Dirty Girl

Kate McKinley is a pathologist who works for the District of Columbia’s serial killer division--a skilled professional whose work leaves little time for a personal life. When a strangely sexual dream begins to disturb her sleep on a nightly basis, she doesn’t know what to do. Only her longtime friend and partner, profiler Phillip Paxton, who holds several degrees in psychology, may be able to help her unravel the dream’s erotic demands. But Kate isn’t sure she wants the kind of help Phillip has to offer.

Phillip Paxton has been in love with his partner for years but he doesn’t want to risk ruining the best relationship in his life by adding romance to the mix. Now he must try to unravel Kate’s mysterious dream without jeopardizing their working relationship.

Could Phillip be the man of Kate’s dreams and will she ever admit it? With the help of a little hands-on dream interpretation and a bit of light spanking anything is possible...

Kate has been haunted by a vivid sex dream for the past three weeks and it's making her life a nightmare. Relieving herself isn't even an option thanks to a very humiliating experience at the age of four.

Phillip knows something is wrong with his partner.She looks like hell rose up and tackled her but she keeps holding back, despite their six years of close friendship.

When they're assigned to help an investigation out of town, and forced on a road trip, Phillip finally gets his first glimpse of her troubles. Turns out, Kate is a very active dreamer. Writhing on the passenger seat, screaming *his* name in pleasure, the evidence of her erotic dreams is all too obvious. And when she still won't break down and confess, he's left with no other choice but to spank it out of her in true Evangeline Anderson fashion.

A murder investigation, childhood trauma, and a long kept unrequited love carries the first half of this story. From there, it's a very long drawn out smut scene.

This story is sad. Like, sad. I almost wanted it to end without the happily ever after because the perfection of the bitter sweetness was just so... *sigh*

If only there wasn't so much sex. Yes, those words just left my lips and made it to this screen. Actually, it was just one encounter that lasted way too long. Not that the sex wasn't good. It was. But the emotional toll that the characters suffer through.. what with finally crossing the line past professionalism and friendship and Kate's regression back to a child...

Of all of this author's stories that bear the warning to those who have experienced sexual molestation as a child, I think this one needed it the most. Not that Kate endured anything like that but all the talk of 'Dirty Girl' and 'good girl' disturbed me.

Phillip's psychiatric background weighed way too heavily for me. But once Kate's psychological problems were over and the story turned to an all or nothing, claim 'em or leave 'em kind of tale, I was engrossed. As I was every time we broke from Kate and experienced the story through Phillip's POV.

I had known there was a possibility that Kate might dissolve our partnership, but I was sure she would at least talk to me about it first—had counted on it, in fact. Counted on having a chance to talk her out of such a rash decision, but now it was too late. Kate had asked for a transfer without saying a word to me. She was removing herself from my life in the coldest, most efficient way possible and it hurt like hell. I had to admit my comment to her the day before was harsh, but I had been feeling so utterly betrayed that I lashed out without thinking. I had deserved the slap she gave me but after she delivered it, all I could think of was how hurt I felt and how much I still wanted her. I had to literally leave the room to keep from grabbing her and throwing her across the desk like a cave man.

I kept having the completely irrational feeling that if I could just push up her skirt and sink my cock into her one more time, she would be forced to acknowledge that what had happened between us wasn’t going away no matter how matter what she did. To acknowledge that we belonged together.

They have a name for that kind of behavior—it’s called rape. I had pushed the thought out of my mind and left Kate standing in the office with tears of pain and frustration in her eyes. I went home and jerked off, thinking of the look on her face when I had taken her the first time, thinking of the way she had screamed and writhed under me, called my name and begged me to fuck her harder. Then I lay on the bed and surrendered to depression for a while.