Red Moon Secrets (Deadly Beauties 3)

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."

The way she says it—it feels like she's trying to taunt me. This bitch is really grating on my nerves.

"Hop out of the car, Ms. Devall."

I play along with the false name she has given me, letting her think she's in control. The real awakening will make this bitch's snippy mouth shut.

"Yes, sir, Officer Graden," she murmurs after reading my tag. It'll do her no good to know my name. They never talk. Not when they fear what I'll do to them again.

She steps out, making my dick pulse with desire when I see her perfectly divine body in full. I may call it a night with this one.

"Turn around and put your hands on the car," I instruct, and she does as I say, giving me an unobstructed view of the ass I'm going to have fun with.

"Is this protocol, officer?" she asks, still taunting me, showing no fear. I know how to remedy that.

I push my gun into her ribs as my body presses against the back of her, letting my breath find her neck as I inhale her intoxicating scent.

"Ms. Devall, I'm about sick of your mouth. How about I let you do something more useful with it?"

Usually, they start crying at this point. I love it when they cry. This stupid bitch merely smiles as she turns around, treating my gun as if I've shoved a candy bar at her.

"Now, officer. All you have to do is ask nicely."

I feel myself getting dizzy, high almost. What the hell is this bitch doing to me?

She pulls me to her, letting her breath find my lips before the kiss that almost shocks me. My pants almost burst with desire, my lower half begging to be buried inside her.