Always Mickie (Cruz Brothers Book 3)

by Melanie Munton

  “With all due respect, that’s not really any of your business,” I said in as even tone as I could manage. “I simply have family in the Jersey area, and my husband and I were discussing the possibility of being closer to them.”

  His expression told me he knew I was full of shit. “I see,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “And what if you two aren’t able to work things out? Will you move without him?”

  What the hell was this asshole’s game? Was he really that bad at taking a hint?

  Or did he just not care?

  He seemed to read something on my face because he scooted a little closer and added, “I’m just asking as a friend, Mickie. We’ve worked together for several months now, and I’d like to think of us as friends.”

  Not even close, douchebag.

  And something about the way he said my name really grated on my nerves.

  “I’m not comfortable discussing sensitive personal subjects like this, Dr. Stein,” I said, emphasizing his last name. Reminding him that we were definitely not friends. “Whatever happens between my husband and I is between me and him.”

  He smirked and moved even closer. His body now separated mine by mere inches. If he laid even one finger on me, I was prepared to pull out the self-defense moves Dawson had taught me.

  “Suit yourself,” Stein said. “But I’m always here. You know, if you want to…” He trailed off as his eyes slid down my body. “Talk.”

  His hand grazed my arm before he stood up and walked off, sauntering away like a smarmy jackass. Gross. Now, I wanted to take a shower.

  I kind of couldn’t believe what had just happened, either.

  Stein had officially taken his interest to another level. An inappropriate, illegal one. Now, there was one more thing I had to worry about and watch out for.

  As if life wasn’t already stressful enough.

  All of those worrisome thoughts fled my mind as I was walking back into the building, though. The text Dawson just sent contained the one word that was able to alleviate all those worries and transform them into pure desire.

  The one I hadn’t seen or heard in years.

  The one that sent blood rushing to my head.

  Dawson: Tonight. Gemini’s Isle. 8pm… CINDERELLA.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Dawson

  I couldn’t wait another damn night.

  So, yeah. I’d thrown down the gauntlet.

  If I had to use the one sure-fire way I knew would excite Mickie, and one that I was almost positive would result in us falling into bed together, I would do it.

  Because I was done taking precautions. She’d said no sex, so maybe this was a dirty trick. But we’d also almost had sex the other night—which she’d encouraged—so maybe it wasn’t a trick.

  It was definitely still dirty.

  But I knew she’d be fine with that part.

  I walked into Gemini’s Isle and searched the crowd for my curly-headed bombshell. I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t see her because I’d arrived early. Mostly so I’d have time to calm my frayed nerves. We hadn’t pulled out the Cinderella card in a long time, and I hoped to God I wasn’t too rusty.

  I ordered a drink at the bar and kept an eye on the door. Gemini Isle was a bit on the seedier side, but it wasn’t a total hole in the wall. It was simply a place that I felt comfortable living out some of my dirtiest fantasies in. Any place nicer and I might have been afraid they would kick me out, simply for the kinky thoughts swimming around in my head.

  I was only about two sips into my scotch when I felt a hand curl around my shoulder. I turned with a ready grin, expecting it to be my wife, but was disappointed when I saw a stranger. The smile was wiped from my face.

  “Feel like having some company, Officer?” the redhead asked, coyly biting down on the straw in her drink.

  I was guessing that was her version of a come-on. Though I wasn’t fazed by it. It wasn’t the first time I’d been hit on in uniform. Apparently, Mickie wasn’t the only woman who got off on that. Pity for the redhead, my wife was the only woman I was interested in getting off.

  “Sorry, but I’m waiting for someone,” I replied, casually flashing her my wedding band as I took another drink.

  Her eyes zoned in on the ring. She nodded and removed her hand. “They don’t lie when they say the good ones are always taken.” She walked off without another word.

  Wearing my ring wasn’t exactly in character, but it always felt wrong taking it off. And even though we hadn’t done this in a while, if memory served, Mickie usually wore hers during Cinderella nights, too.

  I felt a presence suddenly snake through the bar as whispered murmurs hushed through the room. Before even turning my head, I knew who had just walked through the door. I slowly looked over to see Mickie standing in the middle of the crowd of people, who had parted like the Red Sea.

  Her eyes were on me, drifting down my body.

  Mouth ajar.

  Hand on her chest, as if she were having trouble breathing.

  That made two of us. Because what the fuck was she wearing?

  All I could see was a whole lot of leather. A short red leather skirt on bottom. Some kind of tank on top that pushed up her tits, but I couldn’t get a good look because of the black leather jacket she had zipped up over it. Her legs were sheathed in black fishnet stockings. Her hair was left down and wild, my favorite. And holy shit, how high were those heels?

  She stood stock-still as she continued to gape at me, and I was getting antsy. She looked fucking amazing, but I was starting to worry that some asshole would take the way her tits were practically spilling out of that jacket as an invitation.

  It was an invitation.

  But I was the only guest attending the party.

  I crooked my finger at her, wanting her close by before her leather-clad ass got mauled by some drunk. Her feet finally moved. With every step she took in my direction, she appeared to regain her confidence. Her short steps turned into a sultry strut, and her hips dipped with more sway than usual.

  My mind spun with possible scenarios of how this scene would play out. And she hadn’t even spoken to me yet, telling me who she was going to be for the night.

  Though I already had a pretty good idea.

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Is there a problem, Officer?”

  I tried not to appear too smug. Good call on the uniform.

  She’d told me once, years ago after I first made detective, that she missed seeing me in my blues. Not that she didn’t love me in the suits I wore every day. But she’d said there was just something about the way the fitted material pulled across my muscles that made her want to rip the whole thing off my body.

  A guy didn’t forget a comment like that.

  I gave her a blatant once-over, essentially fucking her with my eyes. “I could arrest you for indecent exposure in an outfit like that,” I said in a lethally low voice. “But I’m willing to let it slide on one condition.”

  She cocked a hip. “What’s that?”

  I nodded at the empty stool next to me. “Have a drink with me.”

  “I believe I can do that.” She sat down and signaled the bartender. “You know, since you went to all the trouble of not… What do cops call it? Slapping your cuffs on me?”

  Her eyes gleamed with challenge and I couldn’t resist. “Something tells me you wouldn’t mind having cuffs slapped on you.”

  She hadn’t the last time I’d done it.

  Her laugh rolled over me in waves. It was the sound of a vixen who knew exactly what she was doing.

  “Sorry, Charlie, but the only one getting cuffs slapped on them tonight is you.”

  My drink slammed onto the bar.

  Not intentionally. At Mickie’s admission, the glass slipped from my fingers and the bar basically caught it.

  Did she just say she was going to put me in handcuffs?

  I cleared my throat. “What’s your name?”

  After the bartender delivered her drink, she took
an unnecessarily long sip. Dammit, she knew what she was doing to me.

  “Trixie,” she answered.

  Oh, shit.

  “Is that short for something?”

  She stared me down, and I reciprocated. These nights usually turned into a game of sorts. Or rather, a competition. A contest to see who could turn the other one on more. Who would break first by becoming so horny they had to drag the other one off. I was proud to say that over the years, the record was about even. She had succumbed about as much as I had.

  But with her looking like that—talking like that—I wasn’t sure I was going to win tonight.

  “Dominatrix,” she said.

  There it is.

  I used to think that men were the only ones who had fantasies of dominance in the bedroom, both on our end and on the woman’s. I loved the idea of Mickie taking control. But apparently, women had those fantasies just like men. Or at least Mickie did. She’d told me years ago it was something she’d always wanted to try.

  Looked like she was giving it a go.

  And she was doing fucking beautifully.

  My excitement racked up about fifteen thousand volts.

  “Nice name,” I said, trying to hide my pounding pulse by taking a drink.

  She crossed her legs in my direction, giving me a tantalizing view of those goddamn fishnets. “Oh, I can assure you I’m anything but nice.”

  I raked my teeth over my lower lip as I pictured those legs wrapped around my neck. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Fuck. Now, I was thinking about the sound those fishnets would make as they scraped against my facial scruff. My forehead broke out in a sweat.

  “So, Trixie. What kind of…tricks are you in to?”

  One stray curl fell in front of her face as she stirred her drink. I so badly wanted to push it behind her ear, but I refrained, knowing it would be too intimate at this point in the game.

  “I like to be in the driver’s seat,” she replied. “Have men at my disposal and in a position where they have to do exactly what I say.”

  Sounded good to me. “You like to be in control.” I stated it like a question. She nodded in response. “How do you control them?”

  Her chin was propped on her fingers, one of them so close to her lips I could visualize her sucking it into her mouth.

  “Well, I’ve already told you I prefer handcuffs,” she said. “But I like any form of restraining a man. And I make sure they pleasure me before they get any reward for themselves.”

  How could this woman still manage to surprise me after all these years? “

  “You make them work for it, huh?”

  She shrugged. “Sometimes if they don’t work hard enough, I pleasure myself and make them watch. It tortures them.”

  I had a brief mental image of her toying around with other men like this, but I had to immediately shove that aside. This was fantasy, and I wouldn’t ruin it by getting pissed off at my own imagination.

  “I have to admit,” I said, “I’m not always a big fan of delayed gratification.”

  I knew the parallels between that statement and our own real-life situation were not lost on her.

  “No?”

  I shook my head, setting my drink down. “No. Sometimes the best policy is immediate satisfaction.”

  If anyone had learned that lesson, it was me.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” she asked, grinning.

  I leaned in her direction, as if I were about to tell a secret. “I’ll phrase it in cop talk. The fun in immediate satisfaction is having enough time in the evening to commit multiple offenses.”

  Offenses equaled orgasms in this little sexual tête-à-tête.

  “Mmm,” she hummed. “So, if you were to arrest me, would a pat-down be required for committing multiple offenses?”

  Internally, I roared like a vicious beast. “Most definitely. It’s the most effective method.”

  She ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass. “Well, I would hate to put a mark on my record by not obeying an officer of the law. You might find this hard to believe, but I’ve never been in trouble before.”

  My tongue slid over my teeth. “I do find that hard to believe.”

  She chuckled. “Okay, fine. Let’s just say, I’ve never been caught before.”

  I tipped my glass at her. “There you go. You’re not a law breaker. You’re just naughty.”

  A red tint spread over her cheeks

  And fuck, if that didn’t make me hard as a rock.

  “I don’t know if you’re ready for just how naughty I can be,” she whispered.

  All right, I’d had enough.

  End of story. Fantasy concluded.

  Now, I just wanted to fuck my wife into oblivion. Screw that delayed gratification she was just hyping up. I was ready to send her into a coma-like state of immediate satisfaction in the naughtiest way she could conjure up.

  “You done with all the innuendo?” I asked, completely abandoning character.

  She drained the rest of her drink. “More than.”

  I followed suit by throwing back the rest of mine, and hauled her away from that bar like the building was on fire. I was not going to be able to make it back to our house.

  My first option was the bathroom—not like we hadn’t done that before—but it was locked. My second option was a darkened hallway or storage room, but I couldn’t find any. That left me with the third and final choice, but it would have to work.

  The alleyway at the back of the bar.

  I pushed through the back door, and sent up silent praises of gratitude that the nearest street light was out of commission. It offered a little more privacy for what I was about to do. Perhaps not enough. But a sufficient amount that no one would see my face if they happened to walk up and witness what appeared to be a cop screwing a hooker.

  My mouth was already on her before her back touched the cool brick wall of the building. She was grappling at my shoulders, my chest, my arms. Anything she could get her hands on. My mouth moved downward, latching onto the skin of her neck, tasting her cherry blossom lotion.

  She’d always tasted so fucking good.

  My lips reached the edge of her leather jacket and, feeling encumbered, I ripped the zipper down, revealing her perky round tits, propped up in some black leather corset thing. I didn’t know what the fuck it was called. All I knew was that it boosted her gorgeous handfuls up and out, drawing my attention as her breathing turned harsh.

  “Now, Mick,” I murmured, kneading her perfect ass in that ridiculously short leather skirt. “I can’t wait another night. Hell, I can’t wait five more minutes. I need to be inside you now.”

  She wound her leg around my hips, placing her pussy right against my dick. “Yes. No more interruptions. Just pull your cock out. Put it in me.”

  I kept one hand on her ass, while tearing my pants open with the other. I didn’t need to bother with underwear because—surprise—I wasn’t wearing any. I made a show of displaying what she was about to get rammed up inside her.

  “Is this what you want?” I taunted. Grabbing her hand, I wrapped her fingers around my rigid shaft.

  She moaned and took over stroking. “That’s what I need. Let me have it.”

  Like I was going to keep it from her?

  “You ready for me?” I brought myself to her entrance.

  She gasped. “Are you kidding? I’ve been dripping ever since I first saw you in that damn uniform. You remember what I told you about ripping it off you?”

  My heart rate sped up. “Yeah.”

  The sound of material tearing echoed off the brick walls. She could be strong when she was determined. The buttons of my uniform were now scattered on the ground. My naked torso exposed to her lecherous gaze.

  “I keep my promises,” she said before clamping her lips around my nipple.

  God, the woman had a mouth on her.

  The way she swirled her tongue over my sensitive tip distracted me for a second before I came
back to my senses. Realizing I still wasn’t achieving my goal, I lined myself up and drove into her with a forceful push.

  Her scream was muffled into my chest. But my shouted “Jesus!” could have probably been heard a mile away. The alcohol made my head feel a little fuzzy as I gathered myself. Or maybe that was just Mickie and her profound way of arousing me. Either way, I was primed to lose all control before I’d even started to move.

  “I want it rough, Dawson.” Her tone brooked no argument.

  This was my wife.

  We’d been married for almost ten years.

  I was propping her against a dirty wall in a disgusting alleyway, outside of a bar that really wasn’t a suitable place for a woman like her.

  And she was demanding that I screw her rough and raw, at this very moment.

  Was I fucking dreaming?

  “Baby, I’m going to give it to you so hard.”

  The words were a struggle to get out, seeing as how I could hardly breathe. I was trying to concentrate all my energy on making this last.

  “Come on,” she encouraged, grasping my shoulders. “Move.”

  I grabbed underneath her thighs and lifted her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around my waist.

  I didn’t waste another second.

  I started thrusting, slamming into her.

  “Finally.” I blew out a breath as if it were the first I’d ever taken in this life. “Fucking finally.”

  Being inside her like this felt like coming home.

  “I changed my mind about the no sex rule,” she said, panting.

  “Yeah?”

  How was she even speaking coherently right now?

  “Mmm, yeah. We should…probably do this as often as possible.”

  I adjusted our position and went deeper. Our mutual groans were loud in my ears.

  “Fuck in alleyways?”

  I could tell I’d hit her spot when she gasped.

  “Just sex…anytime.”

  “Baby, you can have this whenever you want,” I told her. “Sit on it, suck it, ride it…it’s yours anytime.”

  I lowered my hand to her clit, knowing I was close to releasing. But I wouldn’t let go without her right there with me. I rubbed her, circling those nerves like my life depended on it. Her nails clawed at my skin as she breathed into my neck.