by Lee Savino
Rescuing Regina
By
Lee Savino
©2016 by Blushing Books® and Lee Savino
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Lee Savino
Rescuing Regina
EBook ISBN: 978-1-68259-870-2
Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
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Table of Contents:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About the Author
EBook Offer
Blushing Books Newsletter
Blushing Books
Chapter One
The car rolled to a stop, and I peered through the rain-studded windshield. A high chain link fence rose between us and the warehouse parking lot.
“There it is,” I said. The headlights pooled on the pavement, illuminating our prize.
“Jackpot,” said my greasy-haired companion. “Just where you’d said it’d be.”
“Of course,” I snorted. I was a little drunk. “I only worked here since I was sixteen.”
“How do we get it out? Climb the fence?”
“No need. The lock is just for show. It doesn’t work.”
“You’d think he’d lock it up tighter.”
“Mr. Roberts is a trusting guy.” I felt a pang, remembering when I’d been one of the people he could trust. “Come on.”
“Wait.” My companion—Benji? Barry? I couldn’t remember his name—picked up his blunt. He took a pull before offering it to me.
Wrinkling my nose, I took it and mimicked him, pulling the sweet smoke into my lungs. The whiskey was wearing off, and a little marijuana would take the edge off my self-disgust. If I was lucky, it would keep me from wondering why I was drunk and getting high. Why I was with a loser about to rob my former employer. It was a night of firsts.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered, and exited the car. The first foil came when I saw the shiny new lock and chain on the gate. That hadn’t been there a few hours ago.
“What’s wrong?” My partner in crime still hadn’t left the car.
“It’s locked,” I called back. “I’m going to climb the fence, see if there are bolt cutters or something.”
I faced the fence with more confidence than I felt. As I hooked my fingers into the links and prepared to hoist myself up, the heavens opened. Rain poured down as if to say, this is a bad idea.
Two feet off the ground, my legs weakened. I shouldn’t have had that last shot.
“Oi,” I called to the pothead behind the wheel. “A little help here?”
A police siren came alive behind me. The shock nearly gave me a heart attack. I fell from the fence and sprawled on the ground. Blue and red light washed over me with the rain.
My partner in crime put his car in reverse and hit the gas. The getaway vehicle’s doors flapped open as it squealed past the cop car.
“Hey, wait!” I got to my feet, only to squint into flashing lights as the sheriff’s vehicle rolled closer, cutting off my escape.
I could only stand there, squinting into the headlights. It probably was Officer Smith or Officer Johnson. Both knew me from my mildly delinquent days as a frustrated teen who sometimes cut school. I could already imagine their smirks.
“What are you doing here, Regina?” came a deep voice.
Oh no. No, no, no.
Instead of porky Smith or flatulent Johnson, Sheriff Townsend unfolded from his vehicle.
I’d known him as a kid and he’d always been serious, stern, and an absolute stickler for rules. Age hadn’t softened him. Not that he was old—twenty-eight, only six years older than me. Not that old at all.
He’d entered the academy at eighteen and worked his way up through the force, and though some say he won the sheriff election by luck, most would agree he deserved the office. He was hardworking, humble, even as he radiated quiet power.
Oh, and he was hot. The hottest man for three counties, maybe more. In high school, I heard of girls who’d speed just so he’d pull them over. He’d call the girl’s parents, and they’d invite him over for dinner.
He’d always had a gentle and firm authority that made the most p
rotective fathers offer their daughter’s hand in marriage. He was perfect.
Damn him.
Cole’s long legs carried him a few feet away from me. The light outlined a fine, strapping chest and arms that could probably bench press Smith and Johnson. He had a waistline that had never met a donut in its life.
“Sheriff.” I wished I didn’t have mud and pine needles all over my jeans. “Lovely evening for a stroll.”
“You’re trespassing, Regina. This whole road is private property.” I heard the frown in his voice.
“I work here.”
“Not anymore. Mr. Roberts gave you notice today.”
My mouth fell open. I knew small town gossip was fast, but not that fast. “How do you know?”
“Mr. Roberts told me.”
“Well…” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. I couldn’t quite pull it off, because my boobs got in the way. “Did he tell you that he didn’t even give me a reason?”
“He doesn’t have to. It’s a right-to-work state.”
“I’ve worked here since I was sixteen!” The rain came down harder and I gritted my teeth, realizing how ridiculous it was to have an argument with this man. He’d caught me in the act. If it’d been any other officer, I’d probably be face down in the mud, getting Mirandized.
“Get in the car.”
“No.” I really was out of my mind. My head tipped back as Cole Townsend advanced, all six feet of him. He’d always been tall, even as a kid. And serious. A nice guy but he didn’t have to work hard to look dangerous. Nobody messed with Sheriff Townsend.
Except me.
He held the flashlight up so I couldn’t see him, but he didn’t shine it in my eyes. The shadow silhouetted the clean line of his jaw. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he had serious green eyes, and blond hair he’d worn in a buzz cut since joining the force.
He was just delicious.
“I forgot my wallet when I left. It must have fallen out of my purse, and I’d never drive without a license. That’s why what’s-his-name gave me a ride. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I turned back to the fence and started to climb it. Well, tried anyway. My limbs wouldn’t work right. I ended up pulling on the links, grunting in frustration.
Heat hit my back and I froze.
“Nice try,” Cole literally breathed down my neck. His arm wrapped around me to slide my wallet out of the front of my jeans’ pocket.
“Why, Sheriff Townsend,” I cooed, trying to keep my cool even though my panties were swimming. “Is that a gun or are you excited to see me?”
“It’s a gun.” He pulled me to face him, away from the fence. “How much did you have to drink?”
I held up two fingers and giggled.
“I don’t believe you. One shot wouldn’t do this to you.”
I held up five fingers.
He shook his head in disapproval.
“Oh come on, Sheriff. You never got drunk and went a little wild?”
“No.” He pulled me towards the car. I went willingly, until I remembered my plan to be a pain in the ass.
“You really are Mr. Perfect.”
“I am not.”
“Really?” I tugged my hand out of his. “Tell me one thing you’ve done that would get you in trouble if anyone knew.”
“I’m about to do something right now.”
My eyebrows shot up at his dark tone. I was almost afraid to ask.
Almost. “Like what?”
But Mr. Perfect wasn’t in the mood to talk. He bent, tossed me over his shoulder, and strode the rest of the way to the car with me protesting. His arm clamped over the back of my thighs. I felt higher than I had after smoking the pot. Upside down, I got an eyeful of his taut sheriff buns.
He set me down and opened the car door. “Get in.”
I stood my ground.
“Regina, I’m not going to ask you again.”
A few raindrops spattered. “Fine,” I said. “But only because I need a ride.”
He did a sweep of the area before getting back in the car and slowly pulling down the dark, private road.
Despite everything that had happened, I felt giddy. I was in a car with Cole Townsend! I bounced on the seat, trying not to giggle like a moron.
“You want to tell me why you were trespassing on your former employer’s land?”
“No.”
“Regina.”
“Why do you call me that? Everyone else calls me Gina.”
“Regina is your full name. I prefer it.”
“I do too. It means ‘queen.’ Yours means ‘black rock that comes out of the ground.’” I pressed my face to the bars between him and me. The speedometer read fifteen miles per hour. We were on a private road and he was still following the speed limit. “Can we go faster? I wanna hear the siren.”
“No.”
“You’re no fun.”
“I don’t think you’re taking this as seriously as you should be.”
“Why didn’t you just say you wanted to get me alone?” I blew on the back of his neck and watched in fascination as his body went rigid. “You can handcuff me anytime you like. I bet all the girls say that to you.”
“Quiet.”
I wasn’t totally unattractive, but I was out of this guy’s league. I’d never dare act this way if I wasn’t so tipsy. “I’ll get you off, if you get me off,” I purred. “If you know what I mean—”
The car lurched to a stop and Cole got out. I shut up, suddenly nervous. I squeaked in surprise when he threw my door open and dragged me outside.
The night seemed darker, colder as he loomed over me.
“Let me get this straight,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re offering sexual favors so I’ll go easy on you?”
I gulped but I wasn’t in a position to deny it. Cole hadn’t charged me with a crime yet, but if I could get out of trouble by getting on my knees, I had to do it.
“Answer me.” His voice sounded harsher in the darkness.
“Yes.”
His grabbed my hips and drew me closer. Without another word, he undid the top button of my jeans.
My gut lurched. “Please,” I said, because I’d imagined this moment with Cole Townsend many, many times, but never like this. This felt wrong.
He stopped.
I thought of what would happen to my mom if I went to jail, and shook my head. “Never…never mind.”
“Turn around and put your hands on the trunk of the car.”
I obeyed, feeling a little sick. He ran his hands over my back before tugging down my jeans. Immediately my pussy creamed. I was hot for him.
It still felt cheap.
Cole pushed me lower, so I almost kissed the trunk of the car. With my backside pointed at him, I spread my legs as far as I could with my jeans still on. I waited in silent acquiescence, telling myself at least it was Cole, and not some other dickhead officer.
The rain kept falling. I stared at the water droplets on the trunk of the car.
Smack! Something hit my panty-clad bottom, hard enough to drive me forward. My body jerked in shock.
Cole followed it up with a pattern of strikes to my ass while I bent over, too stunned to call out. Then his palm caught the underside of my bottom. The sting penetrated through the haze of booze and weed, and I gasped and reared up, trying to escape.
He put his hand on the back of my neck, holding me down as he did it again.
“Cole! That hurts.”
“Good.” A flurry of swats had me squirming. I burned with more than just the pain from the flat of his hand, though. I was a grown woman of twenty-two, bent over the back of a cop car getting her bottom spanked like a naughty little girl.
My insides tingled.
He stopped long enough to peel down my panties. I caught my breath, waiting for him to take me for real. But no, his hand came down again, a flurry of spanks that made me cry out. Each smack felt harder than the last. I tried wriggling, but he gripped the back of my neck harder, holding m
e still. Not being able to move somehow added to the pain. My buns were going to be red hot by the end of this, and I couldn’t escape.
If this was a new take on corporal punishment, I didn’t like it. I’d rather just go to jail.
He continued spanking me, adding a lecture in a low, hard voice.
“You are in huge trouble. You’re going to do as I say and keep your mouth shut. And you don’t ever, ever proposition a man of the law. Ever, ever again.” His hand came down particularly hard at that point.
“Okay, okay,” I shouted.
“I mean it, Regina. You find yourself in the back of a cop car again, you keep a polite tone and you don’t disrespect the officer, or yourself, by offering sexual favors. Do you promise?”
“I promise!” Goddammit. I was wet and cold and my butt stung so bad. His hands were made of concrete. “Just stop. You’re hurting me!”
“I would never, ever hurt you.”
I whimpered as the flat of his hand hit one cheek and pain reverberated through my already sore bottom. “What do you call this then?”
“A wake up call.”
Sheriff Sadist smacked me on the other butt cheek. The force of his palm drove away any lingering numbness left by the pot or booze. He paused.
I held my breath, hoping it was over. When Cole touched me again, he stroked my bottom gently.
“Are you okay?” Did I hear a tinge of concern in his voice?
I nodded frantically, hoping he wouldn’t touch me lower and find out just how okay I was. I felt tingly all over, and not just from the pain. The sting awakened something deeper. Not just arousal, though I felt that very faintly, a prickle between my legs. He could tell me to do anything and I would, without asking questions.
That scared me more than anything.
“Good.” His voice hardened. “You do as I say, and you don’t give me any lip.” He emphasized by squeezing one hot butt cheek, and I went up on my tiptoes. “Understand?”
I sagged against the car, trying to catch my breath.
