Too many fantasies; not enough time to do them all. Not that the boys and I aren't trying. *wink* At some point, I really need to write them down so you, my lovely readers, may enjoy.
Have you wondered what would happen if that cute cop who stopped you for speeding decided to punish you in his own special way? Jill Talbot finds out. And her sexy sheriff doesn't stop at spanking the bad girl!
Here's a little preview of my forthcoming story, the short and spicy
To Punish and Service!
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His slight frown turned to a full-blown scowl. “Are you trying to bribe me?”
Lust spiced with a little concern flowed through her. “I, uh, no. I mean—”
“Out of the car.” His growl punctuated him wrenching the Camaro’s door open.
She’d barely unlatched the seatbelt before he seized her upper arm and dragged her from the driver’s seat. Her ankle wobbled as she tried to regain her footing. What the hell had possessed her to wear four-inch heels?
“Spread your hands on the hood,” he ordered.
She complied. Luckily, the car hadn’t been running long enough for the metal to heat to an uncomfortable level.
Large hands ran over her torso and thighs. Instead of the cursory search, his touch lingered and caressed, coming back to cup her ass.
“Hey!” She jerked upright, only to have his heavier body lean on her and force her flat on the hood.
“So now I’ve got you on resisting arrest as well as bribery.” Humor flowed in his deep voice.
Jill tried to struggle, but he was too big, the angle too wrong. And from something poking the cleft of her ass, all her wiggling accomplished was to arouse him. She panted. What would he do to her?
“This is harassment,” she muttered.
“”You started this, not me.”
“I’ll scream.”
A chuckle. “Who’s going to hear you?” His hot breath followed his words in her ear. “The mill’s closed for the night, and the nearest house is three miles away.”
“What are you going to do to me?” She couldn’t control her trembling. The shakes had nothing to do with fear. The only real question was how he would take her.
“Well, you did mention something about a trade.” Those huge hands stroked her thighs, edged up under the denim mini-skirt she wore. Pride had filled her when she’d lost enough weight to wear it again. Those callused hands molded her ass, and she felt his sharp intake of breath. “No panties? Just what kind of slut are you?”
Her breasts swelled at her helplessness. He
could do anything he wanted to her out here. Anything.
