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  And we exploded together.

  He groaned into my mouth and devoured me with a hunger and tenderness I’d never faced before. A muffled scream bubbled in my throat. Our tongues fought like starving beasts, our bodies merged as he ass-fucked me, in, out, in, out, in. He reached around, twisted one erect nipple and massaged my breast while my other tit bounced. The sensation of my breast overflowing in his hand enhanced my femininity, causing womanly power to surge through my blood.

  The orgasm went on for what seemed like minutes. I rode him hard to extend it, never once wincing in pain. No, my pleasure-pain was the kind that made a person get off on the near violence of it. I knew how to do anal sex—no, lovemaking as he’d called it—knew exactly what, when and how I wanted it. The butt plug always held me in check, made me curb my naughtiness with its teasing and constant reminder of what was to come. I bartended, served drinks, apprehended criminals while undercover. When Frank had removed the plug, it had been the same as unleashing a nymphomaniac or possessed spirit from inside me.

  The release continued as if it would never stop. My entire body twitched—my clit twitched, hell, even my anal twitches twitched. I milked his cum from his balls until the heat of it filled the tip of the condom and warmed deep in my belly. As the orgasm subsided and he went softer, stickiness trickled out around the base of his cock and smeared my labia and butt cheeks.

  We cuddled and kissed and petted each other for a long moment with his shaft still inside me. The rock music from the overhead speakers melded with the grunts and groans and ahhhs of patrons and strippers in the booths on either side of us. I could smell lube and pussy and various fragrances…and the raw, honeyed scent of our lovemaking.

  No. No one in the world could smell like this, kiss like him, make love like him. Hopefully he felt the same way about me.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  Hopefully not that way about Jaz anymore.

  Emotions welled up inside me. I suddenly wanted to go to my place or his, to do with him as I pleased all night long, right into the wee hours of the morning.

  “Come home with me,” I murmured in his ear as I nibbled on every piece of flesh my lips and teeth could find.

  He shivered and stood, causing his shaft to slide out of my anus. He unrolled the condom and tossed it in the trashcan. “Sounds great. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  My belly swirled with excitement and anticipation. “My sentiments exac—” My gaze zoned in on his cop badge peeking from one of his pockets, a stark reminder that we’d both broken our code of ethics in law enforcement.

  Then I glanced at my blouse.

  Shit. The nametag. I bent and swiped the torn fabric up. And there on the back of the plastic tag shone the tiny red light that indicated the mic had been on this entire time.

  “Uh, s-sure. Let me go get m-my things from the employee locker room.” I put myself back together as best as I could and raced from the room, my face warm with embarrassment and fear.

  Fear of losing my damn job.

  * * * * *

  There wasn’t time to process the fact that she’d invited me to her place just like that, despite the vague hesitation behind her words. She was gone before I could say, “Okay, meet me back here and we’ll leave together.”

  But I waited. And waited. And waited.

  Cindy didn’t return to the “party” room. I zipped my soft cock back into my pants, shoved my badge deep into my pocket and went out to search the front of the strip club. I asked around about her. No one knew where she was.

  No one even knew her fucking phone number or her last name or where she lived.

  What the hell?

  Really? She’d split on me. She’d screwed me over. She’d left without giving me any way to reach her except haunting the strip club on random nights in hopes of finding her behind the bar serving drinks.

  With that butt plug in her ass. Waiting to be removed and replaced by my dick.

  A thought occurred to me. I ran back to the private party room and into our booth.

  Unbelievable.

  There it sat—her hot-pink crystal butt plug on the seat where she’d discarded it. I grabbed it, held it up to the light, watching it sparkle, smelled her musky but sweet scent along the length of it.

  Ha. A souvenir of our unbelievable, fairytale-like fantasy that we’d lived out in a “dance” club for strippers. I chuckled sardonically and slipped the toy in my pocket. I knew it was ridiculous, but this bizarre situation reminded me of Cinderella leaving behind her glass slipper. Only I was no prince and the butt plug was far from a magical slipper.

  I rubbed the toy through the outside of my pocket, acutely aware of its cock shape, and the fact that it had been inside Cindy all night long.

  My dick perked back up, hardening already.

  Mmm, I could do it again, right now, this second.

  But Cindy had apparently vanished.

  Cindy—the anal-sex love-of-my-life princess—had left her prince high, dry and hard, giving him the most delicious taste of her talents, only to disappear into nothingness.

  Not even a single fucking pumpkin stagecoach to be seen.

  * * * * *

  I returned to work, this time pulling double-duty and overtime any way I could. Hell, it was either that or mope around at home thinking about sexy Cindy and her flawless body and how good we had fit together.

  I ached for her. I obsessed over her. I visited the club nightly for weeks and searched for her, but I’d been told she’d quit, right along with Jazmine—ha, she’d married her fiancé and become a bored housewife after all.

  A rich one, which explained it all.

  What in hell was this, some kind of chick conspiracy against me?

  Not that I cared about Jaz’s dismissal of our meetings, it was Cindy’s rejection that got to me. Frustration ate away at my gut, turning me into a hard-ass cop, apprehending them motherfucking thieves, assaulters and murderers with a seething drive I’d never had before. I exorcized my rage, but the half of me that needed rest, relaxation and kinky sex got neglected, which made me even more of a prick to work with.

  Finally today’s long shift in the patrol car was over. I raced home and changed into street clothes then strolled into the strip club yet again, determined to find someone who’d give me information on Cindy—a last name, a phone number, shit, just a clue on where she’d gone to work. Maybe I could find her tending bar down the street or something.

  I recalled the Cinderella comparison and snorted. Or maybe I’d find Cindy mopping her cruel stepmother’s floors. I still had her glass “slipper”. I stared at it sitting upright on my nightstand every night as I tried to fall asleep and ignore my hard-on.

  Probably should throw the toy away before it drove me insane. The memories of it nestled in the crevice of her firm cheeks were just too vivid. Even emotionally agonizing—and that wasn’t like me at all.

  I shook off the uncomfortable, sentimental self-admission and stopped dead in my tracks about two steps from the Puss ’N Tush bar.

  “What the…” I said it under my breath, but my cop instincts kicked into gear so I didn’t say her name or act as if I knew the new bartender. It was Donna, one of the undercovers from work.

  Or was it? Could be I was going fucking nuts.

  No, I’d know those small but perfect breasts anywhere. I’d had them in my hands and mouth plenty of times in the past, not to mention I’d watched her struggle to push them together and squeeze my cock between them so I could give her a pearl necklace.

  I slid onto the barstool and said, “Hi. The usual.”

  She glanced up at me, and the flash of recognition in her blue eyes told me all I needed to know.

  I wasn’t nuts. It was definitely Donna.

  Only her nametag read Tonya and she wore a long curly auburn wig.

  Donna—or rather, Tonya—reached for the bar rag and made a play of rubbing the hell out of the wooden surface. “My apologies, sir, but I’m not familiar wi
th what your ‘usual’ is.”

  Ah, I finally got it. She was undercover, because she damn well knew what I drank. She’d served it to me many times during our short but intense affair. And although she’d loved playing dress-up, she’d never once worn that hideous wig around me.

  Anyway, we’d parted on mutual terms—mutual that all we’d wanted from each other was some temporary, stress-relieving sex, something her husband wasn’t giving her.

  She filled a glass with ice and water, slid it across to me. Rock music blared from the overhead speakers. Strippers of all sizes, colors and shapes twirled on every stage while patrons whooped and whistled.

  Not Jaz, though. But it didn’t bother me in the least.

  I took a long drink, set it down with a clunk. I leaned close and spoke loud enough for her to hear me but low enough to be drowned out by all the partying noises. “Well, Tonya, my usual has changed to a very intoxicating ‘cock’ ‘tail’ called…Cindy.”

  She cleared her throat, grabbed a goblet and pulled a draft beer from the tap. “Here.” She plunked it on the bar in front of me, making it slosh out. Her chin jutted toward the beer. “On the house. That is, since the drink ‘Cindy’ has been…discontinued.”

  “You know her?”

  Her gaze wandered the room.

  “What do you mean ‘discontinued’? Discontinued to where?” I pushed the beer back toward her.

  Donna shrugged, bit her lip.

  I leaned across the bar and crooked a finger until she perched her ear near my mouth. I got a whiff of her familiar perfume. Her wig tickled my nose just like her true blonde hair used to when she’d straddled me and fucked me to exhaustion.

  “Damn you, tell me where I can find my runaway little ‘Cinderella’. And hurry, because I’m going to guess, darlin’, that the last thing you want me to do is drop a few hints to your husband about our affair.”

  I shivered when she turned her head and grazed my ear with her moist lips. Memories filled my head of that mouth bobbing up and down on my dick. But it didn’t do a thing for me.

  I wanted Cindy.

  Needed Cindy.

  “Do it, darlin’, and you can bet your balls I’ll dig up something that’ll have the chief firing your ass. And ‘Cindy’s’ no Cinderella. She’s… Oh, never mind.” She waved a dismissive hand.

  No doubt, she’d follow through on her threat. Donna was a hard-ass that way, especially to cover up for friends. And apparently, she and Cindy were friends.

  I sighed. “Just tell me where I can find her. Then I’ll get the hell outa here.”

  She blew out a breath, crossed her arms and pushed her tits up until I caught a glimpse of shadowed cleavage in a blouse identical to the one Cindy had worn, the one I’d ripped off her in order to strip her bare. “How about I text her, tell her to meet you at the station, let her decide if she wants to see you or not?” She dug a cell phone out of her shorts pocket and pecked on the screen.

  “What? The station? What the hell?”

  Donna glanced up at me and winked one of her pretty blue eyes. “She’d feel…safer meeting a man at the precinct. Then you two can go from there.”

  Made sense. I wanted Cindy to feel safe with me outside the club’s walls so I agreed with a nod. I doubt she knew I was a cop, unless she’d really seen my badge that night like I’d thought. Or maybe Donna had told her.

  Donna’s thumbs raced across the text screen. She propped her elbows on the bar and snarled, “This is all you’re getting from me. Now. I’m warning you, you’re not going to like what you discover. You sure you really want me to hit Send?”

  Couldn’t think of one single reason I’d regret seeing Cindy again. I stroked my whiskered jaw and palmed Cindy’s butt plug in my pocket. Visions assailed me of her bent over with the pink toy bulging from her ass. My cock twitched. My sac started a slow ache that warned of a serious case of blue balls in the very near future.

  No, I couldn’t think of one reason.

  “Hell yes. Hit it.”

  * * * * *

  Tonight’s prostitution sting had been successful. I stretched as I got out of my sports car and let out a sigh of satisfaction and relief.

  Then I saw him sitting in an SUV and my heart went into a flip-and-thump sort of rhythm. Our lovemaking at the club had been the best I’d ever had. I’d missed him since ditching him that night, even lain in my bed fantasizing about him and masturbated with a vibrator in my vagina, an anal vibrator in my butt and my fingers playing with my clit.

  He’d made a complete hussy out of me. Still, I wanted him like crazy. But there’d been that reminder when I saw his badge at the club at about the same time I’d realized I’d left that damn nametag transmitter running.

  So I’d done the best thing for both of us—steered clear of him.

  Frank hadn’t been able to track me down since I’d been ordered to “quit” my job as “bartender” that very night. We worked opposite shifts so I’d been able to avoid him at work, and I always wore undercover costumes, hats, jackets, sunglasses, various wigs and heavy makeup, so on the off chance he did see me from afar, I doubt he’d recognize me. He’d probably assume I was a whore being arrested anyway.

  Once I saw his badge and realized the mic was still on, I had been almost certain that night’s fuck-up would be the end of my career. So I’d made the excuse to Frank that I needed to go gather my “things”. What I’d really needed was to run the hell away—which I’d done in a complete panic—and gather my sanity instead.

  How could I have been so stupid and careless? How could I have put the temptation of long-awaited sex with Frank above my job and my reputation with the guys?

  They’d all heard the moaning and sex noises in real time, or heard about it later through the usual gossip within the close-knit undercover team. Of course I’d become the brunt of sexual innuendo jokes and constant passes being made at me by the chauvinistic men.

  God.

  And then my best friend Donna, who unfortunately was also my boss, had heard every recorded detail of my anal-sex encounter with Frank at the club.

  So embarrassing and utterly humiliating all around.

  I’d been certain she’d fire me, despite our friendship. But instead she’d demoted me from the bigger cases I thrived on like the drug and money laundering through Puss ’N Tush, to the crappy street stuff like prostitution and busting the drug users instead of the gratification of busting the distributors.

  At least I still had a job, and one I loved despite the demotion.

  Well, loved almost as much.

  Earlier tonight Donna had texted me to meet Frank here after my shift. My stomach had clenched and I’d started trembling. I didn’t know if it was anticipation or dread at seeing him again.

  What could this be about?

  I assumed Donna was either hoping to clear the air between Frank and me, or playing matchmaker despite her previous affair with him.

  But I never knew with her.

  The thing was, Donna had indicated that Frank had been left in the dark about my being an undercover. He’d kept his job, oblivious to that transmitter being on or his role in my being demoted. That is, unless he’d been privy to the gossip without my knowing it. Still, he had been innocent in the encounter, not knowing my real reasons for being there, and had gotten away with soliciting sex because, well, all the other guys frequented places like Puss ’N Tush too, so it was often overlooked despite our hypocritical busting of street prostitutes.

  Hell, the club and places like it were fun, unique, exciting. And they all knew it, including Donna.

  My shift had wrapped up a bit early so I hadn’t expected Frank to be here already. I waved at a few of my coworkers and shifted my gaze to Frank. His eyes zoned in on me through the passenger window, held me glued to the asphalt even as my pussy wetted. So. Now that he was here and saw me with the guys, he’d find out soon enough that I wasn’t a hooker being booked tonight, but rather an undercover cop who’d dallied on the
job, gotten myself demoted and him exposed for his own indiscretions.

  My hand massaged my swirling belly. I blew out a breath and walked toward his car.

  I don’t think I can handle this now that I see him again sitting there looking so hot. And waiting for me to slide into his car so I can get some of that unbelievable anal sex from him again.

  My butt tingled around the plug that had been embedded in my hole through the entire shift.

  Lord help me, but I prayed I’d get more amazing sex from him tonight. And that he’d understand my reasons for deceiving him.

  The only way to tell was to hold my nose high, tackle the mess head-on and have an intimate powwow with him.

  Yes, I prayed it would become intimate.

  “Well, here goes, Leah. It’s going to be either feast on him again, or be left with a Frank Lyons famine and a broken heart. Not to mention a throbbing, unfulfilled pussy and ass.”

  Chapter Five

  I didn’t even have to get out of my car at the station. A pumpkin-orange sports car pulled in a few spaces to my right and Cindy climbed out. Or at least I thought it was Cindy.

  The woman wore a bleach-blonde to-her-luscious-rump wig.

  I zoned in on the face. Was it her? As farfetched as it sounded, I wondered if maybe she had a twin with different hair. Yet I was almost certain this was the woman who’d looked over her smooth shoulder at me with lust in her eyes while I buried my cock in her ass.

  Familiarity nagged at me just like it had when she’d bartended for me. The feeling became stronger as I watched her approach my vehicle. Had I seen her before, besides at the club?

  The hair was different, or dyed…or something.

  I shrugged. Who really cared about the color of the hair? It was the faint, sexy smattering of hair around her hole that had stuck with me.

  “Jesus,” I mumbled when my gaze surveyed her up and down, noting the way she was dressed.