My office door is open, so the tall man strolls in a moment later, dressed down in a white button-up with his department-issued weapon visible in his shoulder holster.
“I haven’t seen or heard from you in weeks.” I’m not sure why, but I blame him for my lack of sex, for why I couldn’t resist that asshole at the club. “Been busy?”
“Something like that,” he says when he reaches to shut the door.
“No, leave it open,” I blurt out. I’m not sure why, but I don’t feel the urge to be alone with him while he complains.
With a shrug and frown, he comes over and takes a seat in front of my desk. “What are you doing, Kir?” he asks, making me wince, not at his question but his awful shortening of my name. He says it likecur, as in the dog. I think I’d prefer bitch to cur.
I play dumb, annoyed with the man I used to look forward to having inside me for all of thirty seconds. “I’m trying to work, and you’re interrupting me. Are you referring to something specific? If so, cut the bullshit and spit it out, detective.”
“You know, that sharp tongue of yours and short ass temper is what earned you your nickname.”
He’s not referring to his little nickname but the one everyone calls me behind my back — DA Cunt.
“I’m well-aware of the nickname, and it doesn’t bother me. I’d rather be a cunt than a gutless pushover.” Okay, so maybe that’s a tiny dig at the detective for not ever manning up and fucking me like I wanted. He’s a pussy. I’ve known that since we met, and I’m not sure why I put up with his subservient demeanor this long. How did he manage to make detective so young when he probably asks his superior for permission to take a piss. “Now, are you going to actually say what you want to say or not? I don’t have time for you to beat around the bush, Bryan.”
“You’re a smart woman, Kir. I’m sure you know that the entire police department is furious with you for that stunt you pulled yesterday.”
“I don’t give a shit what the department thinks of my decisions. They botched that whole case.”
“Two cops died because of that fucking raid!” Bryan raises his voice at me for the first time ever, making me think he must be feeling some heat from his peers.
“Guilty consciousnesses killed those cops, not the defendants,” I point out. “It was practically entrapment for ‘an anonymous source’ to warn the Ferraros that someone wanted them dead and then arrest them for carrying guns minutes later. Would it have been better for me to have gone in that direction than simply say it was evidence tampering?”
Bryan shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have dismissed the cases, period! Why did you, Kir? You swore in your campaign that you wouldn’t bow to the mafia. You said that you would lock them all up, get them off the streets.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation for any of my fucking decisions,” I snap, since there’s no way I’m going to tell him the truth, that I got caught up in scandalous blackmail with a Ferraro. “And why hasn’t your department made any arrests on the Bertelli murder, huh? The man was shot in the middle of the street, and no one has been held accountable.”
“Why do you give a shit about a mob boss going down? Shouldn’t you be celebrating his death? During your election, you promised your constituents that you would get rid of the mobsters, so what changed?”
“I didn’t take bribes from the mob, if that’s what you’re fucking inferring,” I assure him. “Feel free to check all my bank accounts if you want confirmation. And my constituents don’t give a shit about three possession of firearm charges getting dropped. Not when those guns weren’t used to hurt anyone. The men were carrying for the sole purpose of protecting themselves. The same reason I keep a loaded gun right next to my bed.”
“You have a gun?”
“Yes. It’s no secret. Concealed carry permits are public record.”
“You’re more likely to hurt yourself with that damn thing than you are to hurt an attacker!”
“I like to be prepared for anything, since I’m a single woman living alone.”
“I could protect you.”
His offer makes me laugh. When his frown deepens, I mutter, “I don’t need a man to protect me. I only need one to fuck me until my legs shake. A job you’re obviously not qualified to fulfill.”
With that, he gets up and storms from my office.
“Pussy,” I whisper with a shake of my head. What did I ever see in him? Other than being big and classically attractive, I had no connection, no chemistry with Bryan.
Unbidden, the image of a different man enters my head, one who can make my toes curl with a single smirk on his handsome face.
If I’d known who Tristan was, I never would’ve been attracted to him. I would’ve steered clear of the asshole, and I certainly wouldn’t have let him lay a finger on me.
And then I would’ve missed out on so much mind-blowing pleasure that I passed out for hours.
Why did he have to be so good with his tongue and his manipulation?
While I’ve given significantly more oral sex than I’ve received in my thirty-five years from self-consciousness, I hopped right up in that swing and spread my legs without any hesitation, so eager for him to go down on me.
