Two days had passed since the LA freeway chase and the LAPD still had zero leads. The blue sedan and its driver had vanished into thin air.
The truth was, after the Chief's order the department had shaken down every informant and underworld contact they had, but Lawson had literally dropped into this world only a month ago. They weren't finding shit. Almost nobody knew him, and the few who did weren't talking.
The only guy who could blow his cover was Donnie, the undercover cop. But Donnie was keeping his mouth shut. He was out of the loop on precinct chatter and didn't know the Chief had made it top priority. His handler, Vincent, kept him in the dark.
Right now Donnie's only goal was to get the hell out of undercover work. For that, the bank heist had to happen. So he stayed quiet about Lawson. If Phil and Dennis killed the job, who knew how long he'd be stuck playing gangster?
Out of options, LAPD grabbed a scapegoat to close the case.
It wasn't totally random. During a sweep they busted a repeat street racer facing decades with no parole for drugs, trafficking, and DUI. They offered him reduced time if he confessed to driving the blue sedan. He jumped at it.
The department held a quick press conference to announce the case closed.
At the podium, Fox News anchor Megyn Kelly took one look at the exhausted, dark-circled scapegoat and smelled pure bullshit. She fired straight at Vincent, the LAPD rep.
"Officer Vincent, is this really the driver from the May 1st freeway chase?"
Vincent flashed his best PR smile and nodded firmly. "Yes. We have conclusive evidence that Mr. Walter Field was behind the wheel. He has also confessed."
The message was clear: He confessed. Stop digging.
Most outlets played ball. You had to give the LAPD face or they'd drag their feet if your house ever got broken into. But Megyn Kelly was a bulldog.
"But Mr. Walter Field looks nothing like the footage! The video's blurry, but the driver clearly had Asian features. Mr. Field is white!"
Vincent recovered fast. "Mr. Field was wearing a disguise that day. Regardless, the LAPD has successfully apprehended the suspect. That concludes today's press conference!"
He hustled Walter off stage.
Every reporter in the room knew the case stank, but with an active confession there was nothing they could do.
"Hmph! Think you can bury this?" Megyn's eyes flashed. "I'm finding the real driver and breaking the story of the year."
Back at Fox, her director shut it down hard.
"Why? This is huge!"
"Orders from the top. Higher-ups cut a deal with LAPD."
Classic America—favors and backroom handshakes. If you weren't high enough to see it, you weren't in the game.
Megyn bit her lip, frustration all over her perfect face.
The director tried to soften it. "Megyn, I know you're new and this sucks. But this is how the world works. It doesn't change for one person. You gotta adapt."
She spun on her heel and walked out.
Watching the blonde anchor's tight figure leave, the director just shook his head.
"Youth."
Maybe he used to be that same hot-blooded kid right out of school. Reality had beaten it out of him.
While Megyn chased the truth, Lawson walked into Sangiovese right at dusk, right when it opened. He wanted that ten-grand intel file tonight.
"Early tonight, aren't we?"
Svafa had a slim cigarette between her plump red lips. The way she held it made even smoking look filthy hot.
"Ms. Svafa, just eager to get my hands on that file."
"When I make a promise, I deliver."
She slid a thick manila folder across the bar. Lawson handed over the small bag with ten grand in cash.
Clean exchange.
"Lawson, if you need more intel later, keep me in mind. I'll give you a discount."
"Oh? Does that mean free info?"
Svafa licked her lips, eyes sliding down his body like she was already picturing him naked.
"Intel isn't free. But… you can pay me using other methods!"
skip..........
IF Lemon scene again !!!!!
Svafa licked her lips, her gaze sliding down Lawson's body like she was already undressing him with her eyes.
"Intel isn't free. But… you can pay me using other methods!"
Lawson felt the familiar tug of the Three No's—No initiating, no rejecting, no taking responsibility—but the way her tongue traced her lower lip made the rules feel very, very distant. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He simply waited.
Svafa's smile turned feral. She stubbed out her cigarette, rounded the bar in one fluid motion, and hooked two fingers into the front of his tailored suit jacket. "Office. Now. The cash covers the file. The rest… I'm collecting personally."
She led him through the narrow hallway behind the bar, hips rolling with every step, the thin fabric of her dress clinging to the swell of her ass. The moment the office door clicked shut and the lock turned, she spun on him.
"Coat off. Shirt off. Pants stay on for now." Her voice was velvet and steel at the same time. "Lie face-down on the couch."
Lawson obeyed without a word. The leather was cool against his bare chest. Svafa dimmed the lights to a low amber glow, then poured a generous pool of warm massage oil into her palms. The scent of sandalwood and something darker, muskier, filled the room.
She climbed onto the couch, straddling his lower back, the heat of her bare thighs pressing against his sides. Her dress had ridden up; he could feel the damp lace of her panties against his skin.
"Relax, handsome," she purred, sliding her slick hands over his shoulders. "You've been carrying too much tension. Let Mama Svafa work it out."
Her fingers were strong, digging deep into knotted muscle, thumbs circling, palms gliding down the long line of his spine. Every stroke sent heat radiating through him. She leaned forward, heavy breasts dragging across his back, nipples already hard through the thin silk. Her breath was hot against his ear.
"Mmm… so tight here." She worked lower, thumbs pressing into the dimples above his ass. "And here…" Her palms slid under the waistband of his pants just enough to knead the firm globes of his ass, spreading him slightly. Lawson's cock, already half-hard, twitched against the couch.
Svafa chuckled, low and filthy. "Already getting excited? Good boy."
She shifted, sliding down his body until she was kneeling between his spread thighs. Oil-slick hands worked the backs of his legs, thumbs brushing the sensitive crease where thigh met ass. Every time her fingers grazed his balls through the fabric, he had to bite back a groan.
"Turn over."
He rolled. His cock strained obscenely against his pants, the thick outline clear. Svafa's eyes darkened with hunger.
"Look at you…" She poured more oil directly onto his chest, letting it drip down his abs in slow, glistening trails. Her hands followed, massaging broad circles over his pecs, thumbs flicking his nipples until they pebbled. Lower. Lower. She cupped the heavy bulge, squeezing gently through the cloth.
"Ms. Svafa—" His voice was rough.
"Shhh." She unzipped him slowly, freeing his thick, veined cock. It sprang up, flushed and leaking, the head already shiny. She wrapped both oiled hands around the shaft and began a slow, twisting stroke—base to tip, thumbs rubbing the sensitive underside.
"Fuck… so big. So hard for me already." She leaned down, letting her tongue trace the thick vein along the bottom while her hands kept pumping. "This is how you're paying me tonight, Lawson. Every inch."
She worked him like that for long minutes—slow, slippery handjob mixed with teasing licks and gentle sucks on the head—until his hips were jerking and his breathing was ragged. Then she stood, peeled her dress off in one smooth motion, and let it pool at her feet. Naked except for black lace panties soaked at the crotch, her body was pure sin: heavy, perfect breasts, narrow waist, wide hips, and long legs that could crush a man.
She straddled his waist again, grinding her soaked pussy along the length of his cock, coating him in her slickness. "You're going to lie there and let me use this gorgeous dick until I'm satisfied. Understand?"
Lawson's hands hovered, then settled on her thighs—no initiating, just… receiving. "Yes, ma'am."
Svafa smirked, rose up, pulled her panties aside, and sank down in one long, wet glide.
They both groaned.
"Fuuuuck… that's it. Filling me so deep." She bottomed out, ass flush against his hips, and rolled once, grinding her clit against his pelvis. Her inner walls fluttered and clenched around every thick inch.
Then she started riding.
Hard. Greedy. Hands braced on his chest, tits bouncing with every slam, nipples brushing his lips. Lawson latched onto one, sucking hard, teeth grazing just enough to make her cry out and squeeze him tighter.
"Yes—bite it—mark me!" she gasped, riding faster, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the office. Her juices ran down his balls, soaking the couch. She reached back, fondling his heavy sack while she fucked him senseless.
"I'm close—gonna come all over this fat cock—" Her fingers flew to her clit, rubbing furious circles. "Come inside me, Lawson. Fill me up. Now!"
Her orgasm hit like a explosion—walls spasming, milking him in rhythmic pulses. Lawson's hips snapped up, burying himself to the hilt as he came hard, thick ropes of cum pumping deep into her clenching heat while she kept riding through both their peaks, drawing out every last drop.
For a long moment the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the obscene, wet squelch of his softening cock still buried inside her.
Svafa finally collapsed forward, draping her sweat-slick body over his, lips brushing his ear. "Mmm… best payment I've collected in weeks." She clenched around him again, teasing. "The file's on the desk. Take it when you can walk again."
She kissed him slow and filthy, tongue sliding against his, already starting to rock her hips in lazy circles.
"Round two starts in five minutes, handsome. I'm nowhere near done with you tonight."
---
Later—much later—Lawson stepped out of Sangiovese into the cool night air, thick manila folder tucked under his arm, body still buzzing. Five grand for the car, fifteen grand for the System intel, ten grand just handed over… and another ten grand's worth of "other methods" spent in the best possible way.
The cash was bleeding out fast.
But as he slid into the used Viper and fired up the engine, a slow, satisfied grin spread across his face.
"Worth every fucking penny."