Walk on the Wild Side Setting: contemporary San Francisco. Tough, clever and beautiful, biracial detective Liza Bowman struggles with a kidnapping case until she finds the victim's secret sex diary, which reveals that the young female vic went to a bar dressed in scanty red leather and read The Story of O. She hasn't been seen since. Liza recklessly imitates the vic's last known location and activities, and falls into the hands of James Li, the most notorious whoremaster in the city. Wealthy and handsome, James has already crossed paths with Liza— when she dared to arrest him. In James' view, reading a famous bondage novel in public is a blatant come-on, and he's eager and ready to give his nemesis what she wants.

Reviews

Rating, 4.5... well worth reading and then reading again.
Yvonne M, The Romance Studio

"Walk on the Wild Side by Suz DeMello is a wonderful book that offers something for everyone. This story has it all--bondage, ménage, and mystery. This is an edge of your seat read that kept me panting for more. The intense relationship between Liza and James sets a blistering pace that never slows down until the last page. The love scenes are extremely hot and wild. The ménage scenes were exceptionally great and left very little to the imagination. The vivid heart-stopping sexual tension made me wish I were in the book."
Erotic Escapades

Rating: 4.5..."captivating"
Enchanted Ramblings

Rating: 4..."This is one story that will make your blood pressure soar through the roof...leave you gasping for breath... Make sure to read this book, you will not be disappointed."
Coffee Time Romance


“Suz DeMello's first book at Loose Id creates an electrifying ride of sizzling pleasure and heart-stopping suspense for Detective Eliza Blue Bowman on her undercover assignment as a BDSM sex slave to solve the mysterious disappearance of another woman.”
Barbara Karmazin, author of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

“One word: HOT! James Li can tie me up any day! Lots of sensuality and enough anticipation to make you break out in a sweat. If you like a little bondage with your heat, this is the book for you!”
Alicia Sparks, author of Desert Moon: Cael

“She'd made a deal with the devil. Detective Eliza Bowman agreed to submit to anything upscale gangster James Li wished her to do in exchange for information on a mysterious disappearence which may put him away. Author Suz DeMello delights her readers with a torrent of sensations for the mind with a dangerous, unabashedly sensual game between a phoenix who rose from the ashes of her own poverty and a dragon who skirts the unsavory edges of the law.”
Diane Charles Linford, author of Handle Me With Care

”This is the hottest 'cops & robbers' story I've ever read! Combined with the meanest game of Scrabble in town, you won't be able to put this book down.”
Sheri Gilmore, The Preacher’s Daughters trilogy

“Hard work, hard sex, soft spots for kink and charisma - these are the things that make Detective Eliza Blue Bowman's world spin. One hot read!”
Lyn Cash, author of Stream of Time

“A story with grit and passion!”
ParanormalRomance.org

Excerpt from Chapter Three

People used many ugly words to describe James Li and, being a Scrabble fanatic, he knew them all. Pimp, whoremaster, procurer, ponce, panderer...He didn’t care. He worked with well-paid, happy men and women (whores, prostitutes, courtesans, harlots) who liked to have sex and get paid for it. No customer (john, trick), left any one of his houses (knocking shop, bagnio, bordello, brothel, cathouse) dissatisfied, and if they were unhappy, well, they could just walk right back in and get licked, sucked, fucked or blown again--he didn’t care. Whatever worked.

He’d always been a fortunate man. When he’d been born, his mother had taken him to his great-grandfather, a wise old man experienced in the ways of the I Ching, the classic method of Chinese divination. The old man had cast the yarrow sticks into hexagram number 55, meaning feng, abundance. The old man had predicted that James would be successful in whatever enterprise he chose.

Even so, he couldn’t believe his luck. Eliza Blue Bowman, in his complete control. This was beyond any fantasy he’d ever entertained.

They’d first met when she busted him at his Chinatown house. He’d been swinging with three of the girls, no money exchanged, just for fun. After, they’d showered together, dressed in their best, and went out onto the gambling floor for different fun and games.

The girls had flanked him at the table, he remembered, clad in slinky red Mandarin-style gowns slit so high that they flashed their plump, satisfied pussies at customers as they strutted. He’d eschewed a tux that night, preferring to blend with the crowd in one of his closetful of suits, this one a sober charcoal Armani.

As he’d played Texas hold-‘em, he’d become aware of someone’s scrutiny. He’d cashed out of the game and met her gaze. Dressed plainly in black jeans and a jacket, she’d tapped short, buffed fingernails on table’s side as she examined him, her blue eyes clear, unclouded by booze or drugs. His cock instantly hardened. That had startled him, since he’d already taken three women that evening. Despite that, something about this woman turned him on.

They’d exchanged a long glance, the kind of look that often foretold sex. But not this time. She was certainly beautiful enough to attract him, but her glance was too intelligent, too calculating. She wasn’t in his club to have fun. Ignoring his body’s reaction to her, he’d immediately fingered her as a cop, since the card-counters tended to hang around the twenty-one tables.

He didn’t say anything, just trusted his employees to do what they were supposed to do. Turned out that Detective Bowman, the lead officer in the bust, had assigned herself to him. To handle him in case he turned violent. When he’d found that out, he’d felt vaguely insulted. Sending a petite brunette to control him was a mistake, but he wasn’t a violent man, despite his black belts in a half-dozen different disciplines.

Now she’d learn about discipline. Now he had the opportunity to control her, and clearly the lady wanted to be controlled. Dominated. Combined with the see-through lace top, leather skirt and fuck-me heels, reading the Story of O in public was a blatant come-on.

But something was up. Within a couple of weeks, two young ladies had shown up in one of his haunts, both clad in leather, both carrying the Story of O. He wondered if it would be wise to take up Detective Bowman’s invitation.

They’d last seen each other in a hall at the San Francisco Courthouse. Bowman hadn’t screwed up the bust--she was too smart for that--but James was smarter. The way he ran his businesses, the D.A. would never get a conviction. Never. He’d walked. Again.

She’d stared at him, her eyes narrowed with contempt. “I’ll bring you down, Li,” she’d hissed.

He’d winked. “I’ll get down and dirty with you any time, Liza, baby.”

“Don’t call me that. You have no right--“

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want. Remember that, Liza. What I say goes.”

So they’d joined in a battle of wills. That had been just four months ago, and then he’d learned she’d been kicked upstairs to Major Crimes. He regretted that. Though he was sure she’d deserved the promotion, it meant he wouldn’t see her again. Detective Eliza Blue Bowman was a straight shooter, and she’d never come into one of his houses for kicks.

What game was she playing?

He walked around the car, one hand jingling the antique Chinese coins he kept in his pocket for good luck.

Liza heard the scrape of his shoes on the damp pavement outside, was acutely aware of the creak and slam of the driver’s door as he got into the Jag. His warmth and male aroma pervaded the car. He was wearing a spicy cologne, or was that how James Li naturally smelled? She didn’t remember. In the past, she’d been in his presence maybe a total of ten minutes, but the impression he’d left was indelible. She remembered what he wore, a dark, well-cut suit, like a businessman. Li was lean but not thin, obviously fit but not bulgy or misshapen like a bodybuilder. Perfect.

As she and her team had prepared the case, she’d found herself mooning over his mug shot. She’d never seen a mug shot that looked good--they were sort of like driver’s license pictures--but his was great, although he’d been booked into the jail at two a.m.

She remembered all that, but didn’t remember his scent.

She was titillated by the thought that James Li might be her captor. At the same time, she hated the possibility that he’d abducted and killed Sindie Keller. That kind of evil seemed out of character for Li. Difficult to understand, but he did run clean whorehouses.

What was she thinking? James Li was a pimp. Pimps weren’t clean. Period. He was a slimeball and a criminal and she was wicked, wanton and just plain wrong for wanting this, wanting him.

Behind the blindfold, she closed her eyes, forced to acknowledge that she did want him, had wanted him since she’d laid eyes on him, sleek and assured, gambling in his casino. Master of all he surveyed.

Except her.

But now she’d given herself to him. Intentionally or not, that was what she’d done.

The Jag’s leather seat squeaked as he leaned toward her. “Lift up,” he said.

“Wha-what?” She hated the quiver in her voice.

“Lift your butt up, off the seat.” He sounded amused, and she wanted to slap him, but couldn’t.

Instead, she obeyed, pushing her heels into the floor mat and her bound hands into the seat for leverage. His hand stroked her thigh, then tugged up her leather skirt, bunching it around her waist, leaving her exposed.

“Nice.” A finger ran from her tailbone, along her crack to her slit, sliding in the moisture. “Very nice. You may sit down. Keep your knees apart.”

She eased down to the seat. It clung to her pussy, which throbbed against the slick leather. She could smell her scent, the scent of an aroused woman, mingling with the rich aroma of the Jag’s leather interior. Her face heated with shame. It was as though she wasn’t a detective, wasn’t Liza Bowman, but had been reduced to a sex toy. Like Sindie Keller.

And she’d done it to herself. What did she think she was going to find out? She cleared her throat. “Umm, have you done this before?”

“Did I give you leave to speak?” His tone was calm, conversational, but she heard the threat that underlay his words.

Would her punish her for talking? “I wasn’t aware it was necessary,” she said rigidly.

“You’ve read that book. You know the score. Your mouth, your lips, have only one purpose now: to take my cock whenever and wherever I choose.” He leaned over her again and unbuttoned her blouse to caress her breasts, first weighing them in his hands, then plucking her nipples, one after the other. “These lovely little tits belong to me. Your cunt and ass are mine. You are mine, to use as I please or, even to share with others.”

Her body jolted.

“Oh, yes.” He laughed softly and started to drive.

Like what you read?
Click here to buy the e-book
Click here to return home