Uncuffed

by Dare, Michelle

  At least I know he’s definitely a bad boy. He wants to fuck me, and he rides a motorcycle. All thoughts of my apartment flee as I think about being on the back of that Harley. God, I can’t wait to feel that bad boy vibrate between my legs. The motorcycle, that is.

  We reach the parking lot of the bar and walk up to his ride. Oh my, is it fine. All black, brand new, and shiny. I skate my hand over the tank, down to the curve of the seat and the back fender, and end near the license plate. The drag pipes are matte black, blending in with the rest of the motorcycle.

  “She’s beautiful,” I say in awe.

  “You like Harleys?”

  “Oh, yeah. I used to have one a while ago but didn’t have anyone to ride with, and it got lonely. I ended up selling it.”

  I actually sold it when I was having a hard month. It was during one of my splurges, and I was able to unload it for almost as much as I paid for it. I did love riding it, though. But it was lonely. I would pass couples riding together. I wanted that but couldn’t have it. Not with the life I lead.

  “That’s too bad. We could have ridden together.”

  My eyes go wide, but I duck my head and smack the leather seat on the motorcycle. “Start it up. I’m ready to have some fun.” I’m not going to think about what it would have been like to ride next to him. Nope. It won’t do me any good.

  He lifts his leg and swings it over the seat. Looking over his shoulder, he gives me a cocky grin. I straddle the seat behind him and reach my hands forward to hold on to his waist as he starts it up. The rumble of the engine, the throatiness of the pipes, it’s all amazing.

  “What’s your name, darlin’?”

  I cock an eyebrow at him calling me darlin’. “Ashlyn, and I’m not your darlin’.” He laughs and puts the Harley in gear. He pulls out onto the road with force, which causes me to tighten my grip on him. We stop at a light.

  “Where do you live?” he asks loudly over the pipes. I give him directions, and we’re off again toward my apartment.

  Halfway there, he takes my hand, which is resting on his waist, and pulls it to his stomach, pressing his palm against the back of my hand to hold me close to him. I can feel every ridge of his abdominal muscles, and yes, I’m stroking them up and down. We’re going to my apartment to fuck, after all. Maybe I’ll get things started now.

  Using my right hand, I caress down his stomach to the waist of his jeans. Going farther south, I run my hand over the denim and find him getting hard beneath my palm. This isn’t only making him hot. I’m starting to squirm on the seat. I haven’t been thoroughly fucked in a few weeks and could use the release.

  We reach my apartment in no time. It’s the second floor of a restored, brick row home. We both climb off the motorcycle, and I don’t get more than two feet before his arm is around my waist, pulling me in close, as he kisses me on the lips hard. I melt in to him. His kiss is full of passion and promise of what’s to come. But I’m not about to get down with him on the sidewalk.

  We kiss and try to strip each other as we take the stairs. I fish for my keys and somehow end up unlocking the door without even looking. I bet I couldn’t do that again if I tried. We briefly break apart once we’re inside, him kicking the door shut behind us. Me dropping my purse and keys to the floor.

  He pauses, eyes scanning my apartment, then flips on the light switch by the door. “This is where you live?” I nod. I thought that was fucking obvious. “Where’s all of your stuff?”

  My apartment is sparse: couch, television, and nothing more in the living area. I need to be able to move on a moment’s notice, and I can’t do that if I collect shit and get attached at every place I temporarily take up residence. I rent furnished places. It’s easier to leave at the drop of a hat when you only have the basics to pack.

  “I’m a minimalist,” I say and cross my arms.

  “Minimalist? This is more like you’re broke and can barely afford to live here. Is that why you sold your Harley? You were broke?” Like I’m going to tell him the truth.

  “No. I already told you why. This is just how I live.”

  He turns and looks over my bare kitchen, with nothing on the counter but a microwave, then walks up the small hallway to the bathroom and bedroom. “You pay to live here?”

  “What? Yes!”

  “You never know. People squat in places that they don’t have rights to.”

  “I can’t believe you just accused me of being a squatter. Would a squatter keep it this clean? Would a squatter have a fucking key to the apartment?”

  “I apologize,” he says, as he makes his way back over to me. His eyes are raking me over from head to toe. Hunger building in them. I guess he forgot about my living situation when he remembered he was about to get laid.

  His hands find my hips, and now I’ve forgotten about everything but how badly I want his lips on mine. “Ashlyn…”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you want to know my name?” No, not really. I don’t need a reason to become attached and a name will start that. Although, if I say that he’ll definitely think something’s up.

  “Sure. I should know what name to call out during sex.”

  He laughs. “Rowe.”

  “Your name is Rowe?”

  “Yes, it’s a family name.” Weird name, but whatever. Then again, Hope isn’t exactly some amazing name, but I’ll never reveal my true self to him.

  I lift his shirt to find the hard planes of his stomach. Tattoos cover his chest and I want to lick every inch of him. “Less talking, more stripping,” I command.

  “A woman who likes to get down to business. I like that.”

  Reaching up, I pinch his lips shut. I don’t want to get to know him. I don’t want to like his personality or the deep timbre of his voice. And I certainly don’t want a friend. He’s not the type I can steal from. He’s too observant. Plus, he’s seeing me for who I really am. No fake hair or makeup covering my tattoos. No false nose or chin. Tonight I went out as me. Just Hope.

  Wait, why would a bad boy give two shits what kind of apartment I live in? He should have had my clothes off by now and my back pressed against the wall with my legs around his waist.

  Rowe’s lips press to the spot just below my ear, and my thoughts dissolve into nothing. All I can do now is feel. His tongue traces a path down to my shoulder as his hand pulls my shirt down so he can kiss along my skin. My fingers make quick work of the front of his jeans, and in our next breath, my hand is wrapped around his dick. He moans low, making me want to strip him and drop to my knees before him.

  I can’t move, though. Not when he lifts my shirt over my head and pulls my bra down to suck my nipple into his mouth. Not when his other hand finds my clit and causes me to cry out. Nope, no more thoughts. Only sex with the delicious man before me.

  Chapter Four

  Rowe

  Gently I bite down on her nipple, eliciting a cry of pleasure from her. She’s moving against my hand as I press two fingers inside her, loving how I’m driving her wild.

  “Oh, God,” she moans.

  Withdrawing my hand, I pick her up by the waist and carry her to the bedroom. Her legs are wrapped around me, her lips on mine as I stumble through her apartment.

  I finally reach her bed and lower her to the mattress, kissing down her body as I go. With my lips and tongue on her lower stomach, I work her jeans and panties off. Then my mouth finds her most sensitive spot. Once her taste reaches my tongue, I’m gone. Nothing else exists but the beauty before me. Her fingers thread through the hair on the top of my head as she holds me in place while grinding against my face. Fuck, she’s amazing. She has attitude and knows what she wants.

  My dick is painfully hard. I want to be inside of her in the worst way. Taking one final sweep of her with my tongue, I stand and remove my clothes. I grab a condom from my pocket before tossing my jeans to the floor. She’s sprawled out on the bed before me. Tattoos scatter over her arms, one on her hip, another on her opposite thigh. I fist my coc
k and pump it a few times while watching her. She pinches her nipples, her eyes on what I have to offer, making my strokes slow down so I can gaze at her watching me.

  Letting go of myself, I open the condom and roll it on. With my body lowered over hers, I slip inside her, and fuck me, she feels as good as I thought she would. Her body wraps around my dick like a glove.

  I take her hands in one of mine and press them above her head while I start to thrust. I push all the way in then slowly back out, but before I leave her, I push back in fast and hard. Each time I do this, she arches up in to me. Her nipples skim my chest. With the moonlight filtering in through a break in her curtains, I watch as her lips part and her eyes remain closed as I thoroughly fuck her.

  “You’re so good, darlin’. So fucking sexy.”

  Her thighs squeeze my waist and her lips meet mine. It’s taking every ounce of my control not to let go. Each moan, touch, and kiss, it all drives me closer to the edge. What I wouldn’t give to release in her and mark her as mine. No condom—no barrier. Just the two of us.

  Hold on. What the fuck? I’ve never had that thought about any woman. Ever. Fuck me. I need to get my head on straight. I’m sleeping with her and then getting out of here. The longer I stay, the worse I fear I’ll get. I can’t allow this woman to get into my head more than she already is.

  She sucks on my neck, bringing my focus back to her. Pulling out of her, I roll her over and spread her legs. Ashlyn raises her ass slightly so it’s on display for me. Silky skin meets my palm as I coast it along her curves. I’m buried back inside her in seconds. With one hand, I ball her hair in my fist, while I use the other to reach around and rub her clit. She needs to come so I can. I never get off first. I won’t until the woman I’m with is satisfied.

  “Fuck, yes!” she calls out as her hands grip the sheet beneath her. Her body trembles as she rides wave after wave of climax. Damn, I love giving women pleasure. Seeing them come undone is one of my favorite things.

  I keep making small circles on her clit, drawing out her orgasm for as long as she’ll let me. She eventually stills my hand to get me to stop. Now it’s my turn.

  Pumping into her a few more times, my orgasm hits me hard. I spill into the condom. The thought is back in my head that I wish it was in her and not the thin layer of latex between us. I can’t push it away. It’s a nagging vision of how fucking wonderful it would be to claim her. I’m so screwed. I need to leave.

  I don’t waste time. I can’t lay next to her and hold her. My head’s all messed up, and I will not let her get under my skin. I pull out and take off the condom, knotting it before tossing it in the garbage can. Walking back to the side of the bed, I kiss her on the lips as quickly as I possibly can and say, “Thanks for a great time.”

  She narrows her eyes and props herself up on one elbow. “Fucking me and leaving? No cuddling?”

  “You don’t strike me as the cuddling type, darlin’.”

  She sits up, grabs my clothes off the floor, and tosses them at me with force. Is she pissed that I don’t want to stay? I didn’t peg her as the stay all night and spoon type of woman, especially after our initial meeting and her not wanting anything to do with me.

  “Upset that you won’t wake up next to me in the morning?” I ask with a cocky smile.

  “In your dreams, asshole. I’m trying to get you out of here faster. What the fuck is taking you so long, anyway? It’s just jeans and a t-shirt. Hurry this shit up.” Either she’s covering her feelings or this is truly what she wants. Either way, I’m gone.

  I don’t bother to look back as I throw my clothes on and make my way to the door. I’m not sure what comes over me, but the thought of not seeing her again does something to me—something I’m not ready to analyze. At the last minute, I decide to drop my business card on her counter. It has my work numbers on it—desk and cell. Maybe it’s a foolish thing to do. Only time will tell.

  “And you’re saying you haven’t seen her in two months?” I ask.

  The guy rubs the back of his neck. “Something like that.”

  “How do you know this woman was the one who took your checks?”

  “Well, I don’t for sure, but I have a suspicion.”

  “And this suspicion would be?” I’m writing all this down while I talk to him, not sure any of it is accurate.

  “I haven’t seen her since I fucked her in the office of my hotel. Ever since then, I haven’t been able to get ahold of her. I’ve called and texted, but nothing.”

  “It never occurred to you that the woman you slept with, and didn’t have an actual relationship with, gave you a false number?”

  “Of course, but why would she do that? I rocked her world.”

  “Uh huh. Sure you did. Okay, I’ll get this filed and be in touch.”

  “You’ve got to catch her,” he pleads. “I want my money back.”

  “We’ll get on it. You’re not the first one to report missing checks and money gone from your bank account.”

  On the way back to the station, I run the last few cases through my head. All victims were male and all said a woman stole their checks. All men slept with the woman. But that’s where the similarities end. The woman doesn’t always take multiple checks. Sometimes it’s only one. Like with this guy. One check and it was cashed at his bank, which makes sense. The bank that holds his money would be the one to cash the check so she gets the money right away.

  I’ve got footage from the other banks. The woman in question has different facial characteristics in each video. She must be using fake noses to change her appearance. Her hair is vastly different in the videos than from the descriptions we receive. This guy said he’d give us all the footage from his office, but my guess is there will be numerous women he’s fucking, and even when he points her out, she has her face strategically turned from the cameras.

  Whoever this is isn’t new to this life. She has skills and knowledge. She’s also a thief and needs to be caught, but how do you catch someone when you have no idea who their next target will be? I would say all wealthy men, but she hit up a middle-class guy a few weeks ago and cashed out two grand from his account. It wasn’t a ton, but it was still theft.

  With the way she operates, she never hits the same bank twice. It just so happens that the reports we’ve gotten have been wealthy local business owners who have money at big, main branches. If this woman moves on, we’re going to have to work with other jurisdictions to be sure to stay on top of this.

  I sit and study the images I received from the banks. The video, the photographs, there’s something very familiar about the woman, yet I have no memory of meeting anyone who looks like this. The common factors in all the pictures are her high cheekbones and the way she walks. Everything else is different. Her clothing ranges from conservative to sultry.

  Rubbing my chin with my thumb and forefinger, I try to piece it all together. It’s a puzzle but one that is missing more than half the pieces. There’s no way to put it together without those, but it’s my job to do so. I hate not being able to figure out cases. I’m much better at the cut and dry ones. You know what happened, get the perpetrator, and it’s solved. This, this will keep me up at night. Especially since there’s this part of me that’s whispering I’ve seen this woman before. There’s also the logical part of my mind saying that a lot of women walk the same.

  “You okay?” Rider asks as he takes a seat beside my desk. He’s the other detective on our police force.

  “Yeah, this case is just bothering me. This woman...” I hand him the pictures. “There’s something about her and I can’t put my finger on it. It’s right in front of me, but I’m not able to see it.”

  “She the one who’s been stealing checks?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, you better figure it out and soon. It seems the guy you interviewed earlier is the mayor’s stepson, and he’s not too pleased to hear he was robbed.”

  “Fuck.” I don’t need this added bullshit. It’s bad enough
I can’t solve this case; now I’ll have the mayor breathing down my neck. “Maybe he needs to tell his stepson to keep his dick in his pants and not fuck random women where he leaves everything out. This guy is a moron. Truly.”

  “You’re right. Doesn’t change shit, but you’re right.”

  Rider stands and claps me on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

  “Thanks for jinxing my fucking case, asshole.”

  “No problem, man,” he says, smiling. Fucker.

  I sit at my desk a few hours longer, trying to work out this case. My desk phone rings. It’s the chief and he wants to see me. Great. The mayor must have spoken to him. I don’t need this fucking shit. What I need to be doing is solving this case and getting this woman off the streets before she finds her next victim and steals even more money.

  Chapter Five

  Hope

  I didn’t sleep after he left. I was up all night tossing and turning. Around four in the morning, I went out to the kitchen to get a drink. That’s when I saw it. The lone item sitting on my counter: something that changes everything and becomes the final tipping point to me fleeing. He’s a cop. Better yet, a detective. Bad boy, my ass.

  I need to leave the city. I should have been gone when I first saw his card, but it was like my feet were in cement. I couldn’t move. I finally made it back to bed with the card in my hand. Staying here isn’t smart. Not in the least. Then why is it four in the afternoon and I’m still in bed? Why haven’t I left yet? I could have been back home by now.

  I keep trying to tell myself I’m not still lying in bed because of him. But I am. We had a connection last night. I don’t care how he acted when he left. While he was buried deep within me, I opened my eyes and saw in the depths of his that this wasn’t an ordinary hookup. He felt it. I know he did. It spooked him, though. Fuck, it scared me, too. That’s the only thing I can think of. Why else would he run out of my apartment like his life depended on it?