive back to my place.
Still, sleeping on a bench outside beats doing nothing on a Friday night. So I set my mind on that particular destination when I see something that makes me forget about tonight for a bit.
Some guy leaning against my baby. There are two things I care about in this world, my laptop where I can work from, and my bike. It's the only thing I have to remember my father by. He died when I was twelve, leaving me to the foster system (since my Mom died giving birth to me), and he willed me some money that would make Queen Elizabeth green of envy. But … I am not twenty one. So the only thing of the will I can have access to is the bike. I can't even have the house! What the hell?
The bike is a classic from the eighties, and I took care of her better than I took care of my own hair! So to have that stranger casually lean on it as if my precious baby was a simple balustrade … Some people are asking for blood!
"I killed for less than that," I tell the stranger, not even trying to be polite, and shoving him off my bike.
"That's not really a great conversation starter," He nonchalantly says, and I swing a hop to hop on my bike.
Then I take a look at the offender, and in all honesty, he is a piece of candy. Maybe a bit older than what I'm used to, but I would definitely take a bite out of him … or his ass. I don't mind. I look at him from head to toe, appreciating the well-developed muscles under his tight shirt, the blond hair long enough to be gripped while I'm at it, the tallness that would allow certain positions to be tried. But then, the idiot opens his mouth and ruins it all.
"You've been a bad bad girl, Clarissa. You weren't supposed to leave the state last weekend."
I throw my head back, sighing as I realise that only one person could know my name and tell me where I should and shouldn't be. A new parole officer. Just my luck. I didn't mind Seelie. She was cool. Why did she have to be replaced by mister Hot-Pants? And why wasn't I informed about this?
"Where is Seelie?" I ask, putting my helmet on. Let's not give Mr Hot-Face a reason to arrest me.
I know, what kind of eighteen years old girl has a parole officer that she knows by her first name? Well … I'm what they call a troubled kid. If there is a fight, I started it. If there is something illegal being done, I ignited it. If there are some weed passing hands in exchange for money, I am the master behind the brain. It's just … fun. It gives me a thrill that makes me feel alive.
Don't go around thinking that it's because I ended up in a bad family, because the Lightwoods are gold. Too nice, even. Whatever I do, they always find a way to forgive me. Even when I was arrested for drug-dealing, they found a way to welcome me back with open arms when Juvi was over. I love them, but they don't give me the thrill. Maybe I was born bad.
"She's on sick leave. She's pregnant and she asked me to take your case."
"Great. Isn't it a bit illegal? You're a dude, and I don't want your hands all over my body because you got 'suspicious'. I'm sure there could be a lawsuit for sexual harassment somewhere," I say, lightening up the motor of my bike. Let's face it, as much as I love the thrill, I am very bad at temptation. I had my first cigarette at thirteen, my first drink at fourteen and my cherry popped at fifteen. And every time, it had been because someone tempted me into it,
Mr Hot-Bod is definitely a bad temptation. As thrilling as it would be to seduce him, it just feels wrong to fuck your parole officer.
"Don't worry, if my hands touch you, they won't be on you," He says with a smirk, revealing a smile with one of his teeth broken in half.
Is it me, or Mr Hot-Muscles just made a sex joke. I stare at him, waging the pros and the cons; and then I brightly smile,
"What's your name, Officer?"
"Jace. Jace Wayland."
"Well, Officer Wayland. I suggest you go back to reading my file. Then, you'll realise that I am way, way out of your league. I'm so out of your league, that we're not even playing the same game."
I make my bike roar, proud of myself, and he puts his hand on mine to stop me from leaving. "You sure about that?"
"I don't do nice boys. Even if they're hot, and in uniforms. Nice boys are bores, and I am one to like fun."
And on those words, I shake his hand away, and drive to Luke's bar, ready to party until dawn.
.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.
Officer Hot-Pants came to see me a few times over the last month, and one thing is certain, he wants in my pants. Which I think is funny. Not that he wants in my pants, that I can understand, I know that I'm more than easy on the eyes. But the way he looks at me. I can see how much of a conflict it is for him. And though I didn't like it at first, now I love it.
Because I'm in total power of the game. No matter what he says, he knows he won't do anything, it's against his work policy. So he always tries to keep it professional. And I am anything but nice to him. I tease, I dress inappropriately, I bat my lashes at him. And sometimes, 'by accident' I brush up against him. And I love it. I love the way he fists his hands, or the way he sometimes hisses through his teeth, or the way he would close his eyes and swallow hard. I fucking love it. I do wonder why he didn't ask for a transfer, but he's probably a masochist to love that sweet torture he has to live through every time he sees me.
Over the past month, I learnt that he isn't that old after all, just eight years older than me, and the pervert part of me wonders if those plus eight years gave him more experience in the sacks. I bet they did. I bet he has stamina that would leave me limp and useless in the morning.
Anyway, I am lying in my bed, smoking some weed like any decent person would do on a Sunday afternoon when somebody has the indecency to bang at my door.
"Go away!" I shout, eating crips out of the bag. I shouldn't have been lazy yesterday and should have shopped for real food. I'd kill for some fruits right now. Some grapes … or a good fat mango. Yeah, that would be delicious.
The banging resumes, and I shout even louder. I mean, come on, people should know better than to bother other people on a Sunday morning. Or at least understand the two simple words that are 'go away'! I close my eyes, thinking of what I could eat when the crips would be over. I have some corn on the cob in the freezer, but that requires cooking. And I'm too lazy to get up and order food, I'm definitely too lazy to get up and cook corn. Maybe I'll simply die of starvation …
Suddenly, the door barges open, and there I see Officer Hotty in the doorframe. What in the Hell is he doing here? Doesn't he rest on Sundays? Do people pay their taxes for officers to barge in their houses on a holy day? I don't think so.
He smirks at me, his eyes lingering on the joint evermore taking in my very unsexy attire. I mean, panties and an overlarge shirt have never been known to be a turn on for guys.
"Finally," He says, closing the door with such a slowness that suddenly, I don't feel so confident about this all me being in power thing. Then he locks the door, and I can't help but gulp, sitting down properly, and putting down my joint in the ashtray.
"You know that recreational marijuana is illegal in this State, right, Miss Morgenstern?" He tells me, his smile devious. Suddenly, he looks like a wolf, and I look like … the Little Red Riding Hood.
But I try to keep my facade on. "So what? Are you going to send me back to Juvi?" I ask with an eyebrow up, challenging him to take me in. We both know that to do that, he'll have to cuff my half-naked self, and we both know that he's not comfortable with physical contact. I'm still in power
He shakes his head, stalling his way to me, his smirk never leaving his face as his eyes ravage my body once again, "I had something much better in mind. Something that will make you behave much more than Juvenile Hall."
Once again I gulp, but not really out of fear. Let's be honest for a moment, I love that game, and I wouldn't mind losing to him for once. If he wants to get me all hot and bothered for a change, I won't try to run from it. I'm actually curious as to how he's going to do that.
And then, with one simple move, I understand that this game I have been playing just became reality. He lets his handcuffs hang from his finger, his eyes carefully analysing my reaction. It's like he's giving me a chance to back down from this. But … I'm a bad girl. I'm not going to pretend that I did not have wet dreams over him, though none of them involved cuffs …
I don't say anything, my heart beating so fast that I feel it in my throat, and he slowly walks to me, whispering with a voice full of lust, "Naughty little girls like you need to be reminded of their place."
I don't even get to retort anything that he's hovering over me and cuffing me to my own bed with a devilish smirk. He's enjoying that shit. He's been probably waiting all this time for me to cross the line, so he could finally come here and have his way with me. And … I am far from minding. Stone or not, the guy is hot as hell and if he can make me climb the curtain, who am I to complain?
He's about to kiss me, when he grips my hair, looking me right in the eyes and ordering me around, "You call me sir or officer. Understood?"
I don't even try to say a proper word, and simply nod. He grins at me and kisses me hard, his tongue claiming my mouth like a lion claims its game. not that I can actually do anything. I'm completely powerless to him. And though it's the first time I'm ending up in that sort of kink, I clearly do not mind.
With hunger, Officer Kinky kisses his way down, his hands kneading every part of my body they encounter, making me moan like I'm in heat or something. When he is facing that special part of me that requires special attention, his hands grip my hips and stop me from moving. He looks up at me, wickedly grinning as I pout at my inability to move, and then, he digs in, making me jerk my head backwards.
I try to up my crotch to his mouth, but his hands stop me from doing so. It's so … I don't know. It's frustrating, but at the same time, I love it. It makes me feel all … tingly, and clearly hornier than I previously was.
As he keeps eating my pussy like it's nobody's business, he changes position so his right arm keeps me in place, and the fingers of his left hand start to play music inside me, making me scream. If the neighbours don't know what's happening in here, they are definitely deaf.
There is this sweet rhythm between his tongue and his fingers. Something strong and delectable that is bringing me so high. I've never been a fan of oral pleasure given to me, because … well, the guys didn't really know what they were doing. But Officer Sexy down here … God does he know what he's doing! I can feel that I'm about to explode, but he stops and crawls back up, making me pout.
He smirks at me, before holding his left hand to my mouth and ordering me, "Taste yourself on my fingers."
With any other guy, I would have told him to go screw himself, but there is something about Officer HotPants that makes me turn to jello. Probably the sexy face, or the sexy ass, or I'm a sucker for rough and authoritative sex, and I didn't even know it before now! This is a high possibility because here I am tasting my own moisture on his fingers, and loving the way it clearly excites him.
I keep twirling my tongue around his fingers, showing him what my very skilled mouth can do when he suddenly stands up and removes his clothes. I have to say, I'm a bit disappointed that he's not in uniform. That would have been the ultimate fantasy. But I don't mind discovering that Officer Sexy really has the body I imagined. To the minute detail. Especially the one thing I'm obsessing over right now.
I know how urban legends have it that we girls like them long and large, but I've been with long and large, and my constitution isn't built for that kind of monster. I'm petite and I'm sure that everything about me is small, including my pussy. So yeah, seeing that Officer Kinky isn't abnormally large or long is a relief. I'd actually say that he's the perfect size. The exact same size as my favourite dildo.
"Look how fucking hard you made me," He grunts, palming his hard-on, and making me rub my thighs together. If only I had my hands free, the things I'd do to him.
Our eyes meet, and whilst he grin, I bite my lower lip, which brings a sparkle to his hazel eyes. "I think it's time to put that smart mouth of yours to good use."
Once again, ordinarily, I would have told the guy to fuck off. Don't get me wrong, I actually enjoy very much blowing a guy, but on my terms. Every time I have been asked to go down, I did anything but. But then again, I haven't been asked today. I've been ordered around.
He steps toward me and straddles the higher part of my body, jerking his cock and spreading the pre-cum on my lips as if it was lipgloss. I eagerly open my mouth and swirl my tongue around his dick, making him grunt out what a good girl I am. For a while, he lets me have control of this whole situation, and since I'm the kind of girl who likes paybacks, I do my best to make him wild. He made me lose my mind while he went down, it is only fair that he loses his now that roles have been reversed.
And after bobbing my head several times, hollowing my cheeks while I do so, I know that I finally won. He groans, shifting a little before he starts to literally fuck my mouth. And what is the craziest about it, it's that the more he's in control, the wetter I get.
"That fucking mouth was made for me to bury my cock in it," He growls, and I moan like a bitch, wishing for more friction between my legs.
His thrusts into my mouth become more rabid, almost animalistic, and there is no fucking anymore, this is pure and delectable deep-throating. And I love every second of it. I'm getting ready for him to cum in my mouth, but he suddenly stops, his eyes hungry as they look at me. Without a single word, he kisses me hard and plunges inside of me making me moan against his lips.
For a brief second, I think about the important thing, condoms. But me being the horny girl I am, I dismiss the thought until later as soon as he starts thrusting inside me. I can feel the sweat forming on my skin, but I don't care. All I care about is the cock I'm getting, and the fingers playing with my clit and nipples. I arch myself, lost in the moment, and it's barely if I hear Officer Sex God telling me,
"Open your eyes, and watch how my cock fits perfectly your pussy."
I do, watching his dick come in and out of me, each time covered with a glistening substance; and I don't know. Just watching this makes me want to come. well, I guess it's this, plus all the things that Officer Sexy does to my body. But it seems he knows I'm about to come, for he stops playing with my nipples, and wraps his hand around my neck as he hisses,
"Don't you dare come now! You come when I come."
I don't know if I should be frightened or even more turned on. I think right now, I'll go for turned on. still, me being me with a smart mouth, I can't stop but retorting,
"I'll come when I want to come!"
And just as I say those words, I do come. Mister Officer doesn't say a word, but he smirks at me before retrieving himself and making me flip so I am laying on my stomach, my hands still cuffed to my own bed. He takes the pillow from next to my head, and for a second, I am scared that he's going to kill me. But then, he squeezes the pillow under me, just beneath my stomach and pussy.
And suddenly, I feel a smack on my ass. But it's not the kind of smacking you got when you misbehaved as a child. No, it's the kind of smacking that arises you making you feel like a rabbit. He reiterates the thing many times, hitting somewhere that echoes all the way to my pussy, and when I start to squirm, it's not much because I want to stop, but more because I want him back inside of me.
"I want to hear you beg, naughty girl," He says, and though I don't see his face, I know that bastard was smirking at me.
So of course, because I'm stubborn, I keep my mouth shut for a few more blows, until I can't take it anymore, and almost yell, "Please. Please. Fuck me!"
"I didn't get that," He has the nerves to play.
"Please, Sir," I rectify, and I hear the satisfied groan coming out of him, before he thrusts inside me, sliding so easily that it makes me moan. But then again, I have been a moaning mess for the past hour. I actually think that Officer HotPants just ruined me for other men to come.
He grabs my hair, giving my body a whole new angle that makes me appreciate the thing a whole differently, and I can feel that we are both coming to our peak. His moves are less calculated, more rabid, rougher, and I love it.
"Be a good girl, milk my cock," He demands with authority, and I let loose. I reach cloud nine, and an even higher plane when he wraps his fingers around my throat and tightens his grip.
He keeps on thrusting, until I come down from my high, and then flips me once again, his cock in his hands as he furiously jerks it over me. His eyes are locked in mine until he closes his eyes tightly and comes all over my tits. then, he let himself fall next to me, but to be honest, I am spent. I struggle to keep my eyes open. Still, I can feel that, before drifting to sleep, he un-cuffs me and takes me in his arms.
When I wake up the next morning, my whole body is sore. I see that Officer HotPants is getting dressed, and grimace at the idea of having to go to class today. I wouldn't mind staying in bed all day long. Maybe I will do that, as soon as Officer Sexy leaves … this sounds like a good plan.
But of course, he kills all my hopes and dreams, as he crouches next to me, kisses my lips delicately and warns me, "Next time I catch you doing something like that, I won't go easy on you. So behave, and I'll make it worth your while. Otherwise, when I'll leave, you won't have that happy smile, you'll be crying your eyes out."
.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.
It has been a few months since Officer HotPants and I have started this whole fucking-on-the-side, and it's been a blast. I have to admit, his method works, because ever since I have been a very good girl. I stopped the drinking, and the smoking, and the cutting class. The thing is, I'm scared to push his limits I'm scared that if I step over the line, he'll go all count of Sade on me. And well, though I like it a bit rough, I don't want to take it further.
I know that I shouldn't be scared, because behind this whole facade, behind Officer Kinky's face, Jace is actually a nice guy. I know that if I say stop and mean it, he will stop, but … I just don't want to see that side of him. Maybe he's just bluffing, but I'd rather not find out. And anyway, I'm very happy with how things are right now.
Well … almost. The thing is, between the amazing sex, and the sweet charming guy who can cook, I feel that this is getting out of hands. It was nice when it was just about sex. And … now … feelings are coming crashing the party when they should have stayed far away from Jace and me. well, I don't know about Jace, but I know about me. I know that if I keep this going, I'm going to fall in love with him, and that's not an option. I refuse to let that happen!
So I have this plan to put it all back in order. Sure, it will make me a bitch, but I can't catch feelings for this guy, no matter how good he's been to me. There is this guy in my class who has a thing for me. I've always pushed him away but now seems like the perfect time to use him to make Jace jealous. Officer Sexy is a jealous man, even if he tries not to show it. He doesn't like much when I talk about the guys I hang out with, or when he calls, and I tell him that I'm with friends (knowing that I have no girl friends).
So I know that if he sees me flirt with poor Raphael, he's going to make good on his promise and make me cry. And if he makes me cry, it will be easier for me to hate him, instead of loving him. And when that will happen, everything will be back to normal.
So here I am, laughing at some lame-ass joke Raphael made about our professor and flipping my hair like all those stupid Queen Baes in those stupid chick-flicks, and I see Jace observing us from afar. I knew he was coming. We're Monday, and Mondays are official days of checking-on-the-messed-up-Clarissa-Morgenstern.
But when the night comes, and I wait for him to come home fuming, he doesn't, which is weird. He practically lives here for he comes so often! I have his fucking toothbrush next to my own, for goodness sake. I mean, even when I'm cramping and on my periods, he comes with tea and hot cushions. And now, when he has all the reasons for the world to come, he doesn't! Stupid man!
This is so annoying. And I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of calling him or texting him. Screw him.
For the following week, I have no news of Jace Wayland and the week after neither. He doesn't even do his fucking job that is to check if I don't go off the rail. So I keep that useless flirting with Raphael. I can't believe I've been ghosted by my parole officer. But I guess it's best like that. It's what I wanted, though it's not the way I wanted.
So all this confusion, and stupid feelings, and frustration lead me to invite Raphael back home on a Friday night. It's just one harmless little thing, to remind myself of who I was before HotPants messed me up. I was carefree, I was happy, and I didn't feel betrayed for being ghosted by a guy. I didn't actually care. And now, I do. Stupid parole officer with his stupid methods!
As I'm about to kiss Raphael and bring the night to another level, I remind him of something basic, "This is a one tie thing, Raph. No strings attached. Tomorrow morning, we go back to being college buddies."
But before Raphael can agree, or argue or simply jump on me, the door barges open, revealing a fuming Jace Wayland. He looks at Raphael and me, his eyes lingering for a second on our closeness, and without a word, he grabs Raphael by the collar and throws him out of my apartment! The bastard! He ghosts me, and then stops me from having fun!
Then he slams the door shut, and glares at me, anger in his eyes. I glare back, putting my hands on my hips and he takes a deep breath through his nose, before saying with as much calm as he could,
"I got you assigned to another parole officer."
This takes me off guard. I guess I should have seen this coming since he didn't even do his job lately, but I still hear myself asking, "Why? I thought you were really good at keeping me out of trouble."
"And you're really good at messing with my head. I've done things I shouldn't have, all because of you," He retorts, and I can't stop myself from rolling my eyes. Now, he wants to use the professional card. After having made me scream his name countless times, in countless positions, he wants to go back to being a good cop. Stupid bastard.
"But you wanted to. Nobody forced you," I remind him with sass, just so he doesn't try to turn the tables on me. But then, his stoic expression just annoys me, and I straddle to the door and open it, telling him,
"You know what, go away. I don't need you to keep my life straight! I don't need you to have a good fuck! I don't need you in my life!"
"You don't mean that," He said, sure of himself, which annoys me even more. He should just go.
I do. I don't want to see you ever again, Jace Wayland. If I ever do, I will sue you for sexual harassment," I threaten, because I too can play the professional card. He seems to forget that if I am in need of a parole officer, it's not because I tried to ride off to the moon on a unicorn.
"You would do that to me?" He asks, rather shocked, and I shrugged, lying through my teeth,
"I don't care about you."
"I noticed," He commented, his teeth clenching as he glanced at the outside where Raphael has long disappeared.
He walks to me and closes the door, before asking me to look at him. When I refuse and obviously turn my head so I won't have to look at him, he takes my chin between his fingers and repeats with more authority, "Look at me!"
"You have no right to boss me around. It was fun when we had our kink, but it's over now," I snap, still refusing to give him the satisfaction to look at him.
Especially when I feel like crying. Saying out loud that it's over is completely different from thinking it. Maybe I shouldn't have done all this shit, and just learn to kill the feelings inside me in some other way.
"Fuck this is over," He yells, making me jump. "I try to do right by you and date you properly, and I see you flirting with that prepubescent kid!"
"Whatever," Is all I can say, because … well, it's over now, let's not linger on what could have been.
"I asked to be off your back so I could be with you," He says in a much calmer voice, but all I do is repeat myself,
"Whatever."
"Stop pretending to be all tough and look at me," He tells me, and when I finally look at him, all I do is glare. "Whether you want to admit it or not, I know you like me. And I'll be damned if I let my job keep me from a girl like you."
"You don't mean that. You're just trying to avoid a lawsuit," I stall because those damn feelings are speeding back their way into my heart, even though I try to keep the door close.
"You know it's not true," He counters, because well, we both know he is right. Still, I point out that for someone who wants to be with me, he did a poor job at showing it,
"Then why didn't you say anything when you first saw me with Raph?"
There is a brief flare of anger in his eyes. Apparently, throwing Raphael away wasn't enough for him. But then, he admits,
"Because I was stupid enough to try to let you be with someone your own age. I thought that … maybe I shouldn't be selfish, and let you experience things with someone your age."
"Oh, now you care about my age…" I mock because my age has never been an issue for us before. Those eight years between us never actually came up.
"And my being here should prove you that I still don't care," He retorts, caressing my cheek with his damn smirk on his face.
Stupid Jace Wayland …
He keeps on looking at me, waiting for me to try to find yet another excuse, but we both know it's pointless.
"So, …" I trail, wondering where that whole thing leads us.
"So, we're getting together as soon as you're assigned to a new officer. And don't go flirting with prepubescent kids meanwhile."
"No sex!?" I exclaim because if I'm not seeing him until I get my new parole officer, I'm going to die of sex depreciation. He's a Sex God afar all.
"Nope. Next time I'll touch you, I won't fuck you, I'll make love to me," He brags, and though I find this sweet, I still roll my eyes and say,
"How presumptuous."
"You know I'm right," He says, and yes he is.
I'm in love with Jace Wayland.
❌THE END❌
.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.
💚Your thoughts and opinions are always welcomed💚
💚Okay, this is definitely something different. Don't even ask how I came up with that. But do tell me what you thought of it 😉
💚 Cassandra Clare owns the names of the characters from the Mortal Instruments franchise, Everything else is mine (including the mistakes and grammar errors).
Love, Mina 💚💚💚