Tamara's Choice by Trent Evans

Author:Trent Evans [Evans, Trent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Steamy D/s dark romance
Publisher: Shadow Moon Press
Published: 2017-05-30T07:00:00+00:00

He sat on the couch in his room, nursing the last half glass of his Malbec, watching the waning light in the western sky. The room in the residence was unlike any he’d ever been in – except perhaps a house. Not only did it have a huge living room and several bedrooms, but it had a full appointed kitchen too. He could hear the sound of dishes clinking at that moment, Tamara cleaning up the remnants of their dinner.

She’d made him a savory Italian dish he wouldn’t even try to pronounce – but it was wonderful. He had so many questions, so much he still didn’t understand. He didn’t even know where to start. He didn’t even know her last name!

Some cop you are.

He leaned forward, craning his head around and looking toward the kitchen. “Tamara, put those down. Come in here.”

Part of him felt sheepish at issuing her such a terse order, but he knew she responded to it. He knew enough about her now to know it was what she expected. It was what she craved.

It was what she was.

The question is, Eldon, is that what you are?

Deep inside perhaps, he knew the answer to that. Or perhaps this place had just confused him to the point he could no longer tell up from down. Maybe he didn’t even know himself anymore.

Not for the first time, he wondered if it was the job. The assignment. Deep cover was known to do this to some cops. A few never came back from assignments. Not because they were dead – but because they decided being who they were on deep cover was the real them. It wasn’t a cop. It wasn’t a good guy. It wasn’t doing the right thing. It was giving in to who they really were.

And he knew if he were intellectually honest with himself, brutally truthful, he knew there was a possibility that was happening here too.

Tamara came in, wiping off her hands with a white cloth, the snug and much-too-short denim skirt revealing a dazzling amount of her trim, smooth thighs.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing with the stem of his wineglass. Though he indicated the couch across the room from him, he knew it was a futile gesture.

A tiny, subtle, mischievous smile quirking her lips, Tamara folded the cloth, laid it down on the coffee table behind her, then dropped to her knees before him. The skirt rode up scandalously high, and he was sure, just as on that first night, that if he but looked a little bit closer, he’d know if she was wearing underwear or not.

Jesus, you’re like a twelve-year-old boy. What the fuck is wrong with you, Eldon?

And then she was still, her hands folded in her lap. She’d chosen a quite tight black top that was long sleeved, part of each cuff wrapping around the web of her thumb. There were cutouts at the shoulders, revealing creamy flawless flesh, the neck quite high. Though the swells of her

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