Bad Girl by Night (26 page)

Carly considered insisting that his work here would matter, too, but since she couldn’t know all he’d experienced in Detroit, she decided against it. And she almost reminded him once again of the ways he’d helped
her
, but she knew that wasn’t what he was talking about. So instead, she dug deeper into the heart of the matter, to the question suddenly bothering her. “You aren’t gonna leave, are you?”

She couldn’t read his little smile—until he said, “I just packed up my whole life to come here—I’ll give it a while longer before I throw in the towel. And besides, even if I wanted to, how could I leave
you
, sweetie pie?” His grin widened, so she smiled back.

And felt the tug of her new sexual freedom. “That’s smart, because if you left me, you wouldn’t get to see what I have on underneath my clothes right now.”

As a familiar heat began to sizzle in his blue gaze, he leaned back and crossed his arms. “Why don’t you show me, honey?”

She pursed her lips, hesitated. Usually, up to now, he’d undressed her. Now he wanted to
watch
her undress? She didn’t really know how to do that—in a sexy way. And it seemed almost
un
sexy right now to simply go yanking her clothes off like when they were in a hurry. Her pussy tingled hotly and she wanted to make something more of the moment, something to show him anew just how far she’d come since the Fourth of July.

So she slowly rose from the couch and started down the hall away from him.

“Uh, where are you going?” he called after her.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

Maybe this was taking the easy way out, but she ducked into his bedroom and only then slipped out of her clothes. The lingerie underneath was simple but potent in her estimation: lacy black boy-short panties and a matching demi bra that plumped her breasts up high.

Yet a quick glance in the mirror over Jake’s dresser made her realize . . . it wasn’t enough. She knew she felt different tonight, wearing Desiree’s usual style of dressy, lacy undies, but she wanted to be sure
he
knew she felt different, too.

Taking a look around, she spotted Jake’s policeman’s hat hanging over one short bedpost. The stiff navy blue cap with the small, shiny black bill was close enough to black—so she picked it up, tried it on. A little big, dipping slightly to one side, but another peek in the mirror told her it worked—she was suddenly a naughty lady cop. Her cunt quivered slightly in response.
I can be a playful bad girl without being Desiree.
Somehow, for her, this made it official. And brought her a little closer to completing the transition than she’d been before.

But prior to revealing herself, she added one more thing—eyeing Jake’s police belt, she detached and plucked up the open pair of handcuffs hanging from it.
Yeah
.
That was hot.
Or it would be soon anyway.

Rather than go back to the living room, she called, “Jake, why don’t you join me in here.” They usually hung out at her place, and she liked the idea of sharing Jake’s bed tonight.

As his footsteps approached, she struck a pose, letting the handcuffs dangle from her index finger.

“Holy mother of God,” Jake murmured upon stepping into the room. His eyes roamed her from head to toe. “You just made me hard as a rock.”

“That’s good. But I still have to . . . take you into custody, sir.” She was trying this on for size, making it up as she went.

He cast a sexy, cocky grin. “Is that so? And just what are the charges, Officer Carly?”

“Um . . . indecent use of a pie?”

He tilted his head, recrossed his arms. “I think the statute of limitations has run out on that by now.”

She touched her tongue to her upper lip, eyes still on him, thinking. “Then . . . let’s just sum it up with . . . you’ve been a very bad boy. With me. Over and over again.”

“Didn’t know there was a law against that, ma’am,” he teased her.

“Well, in a place like Turnbridge, there are probably some really old, outdated laws on the books like—no anal sex, or no having sex in a store on Main Street. I’m sure I can run you in for
something
.” And with that, she finally took his hand to draw him forward, then pushed him to his back on the bed, crossways. She hadn’t gone into this feeling so aggressive, but now she did. So she slid her body up the length of his, gave him a long, hot kiss, and grazed her palms up his arms, flung casually over his head. Then she began to slip one ring of the handcuffs around his wrist.

Jake reacted on gut instinct, yanking his arm free of the cuff before she’d fully encircled it. Clearly, he’d gotten spoiled lately. By how beautifully docile she’d become when they fucked. She was just as beautiful when she took control, too—but he wasn’t ready for that tonight, and he sure as hell wasn’t ready for fucking handcuffs. He knew she was only playing—but that was just too much control to relinquish.

Still working on raw impulse, he closed his hands around her wrists, tight, and held her there. Their eyes met—they’d been here before, even on that very first night in Traverse City, and that familiar struggle for control had just ensued once again. He didn’t want to be a bastard and not let her have it; God knew he understood why she needed it—the same reason he did. But the handcuffs were simply more than he could handle. He’d never known that before this moment—he had, in fact, never played these kinds of cop games with any other women—but he’d felt it with clarity the instant the cool steel had touched his skin.

In some ways she was his perfect lover—they understood each other. But in others, she might be the
worst
possible girl for him; he couldn’t deny that sex had been easier with women who didn’t mind him taking charge. And tonight, as much as he wanted to be a good, generous partner, he couldn’t let her have her way. So he made a move he’d made with her before—he rolled her to her back until his weight was on her.

She struggled slightly—it had become a common element of their strange mating dance, and it was partly playful, but also partly real. Her legs thrashed slightly until he trapped them to the bed with his own. And his heart beat a million miles an hour with the hot rush of the sex he liked best: the kind he controlled.

She sounded breathless when she peered up into his eyes to ask, “How did I end up on the bottom here?”

“Rookie mistake,” he told her. “Underestimated your opponent. So now it looks like I’m the cop”—he freed one hand to take the hat still half on her head and plopped it onto his own—“and you’re the one who’s under arrest.”

Her lace-adorned breasts heaved prettily beneath his chest. “And what are the charges against
me
?”

He gave her his most wicked smile. “Impersonating a police officer.” Then he freed the same hand again to snatch away the handcuffs she still held clutched in one fist over her head. “Very sexily, I might add, but still—you do the crime, you gotta do the time.”

“The time?”

“In this case, that means . . . letting me do what I want,” he whispered deeply. And he knew she could feel the steel cuffs pressing against her flesh, the same way he had a minute ago. But he didn’t want this to feel harsh, forceful—so he began to use one of the handcuffs to gently caress the tender skin on the underside of her arm. He stroked the edge of the steel there ever-so-lightly, as light as if it were nothing more than a feather. He wanted her to get used to it, wanted her to realize it was actually making her feel
good
.

“I
have
been letting you do what you want,” she pointed out.

And it was true—she had. Most of the time. “I know. And I don’t mean to be a selfish bastard. I want this to be okay with you. Is it?” he asked, giving her a sweet look as he kissed the tip of her nose, then her forehead—and then he gently slipped one cuff around her right wrist and clicked it shut. He wasn’t sure why he wanted this so bad, why he would ask her to endure what he’d refused to, but he told her, softly, “I’d never hurt you. I just want you to play with me this way, Carly.”

He couldn’t quite read her expression as she peered up at him, her chest rising and falling visibly with each breath. “You didn’t feel that way when it was
you
about to get handcuffed.”

“You’re right. But you’re a tough chick, remember? Maybe tougher than me.” He gave her a delicate kiss then—at the exact moment he used one hand to press her wrist into the remaining steel cuff, easing it shut. “I just want you to trust me.
Really
trust me.”

“I do,” she promised. “Surely you know that.”

“I need to see it. Feel it. I don’t know why.” He gave his head a short shake. “Maybe it
is
about all these old feelings being stirred up. I just . . . want you to surrender to me completely, in every way.”

The world seemed to stand still as they looked at each other for a long moment. They said nothing, yet the air was rife with the silent push/pull of trust, of strength, of lust.

“I’ll undo the cuffs if you want—just say the word. But maybe I think,” he rasped, “that you have the ability to heal. More than me. Maybe I think that even if I can’t quite free
myself
that I can free
you
—that if you give it all up to me, that’ll happen for you.”

Her breathing was audible and he sensed such stark honesty surprising her. “You seemed so . . . cool and calm about the whole thing when you told me about it.”

He let out a breath. “I thought I was. Now I’m realizing that maybe I’d just gotten . . . lazy about it. I’d just picked girls who liked it however
I
liked it, and that made it easy. Maybe
too
easy.” He lowered his voice to add, “Seems like I’ve still got some demons to conquer.”

“What about
my
demons?” she reminded him.

What he’d just said wasn’t bullshit—even though he was being selfish in one way, in another he really thought such surrender would ultimately help her. “You’re stronger than you think, Carly. But like I said, I’ll take the cuffs off if that’s what you want.”

She looked at him for another long stretch, during which he quietly caressed her wrists just above where the handcuffs held them—until she whispered, “All right.”

“All right?”

“Do what you will, Officer Lockhart.”

“Oh God, I love you,” he told her, because it rushed through him like a river just then, how much the depth of her trust really meant to him. And it inspired him to want to pleasure her even more. He kissed her before she could even answer, finally letting his touch leave her wrists, up over her head, gliding them downward to firmly massage her breasts.

Her moan was like music to his ears. It meant her pleasure was greater than any discomfort she was feeling. And that was the simple key to it, he realized—make the pleasure greater than any negative gut reaction.

He couldn’t remove her bra because of the cuffs, but he was perfectly happy just curling his fingers inside the lacy cups and pulling them down to put her sumptuous tits on display. He let out a low growl when he saw them—then eased his body down the length of hers until he could lick at one taut, lovely nipple and listen to her hot little gasp. Bestowing a kiss there, he lifted his eyes to hers. She bit her lower lip, her gaze all heat, tightening his erection.

After laving those perfect pink peaks—his knee pressed snugly between her thighs so she could grind against him—he slid further down her lithe body, grazing his fingertips along her skin as he went. “These panties are so fucking hot,” he said on a groan when he found himself at eye level with them. Then he followed the impulse to close his teeth around the lace where it formed a V in front, sliding his palms beneath her ass to pull them down.

As usual, her delectable pussy was smooth, the way he loved it. And when he said, “Spread for me, baby,” and she parted her legs, he suffered the urge to tie her that way, to secure one ankle to one bedpost and the other to the opposite one, to keep her hot, pink cunt on display, the flesh swollen and open, for as long as he wanted. But that urge would wait for another day. He’d indulged his desires enough here, and she’d let him—so the rest would be all about making her feel incredible.

Finally shedding his clothes, he didn’t hesitate to sink his mouth into her wet, open flesh, loving the hot sob it tore from her throat. He ate her vigorously, licking, sucking, nibbling at her engorged clit. When he thrust two fingers into her pussy, another well-pleasured sound erupted from her and he finger-fucked her while he worked her over with his tongue and teeth. She moved against his hand, his mouth, in a hot, familiar grind, and he got lost in her pleasure, lost in the salty sweet taste of her.

But it was only when he took it a step further, when he reached beneath her with his other hand, slipping the tip of one finger into her ass, that she reached the pinnacle they’d been moving toward. “Oh God, fuck yes,” she said through gritted teeth, exciting him all the more just before she began to sob her climax in earnest as it pumped through her body as wildly as if it were a living thing.

“God, fuck me, Jake. Please fuck me now,” she begged as soon as the orgasm ended—and he loved it.

He loved her plea, and he loved the slow, tight, hugging entry of his cock into that tiny opening. He loved the hot rhythm they fell into automatically as he pounded into her, steady and deep. He loved how slick she felt and how hard her nipples stayed and how soft her neck was when he lowered a nibbling kiss there. And he loved when she looped her arms around his neck and the sharp edge of the handcuffs pressed against his upper back. She’d given him what he’d wanted—her trust and her surrender. And it hit him then that he’d
always
wanted that from her—as Desiree, and then after he’d met her here. Maybe because he’d sensed her resistance to that from the very start. And now he wanted to give her everything he could in return, every pleasure.

So he fucked her hard and made her cry out.