THE COP
Also by Sasha White:
“The Crib” in Pure Sex
Also by Renée Alexis:
He’s All That
Gotta Have It
THE COP
SASHA WHITE
ALYSSA BROOKS
RENÉE ALEXIS
APHRODISIA
KENSINGTON BOOKS
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
Contents
Sex as a Weapon
Sasha White
Arrested
Alyssa Brooks
Detroit’s Finest
Renée Alexis
SEX AS A WEAPON
Sasha White
1
He tried to control his heart rate as he drank in the vision of her. With feet planted wide apart in fuck-me stilettos that made his dick throb, and the stretchy rope he’d found in the closet hanging suggestively in her hands, she had him so excited he could barely see straight.
His wife was out of town visiting her family, and when he ran into this seductive woman in the lobby of his law firm he knew Lady Luck had just given him a gift. Her short blond hair framed a pale face with heavily lined eyes and full bright red cock-sucking lips that made him think of a Geisha. When her blue eyes had locked with his earlier, the invitation to have a drink together had flown from his lips.
Somehow, they’d ended up at his house for that drink, and now they were in his bedroom. Him naked on a straight-back chair, and her getting ready to tie him up before she rode him long and hard.
God! Just the thought of her climbing onto his lap and sinking onto his aching cock had him closing his eyes in anticipation. But then he couldn’t see her anymore, and that was a true loss.
“Ready, handsome?” She leaned forward and brushed her lips across his cheek, her words flowing into his ear and racing down his spine. He looked down her dress, and the view of abundant breasts spilling over the lace cups of her bra had saliva pooling in his mouth.
How this woman had managed to get him worked up like a fifteen-year-old when he’d been feeling every one of his fifty-two years only an hour ago was beyond him.
“More ready than you can believe,” he replied and placed his hands behind his back and gripped the rungs of the chair.
The light brush of her fingers against his arms had the fine hairs standing on end as he felt her wrap the rope gently around his forearms. She wrapped it several times, going closer to his wrists with each turn. There were some rustling noises and he felt soft plump flesh press against his arms. “Hurry up back there, would you?”
She finished with a gentle tug, and then put her hands on his shoulders from behind. “How does that feel?” she whispered in his ear.
He tested the restraint, surprised when he had no movement. There was very little pressure on his wrists and nothing cutting into his skin. He was almost disappointed there was no discomfort. “It feels fine, good. Now step around here, lift up that skirt and climb on for the ride of your life.”
Vanessa Lawson let a wicked chuckle rumble from between her painted lips as she strode around the arrogant prick she’d just tied to the chair and headed for the west wall. It had been almost too easy to seduce him.
She ignored his sputter of surprise and the curses that should’ve turned the air blue as she opened the antique armoire there. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, but her hands were steady as she went straight for the safe hidden behind the hanging clothes, and pushed any lingering sexual thoughts out of her mind.
Edward Yardley was a decent looking guy. His hair was meticulous and he was in good shape for a man his age. However, his ego was even bigger than the erection standing proud in his lap at the moment, and that was what made her job so easy. When you knew what made a person tick, it was easy to get what you wanted from them. And there was no doubt that what made this man tick was the thought of a night of hot nasty sex while his new wife was out of town.
Sucking in a deep breath Vanessa keyed in the combination into the safe, only to let it out nice and easy when she saw that the idiot was too arrogant to change it after he divorced his first wife. Everything was just as she’d been told it would be. She pulled out three jewelry cases and a canvas bank envelope. After checking the envelope to make sure it contained the cash, she closed the safe.
Vanessa shut the door of the armoire and turned back to the red-faced man in the chair. She gave his still hard cock a hungry glance. It really was a nice one; too bad the guy was such an asshole or she might’ve given him the ride before she went for the safe. “Don’t worry, handsome. I won’t tell anyone how easy it was to get you to ask me to tie you up if you don’t tell anyone I was here, period.”
She sauntered from the room, leaving him with a wilting hard-on and a variety of lame threats flying fast and furiously from his thin lips.
2
Forty minutes later Vanessa strolled into the small thirty-year-old cottage style house she called home. Signing the mortgage papers on it six months earlier had been one of the proudest moments in her life. Not many twenty-six-year-olds owned their own house. Then again, she wasn’t your normal twenty-something.
The house needed a bit of work, but it was clean and stable, and it was hers. That was what all that mattered.
She tossed the leather backpack that held the stolen goods, her wig and the makeup kit with her three pairs of colored contacts on the floor, and sank down on the faded futon she used as a couch. With a small sigh she unbuckled her heels then reached for the phone on the side table. Flexing her feet and stretching her toes, she dialed the familiar number and waited for her friend to pick up.
“I’m back,” she said after a cultured female voice answered on the third ring.
“Was there any trouble?”
“Nope. In fact, it was ridiculously easy.” Vanessa took a deep breath and spoke her next words clearly. “But that doesn’t change what I said before. That was the last time, Ophelia.”
“Of course, Nessa. This last time was strictly a favor to me. I’m aware of that and I thank you.”
Except the first one, they were all favors. She wanted to remind Ophelia of that, but she couldn’t bring herself to be snippy with the woman she owed so much to.
What could she do? Friends did favors for each other, and Ophelia was the only person Vanessa considered a true friend. So when she asked for something, it was damn hard to say no. But, instead of dwelling on the topic, she made plans to drop off the goods the next day and said good night to her friend.
Vanessa pulled herself up off the futon and headed for the bathroom, stripping the slinky dress off as she went. As she undid her bra, she shoved all hints of loneliness aside and focused on the distraction that always worked. Sex.
The image of Yardley panting as he peeked down her dress came to mind. The fact that she’d gotten a bit of a thrill from his obvious desire reminded her it was time to find another lover. It was almost two months since she set John loose to find another, and while she didn’t miss him and his neediness, she did miss the sex.
She really missed the sex.
“The Risqué Robber strikes again.” Detective Kane Michaels threw a folded newspaper on his friend’s desk. “Fucking reporters are gonna screw everything up.”
Jackson Barrows was a good cop, and a good friend. And that was the only thing that kept Kane from smacking him upside the head when he looked up from the file in his hands with a gleeful smirk. “It’s time to put on a collar and go hunting in the clubs, my friend.”
“The only collar in my house belongs to Mystery.” Kane ignored the smirk and dropped into the chair behind his own desk. He reached into his trouser pocket for a hard candy and popped it into his mouth, balling up the cellophane w
rapper and flicking it at his friend while savoring the rich flavor.
“You still got that mangy cat?” Jack dodged the shot and picked up the newspaper.
“She’s not mangy anymore. In fact, now that she’s been in my loving care for a while instead of on the streets, she’s got a shiny coat and a sweet disposition.”
Jackson snorted. “Too bad you didn’t have the same effect on women as you do on cats.”
“If I ever found a woman I wanted to keep around she’d be purring happily in my lap the same way Mystery does.”
The banter between the men was fast and smooth, second nature to them both.
“‘An inside source says, “The woman who’s committing these crimes is not only seductive to her victims, but damn talented with a rope.”’” Jackson read out loud.
Kane switched gears as he flipped through the last batch of pictures from Yardley’s crime scene. “With each robbery, the victim is bound in a different and more creative way. And even when she uses a silk tie or an electrical cord to bind them, there’s never a mark or bruise left behind.”
“That’s not much to go on after four robberies in ten months.” Jack shook his head and leaned forward to tap his pencil on the photo of Edward Yardley’s bound wrists. “Tell me about these ones.”
“These knots are a beauty. She used a twelve-foot section of climbing rope this time. Forearms and wrists were bound to the chair in such a way the guy didn’t have a clue what he was getting into until he tried to stand up and realized that not only was he bound, but he was stuck there until someone else came along.” He met his friend’s gaze. “A clear example of Shibari.”
“You’re an expert on bondage now?”
“No, but I showed the crime scene photographs to a guy I found on the Internet, a bondage instructor, and he says it’s so.”
Jackson shook his head, smirk still peaking out from under his Fu Manchu mustache. “Did they lift anything from the rope?”
Kane heaved a sigh of frustration. “No hair or skin, just a piece of fiber. They’re looking into it, but I’m not holding my breath.”
“So you get to cruise the local adult playgrounds looking for a sexy babe that likes to get kinky, but isn’t so kinky she’s into pain, while I get to catch up on paperwork.” He shook his head. “Want to trade?”
“Sorry, bud. But I didn’t get myself shot in a drug raid, so I’m not stuck with desk duty. Although, I can’t say I’m sorry you are since you seem to know all the right places to look for information on bondage knots and that’s the only solid lead I have to follow, so far.”
His blood heated and his frustration eased as the thrill of the chase ran through him. It was time to start digging deeper into the sub-culture of alternative lifestyles.
3
Kane was frustrated as hell.
In the past three nights he’d been through almost every club on the list of “adult playgrounds” Jackson had compiled for him. And he’d had absolutely no luck.
Sure, he’d met plenty of people dressed in leather and lace with Goth-style makeup and studded collars. A few of them, male and female, had even offered to tie him up when he’d hinted at an interest in bondage. But the feel had all been wrong. Something had been off.
He’d decided as a last ditch effort to try talking openly with the owner of the next club as a cop. Straight out.
Pretending to be into the lifestyle had gotten him nowhere, and after double-checking the knots and restraints from the Yardley photos he knew that the Risqué Robber wasn’t just playing at bondage. The particular way things had been done had led them to learn more about bondage, and Shibari in particular.
He’d learned it was more than just tying someone up, or even the way the knots were done. It originated with the Japanese and is considered an art. With the restraints done in different designs meant to be effective, pleasing to the eye, and pleasing to the recipient, it wasn’t something just anyone could do. And while RR wasn’t binding the victim’s genitals, as seemed to be a common thing in Shibari, she was certainly doing more than just tying them up.
The O Club was one of the last ones on his limited list. Jack had told him that the O stood for anything from “Orgasms” to “Oh My God!”
Great, just what he needed…a club that couldn’t even decide what its name stood for.
He shook off his frustration and headed for the entrance.
“Sorry. We’re closed to the public tonight, sir.” A tall slim blonde dressed all in black stepped in front of the doors, stopping him. A female doorman—doorperson?
Kane smiled and flashed his badge. “I’d like to speak with the owner if he’s here.
The woman’s expression didn’t change, but she stepped to the side and opened the door for him. Kane glanced at the man standing a couple feet away, also dressed in black, who was now speaking quietly into a two-way radio.
It was just after eight in the evening, and Kane hadn’t expected the club to be busy, but finding it closed was interesting.
Kane stopped just inside the doors and let his eyes adjust to the dark room. Dull golden lights gleamed behind a long wooden bar that stretched the length of the room, making the various bottles of liquor sparkle and shine like a rainbow. The club was empty except for one guy behind the bar and a couple waitresses in skimpy, shiny black outfits seated there, all with their heads turned in the same direction.
A loud slap echoed through the air, followed by a slight moan, and Kane’s eyes flew over the couches and overstuffed chairs that were arranged throughout the club to the far wall.
There, on a stage than ran the length of the back wall, was a naked woman bent over what looked like a padded sawhorse. Blond curls fell forward to obscure her features, but her tension was clear in the lines of her body. Yet, as he studied the scene, the tension somehow announced itself as excitement, not fear.
Kane watched closely as a shirtless man in leather pants hauled back his arm and smacked the pink cheeks of her rump with a paddle of some sort. A loud crack echoed through the club, and Kane realized just how quiet it was in the dark cavernous room. Unable to stop himself, he inched closer to the stage.
When a third person stepped out of the shadows cast by the dancers’ cage at the end of the stage, Kane’s mind went blank.
She was beautiful.
The woman was wearing the most basic clothes. Low-slung faded jeans with rips in the knees and a white ribbed cotton wife-beater tank top. Dark hair, with a tinge of red under the lights, was pulled back in a ponytail, which gave him a clear view of her features. Fair skin, dark brows, dark eyes and full luscious lips that, even from a distance, made his cock wake up and say hello.
Kane’s blood heated as he watched her take the paddle from the guy’s hand, step behind the naked girl and swing it.
Three times in smooth, even strokes, each swat landing on the girl’s rump at a different angle. She handed the paddle back to the man in leather, then smoothed her bare hand over the girls flaming ass cheeks, talking to him the whole time.
She was teaching him how to spank that girl!
Blood raced south and Kane forced himself to think about hockey stats for a minute. It had been too long since he’d had a good fuck, and his body was suddenly making him very aware of it.
The woman in jeans talked softly to the guy, as her touch soothed the girl bent over the wooden horse. She leaned forward, placed a soft kiss at the base of the girl’s neck and moved back.
Fighting to get his hormones under control, Kane watched her step down off the stage and sashay straight toward him.
“I’m Vanessa Logan, officer.” Her husky voice sent a shiver down Kane’s spine as she held out a pale hand with short, clear nails, no jewelry. No wedding ring. “I run The O Club. What can I do for you?”
4
Oooh, he’s a cute one.
Vanessa gave herself a mental head slap and ignored the heat that swept over her as she shook hands with the cop. Rein in your libido, girl. A cop i
s not the type of playmate you want.
Vanessa cocked her head to the side and let her gaze roam over the man in front of her. With only a few inches on her five-foot-eight frame, she placed him at about five feet eleven. Not real tall, but she could tell he had a great body beneath that suit.
Wide shoulders filled out the jacket, a firm chest and flat stomach under a cotton button-up shirt, and the way his pants draped made it obvious he was in prime physical shape. It also made it obvious he was…interested in what had been happening on the stage. The fact that he didn’t try to hide the slight lift to his zipper, despite his very man-in-charge demeanor, gave him points in her book.
It might be kinda fun to see exactly how he would react to not being in charge.
“I’m Detective Kane Michaels, Miss Lawson. I was hoping to speak to the club owner. Is he in?”
“She leaves the running of the place to me, so if whatever brings you here has to do with The O Club, then it’s me you want to talk to.”
He nodded and ran his eyes over her figure. Vanessa felt the heat of his gaze and fought the urge to prop her hands on her hips and thrust out her breasts. She knew she didn’t look like a typical bar manager. She looked even younger than she was without her makeup on. Between that, and her naturally cocky attitude, most men…hell, most people underestimated her.
Normally she liked it when people did that; it gave her an advantage over them, but for some reason it nettled with this guy.
“Nessa!” Rob called from behind the bar. “O is on the phone. You want me to take a message?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the new bartender and smiled. He was a cutie, and so eager to please. She liked that in a man.
“Please do, sweetie. I’ll call her back in a little bit.” Nessa waved JJ over before leading the silent cop to a couple of low chairs and a table. “Let’s have a seat shall we, detective?”
The Cop Page 1