She had short brown hair and was in good physical shape as would be required for her occupation. She could sure beat the crap out of me."Hands above y...ur head," she instructed.I did what she said but this felt wrong so I asked, "Are you really a cop?"Before she replied, she grabbed my hands and pulled then toward the right corner of the head of the bed. She put my hands around the bedpost and handcuffed my wrists. I was immobilized. Now she answered. "Are you really fucking a high school. I could smell you.” Heat scorched Paris’ face and chest; her hand unconsciously cupping and shielding her damp sex in horror at the thought that Tom could smell her arousal. She collapsed in relief against the stall wall when his frustrated voice growled, “You’re the only woman I know who smells like vanilla and cinnamon.” Paris grimaced when Tom’s hand smacked against her door, and he uttered the same thoughts racing around her own head, “You can’t stay in there forever, you know.” His. More

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