by Karin Tabke
Bad to the Bone
by
Karin Tabke
Smashwords Edition
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Published by Karin Tabke at Smashwords
ePub ISBN: 978-1-4524-1835-3
Bad to the Bone
Copyright 2011 by Karin Tabke
Excerpt from Blood Law copyright 2011 by Karin Tabke
All Rights Reserved.
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This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
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Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Chapter One
Her mind wasn’t on the road. Or her driving. As usual, it was a million miles away, so when she took the wrong turn, it didn’t register. She followed the road a few miles before she carelessly ran a red light. A faint, Oh shit, I hope there wasn’t a cop hiding behind a bush, flashed through her mind. She made a quick left just in case, then gave her SUV some gas down the old country road.
It was late and it was dark. Hers was the only car on the rutted asphalt road. Her headlights blazed the way until she dunked into a pothole, the depth causing her to bounce and hit her head on the roof. As if to let the pothole know how she felt about that, she glanced angrily in her review mirror. That’s when she saw the headlights of another vehicle rapidly closing in on her.
She bit her bottom lip. Her nerves flared and her belly buzzed. When red and blue lights lit up behind her, her apprehension spiked.
The cop car pulled right up on her, lights blazing. She knew what to do. She looked right, making sure the shoulder was wide enough and not littered with the gaping holes left by the recent rain. She slowed, pulled over and came to a stop, then let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
In her side mirror, she watched the cop get out of his car and say something into his mic before he started toward her window; his tall broad form was silhouetted ominously against his headlights. As the strobes flickered over him, she could tell by his strut he was cocky. But then, most cops were. Nervously, she sat back, folded her hands in her lap and waited.
Anxiously, she bit her bottom lip and hit the window button just long enough for the window to come down a crack.
He stopped at the side of her car. All she could see was his duty belt and his narrow waist that flared into a wide chest. He tapped on the glass with the end of his flashlight.
“Open the window, ma’am,” he commanded.
Despite the nervous flutter in her belly, her immediate reaction to authority was to open the window more. Even if it weren’t, she’d open wider.
Tension sizzled along her nerve endings when he ducked down and they met face to face. Her instinct was to shy away from the dark green eyes shining brightly in the night. Instead, she swallowed hard as her gaze dropped to full firm lips before bouncing back up to the blistering gaze.
He wasn’t classically handsome. He had one of those etched character-filled faces. His angles were blunt, nothing refined about him, but they complemented his olive coloring and close-cropped jet-black hair. There was nothing soft or apologetic about this man. It was his eyes and those bad boy lips that transformed him from average to sinful.
Her nipples beaded when his gaze dropped below her chin. Her chest rose and fell in shallow puffs. Her shirt was classic Anne Klein office wear. Although her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and the buttons didn’t quite make it to her neck, the way she was sitting made the shirt gape open, exposing her cleavage supported by a lacy demi-bra.
He looked back up at her face. Heat flickered behind his hooded lids. An insolent half smile quirked the right side of his mouth before he backed up. She huffed, sinking deeper into the leather seat. It wasn’t like she had intentionally given him a peek. She wasn’t like that. She bet half the women he pulled over took one look at him and did more than show a little skin. He was all smoldering sexy. His subtle snub pissed her off.
A woman scorned, regardless of the circumstances, was nothing to mess with. Frustrated by his assumption, she stiffened and stuck her head out of the window. “Why did you stop me?” she demanded.
He cocked a dark brow at her tone. “You ran the light back there. License and registration, please.” He held out a big hand. Thick fingers with smooth blunted ends, neat square fingernails. A working man’s hand. A single working man’s. No wedding ring.
His other hand rested casually on the butt of his gun.
“What are you going to do? Shoot me if I don’t do what you say?”
His lips quirked. “I’ll use whatever force is necessary.”
Shivers hopped along her spine. She wasn’t sure if she were afraid or intrigued. Either way, she didn’t resist. She took her driver’s license out of her wallet and slapped it into his waiting hand. His big fingers wrapped around hers before she could pull away. His touch was electric. A shock wave went straight to her nipples and banked south to the juncture at her thighs. She tried hard to remain impassive. She tugged her hand out of his grasp, then dug into the glove box for the registration. This time, caution prevailed; she sat back and handed it to him, keeping all but her fingertips inside the car.
He took it and looked at her license. “I’ll be right back, Ms. Olivia Connor. Don’t go anywhere.” There was a hint of amusement lacing his deep baritone.
Did he just laugh at her as he walked away? She stuck her head out the window, to tell him to go to hell, but he had already reached his cruiser. She sat back, her temper flaring. “Damn cops think they’re God’s gift.”
In her rearview mirror, she watched him watch her through his front windshield as he called in her info. After what seemed interminably long, he strode back to her door. He reached inside the car, released the door lock, quickly pulling the door open before she realized what he was doing.
“Step out of the car, ma’am,” he said thickly.
“Why? You can’t arrest me for blowing a red light!”
“Step out of the car, ma’am.”
Her pride screamed “no.” Her reason told her to just do as he said so she didn’t invite any more trouble than she already had. Ultimately, Olivia was good at following instructions.
She stuck her left foot out of the car, her four-inch heel digging into the soil of the shoulder. When she stood, she nearly snapped her ankle. The bad cop reached out to steady her. His long fingers wrapped possessively around her bicep. Her skin flared beneath his chaste touch. When her second heel stuck in the ground, she jerked away from him and had he not grabbed her with both hands, she would have tumbled backwards into the mud. The velocity of his actions brought her chest to chest with him.
The contact was electrifying. She pushed back, alarmed by the potent energy that sparked between them. The sucking sound of her shoe being devoured by the mud pulled her attention from the hard body pressed against her. Keeping a steadying hand on her arm, the cop reached down, yanked it out of the thick goop and handed it to her. His gaze burne
d with male arrogance. “You’ll want to hold on to this,” he mockingly said.
She took it from him, shook his hand from her arm, and, on one leg, she hopped and put it back on. When she composed herself and was free of the quagmire, she demanded. “Why did I have to get out of my car?”
“You have warrants. I’m taking you in.”
“What warrants? You can’t do that! I’ve never been arrested in my life!”
“Do you have any needles, weapons or drug paraphernalia on your person?”
She searched for any hint of a smile because this had to be a joke. But his face was impossibly hard. Except his eyes. They glittered in the artificial light of his headlights.
Olivia looked at the sergeant stripes and three hash marks on his uniform sleeve, then up into his peremptory stare. “Look, Sergeant, I told you, I have never been arrested in my life so I can’t have warrants! Call dispatch and have them run my license again. And while you’re at it, call your watch commander and tell him you have a situation here.”
He raised a brow.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not until you do what I say.”
Those full lips tightened and his brilliant green eyes flashed. His right hand grabbed her left elbow and he spun her around, pressing her none too gently against the side of her SUV. He wrenched her arm behind her back and used it as leverage to keep her from fighting him. It didn’t hurt as long as she didn’t resist. His warm breath rushed against her cheek, his big body pressing slightly against the length of hers. Along with his gun and his—Olivia swallowed hard—other gun.
Keeping her immobile, he softly said, “I’m going to ask you one more time, and be forewarned, if you don’t comply, I’ll be forced to search you.”
Olivia tried to twist out of his hold but it only caused her discomfort.
“I don’t want to hurt you, ma’am.”
“You have no right doing this!”
“Do you have any needles, weapons or drug paraphernalia on your person?” he asked again.
Olivia took a deep breath, stood up on her toes and pushed her head back against his chest. “Touch me, and I’ll kill you.”
“Threatening a police officer carries its own separate set of punishments.”
His right hand that had settled on her right shoulder lightly squeezed her, then, in a slow slide, his fingers pressed gently but firmly as he “searched” for weapons.
Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the warmth that followed his fingertips. She felt more than heard him as he inhaled her perfume. His fingers tightened on her wrist. She arched slightly, regretting it when her shoulder tweaked.
“Stand still,” he commanded. She moved her head back into the crook of his neck and looked up at him. His eyes blazed.
His dark woodsy scent toyed with her senses. The hard muscles of his arms, braced on either side of her and holding her captive, flexed. His dominant male brought out every bit of her female, and with it, wild wanton thoughts of what this man could do to her taunted her imagination.
Olivia licked her suddenly dry lips. His nostrils flared. His grip loosened, and his hand slid to the swell of her hip. The contact was instant and immediate. She gasped. Her pussy quivered and she felt a slow, warm gush. Olivia fought the urge to close her eyes and lean completely back into this very strong, very capable man. Yet it was something she yearned for ever since she’d lost the husband, who had been her one constant, a year ago.
Inquisitively, his fingers pressed and prodded along the smooth linen of her shirt up from her hip to her waist. Her breasts swelled as his fingertips lingered just below the swells. He pressed her back against him. As she moved into him, he cupped her right breast, his thumb brushing against the nipple.
Olivia gasped and swallowed hard. A deep feral sound rumbled in his chest. His fingers dipped into her bra, his skin warm and rough against her smoothness. In one swift action, he snapped the front clasp open, and her breasts tumbled from the impeding lingerie. Their warmth spilled into his hand.
Olivia closed her eyes and almost gave herself up to him. At the last moment, she pulled back.
“If the camera in your squad car is working, you’re in big trouble,” she said softly.
His body stiffened. He moved back from her but kept his grip on her arm. He steered her away from the front of his car, then down between their cars and towards the wooded side of the shoulder to the passenger side of his car.
As they approached, Olivia balked. What was he going to do to her? He pressed her face first onto the hood of his car and, with his booted foot, spread her legs at her ankles. Her adrenaline spiked. It caught fire when he ran his hand along her leg, up from her knee to just beneath her short pleated skirt. The skin on skin contact was almost too much for her. He wrapped a finger around the top of her garter strap and slowly pulled it, then let go. The sound startled her but the sharp pinch of it snapping against her heated flesh forced a moan from her lips.
“You like the pain?” he roughly asked.
Yes, she liked it. Because it masked the real pain.
He snapped the garter against her flesh again. Olivia gasped and bit her bottom lip. Her skin flashed with heat, her womb constricted, her breasts filled as her sensitive nipples strained for attention.
His calloused fingers slid up the sleek warm skin of her leg. Olivia held her breath. Her honeyed cream had seeped to the inside of her thighs where they met her pussy. She felt his reaction the minute his fingertips slid along the slick warmth. His cock flared against her back.
“You are a very improper lady, Ms. Connor.” With his free hand, he cupped her ass and spanked her—hard. She cried out in surprised pain. But her ass warmed in his hand and so did the wet flesh between her thighs.
“So arrest me,” she gasped as he slid a thick finger along her full weeping nether lips, then lazily swirled it around her stiff clit.
Oh, dear lord that felt so good.
“It would be my pleasure,” he said. “But first things first.” His fingers gently plucked her clit, held it, then pressed and pulled in a slow slick cadence even as his free hand plucked and pulled at her nipple in the same desirous cadence. She moaned and moved her body in perfect synchronicity.
Warm lips pressed against her neck and teeth grazed along her pulsing jugular. Her pussy wept for more.
Olivia sucked in great amounts of air as she liquefied. Sensations overloaded her entire body. In the distance, the roar of an orgasm approached. She strained harder against his magic hands, the roar became louder, closer—
The sound of an approaching car added to her tension. Instinct told her to freeze, to hide, but her body was too hot to do either. “Stay still,” he said from behind her as the car approached.
Olivia bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, steeling every muscle against the erotic starbursts that radiated from her clit. She was so close. The car slowed and, as she peeked through narrowed eyes at the passenger who craned his neck to see what was going on, the cop yanked her back against him and turned her away. He slid his big hand down the front to her skirt and pressed her mound. She nearly came.
The car slowed to a stop just past her car. Olivia held her breath. The cop behind her cursed softly. He held her to one side of him and pulled his high-powered flashlight from the side pocket of his cargo pants. He flashed it toward the car and the driver got the message. He hit the gas and took off.
The sound of creaking leather preceded the clink of metal just before she felt him cuff her wrists in front of her. When Sergeant Steamy yanked her against him, the move nearly triggered her climax.
He pushed her chest down across the hood of his car. Her bottom, bare save for her garters, was fully exposed to the sultry night air. He grabbed her ass cheeks and slowly massaged them as he leaned over her, pressing his hard-on against the back of her thigh. “You have the right to remain silent,” he hoarsely whispered against her ear.
Her reaction was immediat
e. Her body flared, her pussy slickened. He slipped a hand along her hot ass cheek, and dragged a fingertip along her anus. She pushed against him. His other hand slid down her other ass cheek to her swollen pussy. Slowly, he traced the sensitive outer lips. Tormentingly slow, he stoked her to liquid heat. He pushed her to the edge only to pull back. Teasing, taunting, wicked. She could barely breathe.
She could not stand the tension. She wanted, needed more.
“Please,” she begged. She had never begged a man before. Not for sex. He dipped a finger into her hot creamy pussy. Her body shuddered.
His raspy voice burned against her back. “Anything, you say can be used against you in a court of law.”
She could not breathe. Her legs wobbled. She knew somewhere in her psyche that what he was doing was wrong, what they were doing was wrong. But every touch, every scent, every breath of what they were doing turned her on.
His finger pressed deeper. Olivia cried out as he hit that soft, tender, and oh-so-sensitive place inside of her. In an agonizingly slow in and out, he finger fucked her. Her body accepted him with an alarming lack of inhibition. Her sensibilities told her to tell him to stop. But tonight? Tonight wasn’t about being sensible. Tonight, here and now, was about feeling good. She had been feeling bad for so long.
Roughly, he pulled off the clip holding her hair in a tight bun. The silent rush of the strands against her shoulders startled her. He pressed his nose to her hair and inhaled. His body stiffened behind her. With his free hand, he grabbed thick hanks of her hair, pulling her head toward his chest so that her back arched into a C. His finger moved deeper into her as her hips rose higher and moved at a frantic pace.
