The Case Of The Snitch's Snatch

An insurance company suspects fraud in a string of car thefts. They bring in Detective Casey Calvert. She pours hours into the case but keeps coming up empty. Out of options, she calls her longtime informant Kristen Scott. Kristen tells Casey to meet her at an old warehouse on the edge of the industrial district. When Casey steps inside, Kristen is already waiting. Casey freezes. Years of late-night calls never prepared her for how good Kristen looks in real life. Tall. Confident. Dark eyes. Danger rolls off her like smoke. Casey should keep her guard up, but Kristen already moves closer, her fingertips tracing the line of Casey’s collar. Kristen knows everything, yet she holds back, smiling like she wants payment first. The kiss lands fast, sharp, then slower, deeper, Casey tasting salt and whatever cheap mints Kristen popped on the way in. Her blazer drops to the floor. Kristen’s mouth follows the slope of Casey’s throat, the pulse point pounding hard. They fuck on a table that’s too low. Clothes pushed aside, not off. Kristen drops to her knees and works Casey open with lips and tongue, dragging out low, husky sounds that echo in the empty space. When the rhythm shifts, Kristen climbs up, spreads her legs, and Casey returns the favor. She licks until Kristen shudders, thigh muscles tight against her ears, nails raking over Casey’s scalp. Breathing heavy, bodies cooling, Kristen finally slides a folder across the steel table. The deal is paid. But the look in her eyes says next time the price might be higher.