Conor Thames 2

by R. J. Lewis

  “Like the dark plumage on a raven, you have a similar darkness surrounding you.”

  He flipped her over and took her from behind, one hand fisted in her hair, his teeth biting along her shoulder.

  “You waited.”

  “I promised.”

  Eight years.

  Eight years waiting.

  “What a selfless little dove,” he groaned, fucking her harshly, in and out, in and out.

  “Take every inch of me,” he gritted out. Take it all but wash the filth off when we’re done.

  Because he was dirty.

  So fucking dirty.

  And he was touching her with his dirty cock and his dirty soul, and she deserved gentle.

  He didn’t come. He wasn’t ready to come. He wanted her taste in his mouth. He wanted her scent imprinted on his skin. He wanted her touch more than he wanted to breathe because her touch made it all bearable.

  He turned her over and buried his face between her legs, relearning what made her pulse all over again. He felt her writhe, felt her fingers digging into his scalp, and he watched her as her mouth parted and she fell apart, trembling through her pleasure.

  He pumped his dick, knowing he ought not to come inside her, and he didn’t have to pump long before plunging back inside her heat just before he came.

  He didn’t care.

  He should have cared.

  But he wanted his seed inside her.

  She lay on his chest, spent and sore, face flushed, body slick with sweat. She’d placed his hand on his chest beside her head and traced her finger along his open palm.

  “They say these lines tell your future,” she murmured, tracing over the thick lines along his palm.

  Thames stared at the ceiling, in a peaceful lull between sleep and consciousness.

  “What do mine say, dove?” he asked, quietly.

  “I don’t know,” she replied tiredly. “We can get palm readings, if you believe that sort of thing.”

  “Would you want to know, if you could?” he wondered more to himself.

  “Hmm.” She hummed lightly, thinking. “Isn’t that part of life, though, to be swept up with its surprises along the way?”

  “What if something bad happened?” he questioned, feeling his heart beat faster. “What if avoiding one little game could have stopped something very bad from happening?”

  She didn’t respond for some time, lost in thought. Then she muttered, “We are the sum of all our experiences. Good and bad, we learn from our mistakes. So how are we supposed to become who we are without the bad experiences, too?”

  To that, Thames said nothing.

  He let out a sigh and pulled her close. If he didn’t hold her tight enough, she might disappear.

  He might wake up in his cell, and this all would have been a dream.

  THE HOLE

  “25, 26, 27…”

  Max shook his head to clear it as Conor continued counting to 100.

  The figure Max thought he saw was gone now, and he was convinced it was all in his head. He glanced around, just to be sure. It was easy to see things in the bush – it was easy to see things in the dark in his room at night, too – and it made him a little uneasy.

  Jem’s words echoed in his head…

  You’re a baby, Max.

  Scared of everything.

  The Great Whiner.

  He blinked the tears away and steeled himself, feeling determined to prove them all wrong. He trudged further into the bush, until Conor’s voice was slightly muffled.

  As he spun around, frantic, trying to decide what tree to hide behind, something poked out of the ground, catching his attention.

  He stepped closer to it, making out what appeared to be a storm shelter. He’d seen these shelters in the movies; it was a place to hide out in just before a tornado swept through the land. Those movies always frightened him.

  Its steel doors were spread apart like open arms, inviting him in. He paused right over it, peering down into the darkness.

  Goosebumps trailed his arms, but as he looked up and around him, he felt alone as ever. It was just him, in the bush, leaves swaying over him, and in the distance was Conor’s voice, counting.

  “37, 38, 39…”

  He didn’t have long.

  They’d never suspect him to have the courage to be this far out. They’d never in their wildest dreams think he’d have the guts to wade into a storm shelter in the middle of the bush on this abandoned land.

  If he did this – if he hid well – they might respect him. They might not think of him as a baby –

  As the Great Whiner.

  Max sucked in a sharp breath, hating how much those words stung.

  With determined courage he’d never felt before, he stepped into the hole.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Charlotte

  The week flew by without incident.

  I was tempted to keep Penny at home for a few more days so she could spend more time with Conor, but he told me it was important she continue living her routine. I suspected maybe he needed alone time to adjust to his freedom, and he hadn’t gotten much of it with us around as often as we were. It couldn’t have been easy to feel enormous emotion after so long feeling nothing. The past two days he’d been more reserved than usual, locked inside his mind with faraway eyes.

  We got up early and ate pancakes for breakfast, and I was guzzling my coffee fiercely. I couldn’t believe Conor refused to drink any as he looked like he needed it more than me. He’d been up before me. I found him in the bathroom, standing in front of the sink, his hands clenching the counter. I noticed how white his knuckles looked, but I didn’t say anything. I ran my hand down his back, a soothing gesture in the hopes he’d turn and hold me.

  But he had just stood there, his eyes staring at a spot on the counter.

  I felt disturbed. I didn’t know what was wrong, couldn’t imagine what he was thinking to look the way he did, distraught and distant, as though the past had taken hold of him and lured him into a dark hole.

  Instead, I quietly said, “You want to help me get Penny ready for school, Conor?”

  That roused him out of his thoughts.

  He shadowed me as I dressed her and made her breakfast. When I took her out, she gave him a million kisses and hugged him tight. He shut his eyes, savouring that hug, looking like he wanted to hold her to him and never let go. My heart jumped watching their tender moment.

  I drove her to school. She was upset Conor didn’t come with us, but I tried to let her know he needed some time shut away from the world.

  “But doesn’t he want to be outside?” she asked.

  “Of course, but it takes time.”

  “Time,” she repeated slowly. “You hate time, Mommy.”

  I smiled, surprised by that comment. “I don’t hate time.”

  “Yes, you do,” she disagreed, staring at me like I was nuts. “You always said you hated it. I heard you. Every time you talked to Uncle Jem, you always said time was against you.”

  “You’re such an eavesdropper.”

  “I don’t try to be, and adult talk is boring.”

  I made a show of rolling my eyes. “Okay, fine, I may have said that, but I don’t mean it anymore.”

  “Because Daddy is back?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded now, smiling to herself. “I love Daddy. He’s nice and big and warm.”

  My heart melted. “He is the best.”

  Clutching her backpack now as we pulled up to the school, she said, “I get to finally tell Kane he’s out and now he doesn’t have to beat anyone up for being mean to me.”

  My lips parted in surprise. What in the fuck? “Kane…gets into trouble for you?”

  She nodded proudly. “Kane loves me, Mom.”

  I blinked at her. “Don’t give me a heart attack, Penny.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re too young for love, and your mother can only handle so much.”

  She giggl
ed. “Well, Kane and I love each other and that’s just the way it is. You don’t have to worry about it, Mommy.”

  What in God’s name…

  When did this girl learn about loving other boys? And why did it have to be Kane, goddammit?

  Coming to a stop in front of the school entrance, my grip on the steering wheel tightened. “You didn’t tell me that before, you know. I didn’t know Kane was fighting kids for being mean to you. I hope you’re not encouraging him to.”

  “No way, Mommy.”

  “We go to school to learn and make friends and be…” Be what? Normal? I didn’t know what advice I was trying to give. Her teacher had called me several times this last year to tell me Penny’s behaviour was getting better. Last year had been super rocky. She had several meltdowns, and some were physical. Kids were mean, and they seemed to gravitate to her. It had all seemed to stop when she got put into class this year with Kane, but I had no idea he had been fighting her battles for her.

  No wonder she was technically not in trouble as much these days.

  And that she was so happy.

  I’d been tempted to homeschool her a number of times when it was at its worst, but she pleaded that she liked going. It had been touch and go for a while there. I’d given it another shot this year, and lo and behold, she had shined.

  Because of Kane, it turned out.

  I worried my lip, wondering if this was going to escalate.

  Penny stared at me, waiting for me to continue, and I was suddenly aware of the line-up of angry parents waiting for me to move. One ass beeped at me. I raised an apologetic hand, though my middle finger twitched.

  “Be the best you, Penny,” I said as she opened the door to get out. “The best you!” I repeated. “Don’t hit anyone.”

  “I won’t, Mom.”

  “Smile.”

  “I will.”

  “Be nice.”

  She didn’t answer to that as she closed the door behind her and walked to the front doors. The cool wind whipped all around her, making her lose her balance. God, she was such a tiny fragile girl. But her soul…Oh man, her soul was fierce.

  As soon as she disappeared, I drove off, ignoring the nasty glares from the drivers behind me. Jesus, so it took you five seconds longer to get to school, fuckwad, build a bridge.

  Anyway, I shelved the whole Penny and Kane disaster to the back of my mind. I had too much on my plate as it was, I didn’t need two eight-year olds to fuck with my stress levels.

  They’re just eight.

  They’ll find other friends.

  This was just a phase.

  Noticing Conor had barely eaten this morning, I stopped at a drive-thru and picked up a sausage English muffin and coffee. He’d been off the caffeine wagon for years, and it was now my responsibility to get him hooked back on the drug.

  When I got home, I called out to him. He answered and I followed his voice to my office. Surprised to find him sitting behind my desk in just his briefs and wet hair, I shot him a playful smile.

  “Going over my stuff?” I teased at the door. “I promise it’s all safe. Ignore the report cards in the last drawer, Penny was a monster last year.”

  He didn’t look like he’d been rifling through my papers. He’d just been sitting there, his hands on the armrests, leaning back. His broad chest called out to me. It glistened from the water he hadn’t bothered to towel off. I swallowed at the tattoos I’d only seen in my dreams. It was hard not to get distracted when I was so freaking horny all the time because of him.

  “Just sitting here, dove,” he answered, his voice impossible to read. He looked at me with a soft smile, but his eyes looked reserved.

  I walked in, dangling the brown bag of food and coffee in each hand. “I’m back with treasures.”

  I bent over and set them on the table in front of him and this time his smile reached his eyes as he looked at the food and then me. “Feeding me like before?”

  Setting my palms face down on the table, I leaned over, cutting the distance as I murmured, “Old habits die hard.”

  “I’m not a dirty mess this time.”

  “No, but we can fix that.”

  “Tell me how.”

  “We can go to a car auction, and you can buy a piece of junk and fix her up.”

  He chuckled, his eyes lapping over my face now. “I think you’re just trying to get me back into those overalls.”

  I feigned dismay. “My intentions are innocent, I swear.”

  “The last thing you are is innocent.”

  “Can you blame me? I’m under the influence of a very sinful man.”

  “Hard to be a gentleman when I have eyes like yours pinning me down, dove.”

  I wet my lips whilst staring at his, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. God, just kiss me.

  He looked relaxed, staring at me, never cutting the distance to kiss me. It was stupid, but I felt a pang in my chest. He’d fucked me stupid for a week straight, and then ceased to give me intimacy the last two days. It was whiplash, and I was struggling, dying for his touch and the reassurance that fed that starved needy hole at the pit of me. The ball was in his court, he needed to figure things out because this must have been overwhelming, I knew that, but I couldn’t resist being human.

  Pulling away, I stood up straight and, in an effort to be casual, I showcased my office with a wave of my hand. “I haven’t had the chance to ask. What do you think of my workspace, Conor? It’s not as dapper as yours was, but I like to think it’s pretty chic.”

  He didn’t look around, just looked at me heavily when he answered, “It’s very you, Charlotte.”

  “Yeah? What does that entail?”

  “It’s clinical. A bunch of bookshelves, a desk, and a few nice lamps. You were always a minimalist.”

  I shrugged, biting my lip. “I’ve never been much of a decorator.”

  “I’m surprised you’re here, to be honest.”

  I gave him a questioning look. “How so?”

  This time he looked around, but his eyes barely registered the room. “I didn’t think you were a suburban girl. How much are you paying for this place?”

  “I’m not breaking my back for it, don’t worry,” I assured him, studying him intently before adding, “I’m renting it, Conor. I don’t actually own the house.”

  His gaze snapped back to mine. “You rent it?”

  “Yeah, Locke owns the house.”

  His curiosity took over his mild expression. “Why would he rent a house to you?”

  I kept it light because I noticed he was beginning to dig around. “Because ours burned down.”

  Ever since Locke left the house that day he’d stuck the shovel in the front yard, the topic of him was little. Maybe I was paranoid, but now that Locke was mentioned, I had the feeling Conor wanted to address what he overheard Megan say to me that first morning he was here. I wasn’t feeling all that prepared to answer. I turned away from him and wandered to the bookshelf, keeping my back to him. I felt his heavy stare on me, and I swallowed my nerves away.

  If he asked, I’d answer. Simple as that.

  But he remained mute, watching me, probably internally questioning what I wasn’t saying.

  I idly stared at the books on my shelves, pretending to be occupied, though I was scrambling to form words. Without Penny or Megan around to fill the silence, without recent intimacy to chase away my insecurities, I felt strange around him. There was a deep heaviness in the air, and I didn’t know how to alleviate it.

  See, whiplash.

  I heard him leave the chair, though I kept myself from looking. He came up to me, his movements quiet. I shut my eyes when I felt his front press against my back. His head dipped to my shoulder, and he ran his nose along the curve of my neck and up to the back of my ear. He smelled of shampoo and body wash and…him. He had his own raw scent, the one he left behind in his clothes and our sheets. I wondered if I would ever tell him how many nights I’d spent hugging his scent to my chest, crying into the
m, begging for him to be there with me. I could track that scent like a greyhound, it was catalogued into my brain, never to be forgotten.

  His large hands ran down my sides, exploring my body. Oh, yes, thank God. I stood still, letting him roam free. I needed his touch more than I needed air. I wanted him in me, all over me, breathing me in. I needed to feel wanted and desired after so many years of feeling neither things.

  Human me was weak.

  “You look beautiful today, Charlotte,” he whispered, his hot breaths warming my skin.

  I lapped up his compliment greedily, unable to resist pressing my ass into him. He made a groaning sound deep in his chest.

  “And still wearing skirts,” he added, trailing his fingers beneath the hem of my leather black skirt. It felt good to finally get back into the swing of my routine and show off my wardrobe. I looked like a bum all week. “Your legs drive me crazy.”

  I dressed in office clothes, even when I was a no show at Locke’s firm. I loved pencil skirts and silky, button up blouses. I loved dangling bracelets, high heels and red lipstick. I’d never cared when eyes lingered on me longer. But I cared more than anything what Conor thought of me.

  He hiked my skirt up and slowly roamed his hands between my legs. His thumbs traced the fabric of my panties, lightly brushing over my slit. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as sparks shot up my body. He was driving me crazy, trekking slowly, taking his time before finally running a hand down the front of my thong. He cupped my sex whole, making me gasp at the sudden move, and then he didn’t move. He went still for so long, his warm hand adding the perfect amount of pressure against me.

  “Is this mine, dove?” His voice was low, demanding, almost harsh in its tone.

  I could hardly stand. My legs felt wobbly. I forced myself to nod, knowing he could feel it.

  “Say it,” he demanded, gruffly.

  “It’s yours,” I whispered, blinking rapidly as I tried to understand where this was coming from.