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Daring Ink

By:Avery Flynn

Chapter One

For the third time that week, Penny Dare lay naked in her bed and plotted her neighbor’s untimely death. Only something slow, painful and publicly humiliating would make up for being repeatedly woken up at three in the morning, to usually one woman, but occasionally more, loudly moaning praises to the cock of wonders that her neighbor apparently had. Judging by the way her headboard jolted forward in time with the rhythmic banging on the other side of the wall dividing their condos, it must be soda can thick and anaconda long to require such a vigorous workout.

She hadn’t had four good nights’ sleep in a row since he’d moved in six weeks ago and installed a revolving door to his bedroom. Neither notes slipped under his door nor complaints to the building manager had made any difference to the neighbor who was never seen but sure as hell made his presence known.

“Fuck this shit.” Penny tossed her covers aside and stomped out into her living room. If nothing else, she could check her e-mail for more proof she had a tattoo design thief at Daring Ink.

Her phone lay on top of the wireless speaker and she got an idea. Check that. She got a revenge fantasy-worthy fucking brilliant idea. In the time it took to download a death metal playlist, she’d gathered every wireless speaker in her house and placed them against the shared bedroom wall. Thanks to the gift from surprise-I’m-your-dad, Paul Dare, who couldn’t fathom not being totally rich and living in a huge ass mansion, she had enough wireless Bose speakers to put three in every room in her one bath, one bedroom, kitchen/living room-combo condo.

The noise coming through the wall had slowed, but Mr. Anaconda Cock on the other side had a pattern. This was only the calm before the porn star-level pre-orgasmic screeching began. One. Two. Three. Bam! Right on schedule the “fuck me harder with that big dick” squealing started. She double-checked that each one of the speakers would pick up her cellphone’s signal and hit play.

Screaming guitars, pounding drums and a man yelling along to the beat erupted out of the speakers so loudly, the floor vibrated beneath Penny’s feet. It was glorious. She clapped her hands over her ears and ran out of the room to the farthest point from the cacophony—the kitchen, where she grabbed a beer from the fridge and toasted her brilliant maneuver.

She was halfway through the brew when the hammering started on her front door.

Oops. Looked like she’d ruined the fun.

Taking her time, she strolled past the front door and into the bedroom where she hit stop on the music. A quiet fell so completely that she could almost hear Mr. Anaconda Cock’s dick shriveling up. Her work here was done.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The pounding on her front door echoed through her condo.

She slipped on an oversized Daring Ink Tattoo Studio T-shirt and made her way to the front door. Peeking out her peephole all she could see was a police badge.

That asshole had called the cops? On her?! Oh, this would not stand.

She yanked open the door. “I don’t suppose the douchebag told you—”

The rest of the words fell out of her head and crash landed on the hardwood floor.

The half-naked man in front of her was too much to process. Broad shoulders. Arm porn-worthy biceps. Washboard abs dissected by a dark honey-colored happy trail that disappeared behind the waist of his jeans that hung low on his hips revealing the tops of whatever those sexy V things were called. Unable to stop herself she had to look.

She gulped.

Yep. That was a big ole make-you-scream-every-name-in-the-phonebook bulge in his pants.

She forced her gaze to make the reverse journey back up all that muscle. By the time she’d made it up to the smirk curling his thick lips upward and the smug hey-baby look in his blue eyes, oxygen had returned to her brain, along with the sinking suspicion that this hot cop was her asshole neighbor.

“You’re Mr. Anaconda Cock?”


Sawyer Dixon had been called a lot of things in his life but never Mr. Anaconda Cock. He kinda liked the nickname and his dick more than kinda liked the leggy redhead.

He gave her a slow up and down, trying to process what his body had already put in the yes, please column. So this was who had been sliding shut-up-already notes under his door. If he’d had realized that, he would have found the time to come over before she’d tried to shake the fillings out of his teeth with what could barely be called music. The loose black T-shirt with a tattoo parlor logo gave only the barest of a hint about what she was hiding underneath, but judging by her lean legs that seemed to go on forever, he was missing out on something good. Time to fix that.

He held out a hand. “Most folks call me Sawyer.”

She narrowed her brown eyes and ignored his hand. “Let me see your badge.”

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled it out again. “Why?”

“So I can flush it down the toilet.” She rolled her eyes. “So I can confirm it’s legit.”

“You have experience with law enforcement?” So did he a few times before giving up his dream of making it off the Miami Thunder practice squad and onto the roster. Then he’d woken up one morning and realized that was never going to happen. Thankful his mom had pushed him to get his criminal justice degree, he’d gone from Thunder black and yellow to police blue.

She took his badge without comment and looked it over. “So you didn’t like my choice of music to have sex by?”

For the past few weeks he’d been trying to fuck the memories of an undercover operation gone wrong out of his mind. It was better than falling into a bottle or worse, even if it’s a tad bit on the noisy side when done right. “We weren’t that loud.”

“Are you kidding me?” She put her hands on her surprisingly generous hips, just the kind that always make him look twice. “I could repeat verbatim every groan and squeal.”

The idea of her listening in turned him on more than he would have thought. He’d never been one for an audience, but if she was the one watching, he just might find his inner exhibitionist.

“You’ve been taking notes, huh?” The instant flush in her cheeks had him imagining all the things she could have been doing while listening. “Did you have a favorite part?”

“I think it was oh baby, oh baby, shut the fuck up now so the neighbors can sleep.” She nodded. “Yeah, that was my favorite.”

He laughed. Hard. He couldn’t help it. It had been years since a woman had done more than bat her eyes at him. He’d thought being a ball player at a Division I school, followed by nearly making the Thunder had taught him all he’d thought he needed to know about the fairer sex. Add to that his experience, the plethora of badge bunnies he’d enjoyed since he’d given up the gridiron, and he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had been so immune to the charms he’d spent a lifetime taking advantage of.

His front door opened and his date for the night, Annabeth, took a half step out into the hallway. She wore only a strategically buttoned dress shirt of his that barely covered enough to keep her from a public indecency charge.

“Are you coming back, Sawyer?” Annabeth asked, her stiff body language, even in the sexy getup, letting him know the offer still stood but the clock was ticking. “I’m getting cold.”

“In a minute. Just clearing things up with my neighbor.”

Annabeth nodded and went back inside, shutting the door behind her.

“Does she realize clothes might be a solution?” his neighbor asked.

He glanced back at her. The T-shirt might reach down to a few inches above her knees, but he’d bet good money there was nothing but skin underneath. “You’re not wearing much more.”

“I’m not cold.”

“Nope.” He focused in on her lips. Pink and full, they were the kind to inspire all sorts of fantasies. “You seem like the type to run hot.”

She pursed her pretty mouth. “Really? That works?”

His gaze dropped to the hard peaks of her nipples pushing against the thin cotton of her T-shirt. “You tell me.”

That earned him another flush of red across her cheeks. He wondered where else on her body the color spread and what he would need to do to make that happen.

“Just try to keep it down.” She started to close the door.

“Wait.” He stuck his foot in the doorjamb so she couldn’t shut him out. “What’s your name?”


“Do you really listen to that music, Penny?”

“Only when I’m planning your murder and imagining the sweet silence of solitary confinement.” She nudged his foot out of the way and shut the door in his face.

Sawyer stood there staring and wishing he could get her to come back out and spar some more. No light shone out of her peephole. No doubt she was on the other side of the door watching him. Now she’d have a mental picture to go with all the noises she’d been listening to. He hoped she liked it.

After giving the closed door a slow wink and a salute, he turned and went back to his own condo. The temptation to go back and put on a show for pretty Penny was strong, but the blonde bombshell waiting in his bed held little appeal. Instead, all he could think about was how to get the pissed off Penny naked and between his sheets.

Chapter Two

Sitting poolside, Penny had twenty minutes before she turned radioactive tomato red, even with SPF one bazillion—being a natural redhead in Miami was no joke. Still, actually getting one of the lounge chairs next to the pool was a miracle ever since a few of the Miami Thunder players moved into the building’s top floor penthouses, so she wasn’t about to give up her spot until she had to.