Dane

by Webster, K

  “You’re fucking the kid.” His nostrils flare as his grin grows wider.

  I crack my neck, glance out at the thickening dusting of snow outside, before regarding him with an even expression. “Whatever, man.”

  “I knew it. I had an assumption when you brought in a walking, talking Hollister-looking model, but damn, does it feel good to be right.”

  The waitress brings us our beers and a basket of onion rings.

  I chug down half my beer in one gulp before shrugging at him. “I’m doing what I want for a change.”

  He nods. “Not judging.”

  Letting out a heavy sigh, I lean forward, feeling like a gossipy girl. “I don’t know what I’m fucking doing, August. I met him at the hotel bar Friday night at the Christmas party and discovered he works for me on Monday.” I rub at the tension in the back of my neck. “We just really hit it off.”

  August smirks. “By hit it off, you mean you fucked the good-looking kid all weekend. Got a taste for a man and decided you’d have the whole damn meal?”

  Shaking my head, I flip him off. “Thanks for oversimplifying the most unusual but fucking awesome time in my life. Great friend you are.”

  He snorts. “I’m not the friend who strokes your ego and strokes your cock. That’s what Max is for.”

  I sip my beer and can’t help but smile at his stupid ass. “You know what happened the last time I tried a move on Max.”

  And he does. That drunken night, I spilled to August about how my best friend broke my fucking heart when he nearly broke my face.

  “Max?” Nick asks, as he slides into the booth beside me.

  “Judge Rowe,” August blurts out like a fucking teenage girl. “You know him?”

  Nick’s brown eyes dart to mine. “I met his wife earlier today.”

  “Tell us more,” August urges me, wickedness gleaming in his green eyes. I’ll get his ass back later for this.

  “Back when we were in college, I thought Max might be into me like I was into him. We were drunk, I tried to kiss him, he tried to kill me. After he nearly knocked my ass out, we got over it, and it never happened again. He’s still my best friend,” I explain, irritated at August for bringing it up.

  “What a dick,” Nick grunts out, his gaze softening slightly.

  “Rowe is a good guy,” I defend. “He just doesn’t swing that way. It was my mistake. I was testing out my sexuality, and apparently testing it out on your heterosexual best friend was a bad idea.”

  “He shouldn’t have hit you, though,” Nick argues, his brown eyes turning sharp.

  “If Max were my best friend, I’d have knocked him back in the fucking skull,” August offers, his own bitterness bubbling up with his words.

  Of course these two knuckleheads would agree on this. A best friend bashing party. Fucking wonderful. But, considering August hates everyone and is choosing to side with my guy, I consider this a win in some way. My grin must give me away because August rolls his eyes.

  “Nick took the Bryant case. I told him to come to you if he has any problems or questions,” I say, changing the subject.

  The waitress delivers our burgers and we spend the next half hour discussing the case. August looks thirsty for blood whereas Nick looks like he might throw up. Sometimes these cases wear you down. I thought handling divorces would be less stressful, but it’s not any easier than the rest. Almost always, my job consists of me stepping between two squabbling people dead set on destroying each other, and urging them to settle on something fairly. It’s never that simple.

  “I researched the new home they’d been placed in,” Nick says, after polishing off his burger. “It didn’t yield much results.”

  “Did you talk to Enzo? He’s the case worker on that one, right?” August asks.

  Nick shakes his head. “Not yet, but I’m going to reach out to him.”

  I don’t remind Nick that his job is to prosecute the foster mom who abused those children. Their safety and whereabouts isn’t attorney privilege information. His job is to defend the innocent and bring the hammer down on the guilty.

  “Well, I gotta get the hell out of here,” August says. “I have a mountain of shit to do and need to leave by three.” He pulls out some cash and I wave it off.

  “I’ve got lunch. But your surly ass better show up for the New Years party in a few weeks. What the hell was so much more important than our office Christmas party?” I demand as I hand the waitress my card.

  “Everything,” August says with a shrug. “I had something better to do.”

  “Invite her,” I say, grinning. “Maybe you’ll actually come.”

  Nick snorts.

  “Oh, I’ll be coming all right,” August retorts.

  “Whatever. Just make sure you show up or I’ll come find your ass. See you around the office,” I call out.

  He’s already stalking out of the restaurant, waving over his shoulder.

  “Asshole,” I grumble.

  Nick chuckles. “And you’re friends with him. What does that say about you?”

  I nudge him with my shoulder. “Maybe I like taking in the mean strays. I have a soft spot for growly biters, it would seem.”

  His brown eyes darken. “You make this really damn hard to fight,” he complains.

  Sliding my palm over his thigh, I grip his thick muscle through his slacks. “Nobody’s asking you to resist.”

  He frowns, turning his head from me. I lean in and nip at his throat. A low groan rumbles from him and his face snaps back to meet mine. Since he’s feeling torn, I make the move. I lean forward until our lips meet. I kiss him firmly and stake my claim. With a sigh, he gives in, opening his mouth for me. Our tongues lash at each other as if they are at war. Just like in the courtroom, I prefer to win.

  And I will win this moody motherfucker over.

  This time, I drive into the parking garage since I have more work to do. I pull into a spot and Nick lets out a low whistle.

  “Who the fuck is compensating for a small dick?” he asks as he admires the cherry red and chrome Jaguar F-Type.

  “August, and he’s got a big dick. It’s his present to himself for having to deal with his bitch ex-wife’s cheating.”

  “You’ve seen his dick?” he challenges, a smirk on his lips that are still red from our heated kiss in the restaurant.

  “Nah, but man, have I heard stories around the office.”

  He smiles but then wipes it away as he reaches for the car door handle. I grip his thigh, stopping him from leaving.

  “This past weekend was the best of my life,” I admit, my voice husky. “And I’m not ready for it to end.”

  Nick scowls and it makes me want to kiss that pissy look right off his face. “We can’t work. You know this.”

  “It’s not the eighties anymore, man. Guys fuck each other. It’s a thing. I thought I’d be the one with issues here, but you’re suddenly embarrassed about what we have going on?” I ask, hating the way my stomach tightens with nerves.

  His gaze hardens. “We fucked over the weekend. That’s the only thing we have going on.”

  The biting sting of rejection is all that’s left long after he exits my car. But instead of letting his grumpy ass push me away so easily, I text him my address and then a note to go along with it.

  Me: When you get tired of lying to yourself, here’s where I’ll be.

  He doesn’t respond.

  A week later…

  I thought avoiding Dane would be difficult. That maybe he’d pressure me and pry. He did nothing like that. Just let me settle in my job and flashed me the occasional smoldering grin. So many days, I wanted to take him up on that offer. Drive over to his house and fuck his brains out.

  But each day, long after dark, I’d pack my messenger bag full of files and take my not-so-merry ass home. Home to where I still live with my parents and sister. It’s another thing held high over my head. Dad would pay for college, give me a car, and keep my checking account cushy. All I had to do w
as follow his plan.

  Now, I’m so fucking tired of his plan, I want to scream. I spent my lunch hour looking for apartments because there’s no way I can spend another minute at home watching Mom text all night with her secret boyfriend, or my dad strut around like he’s the best father in the world all the time, knowing he’s already fucked half that firm. Even Christina is fake. Mom had a hand in her beauty pageant days, then her cheerleading days, and now her modeling days. Christina has been molded into perfection, just like their eldest son.

  I need something real.

  Like him.

  I skipped the political benefit he wanted me to go to. I figured it was a bad idea. A few drinks in me and I’d end up in his bed again. Instead, I sat at home and got high.

  “Bubs?” Christina calls out when I walk in the house.

  I find her sitting at the bar in the kitchen, frowning at her phone. “What’s up?”

  “It’s frozen.” My sister, with her big brown eyes and silky brown hair, was once sweet and curious. Now, she’s always so stiff and forced. She’ll be a plastic Barbie just like Mom in no time. Fucking sad, really.

  “Let me see it,” I grunt, reaching out for her precious lifeline that never leaves her hand.

  “I’m sure it’s just hung up and it’ll start working again.” Her cheeks turn pink as she mashes some buttons.

  “Did you try restarting it?”

  Her lip curls up. “I am right in the middle of editing my photo for Instagram. I’ll lose the changes. I can’t restart it.”

  “Restart it.”

  “No.”

  “Chris, dammit, restart the phone.”

  “No.”

  Just like when we were younger, I use my size to my advantage. I snag her phone and hold it up in the air so I can restart it. She squeals and swipes the air, trying to get it. Before the screen goes dark, I get a glimpse of a text from Eli.

  “Who’s Eli?” I ask as the phone restarts.

  Her cheeks blaze red. “None of your business, asshole.”

  I laugh and slap her phone back into her palm. “Where’s Mom?”

  “Shopping,” she says absently as she stares at her screen.

  “Hmmm,” I rumble. “I’m moving out.”

  She doesn’t look up but she does smile. For her camera. My sister holds out her arm and snaps a pic. Jesus, kids these days are obsessed with their phones.

  “Did you hear me?”

  She nods and taps away, completely not hearing what I’m saying.

  “Right, you’re welcome for fixing your phone.” I stalk out of the kitchen and walk through our home. It’s cold and too clean. Disturbingly so. Mom can’t handle dust. Says she’s allergic, although she’s never proven as much. Our house cleaner, Lin, comes three times a week and Mom still bitches about it being dusty.

  Even my room must remain immaculate. Sterile gray walls. Always freshly vacuumed carpets. Nothing out of place.

  Sure enough, when I push into my room, the socks I’d left on the floor are gone. The change on my dresser has been removed. The laptop I’d been working on, that was strewn across the floor, has been placed neatly in a box and tucked under a chair.

  I need to get the fuck out of here.

  With a heavy sigh, I drop my messenger bag on the floor and strip along the way to the shower. Lin will be disappointed at having to clean up after me. Right now, I don’t care. I turn on the hot shower and then step inside. And just like every night this week, I think of him.

  Dane Alexander.

  Too fucking hot for his own good.

  Bitterness roils in my stomach. Had I just gone off and done what I’d wanted to for college, maybe I’d still have met him through Dad. I could have dated him like normal. I’m sure we’d still have hit it off, no matter where we met.

  But that didn’t happen.

  I met the most untouchable guy I could.

  Dark grayish-blue eyes. Full lips. Just enough facial hair to scratch my lips when we kiss but not enough to hold onto. I groan as my dick aches for attention. Stroke after stroke, I imagine myself pumping into his tight virgin ass. He’d felt amazing. And then, when he ravaged me, he was feral and uncontained. I loved the way he lost himself inside me. Despite what I’d told him, that I prefer to do the fucking, I actually really enjoyed being on the receiving end.

  Cum jets out of me suddenly as I let out a sharp hiss of air. My climax is good but the lingering burn in my gut remains. It’s not just about the sex. It’s about the conversation and how that big fucker liked to cuddle. Just wrapped his possessive arm around me and hugged me to him.

  I could really use a fucking hug right now.

  Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I dry off and dress in a pair of sweats. I lounge on my bed as I pour through the Bryant file. I’d spoken to Enzo. At least their caseworker was adamant about placing them someplace safer this time—he’d been infuriated. That made two of us. I was glad that he was feeding me information about the kids. Something about those two made me feel so fucking sorry for them.

  I guess I have a soft spot for kids too, like Judge Rowe.

  Irritation boils in my stomach. The same judge who punched his best friend for making a move. If I ever meet this guy, I can’t say I’ll be sucking up to him like Dad wants. I’ll probably want to kick his ass.

  I’m lost in my notes when my bedroom door flings open. Dad stumbles in, drunk. More and more after work, he gets plastered. Comes home with lipstick on his collar, stinking of pussy, and acts like a complete asshole. Thank God Christina is never around for this shit. It’s like he saves it all for his son.

  “What?” I bark out.

  He glowers. “Don’t you what me, boy.”

  I give him a hard stare. “Need something, dear father?” I sneer, my voice condescendingly sweet.

  He bumps into my end table and sends the lamp thumping to the carpet. Then, his hands are on my shoulders, yanking me out of the bed.

  “What the fuck?” I roar, shoving him from me.

  His drunk ass slams against the wall. Bloodshot eyes meet mine as he snarls, “I told you not to embarrass me.”

  “I always seem to embarrass you, Dad. What did I do this time?” I mock.

  “Missy said she saw you flirting at the party with Dane. Then, Susan said you went to lunch with him last week. Are you…” Disgust makes him shudder. “Are you fucking him?”

  “No,” I snap. “Not that it’s any of your business who I fuck.”

  “It is my business,” he roars. “My reputation is on the line. My whore son is ruining everything!”

  I growl as I stalk over to him. “You’re calling me the whore? You fuck anyone who isn’t Mom!”

  Crack!

  His right hook, just like the last time we fought two months ago, comes out of nowhere. My head snaps to the side as pain radiates across my face. That motherfucker. I hold back because I don’t know what he’d do. I certainly don’t need him telling my mom and sister I kicked his ass. No telling what kind of story he’d spin.

  “Get out of my room,” I hiss, rubbing my jaw.

  Fury radiates from him. “No, you cock-sucking princess, you get out of my house. Handout time is over.”

  My nostrils flare as anger overwhelms me. “Gladly, motherfucker.”

  He picks up the remote control on the dresser and throws it at me. It hits me in the mouth. Pain bursts from my lip as I stare at him in shock. Who is this man? What kind of dick pushes around his kid?

  I could push back.

  But then it makes me just like him.

  I’m nothing like that asshole.

  Blood rushes from my lip and drips to the floor. Lin will have a helluva time getting the stain out.

  “I want you to quit. I don’t want to see your fruity ass anymore,” Dad mumbles, his words thick and sludgy from being drunk.

  “I’ll leave, but I’m not quitting,” I bite back. “See you around, Chandler.”

  His face is red. He sends a fist through my wa
ll, the drywall exploding upon impact. With a jerk, he pulls his hand away and stalks out of the room.

  I let out a heavy sigh of relief.

  Time to get the fuck out of here.

  “Another one, hot stuff?” the bartender asks.

  She’s cute. Tall and thin. Bright pink hair. I’d fuck her if I were into chicks. But I’m not. I’m into dicks. One in particular.

  “Briiing it,” I slur out.

  Her brow lifts and she smiles. “One more and you’re cut off, handsome.”

  “Babe,” I murmur. “Babe.”

  She wiggles her ass as she makes the drink. “Yeah, handsome?”

  “I’m Nick. Nick is into dicks. I’d fuck you if I were into chicks. Nick isn’t into chicks. Dicks.” I scratch my jaw and nearly fall off the stool. “Get it?”

  She snorts with laughter as she sets down a shot. “Last one.”

  “You’re bossy. Like Dane. Dane is bossy.”

  “Dane’s your ‘dick’?”

  I nod like a bobblehead and then knock back my shot. She takes my phone from me and scrolls through it. I watch her, my eyes drooping. Then, she sets it back down before making another drink.

  “My dad’s a dick,” I reveal. “Not a good dick. An asshole dick.”

  She laughs. “Isn’t everyone’s dad a dick?”

  “You got a point there. Most of them are,” I murmur.

  She sets a glass of ice water down, and I look at it before bringing my gaze up to meet hers.

  “Oh no, handsome,” she says. “Those puppy dog eyes don’t work on me, now that I know we’re not hooking up. You get water because your ass is drunk. Drink all this water and I might give you some coffee. Be a good boy.”

  I flip her off but chuckle. My eyes feel heavy. It’s late, on a work night. I should be figuring out where the fuck I’m going after this. Maybe a little nap will clear my head. The bar top is cool against my cheek. From down at the other end of the bar, some guy watches me like I’m pitiful.

  Maybe I am.

  Fuck.

  Hell yeah, I am.

  As fucking pitiful as they come.