Bruised (Hunt Brothers Saga)

by Timothy S. Allen

  With that, the line died.

  I don’t think Edwin could have said anything more insulting to me.

  And yet, honestly, I could sincerely say I did not care. In fact, if anything, I felt profoundly grateful that we had all aired our dirty laundry.

  I knew we had not had our last encounter with Edwin Hunt. Mr. Hunt would not just let this go by and fall to the side. He would find out what deals MCH was working for and insert himself in there. He would continue to harass us with goons and mobsters until we... I don’t know, groveled at his feet or something? He would continue to waste his energy trying to make our lives living hells.

  But I had accomplished what I’d always set out to do, which was separate myself from Edwin Hunt.

  I really didn’t give a shit if I went by Chance Hunt or Chance Givens, my birth name. Edwin could not legally compel me to change my name, though I’m sure if I didn’t I would get more calls from Darth Vader-sounding goons. But I did give a shit that I had my brother by my side, and just like my last name, I knew Edwin could not take that away.

  Morgan would have his own fallout with Edwin to deal with. But for me? I had it just fine.

  I was free, finally, from Edwin Hunt. I was free to make my life as Chance.

  I was free.

  Chapter Sixteen

  By the time I landed back in New York City, I saw that shit had hit the fan hard for Morgan.

  His father wasn’t kidding when he said he was fired. Morgan, by the grace of all that was good, had a savings account and an investment account of about $50 million that was given to him when he turned eighteen, meaning we didn’t have to suddenly come up with money we didn’t have for the investment in Virtual Realty.

  But unlike me, who never considered Edwin Hunt a father, he had actually lost his father. He had lost his job. And he had probably lost his standing in the family.

  Undoubtedly, Edwin had already told a few dozen people about what had transpired and insisted that no one ever do business with us. That would probably hurt Morgan, but as a free man, I could not have cared less.

  I was Chance. Whether you wanted to call me Chance Hunt or Chance Givens didn’t make a difference; Chance did what he wanted to. He charmed women, he made good deals, and he did so with a level of honesty that would shock just about any old time New York businessman. Some might have gotten turned off by the bluntness of me, but there were at least two people who didn’t—one of whom I made a point of seeing that night.

  No, not Layla. Layla... was someone that I still had to figure things out with. If Claire was true to her word about not wanting something serious, that allowed me to see other women. And while I didn’t want to say out loud that I was ready to go back to Layla, nor did I think it was a good idea at this time, learning about her uncle had softened my view of her a bit. She had her own family drama to deal with and was not some manipulative cunt. There was more to our story that had not yet been written, I knew.

  But that could wait for later.

  For now, it was time for some good old hot, steamy, victorious sex with Claire.

  I didn’t even bother to stop by my apartment en route to Claire’s. She was more than willing to have me over, especially since I had none of the care and concern that I had had when I first came over. The animal had just gotten its largest kill to date, and it wanted to celebrate with his lioness.

  Oh, yes, Chance Hunt was celebrating his conquered hunt tonight.

  When I knocked on the door, Claire opened the door in a nightgown. She smiled at me. I came in, shut the door with my foot, and pressed her against the kitchen wall as we made out. Her nightgown came off with no effort. I tore off my clothes with nary a thought for if they got ripped or not. I could take care of that later. But this could not wait. I needed to be inside Claire now.

  I pushed my pants down, belt still on, as my hardness emerged. Claire reached down and began stroking it, but I wasn’t here for that. I turned her around, pressed her onto the kitchen table, and inserted myself.

  “Oh! Chance...”

  I just grabbed her hips and slammed mine into hers. I don’t know if she was expecting this, but she sure seemed to be enjoying the hell out of it—the way my hips pushed into her ass, the way her breasts flopped under her, the way the table shook and the entire floor seemed to move as if an earthquake had struck.

  Clothes littered the floor. I still had my pants around my ankles and my shoes on. I kicked them off as I continued to dig as deep as I could, feeling her tighten around me, her pussy so wet and warm. Oh, how she began pulsating. Oh, how she let out cries, saying my name like she was begging me to come in her. Oh, how she couldn’t control herself.

  Good. I wanted to control everything. Claire got pleasure out of this but not control—she was in my hands and my hands alone. There was no room for two people to decide how this went.

  When I’d had enough of her, I spun her around and pressed my mouth onto hers. I reached my fingers down inside her and aggressively fingered her, drawing heavy moans and a face so red I actually wondered for a second if she might pass out. I slowed down, but in a rare moment of aggression from her, she grabbed my hand and forced me to go back to the speed I was at. Needless to say, she didn’t have to do this twice for me.

  We stumbled our way to her couch, tumbling onto the body of it as she rode me. Oh, did she ride me like a woman possessed by a demon. I didn’t think Claire had this in her. She wasn’t like this, grinding her hips on mine, moving so aggressively I thought she might break me, even after I had made her come.

  Which, I soon realized, was what was happening at that moment as her nails dug into my pecs. She was sure to be leaving marks the next day, but like a warrior returning from battle with scars to prove his courage, I felt like I might just walk around shirtless all day to show what I had earned. She screamed and her hair turned into a hot mess, covering her face, just barely concealing her eyes.

  Oh, Claire McLendon!

  The tightening of her pussy around me started to push me to the edge, and I pulled out just in time to finish into her mouth. She eagerly swallowed me until I had nothing left inside, and when I finished, she came up, laughed, and kissed me.

  “Hi, Chance,” she said.

  It only occurred to me then I hadn’t even said a word when I walked in.

  “Oh, hi,” I said, laughing. “I guess I should have said something when I showed up, huh?”

  “Mmm, nah,” she said. “I knew it was you. And it was so fucking hot this way. Oh my God, do you know how long I’ve begged for a man to do that?”

  Too long, I suspect. But I was feeling awfully tired and just couldn’t say anything more. The flights, the night before, the raging, uncontrolled sex had finally come to a head. I could barely keep my eyes awake.

  “I guess it felt good,” was all I could muster out.

  “You’re telling me,” Claire said. “I needed this. One of our employees quit today. I don’t know how it’s going to work out.”

  I clammed up immediately. I hated when Claire did this. She needed to separate work and pleasure... or I needed to stop sleeping with her.

  After a round like that, though? There was no fucking way.

  “You have no idea, you and Morgan saved my company.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  But I was beginning to realize this went beyond just a simple evaluation of the company. This wasn’t just about if $500,000 covered 20 percent or 22 percent. This was literally the difference between them going under and them staying alive, possibly finding greater success at the end of the tunnel.

  The fact that an employee quit told me that if there was success to be had at the end of the tunnel, it was a long fucking tunnel to go. No longer could I safely say that our investment in Rising Sun was a smart one. It was only smart in so far as that it gave me practice before I reached out to Virtual Realty, but was that needed? Did we still need Rising Sun?

  The ghost of Edwin Hunt didn’t just haunt my day to day life
. It haunted my decision making. Some choices were easy, like how to treat other people.

  But ethics and what was right and what was wrong, I was realizing, was an awfully slippery slope. Maybe even Edwin had started this way—he’d been a good person who made a couple of questionable decisions, and that soon snowballed into even worse ones before making him the man he was today.

  I didn’t like the idea that I could disassociate myself from Edwin Hunt and still be like him.

  But I also didn’t like the idea of not doing anything with our investment that was not technically complete if I knew that it was, undeniably, a bad decision.

  “I like you, Chance,” Claire said. “You’re just what I need right now, and you’re an honest, good person.”

  I wanted to say that was true. I wanted to believe I lived up to that. And for right now, I could say I did.

  But would it remain the same in a month’s time? Could I still look myself in the mirror when it came time to deposit the funds into Claire’s account, knowing I was fucking over Morgan? And for that matter, could I handle the situation with her and Layla fairly without hurting one of them?

  I didn’t know the answer. But I did know that finding the answer was going to be a lot fucking harder than I had ever anticipated.

  Epilogue

  When I got home the next day, I was surprised to find Morgan sitting on my couch as if I had left him there.

  “You aren’t at your place?” I said. “And how did you get a key to my place?”

  “You gave it to me the night you got shitfaced hammered after the disaster with Burnson Investments,” he said. “You said that for what I did for you, I could have a key anytime I needed help from you. And, well...”

  “What the hell did Edwin Hunt do to you?”

  Morgan just laughed.

  “He was paying for my place,” he said. “Was. Then he got the leasing officer to kick me out and warned that if I tried to keep the place, he would destroy me with legal fees until I cried for mercy. I figured I could at least come here.”

  “Of course,” I said, but I was just feeling sick rage at Edwin Hunt. His only son! And he treated him like a piece of garbage to dispose of. “You and I are going to operate MCH out of his apartment.”

  “Good,” he said. “Between Rising Sun and Virtual Realty, we have quite the portfolio to start.”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, even though I knew only half of that was true.

  Morgan seemed to pick up on my hesitation, because he looked at me askance. My attention, though, was taken up by something else.

  Normally, I didn’t give a shit about Facebook other than to check it maybe once every blue moon or so. But today, a notification popped up containing a name I hadn’t seen in ages, a name that elicited old memories I thought I had left behind.

  “Chance?”

  I heard Morgan, but I ignored him. I opened up the friend request to see who it was, thinking that maybe it was a coincidence. Their name was common enough.

  But, no, it was definitely them.

  “Chance? What’s going on? What haven’t you told me?”

  Sarah Hill.

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  Also by Timothy S. Allen

  Hunt Brothers Saga

  Flawed

  Bruised