the cop- anna leigh keaton

8/18/2019 The Cop- Anna Leigh Keaton

1/24


2/24

The Pleasure Club: The Cop by Anna Leigh Keaton

2

The

Pleasure

Club:

THE COP

By

Anna Leigh Keaton


3/24


3

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

http://www.cobblestone-press.com/http://www.cobblestone-press.com/http://www.cobblestone-press.com/http://www.cobblestone-press.com/http://www.cobblestone-press.com/


4/24


4

Dedication

This one’s for Deanna Lee and Sable Grey.

My publishers, my employers, my friends.

Thanks, ladies, for everything.


5/24


5

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


6/24


6

* * * * *

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.”


7/24


7

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,


8/24


8

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


9/24


9

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.


10/24


10

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.


11/24


11

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.


12/24


13/24


13

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.


14/24


14

“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


15/24


15

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


16/24


16

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.


17/24


17

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


18/24


18

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.”


19/24


19

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.


20/24


20

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.


21/24


21

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.


22/24


22

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


23/24


23

She couldn’t wait for next time...


24/24


24

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.
mailto:[email protected]://www.annaleighkeaton.com/http://www.leannekarella.com/http://www.leannekarella.com/http://www.annaleighkeaton.com/mailto:[email protected]

the cop- anna leigh keaton

Documents