Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“Turn around, spread your legs, and place your hands on your head.” In another world and under different circumstances, I’d probably play this out a different way. One where we’re in my bedroom, I’m handcuffed to the bed, and he’s devouring me in a way where I’m coming over and over again. But there are piles of police officers from all kinds of different agencies here, and I’m smart enough to know this shit is not on the up and up. I knew it beforehand but looked away, which still makes me guilty by association if you want to get technical. Last night was when I realized all was not what it seemed. Add in Mitch the bitch being, well, a bitch, and my luck of staying oblivious, dancing, making money, and leaving would be coming to an end.
“I should have quit last night,” I mumble beneath my breath. Trent doesn’t hear me, and that’s fine. I do as he asks. Getting arrested isn’t what I thought would happen tonight. Happy Valentine’s Day to me. I’d at least like to be wined and dined before getting frisked.
“Stay still,” he whispers huskily near my ear as his hands work their way along each and every inch of my body. The rough texture of Trent’s fingers on my smooth skin causes my flesh to awaken.
“Sure, I can do that. It’s not you being frisked, having zero idea what’s going on. All I’ve been doing is making extra money, keeping my head down, and look what it’s gotten me.” Trent huffs out a breath. His chest meets my back, which does nothing for my wayward thoughts. I can feel him through his clothes. The outline of his cock hits my ass, and imagine my surprise when he moves in closer.
“It’s about to get you a whole hell of a lot more, Kennedy.” I feel his hand touch my wrist, pulling it behind my back. The metal clink of the handcuffs is cold against my heated skin. Trent takes my other hand and links it with the first, and I’m officially arrested. Never in all of my thirty-two years on this earth have I ever had this type of problem. Picking the wrong man to father my daughter? Yes. Choosing to not take handouts when I should have? Yes. But never have I been arrested.
“Please don’t say my name in here.” I close my eyes, forehead pressed against the pole, legs spread wide. Dignity is a thing of the past.
“No fucking problem. What I do next, you’re not gonna like. Cooperate, though, yeah? My agency isn’t the only one here. I’m going to take you to my patrol car, put you in the back, and finish what I have to do. I need to know what you have here, and we’ll figure out the rest. I’m swinging my ass out on the line. These guys could take you, and even I couldn’t get you out. There are SWAT, DEA, O.C.P.D, and Homeland Security is creeping the fuck in. Nod your head if you understand.” My stomach sinks to my toes. I could curl into a ball and cry myself to sleep right this instant. Instead, I do what Trent says and nod.
“Alright, nice and easy.” He helps me stand up straight. The lights are now completely on. Some of the officers have dispersed along with customers who I’m assuming weren’t in the backroom. I’m paraded down the steps of the stage, keeping my eyes averted from everything going on. The less I see, the less I know, and the less I’ll think about late at night when the house is quiet.
“Hawthorne, you good?” another man in the same gear as Trent asks.
“Yeah, I’ve got her. Give me a minute, and I’ll be back in to help with anything else.” We never stop walking, maintain a momentum that won’t have me toppling over yet enough to get us to where we’re going at a pace where I have to be sharp on my feet. Trent is on a mission, whether it’s to shred me to bad cop or good cop is anyone’s guess.
“Sounds good.” The night air calms my haywire nerves a little bit. Gone is the smoke-filled room mixed with cologne, alcohol, and sweat. At least the silver lining in being arrested is I get fresh air. You know, minus missing my last night of making money, being humiliated, and having Trent witness my demise. Otherwise, it’s a normal Saturday night.
“Watch your head,” Trent says. We’re at his patrol car, undercover style, black on black. He helps guide me in the back, which is a lot harder with handcuffs on, mind you. Yet I look at his face the entire time, watching the tightening of his jaw as my breasts bounce free out in the open. He’s not as unaffected as he likes to pretend to be.