Cuffed & Collared Read online

  “Wine?”

  She cocked her eyebrows. “Sure, why not? I’ll be off duty in a few minutes anyway.”

  “A few minutes?” he prodded as he poured the wine.

  “After we’ve had a little chat.”

  “Ah.” He put the glass in front of her, noticing that she was waiting for him to begin eating. Apparently the Sergeant’s mother had taught her manners, too. Picking up his plate, he leaned one hip against the counter and began eating. His guest did the same.

  Her eyelids drooped down with the first mouthful, and she moaned in appreciation. The sound did nothing to ease his arousal. He abandoned his fork for his glass of wine and downed a healthy swallow. The cool liquid didn’t help, either. If anything it stoked the heat.

  “This is excellent,” the sergeant said after chasing her mouthful of fish with some wine. A drop glistened on her upper lip.

  Kyle tried not to stare at that bit of wine, especially when the tip of her tongue flicked out to lick it. Instead, he cleared his throat and focused on his plate of food.

  “Thank you,” he replied. “I like to eat well, and I put a high premium on self-sufficiency.”

  “This is more than merely taking care of yourself. My mother taught me how to do basic meals, but this is gourmet.”

  He shrugged off the compliment, although he was more pleased by it than he should be. What did it matter what this woman thought of him? Her only function in his life was to find his friend’s killer, and because he knew she was seconds away from putting down her fork and picking up her verbal cudgel, he decided to go on the offensive, as he would with any adversary.

  “So, did you have a productive day as Mistress Regan?”

  Over a forkful of salad, she gave him a hard stare. She didn’t react further to his question or answer it until she had eaten the bite. “I’m not at liberty to discuss my activities during an ongoing investigation.”

  “Bullshit!” Putting his plate down on the counter, Kyle braced himself against it with his hands and glared back at the cop. “Need I remind you that I’m the one who found his best friend lying in blood-soaked sheets? I have a vested interest in having his killer found.”

  “Hmm,” she replied with infuriating calm, still enjoying the meal he had given her. “If you were really serious about finding justice for your friend, you wouldn’t have lied to me when I asked you about his sex life.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “Then why did I find you at Club Nemesis?”

  It was a fair question, and one he’d known he’d have to answer eventually. With a sigh, he broke eye contact, guilt making him want to squirm like a school boy hauled in front of the principal. He didn’t, however, because his father had drilled a sense of responsibility into him. Always own up to your actions.

  “I didn’t lie. When you first asked, I didn’t know about the club. It was later that I remembered he had given me a card for the place, and I went to see what it was like.”

  “It didn’t occur to you to call me with the information?”

  He looked at her again. She was finishing her meal, licking the tines of her fork to get the last bit of salmon into her mouth. Thoughts flew from his head as he watched her tongue flick over the metal. It was a quick movement, not meant to be sensual, and yet all he could picture was that moist pinkness sliding up the outside of his cock before her full lips enveloped his glans and sucked it inside the warm cavern of her mouth. He leaned further into the counter to press against his erection.

  Despite the closeness he created, the cop didn’t try to distance herself. “Did it?” she demanded instead.

  “Did it what?” he repeated in a low voice pitched to seduce.

  “Did it occur to you to call me and tell me about Club Nemesis?”

  Right, the murder, Jazz’s murder. Focus, moron. “Ah, yes, it did actually.” He kept his gaze steady on her eyes, though, unable to tear away no matter what the topic. “But I wasn’t sure until I got there what it was, and to be honest, I’m not the type of guy to stand around and let other people solve my problems.”

  She picked up her glass of wine and slowly drained it, not flinching from his stare. If he meant to intimidate her, it obviously wasn’t working. He bet nothing and no one got the better of this woman, and her strength only served to interest and excite him more.

  “I studied criminology in college before going to the police academy, from which I graduated third in my class,” she said, placing her glass on the counter with exaggerated care. “I spent years working the streets as a beat cop before being promoted to detective and now sergeant. I worked robbery and vice before homicide, and I’ve never had an unsolved case. In short, Mr. Ramsey, this is my job.”

  Sliding off her stool, she leaned over the counter much as he was so that they were even closer. “How dare you interfere with my investigation?”

  “Interfere?” he sneered, unable to contain his anger. It was a safer way to vent his building emotions than to give free rein to his passion. “You call prancing around in leather slut-wear and getting your jollies beating on guys an investigation?”

  “I was working undercover, as you damn well know, not playing games. It was you who was acting like a ten-year old, pretending to be a detective working a case. And I’ll tell you something else, boy-o. I wasn’t the one in that room with a raging hard-on the whole time.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “I could have cut diamonds with your nipples, they were so hard, and where’d you come up with a name like Mistress Regan anyway? Can you make your head spin?”

  He saw the first flash of real anger in her eyes with that question. “It happens to be my actual name,” she replied through gritted teeth.

  “Born to be a Dominatrix, heh?” He couldn’t resist teasing her and was rewarded with seeing her fury mount.

  “Born to be a royal pain in the ass, were you, Kyle?” Her face came closer to his. Her hot breath, tinged with the Chablis, wafted over to him. “You’ve got two seconds to come completely clean with me about what you know of Bennington’s murder, or I swear to God, I’ll haul that painful ass of yours—pun intended—down to the station.”

  “I’ve told you what I know. My visit to the club was my way of digging into Jazz’s life to help find his killer.”

  “Not. Your. Job!”

  “He was my friend. No, he was like a brother to me, and I can’t just sit around while his killer runs free.”

  His chest heaved, and it wasn’t with desire, it was with the sudden grief that welled up and threatened to swamp him. What he said was true. He couldn’t do simply nothing. It wasn’t in his nature. He was always the one to take charge, to solve problems. Now, when it counted most, was not the time to shy away from duty and let others do the work.

  Regan, not the Dominatrix but the woman and the cop, dropped her gaze and nodded her head. “I understand your sense of frustration and your desire to do something.” Shaking her head this time, she looked him in the eye again. “But this is not a legal case. It’s a murder. And it’s happening not in a court room, but in the world of a serial killer. This woman has already butchered at least two men. If you don’t stay out of it, you could be the next victim.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I bet your friend, Jazz, could, too,” she replied in a low voice laced with empathy.

  Now it was his turn to look away. “He could, and he would have if he had known the danger he was in.”

  He didn’t see the hand reaching out to him until it touched his face. Warm, soft fingers caressed his jaw. “I’m sorry, and I’m sick over what happened to him. You have to trust me. I’m going to find his killer.”

  Kyle closed his eyes, enjoying Regan’s touch before he gave her the hard truth. “I can’t trust you. I don’t trust anyone except myself to do a job right.” The soothing touch stopped abruptly. When he opened his eyes again, she was walking away, toward the front door. Kyle hustled from his kitchen to intercept her. “You’re
leaving?”

  She gave him a baleful look. “There doesn’t seem to be any point to staying. While I believe you when you say you haven’t kept any information from me, it’s also clear you intend to stick your nose into my investigation no matter what I say. You’ll either end up in protective custody or dead.”

  She shrugged, as if to say she didn’t care which, but he could tell she did. Her cheeks were flushed, and her pupils were big. It could have been simply anger. He was betting it was something else entirely.

  “Are you off duty, now?” he asked with deceptive mildness.

  The question seemed to surprise her. “Ah, yes, I guess so. I asked my questions and delivered my warning, so—”

  He didn’t give her a chance to say more.

  The cop part of Regan’s mind registered the attack in time to stop it, but the woman part of her brain didn’t let her. Kyle’s hands gripped her upper arms in a painful hold and propelled her against the wall before his mouth slammed down onto hers. His hard body pressed against her, letting her feel his rigid cock straining against his jeans. When she wouldn’t open to the soft entreaty of his tongue, he nipped her lower lip until she welcomed him in.

  She remained passive, though, letting him explore her mouth with stark passion and blatant need. She would not let him see how aroused she was, other than her nipples having peaked to hard points. She couldn’t help that reaction, nor could she keep her juices from flowing from her cunt and soaking her panties. Her clit burned to be touched, and the muscles around it spasmed with the same need. These things he could not see, could not feel, and if she let him know the effect he was having on her, he would gain the upper hand. She didn’t want that to happen.

  When his hands loosened their hold in order to roam up her neck and cradle her face, she made her move. Reaching with one hand, she grabbed him by the wrist and twisted it around to his back as she slipped out from under him. In the next instant, their positions were reversed, only she had Kyle face-forward against the wall. She pulled his arm up high on his back to keep him from struggling.

  “Hey!” he barked. “What are you doing?”

  “I didn’t give you permission to kiss me,” she replied in a cool tone.

  Kyle twitched a little, as if to gauge the strength of her hold on him. “We’re not having a session, Mistress Regan.” He sounded annoyed but not too annoyed. His obvious ambivalence egged her on.

  “Aren’t we? I make the rules, remember?” With that warning, Regan decided she needed better leverage. She grabbed a fistful of his hair with her free hand and pulling him away from the wall, frog-marched him into the kitchen.

  “Now what?” he demanded through gritted teeth.

  She shoved him against the countertop over the dining space and made him lay the side of his face on the cool, granite surface. “I didn’t give you permission to speak, either,” she admonished before letting go of his hair.

  Tellingly, he didn’t struggle or try to lift his head or throw her off. With her body wedging him in tight to the counter, there wasn’t much room for him to maneuver. But he hadn’t made any effort to get away during the short trip from the hall, and he still had a hand free to try something. Even with her expert training, she knew a man with at least fifty pounds on her could give her a run for her money. He wasn’t fighting her because he didn’t want to. He wanted her to control him and to dominate him.

  The knowledge sent her pussy into overdrive. “You’re a very disobedient boy, Kyle.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed in a cheerful voice that grated on her last fucking nerve.

  “And you’re enjoying this entirely too much.”

  She slid to one side so she could deliver a punishing smack to his ass with the palm of her free hand. Although his grunt of pain should have brought a satisfied smile to her face, the sting of the contact on her own flesh took a lot of the fun out of it. She needed some help, so she reached across him and pulled open a drawer. She hit pay-dirt with the first try.

  The wooden spoon she wielded elicited a string of curses from its target. “Son-of-a-god-damn-bitch!” he roared, and far worse came stuttering from his mouth with each of the ten quick whacks she gave him.

  Still, he didn’t try to evade the blows or wrench out of her grasp, which only lightly held his arm back. And most importantly, he didn’t use the safeword to stop. When she was finished, they were both puffing out harsh breaths. Sweat trickled down her back and front, pooling between her aching breasts. But because she couldn’t take off her jacket without letting go of Kyle, she ignored the discomfort.

  Regan tossed the spoon on the counter and ran her open hand across Kyle’s bottom cheeks in a soothing motion. “I hope you learned your lesson.”

  “In your dreams.” He flashed her a defiant grin over his shoulder.

  “No, in yours.” She squeezed his tight flesh once before sliding her hand around his hip and to his fly. She positioned herself directly behind so that she could fit her pelvis against his.

  Finding the bulge in his pants was easy, as was unsnapping his jeans with one hand. Regan slowly lowered his zipper, the rasping sound of metal on metal loud in the otherwise quiet room. Kyle still did nothing, made no attempt to stop her. Instead, he remained leaning over the counter, only now he was braced by his free arm. His gaze was focused straight ahead into the living room.

  “You know what to say if you don’t want this,” she reminded him and waited a few seconds for him to respond. Her fingers were poised above the waistband of his boxers. When he said nothing, she slipped her fingers between the cotton and his smooth skin. She played with the stiff, curly hair she encountered for a while before clasping her hand around his hard, pulsing cock.

  “Unh.” His head dropped down to rest on his arm.

  Regan smiled. “Like that do you?” She squeezed her fingers while flicking her thumb over the velvety tip. A drop or two of moisture met her, and she spread it around.

  Kyle hissed and thrust his hips forward so that her hand was trapped between the counter and his body.

  “Don’t,” she commanded, jerking up on his captured arm. “Don’t move. I set the pace. I decide how aroused you become and when you get off. Understand?”

  He hesitated before nodding. “Yes, ma’am.” His voice was little more than a growl.

  “Good, now relax.” She tugged him back toward her with the hand still gripping his erection. When he complied, she rewarded him. “Good boy.” And her hand enhanced her words with a slow stroke up and down. At the bottom of the caress, she let go long enough to wedge her fingers underneath his tightly tucked balls.

  She spent long seconds rolling them between her fingers and thumb, squeezing and tugging. She knew she was driving Kyle crazy by the quickening of his breath and the occasional moan. When he bucked his hips once more, she dug her nails into the tender flesh in admonishment. He kept himself under control after that. It was amazingly gratifying the way he let her control the dance and set the pace. She was incredibly aroused and had to fight the urge to straddle one of his legs and hump her way to satisfaction.

  But that wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all. If she was in control, she couldn’t lose control herself. This was all about the effect she was having on him and how he had to trust her to do what was right for him. She went back to stroking him, picking up the pace.

  “I’m going to make you come, Kyle, when I’m ready. I’m in charge, so you just relax and let me do all the work.” She quickened her movements even more and could tell he was getting close. “Not yet.”

  Her fingers pulled his flesh up and squeezed the underneath of his glans before pulling down again. His cock was hot and alive in her palm, begging her to bring it to climax. He started to pant, and his whole body quivered under the strain of not moving. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

  “Okay. Now!” she said in a loud, commanding voice. Kyle jerked with the last word, and his head reared up and back on a shout. Warm semen spurted from his cock a
nd over her hand, easing her movements and soothing the strain in her fingers.

  At last, he was finished, and so was Regan, although she had not allowed herself to come. Pulling her hand out of his shorts and letting the other arm go, she went to the kitchen sink and washed up. She felt exhausted, yet strangely satisfied. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, but she wasn’t going to allow herself regrets, not now anyway. Tomorrow would be soon enough to analyze and feel guilty.

  As she finished drying her hands on a towel, she turned to look at Kyle. He was still leaning against the counter, although he was braced on both hands. He hadn’t bothered to close his pants, and he stared at her with an unreadable expression. All she could tell by it was that he didn’t seem to be mad.

  “Are you all right?” She tossed the towel on the counter. She ran slightly shaky hands through her hair. “I didn’t hurt your arm, did I?”

  He shook his head slowly. “No, I’m fine. Very relaxed,” he added with a wry grin.

  “Good. I should be going.” When she went to pass him, he straightened and blocked her way. He didn’t try to touch her, however.

  “Wait a minute.” His expression was one of confusion.

  “Why?”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?” Regan shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket and stared at him.

  “You haven’t gotten off.”

  She smiled. “Oh, that. Don’t worry about it.” She maneuvered around him and headed for the front door.

  Kyle chased after her and leaned against the door before she could reach it. “What do you mean ‘don’t worry about it?’ No woman leaves my bed unsatisfied.”

  “We were never in your bed,” she reminded him.

  “You know what I mean,” he replied in an exasperated voice.

  “Yes, I do know what you mean, and what I’m saying is that it’s not your concern.” She stepped closer to him. “I make the rules and the decisions here. I decide who comes and when and under what circumstances. You don’t have to worry about any of it, because it’s not your job. Just like it’s not your job to find the killer.”