BDSM Romance, Capture Fantasy
Date Published: September 20, 2024
They have nothing in common but a difficult past… and a taste for
unusual pleasures...
Once a Thief
The good girl: A successful district attorney with a reputation to uphold, Katherine can’t afford to let go and indulge her secret desires.
The bad boy: Seeing Kate again makes Ex-con Jake Monroe want to live out every kinky fantasy he’s ever had -- with her. Jake’s determined to tear down Kate’s walls, to push her past her limits. But Kate takes him further than he ever imagined.
Still a Thief
Only Jake can scratch Kate’s secret itch for domination. But if she lets him take their bedroom play into the real world, it’s only a matter of time before her colleagues in the District Attorney’s office find out.
Three s Not a Crowd
It’s Halloween, and Kate’s about to learn that three s not a crowd, and if she’s good, maybe she’ll get a treat as well.
EXCERPT
Excerpt from Once a Thief
The door to Katherine’s office opened with a click. She looked up at a tall man -- tall, dark, and broad-shouldered, wearing a denim jacket over a white T-shirt and jeans.
Jake Monroe.
Great. Just what she needed., a reminder of her ghetto roots. A reminder of everything she’d worked so hard to leave behind.
He had the same curly black hair, cut short, and the same jutting angles to his face. Age had added deep lines to his cheeks and bitterness to his brown eyes.
And he looked much more dangerous than she remembered.
At least he didn’t give any hint of recognizing her. Maybe she could keep it that way.
“I’m John Monroe.”
She closed his file and put it facedown on her desk. She wouldn’t want to see a man like him get angry. No need to let him know she’d been reading up on him -- worse, she’d been looking at his rap sheet. He’d done three years for his first offense. Armed robbery.
When he reached over her desk to shake her hand, she rose to greet him.
“Katherine Kern. I’m an assistant district attorney for the city.”
His big, calloused hand swallowed hers in a firm grip. “Congratulations,” he said dryly, with an ironic lift of one eyebrow. Still no glimmer of recognition, though. Maybe she hadn’t been that memorable.
Even leaning across her wide desk, he towered over her. And he didn’t release her hand after the perfunctory handshake. No, he held on while his gaze raked her breasts. Blatantly.
She pulled away and motioned to the chairs that faced her desk. “Have a seat.”
He did, leaning back and sprawling his legs in front of him as if he were lounging on a sofa watching Monday night football. Even as a punk teenager, he’d been muscular, but now… He’d really filled out, with broad shoulders, a solid chest, and bulging thighs that strained the denim of his jeans. Maybe he’d spent his time behind bars working out. Or maybe he’d filled out naturally in the ten years since she’d seen him.
Time had changed her, too. So much that he didn’t seem to recognize her. Maybe he never would. She’d kept away from his kind in high school. As tempting as the bad boys had been, she’d known better than to play with fire.
She still knew better. Unfortunately. No wonder she hadn’t had a man in years.
She sat down and folded her arms on the desk in front of her. “You know why you’re here, John?”
“Yeah.”
He sounded resentful, like one of the kids he was supposed to help. Why had he volunteered to be a mentor if he didn’t want to be here? Maybe he hadn’t volunteered. Maybe community service was a condition of his parole. “You’ll have to be a bit more communicative than that when you talk to your mentee. Have you prepared anything to say?”
“No.”
So much for communication.
After a long moment of studying his hands, he spoke. “I can ad lib just fine. I want to sound natural. Natural and honest.”
“Good. Kids can tell when you’re lying to them.”
He shrugged. “I don’t have anything to hide.”
He stared straight into her eyes, as if he was challenging her. Defensive -- typical for an ex-con. She’d worked with a lot of them. No reason to treat Jake Monroe any differently than the others, even if seeing him again brought back a stupid rush of adolescent hormones.
She grabbed the file folder labeled Scott Hopkins and slid it across the desk to him. “Here’s the boy you’ll be meeting tonight.”
He straightened up and took it, then slouched back again and opened the file. “Tell me about him.”
“He’s new to the program. His mom is in and out of rehab all the time. His older brother supposedly takes care of him when his mother isn’t home.”
“Is he in a gang?”
“No. He’s a loner.” At least he was curious. Maybe he’d do a good job after all. “He’s been convicted of multiple misdemeanors. Our goal is to prevent him from graduating to felonies.”
“Like I did.”
She might as well be frank. “Exactly.”
He looked amused by her agreement. Full lips tilted up at the corners in a little smile… almost a smirk.
“If you aren’t going to take this seriously, you might as well leave right now. There’s no point in establishing a relationship with Scott if you’re going to flake on him.”
He frowned at that. “I’m not going to flake.”
“You clearly don’t want to be here.”
“You don’t have a clue what I want.” He gave her another long look, as if assessing her suit. Or the breasts beneath it. “How did you get stuck with this gig?”
“I volunteered. These kids need all the help they can get.”
“You’re a D. A., right?”
Where was he going with this? She nodded. “I’m an assistant D. A.”
“So it’s your job to prosecute criminals, not to help them.” He sounded like he thought she had the most immoral job in the world. “Seems strange for you to be running a prevention program.”
“I’d prefer it if the crime was never committed in the first place.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Then you’d be out of a job.”
She didn’t have to take this. “We have five minutes before the session begins. If you can’t be civil, you can wait in the hallway.” And take those broad shoulders with you.
“Don’t get pissed off, Kate.”
“It’s Katherine.” Wait a minute. She hadn’t gone by Kate in years.
His eyes gleamed. Now his lips wore a bona fide smirk. As if he recognized her for the scared, uptight girl she’d been all those years ago.
“So you do remember me.”
His smile didn’t fade. “And you remember me.”
“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Why didn’t you?”
About the Author. . .
Gemma Woods has no spouse, no children, and no pets. Her family is imaginary -- she writes them. Outside her imaginary world, she enjoys the typical author hobbies of reading, traveling, and fretting over her dying houseplants.
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