Page 4 of Taming Her

“That won’t be happening.” Griff tore his attention from Ava.

“Okay, well, I’ll sit down and you can strip to your thong and do whatever it is cops do to naughty girls.”

He set his mouth in a firm line and placed his hands on his hips. “We’re real cops, ma’am, and you’ve been reported for breaching the peace.”

“Oh, you’re so realistic, so bossy, I love it.” She lunged for him, her hands grabbing his belt buckle.

Before Griff realized what was happening, Ava was at his side too, also grappling with his belt.

Fuck.

Her perfume slid into his nose; even over the whiff of alcohol in the room, he knew straight away she hadn’t changed her preference from Chanel No5. The damn smell was an aphrodisiac, bringing back a maelstrom of memories that ramped up his heart rate.

He grabbed both her slender wrists in one hand and did the same to the other woman, his fingers locking tight as he drew their arms up. “Stop, or you’ll be under arrest for assaulting a police officer.”

“I’d like to get underyou,” Ava cackled, her attention on his eyes.

He stared into hers. Her pupils were pinpricks, which made him angry. What the fuck had she taken? And there was a glaze to them. He’d bet money she wouldn’t remember this whole incident tomorrow.

It was also clear there was no recognition there. It was as if she’d never seen him before—as if he hadn’t given her countless orgasms that had had her gasping in pleasure.

“Ladies, ladies!” Rex hollered.

The music turned down. The conversation around them dulled.

The bride-to-be froze. “Shit, you really are cops.”

A tendon flexed in Rex’s cheek. “Yes. Now what’s it going to be? You sit down and turn it down, or leave?”

She burped, covering her mouth with her fingers. “I don’t feel so well.”

“So we’ll leave.” Ava tried to snatch her wrists away from Griff.

He released her.

“That will solve your damn problem, right.” She glared at him.

Much as he’d like to tip her over his knee for a good spanking, turn her peachy little behind bright red, he knew that wouldn’t go down well with his boss. Heck, not with the other clientele in The Blood Hound either. And he didn’t like to think about the reams of paperwork a stern spanking would involve.

The fleshy part of his palm tingled with the thought of doling out a swift punishment. He wasn’t a pushover anymore, a hormonal teenager consumed with love and lust, eager to please the girl who’d caught him in her web. Now he was a fully grown man with a dominant streak he hadn’t been able to ignore after Ava had left. Who was he kidding? He was a fully fledged dom. It was part of his makeup, his core. He’d accepted it.

The urge to have the woman in his life, the object of his affections, submitting to him was non-negotiable. But it was a two-way thing; in return for obedience he’d always ensure maximum satisfaction, safety, and his adoration whether it was for a night or a few months.

A few months. Fuck. That was the longest relationship he’d had since Ava. She really had ruined him for all others. And now here she was, stooped in front of him and showing the crease of her butt to all and sundry as she gathered her purse and jacket.

Little wench deserved the cane for wearing such a provocative dress and skimpy underwear. It wasn’t sensible. Some men were pigs and would take that as a sign she wanted sex, then they’d take advantage of her drunken state and give it to her whether she wanted it or not.

Heat flared up his spine, making his scalp itch beneath his peaked cap. Had she no concept of her vulnerability?

Clearly not.

She stood and turned, then had to grab a table when she tottered to the left.

His instinct was to reach for her, but her friend grasped her first, linking their arms and tottering between two chairs.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take your clothes off, Officer?” The brunette slinked closer.

“No sex on duty, ma’am.”

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