PROLOGUE
PIGGY
As I sitat the table, I try not to look at the stage. I’m here to focus on Goffredo Hagerty, not the sexy-as-fuck women dancing. I’m a cop. I can do this. I need to act professionally. And I know I can. I don’t have a choice. I have to.
Except when the main stage lights dim before they come back up again, something gold and glittery catches my attention. The lights slowly brighten, the music grows louder, and, as if something forces me, I shift my focus.
Turning my head slowly, I blink at the sight in front of me. The glittering gold sight. Dark-red hair, gold bra and panties, gold shoes, and her entire body shimmering with gold paint or makeup or something. But that isn’t why I’m staring with my lips parted in awe as if I’ve just seen a ghost or an angel, I’m not sure which.
I know her.
All of her.
Every fucking centimeter of her. The way she tastes. The way she feels. The noises she makes when she’s close and then when she does come. I know it all, and she knows all of me, too.
As much as I try to focus on the task at hand, on Goffredo, I can’t.
Not when she is up on that stage.
Not when I haven’t seen her in over ten years.
Not when the sight of her causes my cock to instantly harden.
Back then, she was eighteen, and I was thirty-two. I should have been a lot fucking more mature than I was. I think out of the two of us, she was more emotionally mature than me. I let her get away.
No, that’s a lie.
I watched her walk away after my pigheadedness pushed her away.
Ironic.
My road name is supposedly given to me because I’m a cop, but it also works for my personality. I’m pigheaded as fuck. Egotistical, proud, and stubborn to a fault. It cost me this woman and her love. And I’ve regretted it every fucking day the last ten years.
I didn’t even know she was living in Raleigh, not that I ever went looking for her. Once she left Thunder Rock, I drowned myself in pussy and booze. I pretended it didn’t bother me, that I wasn’t dying inside and hurting for her. I’ve lied to myself and everyone else for a decade because it did bother me.
It fucking gutted me.
And now she dances on stage.
Her body shimmers in the dim lighting around her. She appears almost otherworldly, dripping in gold. I watch as she spins around on the pole. I can’t tear my gaze off her. When her body is suspended in the air, every fucking muscle is engaged.
She is stunning.
I always knew she could move, that she was graceful, but seeing it like this… it’sbreathtaking. I know it shouldn’t turn me on the way it does, but I can’t help it. My balls ache, my cock begs for me to drag her off that stage and rip those little panties she’s got on to shreds.
A million different thoughts swirl around inside my head.
Anger, regret, and possessiveness.
I feel them all deep in my core.
This woman dancing on that pole should be at home in my bed. She should have been there the past ten years, but she’s not, and it’s all my fault. I have nobody else to blame but myself, and I wonder if this isn’t a second chance, a moment to rectify that.
A noise to my side draws my attention away from the stage. It’s the telltale sound of a scuffle. Turning my head, I watch that little prick, Goffredo, being dragged out of the club in cuffs.
It’s quick and discreet.
If anyone else notices, they don’t react.
