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hardly going to be a deal-breaker and yet I was disappointed. I would have dressed better, different.
Trust and control.
He moved the dress off my shoulders so it bunched in back, over my cuffs.
“See? No wire, Officer.” Was my voice quavering? Where was my bravado now?
“I’m not done my search,” he said. He clearly liked what he saw, but I had never felt so vulnerable,
being regarded like this so openly. “Come closer,” he said.
He opened his legs so I could step between them, the outsides of my thighs touching the insides of
his. He leaned back, resting his head in his hands, and looked up at my face.
“For such a bad, bad woman, you look very, very good right now,” he said.
His eyes scanned my breasts, my skin, my hips. Not able to remove my bra, he reached up and
lifted my breasts out and rested them pertly above the cups.
“Perfect,” he said.
My heart sped up. Being cuffed, being unable to touch him, or push him away, scared me a little.
But he had such an open, warm face, and those eyes …
“I’m going to remove your underwear, Miss Mason,” he said. “I need to search all of you.”
He placed his fingers tenderly in my waistband, his face stern, and slid the panties down. I stepped
out of them. I could feel his breath on my skin, my stomach. Then he pivoted my whole body and held
my hips firmly from behind.
“What are you doing?” I asked, fear coming over me now that I wasn’t facing him. My eyes darted
around the room.
“Checking all of you.”
He moved aside my dress, still bunched around my wrists. He glided one of his hands over my ass,
like he was admiring a sculpture up close, gently kissing the places his hands touched. I shut my eyes.
Slowly, agonizingly, I felt his fingers slipping between my legs where I knew I was already wet.
“Just making sure you’re not concealing anything,” he said, coiling his finger up inside of me.
Ohhhh. His voice was cracking with the kind of helplessness that only desire creates.
Was this really happening?
He pulled me down onto his lap. Oh lord, I could feel his erection against my thigh, my hands now
near it, and I felt a growing ache. From behind, he split my legs apart, burying his face between my
arms, my shoulder blades. He pulled off my ponytail holder, releasing my hair down my back. I
watched as his hand moved across the front of my body, his fingers finding me again, so wet I almost
apologized.
“You’ve been a bad girl, Dauphine.”
“Yes …” I closed my eyes, leaning back into him, desire mounting as his fingers dipped and circled
my wetness.
“I’m going to have to do some bad things to you. Would you like that?”
“Yes,” I said. I could feel his erection grow, my hips lightly, instinctively grinding against it.
“Time for this interrogation to come to a close,” he whispered, rising from the chair and taking me
with him, moving towards the table.
He pressed me across it, my breasts against its cool surface.
“If I undo your cuffs, do you promise to be good?” he asked.
I nodded as he released me, placing one hand, then the other, on the table in front of me. I rubbed
my wrists as he dropped his belt. I peeked over my shoulder to watch him tearing off his uniform,
peeling up his white T-shirt so I could finally catch sight of what I had been feeling: a firm, broad