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“Can I come?” Bill asks. His blue eyes are wide and he’s searching my face for an answer. “Please. Let me come. I’m so close, baby.”
I climb off of him rather than give a verbal answer.
Now those blue eyes narrow into thin lines of frustration tinged with a hint of violence. He quickly tamps down on the latter. “What the fuck?” Bill bursts out. “That’s not fair. You’re leaving?”
He starts to push up off the mattress as well until I hold out a warning hand to still his movements. “I’ll make the punishment ten times worse if you don’t lie there. Don’t touch yourself or you won’t come,” I tell him.
Playtime is over for both of us.
Already thinking about the case, I turn the Dom/Sub part of my brain off and Bill ceases to exist under the weight of duty.
We’ve got a new murder.
A new crime scene to investigate.
The whole of me, seconds ago attuned to pleasure, now shifts into deadly purpose.
With my back to Bill, I slip out of the black-and-green lingerie and into a comfortable, functionable sports bra. A simple cotton tank follows, and a pair of well-worn jeans all shades of midnight and navy, with a dark zip-up jacket and black construction boots to match.
I toss my hair into a ponytail while Bill watches. He’s still on his back on the mattress, making it a point not to touch himself.
“Get dressed.” I bend at the waist to pick up his clothes and toss them to him.
“You really are serious,” he mutters under his breath.
I pat my jacket, going through my mental checklist. Keys, cell, badge. Shit, I need my gun.
“Yes, I’m serious,” I tell Bill on my way to the gun safe in the closet. “I’ve got to go and there’s no way in God’s blue hell I’m leaving you here in the apartment alone.”
The safe beeps and the lock clicks open as I wait for him to get dressed as well, confusion twisting his face, and when he’s done I take him by the hand.
“What about me?” the man asks.
Not bad looking. I never look at their faces though. I only look at the potential and what we can bring to each other in this sick game I love.
“Next time,” I promise.
It’s a lie.
We both know it’s a lie.
Seconds later I’ve tossed him out of the apartment and locked the door behind us both. Bill seems pissed at me and he walks backwards, staring me down.
“I’ve never been involved with anyone like you before.” He’s still sporting an erection and rubs it suggestively. “It’s so fucking hot.”
“You never will again.”
“When can I see you?”
I stalk ahead of him, leaving him no choice but to follow me down the hallway toward the stairwell. And once we’re in the car park of the apartment building, my key fob unlocking the sedan, I turn to him and sigh. “Don’t bother calling me. Go find someone else to take care of your needs. Another Dom. Someone who doesn’t give a shit that it takes so long to train you to do this right.”
Maybe he’ll learn a thing or two with a better teacher.
“Hey, that’s not fair.” Bill’s pissed and he has a right to be. “Hey! Mistress—”
This situation takes edging to a completely new level and I’m too far into my cop headspace now to give a shit.
“Sorry. Take care.”
