Pretty Dirty (Dirty Bad Things Book 2)(38)

And I definitely shouldn’t want them to keep going. I definitely shouldn’t want more…



Blake/Dustin

We’ve had our eyes on her for longer than she knows. It was our job to watch her - seeing her at her most vulnerable, at her most intimate.

And now we’re obsessed.

Now we’re consumed with the primal need to have her and make her ours.

She might not be the criminal we’re after, but she’s wrapped up in this now, and there’ll be no denying us the sweet, innocent prize we’ve been dying to put our dirty hands on.

Come hell or high water, Samantha Caraway will submit to us.

Both of us.

And not even the law we uphold will stand in our way.



Flirting With The Law is a quick and filthy book involving two utterly obsessed alpha heroes, one sassy heroine, and enough insta-love, steam, and sugary-sweetness to make your Kindles melt. This mfm romance is all about her – no m/m. If you love over-the-top, slightly unrealistic, and wildly dirty stories, this one’s for you! HEA with NO CHEATING!





Author’s Note:





Warning: Flirting With The Law is a quick MFM romance involving two completely obsessed alpha men in (and out!) of uniform, a sassy heroine, handcuffs, insta-love, and a frankly obscene amount of steam. It does involve mild D/s themes and scenes involving restraint that may be triggering to some readers, though engine-revving for others. Like all my books though, the HEA is guaranteed (and in this case, extra sugary-sweet), so I promise it’ll be worth it at the end!

Please know that this book is a MFM romance, which is to say, it's all about her - no MM action.

Happy Valentine’s Day, from me to you. Because who needs roses and chocolate when you’ve got handcuffs and two rugged, dominant cops? :P

-Madison





Copyright ? 2017 Madison Faye All rights reserved.

Editing: Sennah Tate

Cover: White Rabbit Creative

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.

This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.





1





Samantha




I groaned as my eyes opened in the darkness.

Making a face and feeling the shroud of sleep lifting from me, I glanced at the clock and cursed under my breath. It was way too early to be up, but I’d been having the hardest time sleeping in these days.

I swung my long legs out of the bed and stretched in the early-morning darkness. Behind me, Tim snorted groggily and turned heavily in his sleep, a rattling snore tumbling from his mouth. I wrinkled my nose as the smell of alcohol drifted over to me from his sleeping, grumbling form. I let out a deep sigh.

I didn't remember him coming home last night, but apparently, he'd had another late one — a “networking event” he called it. “Getting drunk with his pals,” was probably a more apt title for my fiancé’s recent nighttime excursions, I thought with a frown.

The layoff had been tough for him, I knew that. And at first, I’d been as sympathetic as I could be. I played the dutiful fiancée and the supportive partner when the law firm had let him go not long after his promotion. But as weeks, then months, went by without so much as a peep about even looking for another job, it seemed more and more that Tim was liking his new-found freedom from the work-week grind.

Really, it wasn't that he was unemployed that bugged me, it was the bullshit from him that came along with that.

I stewed over this as I scooped grounds into the coffee machine. It was much too early to be worrying about big-picture stuff like this, I decided, groaning at the smell of the coffee beans wafting out of the can.

It was quiet as I sat at the kitchen counter, silent but for my thoughts and the low gurgle of the coffee machine.

I sat there, sighing and sliding my fingers through my long dark hair. I had my writing, not that it payed much, and after the layoff, I’d suggested that I could always go back to teaching. I’d enjoyed teaching, however brief it was before we got engaged and moved to the west coast for Tim’s new job. And after that, I didn’t really have to work anymore since he was bringing in so much.

But Tim thought that was “below” us now, now that we lived in a higher tax bracket, a better neighborhood, with higher bills. None of which we could afford for much longer without work. But he also refused to look at anything that was less than the position he'd had before, which was looking more and more unrealistic. I sighed again into the darkness of the kitchen and reached for the coffee.