Page 11 of Tell Me Your Desires

Jaime ripped her wrist supports off and threw them to the floor.

After she took a long sip from her water bottle, she dabbed at her forehead and flopped down onto the couch.

Would she always feel as though she was doing something wrong if she so much as looked at another woman sideways?

Was Taylor disappointed and hurt that Jaime hadn’t even had time to visit her grave today?

No, Taylor didn’t have it in her to be that person.

She was too perfect in Jaime’s eyes. And besides, Jaime had never been the kind of person to stand around looking at a gravestone.

Taylor was here with her. She always would be.

Just…relax. Breathe. Allow yourself to feel for a fucking second.

Huh. Maybe those brief therapy sessions had taught her something.

She lay lengthways, aware that it was way past her bedtime, and clasped her hands on her stomach. Maybe if she just gave herself a moment or two to think about the case, something would flag up as suspicious.

Yeah. The woman in the mask, Baros. She was the only one who had contact with the victim in the hours…potentially minutes, leading up to her death. At least, that was how it was looking until they found something else.

Think!

This was where she wanted to be. Always.

Safe in her bed, the woman she loved by her side, wandering hands the only thing on her mind tonight.

Work had taken a backseat, and Jaime had every intention of getting lost in this woman over and over again.

Until the end of time, if she had things her way.

Soft hair tickled her stomach, and a grin spread on Jaime’s mouth when those tender lips moved lower, hot breath only arousing her further.

Fuck, she was a sucker for a woman who knew how to use her tongue.

Light moans filled the silence of the room, her hand tangled in long, luscious locks as she guided that mouth lower and lower…

“F-fuck.” Jaime arched from the bed, her heels pushed deep into the mattress.

Nothing would ever feel better than a naked woman against her.

Touching her. Teasing their way down her skin.

But it was when that tongue reached its destination, and those lips enveloped her clit, that she really got going. “Oh, shit.”

Through the darkness, Jaime could make out nothing but a glorious head of hair and French-manicured nails as the moonlight hit the gloss. Those nails teased the skin of her thighs, sending a shiver through her entire body.

“Babe…”

Mysterious eyes met Jaime’s slowly. “Yes, Detective?”

Jaime sat bolt upright, clutching her chest as she tried to control her breathing.

Her dreams had involved nothing but Taylor for the last two years, but that dream?

Fuck, that dream wasn’t a good sign. Lady A?

Oh, no. No, no, no. She scrubbed a hand down her face, eyeing her watch.

It was four in the morning. She still wore her workout clothes and was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Sweat, she knew, hadn’t come from said workout some four hours ago.

Her bottom lip trembled, her hands too, but Jaime managed to get to her feet slowly. Now she just had to figure out how to process what had just happened. Or do what she did best…and put it to the back of her mind.

Anya’s hands were shaking. The tears that had been threatening the entire way home began to fall freely.

Somehow, she made it inside her house, engaging the locks and alarm before she crumbled.

She had lit into Frank for lying to her.

God, she hadn’t been that pissed in years.

But beyond the ire was the absolute heartbreak.

Maisie was so young. She had her whole life ahead of her, and it was snuffed out by some… maniac.

And that detective. Anya sniffled, angrily wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

She could understand being a suspect. Everyone who was acquainted with the…

victim would have to answer questions. But Anya couldn’t help but feel like Detective Baros’ accusations were personal.

She had seen the interest in the detective’s eyes.

And the panic. It was a look Anya was familiar with among some of her clients.

Some knew exactly what they wanted and how they wanted it.

That’s why they sought someone like Lady A.

Others, however, only knew they wanted something…

different. They walked into Lady A’s chambers wide-eyed, scared, and intrigued.

Detective Baros looked as though she was fighting whatever she felt.

Still, that didn’t excuse how she had treated Anya, though she should be used to it by now.

A good number of people looked down on sex workers.

Even those who paid to feel Lady A’s whip across their back thought those in this profession were…

less than. Anya could admit there were bad sides, especially when it came to young girls forced into it.

However, for those like Anya who chose this path, it didn’t make them criminals.

And Anya didn’t like being treated as one, let alone in the one place she held all the control.

“I’d like to see her come back without a badge to hide behind,” Anya muttered. She ignored how that thought caused her stomach to flip.

“Meow?” Derek trotted up to Anya, who had yet to move from her position by the door. He head-butted her elbow, meowing his concern for his human.

“Hey, buddy.” Anya picked him up, cuddling him close. “Did you come to see me because I’m sad or because you’re hungry?”

Derek sniffed Anya’s cheek before licking it with his rough tongue, causing Anya to laugh lightly. She wiped at her cheek but still kissed him on the top of the head.

“Thank you, bud. I needed that. If you give me one more minute to completely fall apart, you can help put me back together while I feed you. Deal?”

“Meow.” Derek snuggled in the crook of Anya’s neck.

She closed her eyes and allowed his purring to calm her. They had been each other’s companions for eight years now. Anya was convinced Derek knew her moods. Despite what people said about cats, Anya wouldn’t find anyone more loyal than her furry best friend.

“Tell me your desires.”

“You. I desire you, Lady A.”

Her sub was blindfolded, bound by the wrists, and tethered to the chains dangling from the ceiling.

And completely nude. The tight ass clenched when Lady A trailed her whip across it.

The crack of that whip against flesh rang out in the otherwise quiet room.

Lady A’s sub cried out, panting slightly from the pain.

And from the pleasure of being whipped by Lady A.

“You were naughty.” Lady A walked around her sub, the whip never leaving the bare skin. “You talked back to me. What should we do about that?”

“I must be punished, my Lady.”

Another strike against flesh. “Do you deserve to call me yours?” Lady A scolded.

“No, Lady. I’m sorry. Please allow me to make it up to you. I beg you.”

Lady A pressed a button that lowered the chains. “In order for you to beg me, you must be on your knees.” She allowed the chains to descend just enough for her sub’s knees to touch the padded—waterproof—floor beneath them. She bent forward, whispering in her sub’s ear. “How will you beg me?”

“With my tongue inside you, Lady A. I beg you to let me taste you until you cum. As many times as you need until I am forgiven.”

Lady A released her sub’s hands from their shackles. If they were going to do this right, hands needed to be involved. Lady A reached around the back of her sub’s head and untied the blindfold.

“You will look at me while you feast on me,” Lady A demanded. “I will see in your eyes if you are truly remorseful and whether you deserve forgiveness or punishment.”

Her sub’s head remained bowed until the blindfold fell away.

“Yes, my Lady.” Detective Baros’ soulful dark eyes shone even in the dim room.

“Jesus!” Anya bolted upright in her bed, startling Derek, who jumped down and scurried away. She laid a hand over her thundering heart. “Fucking shit! Seriously, Anya? You have a fucking wet dream about the detective who wants to slap the cuffs on you?”

Her stomach did a little dip at that. Anya wasn’t impressed that she was turned on by the thought of Detective Baros and handcuffs. Though if she were honest, the detective being the one who was cuffed was far more appealing than the other scenario.

“Nope. You are not going to do this. That woman thinks you’re a murderer. I highly doubt she’s having sexy dreams about you, so stop it.” Anya settled back on her pillow, ignoring the annoying ache below the waist. Nope, she thought again. “Derek!”

“Meow.” Derek’s answer was muffled, which meant he was hiding under the couch.

“I’m sorry I scared you. It’s over now. You can come back.” Nothing. “Come on, kitty boy. I promise there will be no more dreams about the sexy detective.” Anya rolled her eyes at herself. Her reaction to Detective Baros felt disrespectful to Maisie. And just like that, Anya was sad again.

“Derek, come on, kitty boy. Come snuggle with me. I could use a friend right now.”

She felt her bed dip slightly when Derek jumped up. He crawled on Anya’s stomach and began his kneading ritual.

“I keep telling you, it’s not getting any more comfortable. Now, can you lie down and go to sleep, please? And do me a favor? Keep the dreams away. You can do that, right?”

After deciding she was taking a few days off—fuck Frank—Anya fell back into an uneasy sleep. This time her dreams were of Maisie. That kind, eager face, laughing and joking one minute, and the next, she was gone. Even in her dreams, Anya wondered how Maisie’s family would cope.