Craving BAD: An Anthology of Bad Boys and Wicked Girls

by A. J. Norris

  He rose and pulled out his phone, scowling as he tapped at the screen. “You threatened to tell the mayor’s husband she was screwing their gardener unless she paid you half a million dollars.”

  “She told you that?”

  “She trusted me with the information when she created the task force. That woman has done a lot of good for the city. Did she deserve to be extorted?”

  “You’re defending a cheater?”

  “Do you know what happens to the people you blackmail?” He kept his voice low, a serious tone that implied dire consequences.

  She shrugged off the impending doom. “As long as they pay me, I don’t care.”

  “She bought your silence with the money she’d promised to give to a children’s hospital. They were counting on that donation to fund cancer treatment for low-income patients.”

  But she’d screwed the mayor over…not those kids. Oh God. “But I…you can’t blame me for that. She made her own choices.” Her stomach churned.

  “Choices she wouldn’t have faced if you hadn’t fabricated lies about her.”

  No, no, no! She swallowed the rising bile and shook her head. Why couldn’t the bitch have given the kids some other money? Didn’t she have enough to go around? Or she could’ve grown a pair and said no to her instead of hurting children who needed help. She didn’t even know rich people did things like that. “My stepbrother, the only one I actually liked, died from cancer when he was seven years old. Our parents couldn’t afford to send him to a children’s hospital.” She bit down on her lip to stop its quivering, but the tears spilled over and she sobbed.

  The bed sagged as Tripp sat down and reached behind her to clasp her shaking hands. “I’m sorry. I almost lost my brother when we were kids.” Metal clanked as he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked her handcuffs. “I can’t imagine living without him.”

  Chantal’s arms fell free and she rubbed her sore wrists. She wiped at her wet face with her hands, but the tears kept coming. Tripp slid his arm around her shoulders, and she muffled her sobs in his shirt. He held her close, shaking while he stroked her hair and rocked her. Her tears dried, and she listened to his heart beat slow and steady.

  God, he feels so good! Warm and solid. His touch demanded nothing, but instead offered the comfort she craved. Her eyelids drifted shut and strange thoughts slipped through her mind, things she’d never imagine consciously. Could she have this every night? Him? Random images floated around her. Walking on a beach with him, holding hands, matching silver bracelets linked together…

  She bolted upright, shoving off his chest and glaring at him while she rubbed her aching wrists. “What are you trying to pull?”

  “Shit.” Tripp shot off the bed, stumbling over his feet in his haste to release her. “I’m not…” Damn it. Don’t bond with a suspect! He’d heard sad stories before, heartbreaking tales that failed to pierce his guarded heart. Most of them had been lies, but even the truth left him unmoved. So why had he cradled her in his arms? Wept with her? “Your story hit too close to home.” He backed across the room, as far away from her as possible.

  “Did it now?” Her eyes narrowed and she stared right into him as if probing for more secrets. “What else are you hiding from me? Why do you isolate yourself? My parents sent me to a shrink, so I know why I do it. No one ever noticed me, so I lash out from behind a computer in a desperate bid for attention. The quest for fame drives me.” She stood and stalked toward him, that damn dress barely clinging to her nipples. “But you—Detective—you indulge in anonymous sex with strangers.”

  A dull thud echoed in his ears as the back of his head hit the wall.

  Chantal advanced. Heat radiated from her body as she pinned him and circled his nipples through his shirt. “Does it get you off?” She licked her lips and ground her belly against his throbbing cock.

  He’d convinced himself that having to use a condom left him unable to come. The women he fucked always did. More than once. He made sure of that. But he’d never had an orgasm at the club, not until he went home and got in the shower. He always finished alone. “It’s a release. My life doesn’t accommodate a traditional relationship. The club isn’t illegal as long as the sex is consensual.”

  Chantal laughed. “Now that’s a story.”

  Of course, she’d seen through the line he’d rehearsed in case he got caught. “Fuck you.” His spine melted as she ran her hand down his chest to fondle his erection.

  “Mmm…” Her finger ran the length of his zipper. “Is that standard procedure?”

  “No.” She had to stop reminding him that he should’ve taken her to lock up. Female suspects tempted him all the time, and he’d resisted every one of them. So why could he see himself throwing her across that bed and wrapping her thighs around his ears? He struggled to recall where his line of questioning had left off, a task made increasingly difficult with each stroke of her hand. He pried her fingers from his zipper. “Why do you attack good people?”

  “Good people?” She blinked at him like he’d told her Al Gore invented the internet. “You think Diane Blackstone is a good person?”

  Tripp gained ahold on his thoughts and stood straight. “I’ve known her all my life. She was my dad’s partner on the force, one of the finest officers the city has ever seen.”

  Chantal snorted. “Your fine officer lied to you.”

  “Is that right?” He’d heard plenty of wild accusations about Diane during the election, but no one had been able to prove anything.

  Chantal withdrew and parked her ass on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs at the knee and leaning back on her hands. “Let me tell you the real story.”

  He leaned back against the wall again and folded his arms over his chest. “Please do.” He’d indulge her for now.

  “What’s in it for me?” An eyebrow arched and an impish smile played across her face.

  Of course, she wanted legal favors, and the most enticing promise came to mind first. “I can get you off.” Enticing for both of them.

  “I’m counting on it, but can you keep me out of jail?”

  “Absolutely.” Not. He could report that she’d been cooperative, but only a good attorney could guarantee her freedom.

  “I’ll believe that when I see it, but all right.” She leaned forward and met his gaze. “That gardener she’s supposedly fucking, which I found no evidence of, isn’t an employee and neither is anyone else on her staff.”

  He’d heard that too. “Do you have proof?” He stood upright but kept his distance.

  “Yes.”

  Tripp shook his head, knotting his hand in his hair while he paced. Diane would never be involved with human trafficking. In fact, she’d campaigned hard against it, promising to rid the city of the silent scourge. “Why could you find evidence when the police and the FBI couldn’t?”

  A sly smile and a confident gleam in her eye left no room for argument. “Because I did it illegally.”

  His stomach churned. “Bullshit.” But a seed of doubt sprouted in his mind. She’d found his dark secret. Could she have discovered something horrible about his friend?

  “Oh no, I broke all kinds of laws when I hacked into security cameras, wire transfers, missing persons reports, immigration records, the FBI’s trafficking intel…”

  “Okay, I get that.” He frowned and brushed off the creeping worries crawling up the back of his neck. “You’re a genius hacker.”

  “You’re damn right.” She grinned and recrossed her legs, sending her skirt scooting up her thighs.

  That move won’t faze me. His cock stiffened and strained against his zipper, proving him wrong. Much. “Can you connect all the information you stole to Diane?”

  “I can.” She sat up straight with her shoulders back and her breasts thrust forward. “And I did.” Her eyes sparkled with glee as if waiting for him to crumble.

  Tripp pressed his lips together, swallowing the lump in his throat. She’s lying. She has to be. “Show it to m
e.”

  Chantal shrugged. “The club confiscated my phone, and you dragged me out of there before I could get it back.”

  “That’s convenient.” He rolled his eyes and resumed pacing.

  “It’s true!” She leaped to her feet and followed him. “All of it, whether you believe it or not. I threatened to expose her and turn the evidence over to the FBI. She created the task force the next day.”

  He spun and drove her back. “She told me you were blackmailing her for cheating.” The confession had blindsided him. Diane and John had always seemed so happy together. Tripp had caught them kissing under the mistletoe when the two families had gathered for Christmas just a couple of months ago. “Someone’s lying.”

  “She knew you wouldn’t question her. That’s why she made you the task force leader.” She stumbled against the bed.

  Tripp caught her arms and yanked her close to his face. “How long has this been going on?”

  “As far as I can tell, it started right before she retired as police chief.”

  Questions had surrounded her sudden departure. Whispers about a scandal. Rumors of corruption. Never any proof. “No!” He pushed away from her and stomped toward the door. “I won’t believe it until I see your evidence.” Where the hell am I going?

  Chantal braced her arm on the bed and picked herself up off the floor. “Take me back to the club.”

  “Hell no.” She’s playing me. “That’s exactly what you want.” Wild ideas bombarded him as his stomach rioted. Impossible theories he embraced without argument. “You’ll try to escape. You’ll expose my secret.” He hauled her close and shouted in her face. “You’ll bring us all down! What have you got against the police?”

  “Not a damn thing!” She wrenched her arms free. “I expose corruption wherever I find it.”

  She’d go after anyone with money. “So, you’re an equal opportunity thief.”

  Chantal snarled at him. “And you’re a fool. There’s no such thing as privacy. Sooner or later everyone gets caught with their pants down.”

  Tripp huffed. She’d say anything to protect herself. “Including you.”

  “I’m not wearing any pants.” She grinned and tugged at the hem of her skirt. “I have no secrets.”

  “Except your identity.”

  “That’s for my protection.”

  And yet she’d confessed her past to him, gloated about her exploits. “Why expose yourself now? To me?”

  She bit her lip and turned her back to him, twirling a wayward braid around her finger. “When I broke into the police personnel files and found your picture…woo baby.” She fanned her face with her hand. “Instant girl boner. I’ve never been chased by a guy before, certainly not one as hot as you.”

  Heat crept up his neck and flamed over his cheeks. Good God, am I blushing?

  “And then I found your secret kink.” She circled toward him and flung her hair over her shoulder like she’d cast off her inhibitions. “I lured you to the club because I wanted—I needed—to fuck the Masked Lover.” She stopped a breath away and brushed her lips on his jaw. “I never intended to blackmail you.”

  His heart hammered in his chest. “So you just wanted to get laid?”

  “A hacker has needs.” Her mouth trailed down to the pulse pounding at the base of his throat. “Traditional relationships don’t fit into my life.”

  He’d told her the same damn thing. “I shouldn’t have sex with a suspect.” But his neglected needs argued the opposite.

  “I shouldn’t have sex with a cop.” She reached down and unbuckled his belt. “But that hasn’t stopped us from turning my dress into a party favor.”

  He caressed her bare shoulder with the back of his fingers while her hand slipped into his open zipper. A groan escaped him as her palm stroked his naked cock to life.

  Her lips swept his—a wisp of skin on skin—teasing him. “How long has it been?”

  Too long. He forced himself to focus on the date, hoping the factual information would snap some sense into him. “End of October. Halloween.”

  She sighed on his neck. “Last July. The Fourth, to be exact. The fireworks were disappointing.”

  He sank his hand into her braids and pulled her head back. “You need to get out more. Step away from your computer crimes.”

  “You need to get out of the uniform. Step away from your illusions.” Her eyes sparkled as she matched his sass.

  “Detectives don’t wear uniforms.” And he’d left his badge at home. He never took it to the club.

  “Then why aren’t you naked?” She bunched his jeans below his butt, and his liberated cock rose to the occasion.

  Tripp’s mouth went dry and he licked his lips while she covered his exposed balls with her hand. “Where’s my mask?”

  “You don’t need it.” Her grip shifted up to circle his shaft. “I already know who you are.” A smug smile lit her face as her thumb teased his tip. “Lover.”

  “Shut up.” He crushed his mouth against hers, grinding his teeth on her lips to keep her quiet.

  She gasped and her hold on his dick tightened, stoking the flames in both his body and his mind.

  He couldn’t fuck her. He should’ve arrested her. But dear God, he wanted to fuck her! Slam his cock between her spread legs and deal with the consequences later.

  Shut up!

  She pushed him down on the edge of the bed and jerked his jeans to his ankles as she dropped to the floor between his splayed knees. His cock jumped up and welcomed her wet mouth, sliding past her warm lips and sinking deep. Her tongue circled him, flicking and licking. God, this shouldn’t feel so good.

  Her hands slid down to fumble with his pants. He lifted his feet to help her slide them off, but she cinched his belt tight and ran for the door.

  “I knew it!” His jeans tangled around his feet as he lunged for her, catching her ankles as he fell to the floor.

  “Caught with your pants down!” Chantal laughed as she rolled on her back and kicked at him, but he’d already locked an arm around her legs and pulled himself up on his knees. She’d had little chance of escaping, but she had to at least try. Couldn’t have him disappointed with her.

  Tripp growled and crawled on top of her, pinning her to the floor. “Now you’re fucked, Nova.” He pressed his face between her clenched thighs, nipping at her hot flesh.

  “Oh God.” She dropped flat on her back and squirmed under him, effectively shifting her skirt out of the way while his tongue probed her panties, searching for an entrance. Hot breath on damp lace ignited her senses.

  He hooked a finger under the barrier and dragged it aside, panting on her wet folds. “Do you want this?” His tongue flicked, teasing and testing.

  Her body contracted and she arched into his mouth. “Fuck yes!”

  He shoved her dress up above her hips and dove in, sweeping his tongue the full length of her slit.

  She fought to spread her legs apart, to grant him full access, but he planted his knees on the floor, trapping her thighs between them. Her swollen clit peaked above her tight lips, and he played with it, teasing the begging bud with his finger while forcing his firm tongue between her folds.

  Cascading sparks lit her spine while he mounted a full assault on her pussy, rolling and pulling on her clit. Licking and thrusting into her flesh.

  He sat up and drew his arm across his wet chin, chest heaving and eyes blazing. She panted, waiting while he seemed to fight an internal battle. His posture relaxed and his shoulders sagged.

  She managed to bend one knee and expose the flesh he’d been abusing. “Take it.”

  Without warning he bent down and sucked her clit into his hot mouth.

  “Oh! Oh! Fucking! God, please!” Her circuits overloaded, popping and snapping like a motherboard in a power surge.

  He groaned on her throbbing nub then tugged on it with his lips, flicking with his tongue while her body contorted under him. He jammed two fingers inside her all the way up to the third knuckle, twi
sting and pounding.

  “Fuck!” She wrenched her legs free and spread them wide. “Fuck me!”

  “Are you sure?” The finger-fucking slowed.

  “Yes!” She ground down on his fist. “Do you need a fucking evite?”

  He pulled his hand free and fell on her. They wrestled, rolling and twisting while he fumbled with her panties. He finally tore them off then slammed inside her.

  Chantal’s eyes rolled back in her head and she dug her fingernails into his ass. “Oh God, I knew you’d be good. When I saw that Halloween picture, I just had to get your dick between my legs.”

  He laughed on her shoulder and jerked her dress below her naked breasts. “I wanted to fuck you at the club.”

  “Ooo…in the bondage tent?” She shivered while he dragged his stubbled chin across her nipples.

  “Hell no, I wanted make a naked spectacle out of you in the shower. Mmm…hot and steamy fucking you from behind with your breasts squashed against the glass. Yeah, that would’ve been a show.” He groaned and buried his face in her neck, mindlessly pounding and moaning. “Too good. Too goddam good.” He slapped his hands on the floor and pushed off her, withdrawing completely. “Fuck!”

  Chantal sat up, reaching for him as he stood. “No. What? Don’t stop now!”

  Tripp had nearly come when he imagined her in the shower. He’d never gotten off so fast, especially when guilt entered the picture. But he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. He grabbed his pants and yanked them up.

  “Tripp, what are you doing?” Chantal stood and marched toward him, her dress bunched around her waist, completely exposing her.