by S. J. Bishop
It was close to midnight by the time Tito dropped us back off at Law’s apartment, telling Law, “I hope I don’t have to see you for a little while! You stay out of trouble, and focus on your game. I have money on you this week!”
As the car drove off, Law and I stood outside the hotel. Law took my hand in his again and met my eyes with his too-beautiful, turquoise gaze. I swear, a girl could lose herself in those eyes and never be able to find her way out. “Do you want me to take you back to your mother’s?” he asked softly.
I shook my head. No. I didn’t want to go back there.
“Do you want to come up?” he asked, and his voice held a wealth of meaning. Did I want to go upstairs with him? Yes. I’d wanted him since the last time I’d had him.
Together, we walked in and took the elevator up to his apartment. This time, we didn’t touch, and the tension was electric. By the time we entered his apartment, my skin was singing, begging for his hands.
Law walked around the apartment, turning off overhead lights and turning on lamps, filling the sumptuous apartment with a golden glow. When he straightened and faced me, his face was all shadows.
One by one, he undid the buttons on his shirt, revealing inch after slow inch of skin and that tattoo that told anyone who cared to look: under his skin, he was iron. He shucked his shirt and stood there without it, all pale brown skin and rippling muscle. My mouth watered and my body responded like a sailor to the siren’s call of his body. I didn’t even realized I’d crossed the room until my hands were smoothing themselves over the expanse of his chest and his mouth came down to claim mine.
Fire erupted inside me, a burning so sharp I nearly doubled over with it. I moaned into his mouth as his fingers tangled in my hair, holding my head still while he kissed me slowly, deliberately, each thrust of his tongue shooting pangs of desire from my lips straight to my groin. I arched my back, pressing my hips into his and feeling him bulge through his pants.
“Law,” I panted against his mouth.
“Tell me you want me.” Law’s voice was raspy with need, his hand fisted in my shirt, and he tugged, sending the buttons scattering.
“I want you,” I moaned. “Oh god, I want you!”
“Tell me you’ve never wanted anyone like you’ve wanted me.”
“No one like you,” I said as he unclasped my bra and freed my breasts. “God, I want you inside me!”
“Soon,” said Law, his hot mouth coming down, his teeth finding my nipple and biting until I cried out, delighting in that sharp point where pleasure and pain are the same.
Then his mouth was on mine again, and I felt his hands near my waist, unbuckling his belt and freeing himself.
I felt him, hot against my hip, and then his hand was in my hair, pushing me down onto my knees. His cock bobbed in front of my face, and I opened my mouth and took the thick head of him inside. Law threw back his head as I took him in deeper and sucked hard, my tongue sliding down the underside of his shaft.
His hands in my hair, Law controlled the motion, drawing me slowly up and then down the length of him. He was too big to fit entirely in my mouth, and when I could feel him swelling against my tongue, he pulled out. Then he was tugging me to my feet, pressing me down onto the couch, sliding my shorts and panties off, and kneeling between my thighs.
I cried out as his mouth closed hotly over my clitoris, his tongue laving the sensitive peak while his finger slid inside and found me drenched.
“Good girl,” he murmured against my thigh and then went back to feasting. I writhed against him, tilting my hips toward his mouth as his tongue probed inside me, driving me wild – driving me to the brink of orgasm. And then he pulled back. I was gasping as he slid onto the couch, grabbed my hips, and tugged me atop him.
I didn’t need any prodding. I straddled him, grabbed his hard, thick length, and guided it inside me, crying out at the sensation of fullness. Inch by slow inch, I impaled myself on him. Law was swearing, the cords standing out in his neck. And only when he was fully seated, his head nudging at my cervix, did he breathe. His eyes opened, and he speared me with that intense gaze. I shifted my hips, ready to ride him, but his hands came out and caught me, stilled me. I might be on top, but he was still in control.
Holding me still, he tilted his hips, sliding out and then in, long and so slowly that I cursed, whimpered, and tried to tug against his grasp, but he held me still and did it again. We would follow his rhythm, and only when I relaxed, when I began to follow his pace, did he let me go, let me grind into him. I came fast and so hard that I all but collapsed atop him, spasming as pleasure shot through me, over and over.
But Law wasn’t done. He forced my head up and took my lips again in a brutal kiss.
“Mine,” he whispered against my lips, and the next thing I knew, he’d pulled out of me and was spinning me so that my back was to him.
Reaching around, he guided himself back in, and I cried out as his palm grazed my clit, as he hit a whole new spot inside me.
Then his thrusting picked up; the friction built to a desperate tempo.
“Law,” I sobbed. “I can’t.”
“You will,” he said, flexing his hips, his palm pressing against my flesh. I was sobbing now, the pressure building out of my control. I rode him hard, my ass slapping against his thighs.
“Fuck!” he roared, and I screamed as my orgasm exploded on me even stronger than before, obliterating me. Inside, Law pulsed hotly, his hands holding my hips to him, grinding upward as if to get even further inside.
When I came back to earth, when my heart stopped pounding in my ears, I was sagged atop him and his hands were rubbing my thighs.
“No one but me,” he whispered, his cock twitching inside me. “No one.”
No. There would never be another lover like Law. But this night changed nothing. It just made tomorrow that much harder.
27
Law
Gwen spent the night in my arms, and this time, I stayed in bed until she woke up. She was shy when she met my gaze, but she smiled when I offered to make her breakfast.
Andre had texted early that morning to say that he was happy to drop Nikki off on his way to practice, so I had a few hours with Gwen to myself.
I set out making omelets and couldn’t help but feel smug when Gwen came out wearing one of my shirts. She smiled at me as she sat down at the kitchen island. “You destroyed mine,” she said.
I shrugged. “I’m not sorry.” I took a deep breath. “Gwen, I have a proposition for you.”
Gwen stiffened, but she inclined her head, willing to listen, so I continued. “Why not move down to Miami? Why not stay with me for a little bit? You, me, and Nikki. Nikki will have a mother figure and a father figure. I know it’s what Mia and Eric would have wanted for her…”
“Law,” Gwen interrupted gently. “After everything that has happened this week… I can’t raise Nikki around this, and I can’t just pick up my life and move it down to Miami. I have a job in Chicago, and an apartment. Nikki will be fine in Chicago. Your offer is a sweet one, Law. But I’m going back home. I hope you’ll visit us.”
“Visit…” Not the words I wanted to hear. Had last night meant absolutely nothing to her? “Gwen, you’re all alone in Chicago. Here, Nikki has family. And I know you don’t like my family, and we can talk about that, but your mother is here, my mother is here, Nikki’s great uncles and aunts are here...” I shook my head, trying to tamp down my frustration. “I thought that if this whole week was proof of anything, it’s that I’m responsible, that I can take care of you, that you have the protection of my family – that they’re not all bad.” I waved my hand around my apartment. “There’s plenty of space here for you.”
“Law…” Her voice told me she was going to let me down gently. But I refused to be denied. “Gwen, Nikki is a Henry. She’s my brother’s daughter, and she’s my responsibility! You can’t take her away from her family!” Fuck, but I was losing my cool. The thought of Eric’s daughter in Ch
icago, the thought of Gwen returning to Chicago, was undoing me.
But Gwen was shaking her head. Adamant. “No, Law…”
“She’s a Henry, Gwen!” I was shouting.
“She’s not a Henry!” Gwen’s voice rang loudly over the kitchen. My insides went suddenly cold, and I reached down, turned the burner off, and put the spatula down.
Gwen was shaking her head violently. “I’m sorry…”
“What do you mean she’s not a Henry?”
Gwen looked miserable; she looked like she was about to cry. She took a deep breath, and I could hear it catch in her throat. “Mia was cheating on Eric. She was cheating on Eric with her high school boyfriend, Val Solano. When Nikki was born, Mia did a DNA test. Nikki isn’t Eric’s daughter. She’s Val’s daughter.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit. I have the papers.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Law, please…” Gwen’s voice broke, but I was beyond listening to her beg. Not Eric’s?! The fuck she wasn’t!
“What kind of shit are you trying to pull, Gwen!?” I couldn’t seem to stop my voice from rising. Nikki was Eric’s daughter. Of course she was Eric’s daughter.
“I’m not pulling anything,” said Gwen. “I’m sorry. And if you still want to be a part of Nikki’s life, of course you can come and visit us in Chicago. But she’s coming with me, and you can’t sue for custody, Law, because you have no legal grounds…”
“Get out.” I said.
Gwen’s jaw dropped, and her eyes went wide. “Law, please, I don’t want to leave like this…”
“Get. Out.” I said, rage burning inside me unlike anything I’d ever felt. I’d buried my brother with her harlot sister, and she knew – she’d known the whole time – that Mia had been unfaithful, that Nikki wasn’t Eric’s daughter…
“Get out!” I roared.
Gwen left.
28
Gwen
Nikki wouldn’t stop screaming. Twice, my next-door neighbor had come by and offered barely civil advice as to how to quiet her. There was nothing I could do. Nikki had picked up a cold in daycare, and she was miserable and still screaming for her mother.
I understood how she felt. I’d never been more miserable in my entire life. In my dreams, I still saw Law’s face when I’d told him that Nikki wasn’t Eric’s daughter. It was like someone had stabbed him in the stomach. He’d looked at me with such anger, such sorrow.
I’d returned to my mother’s, and Law must have told Andre because the lineman had dropped Nikki off there, and he’d looked concerned. “Whatever it is,” he said, “I hope it’s reparable. I’ve never heard him like that. He sounded lifeless.”
I wouldn’t know how he sounded. He hadn’t spoken to me since, and he wasn’t going to. I’d hurt him again, and that was the end for him.
For me? I was in hell. Nikki was unhappy, and she was acting out. She threw her food, she broke her toys, and she said she hated me. I’d worked with children like Nikki before. I knew she’d come around, but when it’s your own flesh and blood telling you they hate you… She wouldn’t go to bed; she wouldn’t stay asleep. Daycare had called to tell me that she had bitten another kid. Between Nikki and my day job, I was beginning to feel like the world’s most terrible human being. I was at my wit’s end.
I’d messaged Law a week ago, telling him, again, that I was sorry. Telling him that Nikki was asking after him and that if he wanted to visit, he was welcome. I had hoped to hear back from him. My heart was hurting for him. But I got nothing in return.
Law had warned me. It’s better to be around family, he’d said. But I hadn’t believed him. I hadn’t been able to get away from my mother soon enough, and now, I would give anything for her to show up and sit with Nikki while I went out and had a stiff drink. I would give anything for Law to walk through that door.
I stared at the door as if he might. It remained closed. I wasn’t in Miami anymore. I was in Chicago, where it was windy and cold, where my sick two-year-old was gearing up for yet another tantrum.
29
Law
The minute we touched down in Chicago, Andre cornered me to see if I wanted to go to La Voile’s for a tasting menu. We were in town to play the Bears, but the game wasn’t until tomorrow, so I agreed to dinner.
As we sat down in a corner booth together, Andre joked, “What a hot date!”
I smiled at him and unfolded my napkin. I’d never been to La Voile, but Andre swore by it. I was willing to give it a chance. Plus, Andre could carry an entire conversation himself, so I didn’t have to try so hard. That was just fine with me. Since Eric’s death, since Gwen’s betrayal (yes, to me it was a betrayal), and since Nikki’s departure, I’d found very little worth talking about. I woke up, I ate, I trained, and I played football.
The waitress came and delivered the first course. I stared at it. “If I end up chewing on porcupine,” I muttered, spearing a bite of a dark, mystery cube on my fork.
“Hey, can I ask you a question?” said Andre, leaning in. “You haven’t been yourself this last month, man. And I know you don’t like to talk about shit, but you’re seeming extra repressed recently…”
Did he invite me to dinner to play shrink? Whatever I was eating was salty and strange. I swallowed it and gave Andre a look that I hoped would warn him off of the subject of my mental health. No such luck.
“Kim thinks it has to do with that Gwen girl. And we haven’t seen Nikki in ages… what’s going on, man?”
“Nothing I want to talk about.”
The waitress took away the mystery meat and sat down a salad with roasted beets, pistachios, and a few other things that looked a bit more edible. I picked at it with a fork.
“I asked Mac about her,” said Andre. “He told me about your history.”
Fuck. “Mac’s got a big mouth.” When the hell did he have time to talk to Mac? Mac was back in Boston. Of course. We’d played the Patriots just last week. Got our asses handed to us (their quarterback, Dash Barnes, was that good).
“He said you dated in college, and that she’s Nikki’s aunt…”
Andre waited. It was clear that he wasn’t going to speak again until I said something. What did I have to lose? I sighed and related the whole Mia and Eric story – leaving out the bit where Mia was a whore behind my brother’s back. When Gwen had left Miami, I’d done a bit of casual investigating. Val Solano had no idea that Nikki was his. I planned on keeping it that way.
“You guys looked pretty close when you stopped by my house,” said Andre.
“We were fucking again; is that what you wanted to hear?” I snapped.
“And what happened?” asked Andre, softly.
“She moved back home. Took Nikki with her.”
“And you just…let her go?”
I shrugged.
“I think you should tell me the whole story,” said Andre, slowly. “We’ve got eight courses, man, so we’ve got time.”
I took a deep breath. Where the fuck did I even start this story?
“How about you tell me why you two broke up the first time?” Andre suggested. So I started there.
“…and I asked if she wanted to stay in Miami, and she basically threw the offer back in my face,” I finished. The sixth course had just arrived, and Andre was looking at me like I was speaking in Greek.
“What?” I asked. I was feeling frayed around the edges.
“Well, of course she wouldn’t want to raise Nikki in Miami! Shit. After all that happened?! The kid got kidnapped right out from under her, and apparently, she still owes that other guy four hundred Gs… I’d get my kids the fuck outta there too. Can’t blame her for that.”
I blinked at him.
“Listen, Law, maybe you grew up with your uncles showing up to Christmas dinner and leaving their sawed-off shotguns on the coat stand, but most people don’t experience kidnappings, threats, guns, and deaths in the span of a few days. No wonder she took
Nikki away.”
“Please,” I muttered. “Like it’s any better in Chicago…”
Andre gave me a look, and I shrugged.
“I think you’re being ridiculous, personally,” said Andre. “Sounds like she basically gave you an invitation for a booty call while you’re here. If she were really done with you, she wouldn’t have told you to come visit her. And she wouldn’t have texted you, either. And honestly, you can’t expect her to fuck you a few times and then uproot her life to be near you. That’s a bit romantic, even for you.”
“You’re being very helpful,” I told him, my words dripping with sarcasm.
“But honestly,” Andre said, his mouth full of steak, “if you really want Gwen, and if you want to be a part of your niece’s life, you might just try and get over yourself. Go visit her. Say hi to your niece. And give her a big squeeze from ole Uncle Andre.”
30
Gwen
We were both crying now. Nikki wouldn’t get up off of the floor, and when I’d tried to pick her up, she’d screamed harder and tried to bite me. I was so tired, so frustrated, and so sick of these tantrums, of the screaming!
The dinner I’d spent forty minutes making was untouched on the table. I’d spent the entire day working with an eight-year-old who had tried to commit suicide. I just wanted a glass of wine, some quiet, and some time to decompress and shake off the terrors of the day. But Nikki wouldn’t stop screaming.
It was either yell at the kid or cry, so I’d collapsed against the wall, tears streaming down my face. That was when someone knocked on the door.