Little Red Riding Crop

Little Red Riding Crop
Tiffany Reisz

Mistress Nora needs a vacation. She might be the one flogging the clients, but Kingsley, her sexy French boss, is the real sadist who rarely gives her a day off.They strike a backseat deal: Nora gets one month off and a trip to Europe if she can sneak into a rival club and get the dirt on the owner. But she'll need more than her little red riding crop when she comes face to face with Brad Wolfe, the one man who stands between her and freedom.

Praise for Tiffany Reisz

‘A beautiful, lyrical story … The Siren is about love lost and found, the choices that make us who we are … I can only hope Ms Reisz pens a sequel!’ —Bestselling author Jo Davis

‘Mind-bendingly original and crammed with more sin

than you can shake a hot poker at. I haven’t read a book this dangerous and subversive since Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club.’ —Andrew Shaffer, author of Great Philosophers Who Failed at Love

‘Tiffany Reisz is a smart, artful and masterful new voice

in erotic fiction. An erotica star on the rise!’ —Award-winning author Lacey Alexander

‘Daring, sophisticated and literary … exactly what good

erotica should be.’ —Kitty Thomas, author of Tender Mercies

‘Dazzling, devastating and sinfully erotic, Reisz writes

unforgettable characters you’ll either want to know or want to be.’ —Miranda Baker, author of Bottoms Up and Soloplay

“The best erotica either leaves slut-marks on your back

or a bruise on your heart. The Siren does both and I wish I’d written it.” —Scarlett Parrish, author of By the Book

About the Author

TIFFANY REISZ lives in Lexington, Kentucky. She graduated with a BA in English from Centre College and is making her parents and her professors proud by writing erotica under her real name. She has five piercings, one tattoo and has been arrested twice. When not under arrest, Tiffany enjoys Latin dance, Latin men, and Latin verbs. She dropped out of a conservative seminary in order to pursue her dream of becoming a smut peddler. If she couldn’t write, she would die.

Little Red Riding Crop

Tiffany Reisz

www.spice-books.co.uk (http://www.spice-books.co.uk)

Rookies.

Nora rolled her eyes as she lifted her handcuffed wrists and pretended to scratch her ear. Most days she cursed her unruly black hair for its mass of waves and curls that took an hour to tame. But she loved it on days like these.

With a quick flick of her fingers she removed a hair pin and surreptitiously bent it into the perfect shape. In less than five seconds she’d popped the handcuffs open just as Detective Cooper dropped into his chair behind the desk.

Flashing her dark green eyes at him, Nora threw her booted legs up onto his desk, crossed her feet at the ankles, and tossed the cuffs at him.

Cooper hadn’t walked the beat years but he still had his street reflexes. The wickedly handsome detective caught the cuffs with the tip of his fingers.

“Seriously, Nora.” He held the handcuffs up, “do you want to get locked up?”

She cocked her head to the side and smiled at him.

“Isn’t that the question I usually ask you, Coop?” With a groan, Cooper rubbed his forehead. She’d never seen a black man blush so thoroughly before. Part of her wanted to crawl over his desk and kiss him just to make the public humiliation complete. A petite but stacked white Dominatrix in red leather knee-high boots, a red and black mini-skirt with a matching corset crawling across the desk of a six-foot-tall tough-as-nails police detective and giving him a kiss on the tip of his nose? The temptation to out Detective Cooper as a secret male submissive nearly overwhelmed her. But she restrained herself. Number one, she liked Cooper and wouldn’t do that to such a nice guy. And number two, she was a professional. No freebies for anyone.

“Nora …” He sat back in his chair and studied her with a mix of half-hearted disgust and barely disguised amusement. “You can’t take off the cuffs yourself. It’s considered resisting arrest.”

“Then tell your damn rookies that when they arrest a professional Dominatrix they might want to cuff her hands behind her back instead of in front.”

“Would that have really stopped you?”

Nora thought about it a moment.

“Probably not. But it would have slowed me down. Can I go now?”

“In a hurry?”

“Places to go. People to beat. And you and I both know I didn’t do anything wrong. S&M is not illegal in the state of New York.”

Cooper opened a file nearly as tall as his coffee mug–her file.

“The maid who stopped by the house to pick up her cell phone and heard ‘gut-wrenching screams,’ as she called them, would beg to differ.”

“The maid wasn’t paying to get the shit beat out of her. My client was. Only he can press charges, and he won’t because he’s scared of me. He pays extra to be scared of me. So I’m going, right? You’re letting me go, aren’t you? Say, ‘Yes, Mistress.’”

Cooper sighed heavily.

“Coop. Say it,” Nora ordered.

“Fine. Yes, Mistress. You’re free to go,” he said and Nora pulled her legs off the desk and started to stand up. “The boss man is outside waiting on you anyway.”

She collapsed into the chair again.

“Cuffs, put them on me. Now. Slammer. Lock and key. Never let me out. Please, please, please, Coop. This is me begging you. Record it. You’ll never hear it again.”

“That bad, eh?”

Nora sighed dramatically, put on a pout, and sunk deep into the chair.

“He’s going to yell at me.”

Cooper rolled his dark eyes at her.

“Nora … grow up. You’re a Dominatrix. Have some dignity.”

“But he’s got the sexy French accent and the whole ‘I’m very disappointed in you’ thing, and I just can’t handle that right now.”

Nora turned pleading eyes to the detective.

“Go. Out.” He waved his hand at the door. “Scoot before you embarrass me even more.”