Page 7 of Red Moon Secrets
Chapter2
Officer Graden
The sniveling mess of a girl sobs as she pulls her panties back on, her eyes staring at the ground as her tears pour out. I tuck my shirt back in, then button and zip my pants before reassembling myself completely, finally holstering my gun.
It's almost comical to watch her so broken, weak, and pathetic. Pretty fucking bitch. They're all the same.
Stupid stuck-up bitches that don't give guys like me a second look; they drive through here like they own the place, expecting to bat their pretty little eyes and get their fucking way. She learned the hard way that if you tease me, you're not walking away until I'm fucking satisfied.
"You can tell anyone you want about this," I say deceitfully, a sinister smile playing on my lips. "But you'll see me again if you do. Not to mention, no one's going to believe a snotty little bitch like you over me."
She cries harder, wiping her hair out of her eyes as she climbs out of the back seat of my car. She readjusts her short skirt, tugging at it as if she can add length to it. Stupid whore.
Her car is miles down the road, but I'm going to make her walk. It'll do her good to lose a few pounds.
Just as she runs off, a sexy brunette zooms by me in a flashy Jag, making me smile. Tonight's my lucky night. One has to love working the graveyard shift. It makes it easy to pick up the trash without anyone else seeing me.
I jump in my car, spinning the tires as I turn the siren on, giving the bitch the last chase she'll ever want. She saw my patrol car, knew I was a cop, yet she blatantly disrespected me by speeding through and not even tapping her brakes.
She's like all of them. They all think they're above the law—above men like me. They have to be taught a lesson in respect and obedience. They have to be broken like a wild horse.
I love my job.
As I catch up with her, she taps her brakes, steadily slowing down and pulling over. I just got my dick thoroughly waxed by the last whining bitch, so I'll be able to draw out the punishment for this one.
I pretend as though I'm running through the motions, checking her tag, calling it in -all that shit. This sad little lake town doesn't have the funds to keep the dash cameras functioning properly. Fortunately for me, mine's been broken for over a year now, making life almost too easy.
After drawing out the suspense for long enough, I slowly climb out of my car. I'm already rock hard with anticipation. I love a good hunt. I hope she's a screamer.
Out here, in the middle of the wooded section of Pine Shore, no one will ever hear her cries for help. That's why I stick to this strip. It's right in the middle and perfect for privacy.
I tap her window, surprised when she turns to face me. She looked hot from the small glimpse I caught, but fucking shit, this girl is beyond gorgeous. She definitely needs to be punished.
She rolls her window down, wearing a secretive grin as she does so. Her long, dark hair stops just below her shoulders, and her icy, pale blue eyes almost look silver. Her perfectly manicured red nails grip the black leather steering wheel, and those red lips are begging to be on me, whether she knows it or not.
"Good evening, officer," she says in a voice that is as equally as enthralling as her fucking glorious body that is dressed in leather pants and a sexy scrap of a shirt.
"Good evening indeed," I murmur, my wicked fantasies running amuck.
I'm definitely glad I'm warmed up and ready for her.
"You were speeding back there," I say, pointing behind me. "You were doing seventy in a forty-five."
She smirks, her eyes seeming to darken a little.
"How could you know that when you weren't even in your car?" she asks, provoking me in a way I'll make her pay for later.
A smartass bitch, eh? I'll enjoy this even more now.
"Can I see your license?" I ask, pacing myself, suppressing the rage that begs to spill free.
She hands it over, along with her proof of insurance, though I didn't ask for that. She really needs structure, discipline. She needs to learn to do what she's told and only what she's told.
"Alyssa Coldwell, is it?" I ask before handing her back her credentials.
She accepts them, and then a daring grin quirks up as she puts them away and turns back to me.
"Actually, I prefer Airis Devall."
