Cuff Me: A BDSM Romance Read online

  Of course, as I take a closer look, I suppose the photos in most offices wouldn’t be a black and white series of a nude woman tied up in all sorts of crazy positions. Yikes!

  There's a TV on one wall, showing a—seriously unrealistic but fun—cop show, and a couple of comfortable-looking L-shaped leather couches arranged around it. In one of them sit two huge guys with a paw each on a much smaller guy between them. His head is down, and unlike the people out in the club, he doesn't seem very thrilled about wearing tight handcuffs.

  “Paul. Thanks for coming over.” One of the men stands up and holds out his hand. His hazel eyes sparkle and his mouth twists into a crooked smirk, like whatever's going on amuses him.

  “Gabe.” Paul takes his hand. “How are things? Keeping Dawn in line?”

  Gabe laughs. “I try, but man, she drives me crazy. I’ve had to swat her twice today already.” They laugh like it’s hilarious, but my eyes go huge. Swat her?

  “Though I have to be careful now, you know, with her in her condition and all.” Gabe’s eyes glint at Paul. “Hardly a love pat on those sweet cheeks.”

  “Condition? Hell, Gabe, congratulations! I didn’t know.” Paul takes Gabe’s hand and reaches across the table to pound his shoulder. He pauses suddenly. “Wait, I’m assuming correctly, right? Before I really shove my foot in my mouth.”

  “Yeah, man. Only a few weeks in, but I suck at keeping these things a secret. Of all the crazy shit I’ve done, I think this is by far the craziest.” He looks so happy that I find myself wishing I knew these people better so I could share in the moment. They seem really close, and I haven’t really had anyone like that since… well, maybe ever.

  “Nice. I’m happy for you, man.” Paul looks over at the guy in handcuffs and his face turns serious. “So, what’s up?”

  “Caleb”—Gabe nods his head at the pair on the couch—”caught this guy trying to deal coke in the bathrooms. Was thinking you might be interested but I didn’t want to make a scene, you know?”

  Paul nods slowly, like he’s considering it carefully. “Yeah, you know, I think I can find a spot for him. We have a lot of vacancies at the station these days.”

  Caleb, a giant man with a clean shaven head and a voice that’s rough as gravel laughs. “You guys need to spend less time chasing donuts and more time chasing crooks.”

  “We could always make room for one more,” I pipe up, surprising even myself with the vehemence of my defense, but after the day we’ve had, I’m not in the mood for donut jokes. I raise an eyebrow at Paul’s bemused expression.

  The room falls silent for at least a couple of seconds, before all of them laugh good naturedly. Except the small guy in the cuffs, of course.

  Paul puts an arm around my shoulder. “Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet my new partner, Emily.”

  “Hi.” I wave awkwardly.

  He tips his head towards the man with the gorgeous hazel eyes. “This is Gabriel, one of the owners of this establishment. He's a little bit crazy, but knows his business.”

  I hold out my hand, and Gabriel takes it, swallowing it up in his while smiling broadly. “Call me Gabe. So you're the poor sucker who's stuck with Paul these days, huh?”

  “Oh, he's not so bad,” I say, smirking a little.

  Paul laughs. “See? You guys should give me a break once in a while. My partner here knows what's up.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze, which reminds me of how close we’re standing. Very unprofessional, but…

  “Once you get used to him, at least,” I tack on, not wanting him to get too cocky.

  Caleb barks a sharp laugh from the couch and Gabe grins, while Paul gives me a look of mock hurt that asks, how could you? “Em, you're killing me here.”

  I bite my lip, trying not to laugh out loud.

  Caleb stands, and if Gabe’s hand was big, Caleb's is on a whole other order of magnitude. At first he seems a bit intimidating, but he has a strong, kind face that makes him look trustworthy, even if I didn’t already trust Paul’s instincts.

  He envelops my hand in his grip, making me feel like little kid. “Nice to meet you, Emily.” Caleb glances at Paul, then winks at me conspiratorially. “I think you're going to fit in just fine.”

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  “Sure, pick on the new guy.” Paul reaches over to shake hands with Caleb. “How’s Viv? Still putting up with you?”

  The friendly grin splits into a rumbling laugh. “Surprisingly enough. She misses you at evening drinks though. You haven’t been by in a while.”

  “Busy times, busy times. You know, chasing donuts.”

  “Right, about how I figured it.” He turns and lifts the handcuffed guy to his feet like he doesn't weigh a thing. “All right, scumbag. The donut patrol is here to take you to your new home.” The guy barely looks up, but he doesn't struggle. His face is drawn, with a sad excuse of a mustache clinging to his upper lip like a dirty smudge.

  “We'll bring him in. Do you have a witness we can talk to?”

  “Yeah, there’s a couple of regulars waiting by the bar who can tell you what happened, and we’ve got the bag he tried to give them.” Gabe fishes it out of his pocket and hands it over.

  Paul nods. “Sounds good. Em, why don’t you go get the statements and I’ll get this guy in the car. You okay with doing that on your own?”

  My cheeks burn at the reminder of how new I am in front of his friends, but I nod curtly. “Yup, no problem.”

  I just have to go back out there and try not to look completely out of place, but after getting held at gunpoint, filling out paperwork and trying not to look at nipples seems like a pretty cushy assignment.

  “Nice to meet you,” I call out to Caleb as Gabe leads me away.

  “Likewise, Emily. I’m sure we’ll see you again.”

  I doubt it, but I know I’m going to be spending so much time thinking about this place and Paul that I might as well be.

  Thinking. Dreaming. Whatever.

  3

  Paul

  I should’ve dropped Em off at the station before bringing her to the club. What the hell was I thinking? There was nothing there I couldn't have handled on my own. Fuck, she should've been brought to the counselor first thing. That guy held a goddamn gun to her head.

  Ever since she became my partner, I've been acting like an idiot. She's spinning my damn head around, and I don't do that shit anymore. Not since Anne. Not since the fiasco that was my marriage. No one I work with and no one who doesn't already know their way around a spanking bench. Not again.

  And yet? I can't keep Em out of my mind. I think I'm hiding it pretty well. I fucking hope so, but it's obvious she's crushing on me. So why do I encourage it, exactly?

  Throwing my pen down onto my desk, I lean back in my chair and stare out the window. There are some benefits to seniority. Like my own office. Outside, a couple of white clouds float by slowly against an otherwise blue sky. In the streets below, traffic is just getting hectic for the morning rush.

  I'm early. Even for me. Couldn't help it. At home, I'll just sit around and think about last night. About Em's expression when she walked into the club. The shock on her face. She looked terrified.

  I shouldn't have brought her.

  There's a knock on my door.

  “C’mon in.”

  “Well, you're here early.” Em's cheery voice is followed by the rest of her, the whole sexy package. It's easy enough to tell myself that I need to leave her alone when she's not around, but when she's standing there in my doorway, her dangerous curves making what’s normally a totally unflattering uniform look sexy as fuck, what the hell am I supposed to do?

  “Yeah, it happens.”

  She takes a step further in, stopping with a cock of her hip that emphasizes the swell of it nicely. From her flirty look, there's no fucking way that's not intentional. Apparently yesterday didn’t scare her off, after all.

  Ready to pounce, she bites her lower lip and looks at me with those gorgeous blues. �
�There was a note on my desk to come to your office.”

  “You're right.” Pushing my chair back, I rise, enjoying the sudden flash of nerves in her eyes. “Yesterday was unacceptable.”

  “What? Which part?” She gawks at me, disbelieving.

  I'll admit it, I'm being a little mean, but fuck, when that kid dragged her off yesterday, I thought it was the last time I'd see my sassy little partner alive. That scared me a hell of a lot more than I'd care to admit. My chest had been so fucking tight. Painfully so.

  I'm making sure that's not happening again.

  “The part where you left me behind to go get a damn pack of gum. From now on, you're not going anywhere without me when we’re on duty.” I suppose I should've expected the beaming smile that spreads on her face, but it blinds me anyway, like I'm staring into the sun and bathing in its warmth.

  “How about off duty?” she teases. “I like gum a lot, you know. Sometimes I buy it off hours, and if you're not there, who's going to come save my life then?”

  “Em, we've talked about this.” I didn't invite her in here to flirt.

  The smoldering look she sends my way nearly changes my mind, though. “Sometimes I chew gum in bed.”

  “Em!”

  She laughs while I glower at her. If she were mine, I'd throw her right over my lap and show her what happens to bratty girls who don't know when to stop, but she's not, so I do the next best thing.

  “Come with me. We're going to spar.” I stand and head for the door. She needs a lesson about who’s in charge here.

  She blinks. “Spar?”

  “Spar. I'm sure they taught you all sorts of self-defense at the academy. That's great, but I'm going to show you how to fight dirty.” I lead the way to the downstairs gym.

  “Dirty? I like the sound of that.” Em laughs behind me.

  That’s it.

  I spin around and smack my hand into the wall by her side. She stops short, her expression shocked.

  Leaning in close, I look her straight in the eyes. “After yesterday, I'm not leaving you alone while we're on patrol until I know you can handle yourself. But should the worst happen, I want you prepared. Ready to go.”

  She licks her lips, and her pupils dilate. “You're not going to hurt me or anything, are you?” In my mind, there's hopefulness in that question, but I'm sure it's just my imagination.

  “Why? Do you want me to?” I quip. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to slap myself. Dumbass. What sort of question is that if I want to keep things professional? The fact that she doesn't answer doesn't help either.

  This was a bad idea. I should get someone else to help with her self-defense skills. Somehow I overlooked that it'd put us in close quarters, sweating and grappling, rolling around on the floor… But do I want someone else doing that with her?

  No fucking way.

  I push away from the wall and keep going before she notices the direction my thoughts are going. Straight down.

  Grandma. Proctology exam. A kick in the balls. It takes a lot of thinking about the most un-sexy things I can imagine, but by the time we get to the lockers, things are more or less back under control. At least there's no tell-tale bulge in my pants. Look at me, like a fucking teenager, not a man in his thirties.

  “See you on the mats?” Em has a hand on the door to the women's locker room, her look no less smoky now than it was in my office. Her pretty mouth is curved into a little smile, and her face glows in anticipation.

  This would be simpler if she was easy to intimidate, but then I guess she’d make a lousy officer. Before I change my mind and run—for both of our own goods—I push open the door to the men's and respond with a short, “Yep.”

  4

  Paul

  When Em enters the gym, I know I've already lost. Fuck, she looks good. I'm used to seeing her in here wearing workout tights and a department t-shirt. Today she's left the shirt in the locker room, leaving her only in her sports bra, appropriately colored yellow for dangerous curves. It’s not skimpy, but it shows just enough cleavage to be really fucking distracting. and I can’t ignore the smooth skin below that tapers into a narrow waist before flaring back out into the most perfect figure I've seen in my life. Black spandex shorts cling to her hips, and as professional as I'm trying to be, I can't fucking help it if my first thought is that I want to tear those shorts right off her.

  And I'm supposed to be rolling around on a mat with her? I must be broken, thinking that this was a good idea. It's going to be like wrestling with her naked—a really appealing thought, but trouble on so many levels I don't know where to start.

  “Is something wrong?” She looks up at me, her eyes wide in feigned innocence, as if she hasn't the slightest idea why I'm staring.

  I look around the station gym. It's deserted, as it usually is at this time of day. There's an afternoon crew, but few bother to tear themselves out of bed early just so they can work out at the station. Those guys go to the professional gyms. For once I wish it was busy in here so we weren’t alone together.

  Well, you know what? If that's the way she's going to play this, fine. I yank my t-shirt up over my head and toss it in the corner. “Perfect.” Stepping out onto the wrestling mat, I indicate for her to follow. She does, wiggling her hips in a gait that would make a stripper proud.

  I raise an eyebrow and urge her forward. “All right, come at me.”

  She bites her lip and smirks.

  “Em, cut the crap. I'm not going to be able to teach you anything if you keep this up.”

  “Fine, fine.” She sighs, and shakes her head, rolling her shoulders in a stretch. “How should I do this?”

  “Pretend this is yesterday. You're holding up a convenience store and I’m trying to take you down.” I lower my center of gravity slightly, bending my knees and watching her carefully, waiting for her move.

  Instead of charging, she pretends to pull a gun out of her bra and points her hand at me, her index finger extended. “Bang.”

  “I’m not fucking around. This is serious.”

  Her face hardens. “I am serious. The guy yesterday had a gun and pointed it at me before I had a chance to pull mine. What could I have done differently?”

  I nod. “Fair enough. I'm not going to be able to teach you how to dodge a bullet, other than telling you to drop to the floor as fast as you can and hope to beat his reflexes. But think about after, once he had you.” I wave her closer. “Grab me and put the gun to my head.”

  She steps behind me. “You know, I could jump up onto your back and hang around your neck, but I'm not sure it'd be very convincing.” She illustrates her point by pressing into my back and reaching up over my shoulders. She can get an arm around to my throat, sort of, but not in any way to get a solid grip. “Maybe you should get on your knees.” she giggles.

  Not going to happen. “Change of plans.” With a quick spin, I place myself behind her, wrapping one arm around her throat and putting my finger against her head, pulling her to me.

  She doesn’t struggle. Instead she presses her ass backwards and leans into me. I give her a couple of seconds to enjoy her “victory” before tightening my hold and kicking her leg to put her off balance. “Unless you're planning to fuck your assailant, I'm not sure that's the best approach.”

  “Mmm…. you're right,” she says with a throaty sigh.

  I know exactly what she’s doing and her games might piss me off, but my cock doesn’t seem to care. It's with supreme effort of will that I move her sideways so she's pushing against my hip instead of my erection. “You're being a brat.” Without thinking about it, I use my fake gun-hand to deliver a solid spank with the flat of my palm, right onto her ass cheek.

  She squeaks and jumps, but doesn't pull away.

  For one incredible moment, I enjoy how perfect she feels in the palm of my hand, and then I realize what I just did.

  Fuck.

  “Shit, Em. I'm sorry. That was totally out of line.”

  I'm suppos
ed to be the experienced officer, her partner, and her superior on top of all of that. This is the kind of stupid shit that has sexual harassment lawsuit written all over it. I can't quite find it in myself to regret spanking her perfect little ass, but I’m smart enough to know I fucked up.

  Big time.

  She doesn't say anything right away, just reaches back to rub her ass tentatively. Then she looks up at me with wide eyes. Eyes that are burning, and not with anger, either. We're frozen for what's probably only a second or two, but feels like forever.

  “Ouch,” she says simply and rubs again. “Do you discipline all your partners like that?”

  I'm not proud of how my eyes leave her face to stare eagerly at the motion of her hand and what's beneath it, but I'm only human. “It won't happen again. I swear, Em. I'm so sorry.” I let go of her and step back, making sure there's distance between us. “That was out of order and totally unprofessional. If you want to report it, I totally understand.”

  She blinks at me in confusion for a second, then understanding dawns in her eyes. “Everyone knew you at that club last night. You're into this stuff, aren't you?”

  “That doesn't matter. My personal life has nothing to do with how I behave at work. I think it might be best if you get a new partner. We obviously aren’t compatible.”

  I turn to find my shirt, but she grabs my arm. It's a light touch, but her fingers burn my skin like she's on fire. “Wait. It takes time, right? What if we are?”

  I freeze, my mind sprinting headlong down all sorts of thought trails, all of which involve some variant of my hand and Em's perfect ass. Is she talking about work, or sex? Both? Shit, I can't let this happen. “I doubt it.”

  “Don’t just give up on me.” She turns and pulls up the leg on her shorts just enough that I can make out a thin strip of pink cotton inside them, and getting a good eyeful of her right ass cheek. “I was being a brat, and look, there probably isn’t even a mark. I’ve been hurt worse in training.” She sticks her ass out at me like she's pointing me out in a suspect lineup.