The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton
The Pleasure Club: THE COP By Anna Leigh Keaton
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The Cop Copyright© 2008 Anna Leigh Keaton ISBN: 978‐1‐60088‐279‐1 Cover Artist: Dan Skinner Editor: Melanie Noto All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Cobblestone Press, LLC www.cobblestone‐press.com
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton
Dedication This one’s for Deanna Lee and Sable Grey. My publishers, my employers, my friends. Thanks, ladies, for everything.
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton
Welcome to The Pleasure Club Dear Ms. Casey, We’re pleased to welcome you to The Pleasure Club. As you have already signed and returned the contract and filled out all the necessary forms to ensure you receive your every wish, we will be in touch with you shortly with the details of your first Pleasure Night. Your Wish List and Pleasure Forms have been turned over to our staff of highly trained Pleasure Guardians, and they are hard at work finding your perfect match. We will endeavor to meet your personal fantasy. When you are contacted again, you will be given a location where your Pleasure Night will begin, and you will also be given a safe word to use should you at any time become uncomfortable. There is no shame in changing your mind. We’re here for your pleasure, and should your safe word be used, your match for the evening will cease all activity, and the game will be put on hold until a mutual agreement between you and your Pleasure Master can be reached. Once again, welcome to The Pleasure Club. Please feel free to contact the office at any time should you have any questions. Yours truly, The Pleasure Club Management
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton * * * * * Ms. Casey, Your Pleasure Night will begin Friday the 21st, 9:00 PM at the Balantine Club. Your safe word is Indictment. Sincerely, The Pleasure Guardians * * * * * What have I done? What have I done? Victoria Casey sat at the end of the bar in the Balentine Club, sipping a glass of diet cola, waiting for her evening of pleasure to begin. She’d been there for over a half an hour so far, after arriving right at nine, as instructed. Her cop still hadn’t shown up. She scanned the club, searching for someone in uniform. Her request to The Pleasure Club had been a policeman fantasy. Handcuffs and all. Licking her lips, she let her gaze wander over the club patrons. They were all so young compared to her thirty‐seven‐year‐old self. With a quick glance at her watch, she sighed. She’d always had cop fantasies, ever since she was a teenager when she’d watched a tall, muscular officer take down a car thief. Her fantasy had never died, even through ten years of marriage to a boring, very un‐dominant accountant. Yet, now that she was here, she wasn’t sure what to expect. It frightened her a bit. She wanted to be— “Victoria Casey?” The deep voice in her ear caused her to tighten her muscles. Cola splashed from her glass onto the back of her hand. She nodded. “If you don’t want a scene, I suggest you come with me without making a fuss.”
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton No one called her Victoria—to her friends she was simply Vick or Vicky. This had to be her Pleasure Master for the evening. But just to be sure... “And why would I do that?” she asked, turning her head just enough to see the man’s face as he leaned over her. Damn, he was tall. His scruffy two‐day growth of dark whiskers made her shiver with excitement at the prospects of feeling them against her breasts...between her thighs. “Detective James Drake.” He flipped a gold badge in front of her face before shoving it back into his pocket. His suit was a little mussed. His tie crooked, and his jet black hair was mussed and sexy as hell. He was perhaps in his early to mid thirties, and he had the most stunning green eyes she’d ever seen. She grinned. Even better than a uniformed cop, they’d sent her a scruffy, tired detective. “You find this amusing Ms. Casey? You’re under arrest for stealing over one million dollars worth of diamonds from First Federal.” He propped a fist on his hip, which shoved his jacket back a bit to reveal a pair of handcuffs. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” He made a point of glancing around the club. “I suggest we get outside before I take you into custody.” His voice was like gravel. So deep and rough. It skittered over her nerves, making goose bumps pop out on her arms and her nipples hard. He might look scruffy, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his six‐foot‐ three frame. His face was rugged, not only from the scruffy whiskers, but he had a strong jaw and a scar just under his right eye. He might be an actor—hell she didn’t know where The Pleasure Club found their Pleasure Masters, but he looked like a bad‐boy detective right out of a gritty crime novel. Thank you, Pleasure Club! She slipped into her role as a high‐priced diamond thief. “I guess we should take this discussion outside, then, shouldn’t we, Detective Drake?” He gave a curt nod and slipped his hand around her upper arm. His fingers were slightly callused, and she shivered. His grip was firm,
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton but not painful as he helped her off the stool and guided her through the throng of dancing Balentine patrons. He didn’t lead her out the front door though, instead going down the hall toward the restrooms. Vicky stumbled as the first bit of worry flashed over her. She might have signed a contract with The Pleasure Club to spend the night with a psycho axe murderer. His hand tightened on her arm. “Everything will be fine as long as you remember who and what I am.” His low voice soothed her nerves, and she kept walking. His words could have been ominous, but she realized what he meant. The Pleasure Club was exclusive, and they wouldn’t have a Pleasure Master who was a murderer. He might even be a real cop, for all she knew. He led her down the darkened hall and out the Emergency Exit door to the back alley of the club where a black sedan sat waiting. He slipped the strap of her tiny handbag from her shoulder and dropped the purse onto the top of the car. “Hands on the roof,” he commanded, his voice brisk and businesslike. “I have to check you for weapons.” She almost laughed at the ludicrous statement. She was wearing a tight black cocktail dress that couldn’t hide a tube of lipstick, let alone a weapon. When she didn’t move fast enough, he grabbed her wrists, planted her hands on the roof of the sedan, and pressed his big, hard body against her back. Her eyelids drooped, and she sucked in a quick breath of surprise. God, he smelled good. Like leather and musky cologne. “Don’t move.” He patted down her sides, around to her stomach, which made her muscles tense in excitement, and then down over her hips. But he didn’t stop there. Even though her skirt ended at mid‐thigh, he continued lower, to the bare skin of her legs. Those rough palms skimmed down to her knees, then—oh, good Lord—up between her legs. “You have the right to remain silent,” he said as he touched her with what could have been professional distance. “Anything you say can
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton and will be used against you in a court of law.” His fingertips slipped up and glided over the crotch of her panties. Her cunt clenched. She dropped her head forward and spread her legs a bit farther, hoping he’d do it again, a little harder. He didn’t, though. He stood up and grabbed her right wrist, bringing it down and behind her. “Do you understand your rights?” She nodded. Cold, hard metal clicked over her wrist. She gasped. She’d never worn handcuffs before. He took her other hand from the top of the car and brought it down behind her, also. Click. She was locked in. Totally at this man’s mercy. She should be terrified, even though she knew it was all a game, but instead a thrill shot through her the likes of which she’d never before experienced. Detective Drake spun her around and pressed her against the side of the car, his body big and imposing but not quite touching her. His heat soaked into her cool skin, though, and his warm scent tantalized her senses. “We’re looking for your partner. We know you didn’t pull off the heist alone. If you give me his name, we might be able to work out a deal.” She shook her head. “I’ll never tell you anything, cop.” She almost grinned at her acting ability. She could play the game. He loomed over her, trying to intimidate her. “That’s detective, lady, and don’t you forget it.” “One badge is the same as another. Just a better pay scale.” His narrowed eyes glittered in the dim light of the streetlamps, and his jaw ticked with annoyance. Wow, he was good. “You’ve got a smart mouth on you, Ms. Casey. Someone should have taught you a lesson about mouthing off to a man carrying a badge.” “Or what?” she scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You’ll shoot me?” He gripped her chin, his fingers big against her cheek, and turned her head to the side. “Oh, Ms. Casey, I have much better ways of getting what I want.” His mouth closed over a sensitive tendon in her neck, his teeth scraping, his tongue hot and damp and so smooth.
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton She moaned, and her knees went weak. Her nipples tightened to tiny points of pain, and her cunt dampened and throbbed. He suckled his way up to her ear. “Tell me who your partner is.” “No,” she groaned as he nipped her earlobe. “Then you leave me no choice.” He backed up, dropped his hand from her face, and jerked open the back door of the sedan. “Get in.” She shook her head. She couldn’t move. The car held her up, since his mouth had sucked all strength from her legs. He gripped her arm and maneuvered her into the car, carefully holding the top of her head so she didn’t bump it on the doorframe. She all but collapsed onto the soft leather seat. This sure wasn’t a cop car. With a grin, she settled as comfortably as she could with her hands bound behind her back. She wondered where he’d take her, since a real police station was a bit out of the question. He slid into the driver’s seat, dropped her purse on the passenger seat, and started the engine. “You’ve got one more chance, Ms. Casey, to tell me who your partner is.” “Go to hell.” “Tisk, tisk, Ms. Casey.” Within a couple minutes, they pulled up in front of her house. Her mouth fell open in surprise as he turned off the engine and climbed out of the car. She had expected a hotel room maybe, or...hell, anything but her house. The door next to her opened. “Come on,” he said, wiggling his fingers at her. She supposed the safety of her home was for her own benefit. She scooted her legs out the door, and his big, warm, rough hand closed around her arm again, lending her assistance. He held her purse in his other hand, the tiny black thing looking silly dangling from his thick, long fingers. He guided her up the walkway to the front door, then opened her purse and pulled out her keys. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked.
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton As he shoved the key into the lock, he turned toward her, raised one dark eyebrow in a condescending manner, and said, “Interrogation.” That one word sent a shiver down her spine and a tingle into her pussy. She glanced around at the other houses on her quiet block, praying Mrs. Rogers wasn’t peeking out her window. Vicky never brought men to her house. Hell, since her divorce three years ago, only a couple of them had visited her, and those had been co‐workers. Detective Drake flung the door open and, with his hand back on her arm, guided her through it. He shut and locked the door, then flipped on a nearby light switch. He led her through the living room and into the kitchen, where he turned on more lights. “Sit,” he said, pulling out a bent oak chair from beneath the kitchen table. “Why?” He sighed and pressed his hand down on her shoulder until she sat. The strength he exhibited was beautiful. She really, really wanted to know what he looked like out of that wrinkled jacket and shirt. And pants. He went to the small window over the sink and pulled the curtains shut. As he leaned over the counter, the jacket pulled up in back, revealing a gorgeous ass. Her mouth watered. Oh, yeah. He definitely needed to lose the dress pants. He turned back toward her, slipped off the jacket, and—yum. His chest was chiseled beneath his shirt. She wondered if it was hairy or smooth. He tossed his jacket over the chair across from her. “Now, Ms. Casey. Are you ready to cooperate with me? Or do I need to get rough?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging against the fine cotton of his plain blue dress shirt. “I’m not telling you anything. You’ve got no proof. If you did, you would’ve locked me up.” The tiniest of grins tipped the left side of his lips. It looked almost sinister. “I’ve got your fingerprints at the crime scene. That’s all I need.” “Bullshit.” She could really get into this. She hadn’t done any acting since high school drama class, but she loved it. “If you had anything, you’d have already charged me. You’re just guessing, hoping.
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton Well, cop, you can keep on guessing, because I’m not talking.” He came toward her, and she had to tip her head back to see into his face. “You have one smart mouth on you, lady.” “You’ve said that before.” He raised his hand, and she flinched, for a second thinking he was going to slap her—she’d stated in her Pleasure Forms that she liked it rough—but instead, he forked his fingers through her hair and tipped her head back even farther. “I don’t like sassy women.” The slight tug on her scalp sent a frisson of pleasure skittering through her. She shivered and tried to control her accelerated heart rate. When she regained her sense, she said, “I’m not exactly here to worry about what you like, now am I?” His fingers tightened against her head, and she gasped at the shock of heat that shot through her. “I think your mouth needs to be put to better use.” With his free hand, he undid his slim, leather belt, popped open the button, and slid down the zipper of his slacks. All Vicky could do was stare at those long, strong fingers working his pants. Her mouth watered in anticipation. If his cock was even half as gorgeous as the rest of him... Oh, my, it is... He pulled himself free of his tight, black briefs. Even only semi‐ erect, his penis was beautifully shaped. When he gripped the base of his cock and pulled her head toward him, she didn’t hesitate. She opened her mouth wide and took him in. He hardened in an instant, and his taste was heaven. Musky, sweet, and tangy. The detective’s breathing grew ragged, and his fist in her hair was joined by the other one. He controlled her movements, bobbing her head faster and faster. She took him to the back of her throat, sucking, licking, skimming her teeth ever so lightly along his shaft as she withdrew. She tasted his salty pre‐cum, and her cunt spasmed. She wanted
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton this thick, long cock slamming into her. Needed it. It had been so long—so very, very long—since she’d been satisfied in bed. Since she’d been pounded into submission. Since she’d had an orgasm that made her scream and turned her mind to mush. The hands in her hair jerked her back, and she released the tip of his cock with a soft popping sound. She looked up into his face and was more than pleased to see him looking so close to the edge. A few more sucks, and she was sure she could make him come. If her hands had been free, she would have grabbed his ass and pulled him toward her. As it was, she couldn’t move. He held her with his arms straight, his fingers tangled in her hair. If she moved, she’d only cause herself pain. She tried anyway, leaning into him. His grip tightened, and she stopped. “Talk, damn you. Tell me the name of your partner.” “No.” She looked back at his cock, which stood proud and solid. “You’ll never get the name out of me, no matter what you do to me.” She prayed he would do it all. He pulled her head back toward him, and she latched on to his cock with a hard suck. Detective Drake moaned and pumped his hips, shoving himself deeper into her mouth. His slacks slipped off his hips and pooled around his ankles. She wanted to get a look at his legs, but she was too busy concentrating on sucking the cum right out of him. She wanted to taste all of him. She wanted to be nasty and dirty and naughty tonight. This was her night, damn it. Sex for the sake of sex. Raunchy, with no morning‐after awkwardness. She could drink Detective Drake’s cum all night long, and no one would care. No one would be here to think she was weird. Her nipples rubbed against the silk of her dress, abrading them, making them ache. She rolled her hips, pressing her cunt against the hard wood of the chair seat to relieve the pressure building inside her. He pulled her mouth from him and tipped her head back to meet his eyes. She licked her lips. She was going to be really pissed if he denied her.
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton “Name. Now.” His breathing was even more ragged than her own. His cheeks, above his whiskers, were slashed with color. His eyes were icy emeralds. “You don’t really want the name, do you, copper? You want me to suck your dick.” Her voice sounded strangely deep and throaty. Seductive. She gave him a sweet smile, which made him narrow his eyes at her. She wondered if her compliance to suck cock surprised him, since it was meant as punishment. Little did he know that it was one of her greatest pleasures. She loved the taste, the texture, of a man’s penis. He shoved her head back to his crotch, and she happily wrapped her lips around him and sucked him so deep his balls pressed against her chin. She hummed in delight as she flicked her tongue against him. Then she swallowed around the tip of his cock at the back of her throat. “Fuck,” he grunted. “Mmm hmm,” she agreed as she bobbed her head, using her teeth to score him. More pre‐cum dripped onto her tongue, and she reveled in the tangy delight. She wished her hands weren’t bound behind her. She wanted to touch him, get her hands on that ass, dig her nails into his hard muscles. He pumped his hips and held her head still, his fingers tightening against her scalp with each bit of movement. She sucked him hard, repeatedly flexing her throat around him. His body tensed, stopped moving. She rubbed the underside of the soft head with the tip of her tongue. Detective Drake groaned, and a spurt of hot cum filled her mouth. She swallowed it down, along with another and another as he came hard. Then she licked him, cleaning him, wondering how long until she could do it again. How fast she could get him hard a second time. Before she could figure out what he was doing, he released her head and dragged her out of the chair by her arms, spun her to the side, and bent her forward over the edge of the small, round table. She grunted as the edge of the tabletop bit into her pelvis. His big palm pressed
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton between her shoulder blades, and with his other hand tugged her skirt up around her waist. “What a little slut,” he said, his breathing ragged and loud in the silent room. She laughed. “If I’m a slut, what does that make you? A dirty cop?” He slid two fingers beneath the crotch of her lace panties and flicked them over her swollen pussy lips. “You’re the dirty one,” he said as he teased her pubic hair, tugging it lightly, sending the ache deeper, harder through her. “You suck your partner’s cock that way? You won’t give me his name because you like to watch him get off?” “All men are the same,” she said, trying desperately to concentrate on his words and not the tugging, teasing between her legs. “I make them come, and they’re putty in my hands.” A stinging slap on her ass caught her off guard, making her yelp. As the pain eased, the pleasure was almost unbearable. “I’ll not be putty to you, lady. I’m going to make you give me his name, even if I have to beat it out of you.” His rough voice, combined with his words of promised retribution, made her moan. She laid her cheek against the cool, smooth oak table. “Give it your best shot.” He gave her another open‐handed slap on her ass. Her cunt creamed and clenched, begging to be filled. She let out a slow breath, controlling her external reaction to the pleasurable pain. Another slap, but this time she couldn’t help the whimper of need that slipped out of her. She squirmed, and the hand between her shoulder blades added more pressure, pressing her breasts into the hard, unforgiving tabletop. “I can take everything you have to dish out,” she said between clenched teeth. As punishment, her panties were ripped from her body, leaving her ass bare. The cooler air brushed her cunt, and she sucked in a quick breath. “Somehow, I doubt that,” he growled an instant before he delved
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton two long fingers into her pussy and aimed straight at her G‐spot. She clenched her hands into fists, wishing she had something to grab onto to ground her as she fought off her impending climax. She wasn’t ready yet. She wanted the torment to last longer. As the detective’s fingers pumped into her, unerringly rubbing over her bundle of nerves, she broke and came with a sharp cry. Cream slicked her inner thighs as his fingers continued their assault on her body, dragging out her climax until she saw stars behind her eyelids and could barely catch her breath. Both of his hands left her body at the same time, and she whimpered. Her legs shaking, she slumped all her weight on the table. Good thing it was sturdy. “Name, damn you. Give me the name.” “Fuck...you,” she said on ragged puffs of breath. “You’d no doubt like that.” Slap. That one really stung. Slap. “Ouch!” She kicked out with one foot and connected with his shin. He grunted. If he wanted her to put up a fight, she could. “Fucking heels are killers.” He jerked her stiletto off her right foot, then her left. They hit the tile floor with a soft whack. “Is that it? Did you kill your partner to keep all the diamonds for yourself?” “Looking for a bribe?” Slap. “Not with your dirty money.” Slap. She kicked out again but caught only air and nearly tumbled herself right off the table. He caught her in a motion so quick it made her head spin, bent his knees, and lifted her up, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Oomph.” His hard shoulder dug into her stomach. This was a lot sexier in movies than in real life.
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton Then again, his whiskers tickled her bared hip. She liked that. “Bedroom,” he growled as he stopped walking just outside the kitchen. “Down the hall. Door at the end.” She decided that fighting right now might not be a good idea, or he’d drop her on her head. She might be into role playing, but brain damage wasn’t something she wanted to experience. He kicked open the door—not that it’d been shut tight—and dumped her on the bed without ceremony. She bounced on her side, her hair falling over her face so she could barely see him. At one point, when she’d been face‐down over the table, he’d pulled up his pants, but now he shoved them down again, along with those sexy briefs. Tossing her head to the side, she cleared most of the hair from her eyes so she could get the full benefit of him stripping for her. Oh, yeah... His legs were thick, muscular, and long. He jerked the knot of his tie loose, unbuttoned his shirt, and kicked off his shoes at the same time. His open shirt revealed well‐formed pecs covered in just the right amount of pitch‐colored hair, which whorled around his nipples and formed a straight line bisecting his body between eight‐pack abs that made her mouth water. His cock was hard again. He bent and pulled his thin, leather belt from the loops of his pants. Vicky’s heart thudded. She’d never been whipped. Hell, she’d barely gotten the men in her past to spank her hard enough. Her body revved up, ready for another orgasm. Yessss. He folded the belt in half and snapped the leather. Her cunt clenched. He was going to do it. Yes, yes, yes! He bent over again and pulled something from the pants and tossed it on the nightstand. Rubbers? When he approached the bed, he had something between his fingers. Keys to her handcuffs, she realized as he rolled her onto her stomach, dropped the belt to the bed next to her, and fiddled with the cuffs. Before she could pull away, the second he released her right hand, he flipped her onto her back and clasped the cuff back in place. Now her
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton hands were bound in front of her. Her shoulders protested the change in position, but it didn’t stop her excitement from growing. The man was gorgeous, and when he trained those startling emerald eyes on her, he sucked her into his world of make believe. “Last chance.” “For what?” she asked, raising her eyebrow in challenge. “Give me your partner’s name, or I’m going to beat it out of you.” “There’s nothing you can do to me that will make me give him up.” The detective raised her hands up over her head and slowly opened the zipper that ran down the side of her dress. “You love him?” “What’s it to you?” He tugged on the dress, and the silk easily slipped off her body, leaving her completely naked. “The way you suck cock doesn’t make me think you’re in a committed relationship.” A throaty laugh slipped out of her. “Maybe his cock isn’t as pretty as yours.” One corner of his lips twitched into an almost‐smile. “That so?” “Don’t get a big head now, officer.” He flipped her over again and snapped the belt against her ass. She cried out in surprise at his speed. “Detective Drake,” he said. “I worked for this gold shield.” “Fucking your suspects? Does this normally work for you?” The belt bit into the flesh of her ass, and she buried her face in the down comforter to muffle her cry of bliss. The pain was exquisite. Something she’d always longed to experience. “I do whatever’s necessary to get my conviction.” Slap, slap, slap. Three burning lashes in a row. She screamed into the blanket and fisted her hands in the soft down. It hurt so good. Her pussy was hot and wet. She pressed her pelvis into the bed, but there was no relief to be found there. Then those big, rough hands closed over her upper thighs, shoved her legs wide, and dragged her to the edge of the bed. “On your knees, you little slut.”
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton Shaking, she pushed herself onto her knees, with her feet dangling over the edge of the bed. “Your ass is flame red, yet you refuse to give me a name. What’s it going to take to get it out of you?” “You’ll never get that name from me!” She tensed, waiting for another lash. Tension built within her when it didn’t fall. When a full minute passed and he still hadn’t touched her, she slowly released her breath and rested her cheek against the bed. Let her muscles relax a bit. Then those big, wonderful hands bit into her hips, and his hot mouth attacked her cunt. She screamed and tried to wriggle away, the sensations almost more than she could bear, but he held her steady as he ate her, shoving his tongue deep into her then flicking her clit with its tip. His whiskers abraded her over‐sensitized flesh. “No!” she cried, even as she shoved herself back against his face, needing more. He slurped her cream and lapped it up as she had his cum. Her body tightened, her muscles pulled taut. She whimpered and rode his face, bucking against him. The man was good—fantastic—he knew just where to suck, lick, and press with that talented tongue of his. Her climax grew inside her, building and building. Her toes tingled. Her fingers ached where she dug them into the comforter. She was about to— He stopped. His hands held her firm, but his mouth was gone, though she could still feel his hot puffs of breath against her wet flesh. “Damn you!” she screamed, shoving back against him. His fingers were like vice grips holding her still. “Does your partner make you this hot and wet?” he demanded, his voice like rough velvet. “Yes,” she cried. “Hotter and wetter. You’re an amateur compared to him.” A soft chuckle from her detective made a shiver race up her spine. Oh, that was a sinister sound. She was really going to get it now.
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton He let go of her left leg and flicked a finger through her pubic hair, just barely skimming inside her lips. She tightened, waiting, her cunt throbbing with its need of release, of one or two good, hard strokes. Then that finger pressed against her anus. She moaned and buried her face in the blanket. God, yes. He pressed through the tight ring of muscles and sank that gloriously long, thick finger deep into her ass. “Does he fuck your asshole, Ms. Casey?” “No,” she moaned. No one did. But she loved it. “Does he make you tremble with need?” She rolled her forehead against the bed. “No.” He pumped his finger slowly in and out of her ass, released her thigh, and stroked a finger from his other hand deep into her pussy. “Ahhh...” A second and third finger joined the first in her cunt, stretching her. Pain...pleasure...pressure...ecstasy... He slipped a second finger into her anus. She whimpered and slowly rocked against his hands. She’d never experienced this kind of sex play with a man. She’d tormented herself with a butt plug and her array of vibrators on occasion, but this was so much...more. “Kinky little thing, aren’t you?” he said, humor lacing his sexy voice. “God, yes,” she admitted. “More.” Her darker side was something her husband had loathed about her. Not that she was into anything heavy, but he’d never been willing to do anything. Her detective kept stroking her with his fingers as he moved around behind her, repositioning himself. She assumed the game had been forgotten. She didn’t need to play, she just needed to come. Again. Hard. The fingers in her pussy picked up speed with their stroking, and his pinky flicked her clit. She cried into the comforter and shoved against him with every thrust of his hand. The pain hurt so good. His knuckles dug into her, and she reveled in it.
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton His fingers left her cunt, and what should have been the next stroke made her scream. His cock—that big, gorgeous cock—rammed into her so hard her teeth clicked. He pumped the fingers in her ass in direct opposition to the press of his cock, making a maddening friction that stole her thoughts and made her yelp with each hard thrust. “Take more?” His words were barely more than strained grunts. “Yes!” she screamed as she rocked back against him. He pumped into her so hard his balls bounced against her clit, his thighs slapped against hers. She couldn’t breathe. All she could do was hold on and wait for the impending wave of oblivion to sweep over her. It was too much. Not enough. Detective Drake grunted with each powerful thrust, his free hand holding her hip in a painful grip. “More?” he growled. “More!” He pulled out of her, left her empty for a second or two, then stretched her ass with his cock as he rammed it home. At the same time, he let go of her hip, reached beneath her, and pinched her clit so hard she went off like a rocket into outer space. Her own screams of pure rapture rang in her ears as her legs slipped out from beneath her, and he came down over her, pumping into her. His animalistic grunts in her ear, along with his hot breath on her neck, pushed her over another edge on which she didn’t even know she’d been standing. Every muscle in her body contracted, and she screamed again. And then the world went black and silent. * * * * * Vicky awoke to find a pair of strong arms around her, a solid, fuzzy chest beneath her cheek, and soft breath stirring the hair on top of her head.
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton The room was dark, except for light spilling in through the door from the hallway. She didn’t know how long she’d been out, but the delicious sensations in her well‐abused body made her purr in satisfaction. “So, Ms. Casey,” Detective Drake said, his voice a rumble against her ear. “Are you ready to give me that name now?” A slow smile spread over her lips, and her eyelids drifted shut. “If you wanted your share of the diamonds, James, all you had to do was ask. It really helped having a cop on the inside for this job. I’ll wire your money to the offshore account we set up last week.” His soft chuckle bounced her head a bit. “Well played, Ms. Casey.” “Mmm. Thank you. For everything.” As she drifted back to sleep, she felt him move away. He tugged the comforter up around her shoulders. And although she couldn’t be sure, since she’d drifted to somewhere between sleep and awake, she thought he pressed his soft lips to her forehead. * * * * * Bright rays of sun warmed Vicky’s face. She frowned. She wasn’t ready to wake up yet, wasn’t ready for the dream of the best fuck of her life to be over. But she did have to go to the bathroom. She rolled away from the antagonistic sun and sat up on the edge of the bed. She was naked. It hadn’t been a dream. Her Pleasure Master, Detective Drake, had been real. Her butt still ached from the whipping he’d given her; her cunt and ass still throbbed from the pummeling. On the nightstand sat a pair of handcuffs, a set of keys, and a business card. Until we meet again. Detective Drake The Pleasure Club
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton She couldn’t wait for next time...
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The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton
Author Bio Anna Leigh has been reading and penning romance for as long as she can remember. After she met and married her very own real‐life hero, romance took on a whole new meaning. She now knows married life can sizzle and romance can be erotic—even in her own home. Now her writing has taken on a spicier flavor and, while hubby’s off at work, she lets her imagination soar….Anna loves to hear from her readers. You can email her at
[email protected] or visit her website at www.annaleighkeaton.com for all her upcoming and previously published works, and meet her alter ego at www.leannekarella.com.
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