Dedication
Chapter One
Gus Taggert knew it was a cliché. A cop in a doughnut shop. The officers waiting for him to arrive for the sergeant’s morning meeting didn’t like making the run because of the inevitable roll of the eyes or smartass grin they’d get standing in line.
However, he didn’t mind being the “doughnut guy”. The plus for being the brunt of any jokes was that he ate for free. That was okay with him. He took any pointed looks or lame jokes in stride. He was an affable guy. Hard to rile.
He’d learned long ago to stifle his anger and look for the good in people, even when they messed up. Being oversized and strong, he’d always had to be more careful throwing his weight around. People could get hurt, and that wasn’t why he’d been drawn to law enforcement. He wasn’t a bully in a uniform.
Gus liked being a cop. Liked what it stood for. Loved the dark navy uniform and the camaraderie of his brother cops. He didn’t mind that his closest buds were all moving on to bigger and better things. He liked being a beat cop. Liked patrolling the neighborhood he lived in and getting to know the people he protected.
His father had been a small-town cop, and his father before him had been the sheriff of their little Arkansas berg. But then his mom had moved to Memphis—not because she’d wanted to, but because when his mom and dad divorced, she’d wanted to start fresh where everyone didn’t know her business and didn’t whisper to her ex about who she was seeing next.
Gus had missed his old school and friends, but had a natural gift for making new ones. That he was big and brawny, quick on his feet despite his size, had made him a natural for the football team.
And that’s where he’d met Jackson Teague and Craig Eason, who surprisingly enough wanted to be cops, too, when they graduated.
They’d all gone to college together, applied for the police academy and been accepted. That’s where they’d met the remaining members of their current posse, Beau McIntyre and Mondo Acevedo.
So, Gus was never lonely. He had his peeps, a job he loved, a city that kept him on his toes. And today, he was on his way to explore a new doughnut shop.
Mondo, although now in vice and no longer attending the station-house morning meetings, had given him a roll of bills the night before. “Treat the guys to doughnuts. On me.”
Gus had glanced at the roll. “This is too much.”
“Not for the place I want you to go.”
He should have known from the gleam in Mondo’s dark brown eyes that something was up, but Gus liked to think the best of people. Maybe Mondo really did just want to treat the guys to something special.
Well, it was special all right. Not like any doughnut shop Gus had ever seen before. He stood on the street in front of the small store front, eyeing the painted glass window with its pink awning, and felt the first rumbles of misgiving.
Cornucopia. He’d had to Google it the night before to get the address and see what the name meant. A horn of plenty. A familiar Thanksgiving ornament. But there weren’t ears of corn or squashes spilling from the dark pink horn painted on the glass. Doughnuts looking like Christmas presents, painted with ribbons and sparkling with stars, spilled from the mouth of the horn.
All the pink and frothy cuteness made him itch. However, he’d been given a wad of cash and a mission to buy a couple dozen doughnuts from this specific shop. For once, his face burned at the idea.
Hitching up his utility belt, he blew out a deep breath that billowed his cheeks, and pushed the glass door. A bell at the top tinkled.
Inside, the shop was pretty much what he’d expected—pale purple tiled flooring, white-painted iron bistro tables, boxes decorated in frou-frou paper and ribbons stacked at one end of the sparkling clean glass-front counter.
Thankfully, the shop was empty. Maybe he could back out, say it’d been closed when he came by, and he could hit a Dunkin’ Donuts on the way to the station house.
As soon as he’d made up his mind to leave, he heard a stirring from the back, and rather than be caught with one foot still on the sidewalk outside like he was scared to come in, he stepped through the door and held the bell so it didn’t chime again.
“Have a thing for bells?” came a husky feminine voice.
His gaze darted back to the counter, his cheeks filling with heat. A woman stood there, every bit as pretty and dainty as her little shop, with dark red hair, pale-as-dinner-china white cheeks and large brown eyes. The kind of woman he avoided like the plague because he always felt like a lumbering bear beside them.
What had she asked? Oh, yeah, the bells. He didn’t have a thing for them, he’d only wanted to be quiet and not charge into the place like a bull in a china shop. “No, ma’am.”
“That’s a nice start,” she said, her voice dropping again into a sexy, shivering whisper.
Gus’s cheeks burned hotter, because he knew she’d just made a joke and he didn’t understand it. Further, meeting her amused gaze proved surprisingly difficult. He had the urge to duck his head. To wait for permission to come closer.
Her amusement faded. “Come in, officer,” she said with brisk efficiency. “Can I help you with something?”
He cleared his throat, scuffed his boots on the doormat, like that was why he’d paused coming in, and stepped deeper inside the shop. “I’m just here to buy some doughnuts.”
“I don’t sell just doughnuts.” Her voice sharpened.
Had he insulted her somehow? He came closer to the counter. “They’re pretty doughnuts.”
“I’m a trained pastry chef. These are gourmet doughnuts.”
Like he’d said, they were pretty, but he didn’t get what it was she expected him to say. He thrust his hand into his pocket and took out the roll of bills Mondo had given him. “Mondo said you’d fix me up.”
“Mondo…” Her eyes sparkled for a moment, then narrowed. “Show me which you’re interested in.”
He reached out to point at one confection sitting on a tray atop the glass counter. The doughnut looked more like a pretty cupcake and was covered in glaze with star-shaped silver beads glinting on the top. “Some of these?”
Her hand shot out and slapped the top of his. Not hard, but the loud crack it made startled him. “Ma’am?” he asked, startled she’d dared smack an officer of the law.
“Correct response again,” she said, an edge to her sexy voice. “However, I think you need to come around the counter and make your selection.”
Right about now, he knew his face was beet red. And the collar of his shirt was tightening like a noose, cutting off his air. “Beg your pardon?”
“Come. Now.”
His body reacted to the firm tone with an instant surge of heat straight to his groin. With his balls drawing up, he thought he might embarrass himself further if he got too close to the pretty pastry chef. “Uh, a couple dozen’s all I need,” he said swiftly. “Whatever you want to put into a box.”
The redhead narrowed her eyes. “Mondo’s a friend of mine. He said he was sending me someone special. Don’t disappoint me.”
Mondo was her friend. The way she’d emphasized the word put this strange conversation in a new perspective. Her tone, the hardening glint in her pretty eyes, the stubborn tilt of her chin—good Lord, she was that kind of friend, someone from Mondo’s club, which Gus had visited a time or two out of curiosity first, then growing wonder.
He swallowed hard, beginning to sweat, then slowly made his way around the glass-front counter toward her, seeing the rest of her lovely, slim frame. When he stood a couple feet away, he ducked his head, dropping his gaze. Waiting now, for what he didn’t know, but he knew instinctively she was pleased, because she sighed.
“You’re bigger than I expected.”
Oh hell, what was she looki
ng at? Had his erection become noticeable?
“And you’re better looking.”
He gave a little smile, letting her see it, but still not raising his glance. The parts of her he could watch were fascinating anyway. Her breasts were small but round, and the tips were beginning to poke through her pink-buttoned blouse and lacy bra. Her pale trousers were cinched at the waist with a white leather belt, and it was a tiny trim waist that offset the feminine flare of her hips. Legs proportionate with her body stretched below to pink-tipped toes that peeked out of sandals she wore. His mouth filled with drool. He’d give a week’s wages for the privilege of sucking on them.
She slid open the door to the back of the counter and waved for him to have a look.
Gus wished like hell she’d move back, because standing this close, he got a whiff of her light, floral scent. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead.
Feeling clumsier by the minute, he bent to glance inside the shelves at the array of fancy doughnuts. Sheesh. Not a single plain glazed one. The guys were going to razz the hell out of him.
Suddenly, she stepped behind him, her hands landing on either side of the cabinet to trap him.
He gulped hard. “Ma’am?”
A knee climbed along the inside of one of his thighs, then snuggled against his balls. He froze—blood surged south, filling his cock. Then she slid her knee down and tapped his feet with one of hers, urging him silently to widen his stance.
Which he did. No question or quick denial came to mind. He braced his hands against the glass like a perp ready for a pat-down, dreading and yet eager for whatever she’d do next.
Her hand cupped his balls. “Anything you like?”
Afraid he’d bleat like a goat if he tried to answer, he nodded.
Her fingers closed around his sac, and she gave him a gentle tug. “Me too.”
Then just as quickly, her hand fell away and she moved back.
Gus pushed from the counter and turned.
Her eyes were softer, her expression pleased. She laid a palm against the side of his face. Her thumb stroked his bottom lip. Her gaze dipped to his name tag then back up again. “When I see you next, Officer Taggert,” she whispered, stepping closer, “don’t say a word. Take off your clothes and be ready for whatever I want next.”
His tongue felt glued to the top of his mouth. Sure he wouldn’t manage more than a caveman’s grunt, he nodded again.
A small hand cupped his cock through his uniform pants and rode the length trapped against his thigh inside his dark cargo pants. “There’s more to you than shows. I like that. Look at me.”
He raised his gaze, stopping on the faint curve of her full lips, then rose again to lock with her gold-flecked brown gaze.
She reached up, stuck the nail of her index finger under his chin and pulled down his head until their faces were level. Then she leaned forward, her cheek sliding alongside his. Her warm breath gusted against his ear, and he shivered.
“I’ll give you a box. You can take as many doughnuts as you can fit inside. Take your time. Compose yourself. I’ll see you tonight.”
Gus held his breath until she released him and moved away. She bent to retrieve a box from beneath the counter then gave him a slow smile and turned on her pretty pink heels to walk through the doorway leading to the kitchen.
When she was gone, he let out the breath he’d held and grabbed for the edge of the counter to keep from swaying. Thank God, he’d parked right out front. His dick tented his pants leg.
Swallowing to wet his dry mouth, he slid open the glass and carefully plucked two dozen doughnuts from their trays, not caring what he chose because the sooner he got out of there the better.
When he caught up with Mondo, he’d chew him a new asshole for not warning him what he was walking into.
However, he still felt the warmth of her slap against the back of his hand and—despite his embarrassment—smiled as he exited the shop.
“See you met Aislinn,” Mondo said. He stood with his back against the wall outside the meeting room at the station house. The doughnut he held was covered in pale gray frosting and with a plaid pattern of dark blue lines criss-crossing the top. A bite was missing.
Ash-lynn? That was her name? Pretty and soft, just like the woman. Gus gave him a narrowed stare. “Could have warned me about her.”
“And spoil the surprise?” Dark brows waggled with wicked delight.
Gus snorted then glanced around to make sure no one else could hear. “You’re not one to matchmake. What’s goin’ on?”
Mondo straightened away from the wall and jerked his chin, indicating that Gus should follow. “She’s pretty, no?” he said, arching a brow. When Gus scowled, he shrugged. “Ash has a stalker. Someone from the club.”
Gus’s gut tightened. “So did you pull the jerk aside to warn him off?”
“She doesn’t know who it is. Someone’s been leaving her notes and presents.”
“So this is an assignment?”
Mondo gave a curt nod. “Strictly off the record. She doesn’t want anyone knowing she’s having problems.”
Disappointment tasted bitter in his mouth. “So I’m gonna be her pretend boyfriend?”
“No pretending—and not exactly her boyfriend. She’s into the scene. You’ll be safe for her to play with while me and the others have a look around and see whose nose is out of joint when she chooses you.” Mondo headed to the double doors leading out to the parking lot beside the station house.
As Mondo pushed through the door, Gus laid a hand on his shoulder. “How’d she know?”
Mondo’s eyes gleamed with humor. “Know what?”
Gus gave him a deep scowl. “Don’t be a dick.”
Mondo’s grin was a quick flash of white against his tan face. “I told you before, amigo, someone like her, like me, can spot it a mile away.”
Gus bristled as Mondo’s low chuckles followed him out the door. “Probably outted me himself,” he muttered.
“Outted you?” a familiar voice said behind him. “Switchin’ teams, Gus ole boy?”
Gus rolled his eyes, but pasted on a neutral expression before he turned toward Craig Eason.
Dressed in the same midnight blue uniform Gus wore, Craig managed to look like an actor playing a role. Gus knew how women looked at Craig, with his tall, lean body and blond good looks. Craig, cocky bastard that he was, knew it too. He held up a doughnut. “Tasty. Pretty too. All the guys were wonderin’.”
“Mondo sent me to Cornucopia.”
“Ash’s shop?”
Gus stifled a curse. Was he the only one who didn’t already know her?
Craig’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve been tryin’ to convince her I’d play switch to her Domme for months.”
“Shhhh.” Gus glanced around to make sure no one had heard. “Mondo sent me there for a reason.”
“To get you spanked?”
Gus bared his teeth. “I may not like to wield the whip, but I can still wipe the floor with your ass, bro.”
Craig held up his hands. “Easy, big boy. Not lookin’ for trouble.”
Gus hunched and pretend-punched Craig’s belly. “Could have fooled me.”
His buddy danced away, holding his doughnut aloft. “Just wanted to tell you how pretty your doughnuts are,” he said, grinning.
Gus sighed. “I’m gonna hear about it all day, aren’t I?”
“You know it. Got the dispatcher cued too. She likes the sparklies.”
Gus shook his head as Craig headed to his squad car. Sometimes, having friends like his could be a royal pain in the ass.
Chapter Two
The note was wedged through the grill of her locker. Aislinn’s hand shook as she picked it up. Casting a furtive glance around to make sure she was truly alone, she unfolded the familiar pale blue sheet.
Locker 134. Don’t disappoint me.
Heart pounding at her temples, she glanced beneath her own locker. 134 was without a lock. She tipped up the mechanism to ope
n the door to the cage and found another gift. This time, it was a flogger. The flanges were red, and when she touched them, she knew they were deer hide by their softness. Perfect for warming a bottom without leaving an angry welt.
She was tempted to toss it in the trash just as she had the previous two gifts, but remembered Mondo’s advice. Tonight, she’d carry it and see whether her stalker gave away his delight.
Having just showered away the day’s dirt, she dressed without her usual attention to detail, stepping quickly into a pair of emerald thong panties, pulling up her black leather skirt then tugging on a forest-green, satin corset. Tightening the strings at the front, she allowed a little more breathing room than usual because she was already light-headed due to her shortened breaths. Finally, lacing into black PVC boots that ended just inches from the hem of her short skirt, she felt more herself. Her heartbeat slowed. Her thoughts centered.
Standing in front of a mirror, Aislinn focused on her expression, calming herself as she met her own haunted gaze. When she felt more in control, she tossed back her head to make her auburn hair feather around her shoulders, straightened her back and gave herself a confident smile. Even if she didn’t feel it, no one would know.
Although her stalker hadn’t done more than leave her “love notes” and presents, something about the secretive way the messages were delivered creeped her out. Enough nutjobs tried to insinuate themselves through the doors of the private BDSM club without her having to worry there was one in the club’s midst with his sights trained on her.
Game face on, she exited the ladies’ changing room and entered the hallway leading to the main meeting area of the club. Subdued techno music drifted down from the salon. As always, her footsteps matched the heavy bass beat and her heartbeat thrummed the closer she drew.
La Forge’s main room was decorated like a lush red and gold Victorian salon, complete with fainting couches, S-shaped velvet-upholstered courting loveseats and plush ottomans. The polished concrete floors were covered in thick silk Persian carpets, which might have caught the tips of her heels if she weren’t already accustomed to lifting her feet in the room to prevent an embarrassing fall. Three black wooden stages sat in the corners, recessed lighting gleaming on the heads and shoulders of the men and women already engaged in scenes with watchers gathered in rings around the bases.
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