Legal Heirs - Box Set Edition: Books 5-8 (Surrendering Charlotte Chronicles)

by Lee, Kimball

“The Windsor Court, please,” Atticus told the driver when they’d finished their meal and scooted into the backseat of the cab. The rain had taken on a torrential quality as midnight approached, and the girls had sobered up and stared out the windows at the wet world passing by. “We’ll see you in the morning, or maybe more like around lunch… or dinner,” Atticus said, as he caught Skyler up in his arms and drew her against him.

  “Yeah, we’ll call your room, or you call us, it doesn’t matter, life is good,” Hadley said, and she put her arms around both Sky and Atticus. Then she stepped back and smiled and she and Holden let them go up in the elevator alone.

  “Rookies!” Holden said, and he and Hadley laughed until their sides ached and tears ran down their cheeks.

  In their hotel room, Atticus and Skyler were nervous for about five seconds before the chemistry between them kicked in, and then it was game on. He tried to have a quick discussion with her about how he knew she was on birth control and that he had never had sex without a condom before. Would he ever have believed that his father, Alexander Bly, had said those very words to his mother the first time they’d made love? Or that he was as wildly aroused by the idea of skin on skin, luxuriously erotic and primal, as Bly had been? All he was sure of was that he had fallen in love with Skyler, and that he wanted her, and he wanted her first sexual experience to be good. So he stilled his rampant thoughts, turned off the voices of reason in his head, and let his hunger for her take over.

  “Sky, beautiful Sky,” he said, gently brushing the corn-silk strands of hair off her face before his mouth claimed hers. His kiss was anything but gentle, tasting her, his tongue bold and insistent as she moaned and her lips parted.

  Their hands were wild as they tore away clothes and touched hot skin. This wasn’t gentle lovemaking, this was a thirst, a fire that had to be quenched. They were naked in a matter of minutes, standing so close that her tiny pink nipples hardened as they brushed against his broad chest. Her breath drew in sharply at the unfamiliar feel of his tautly ridged muscles pressing against her naked flesh. His hands gripped her hips, his long fingers pressing into tender flesh, lifting her roughly, her small ass hitting the mattress first as she clung to his shoulders. He pried her hands away, so that she lay on her back, and he knelt above her. She surrendered to him, her chest heaving, her perfect round breasts rising and falling. He wanted to kiss her mouth but she arched her back, offering an erect nipple for his touch. His tongue licked and twirled around the tip, and she cried out as his lips closed over her aching flesh sucking, and gently biting.

  “Atticus!” she nearly screamed with pleasure. She had dreamed of him, dreamed of this moment, but the reality was far better.

  He lifted his mouth to hers, their tongues meeting, devouring each other. His fingers tugged gently at the wet nipple his mouth had abandoned as his free hand skirted the indention of her waist and moved downward. When he reached the lust-swollen lips of her sex, she whimpered and her legs parted, begging him to take her. He explored the tender flesh, drenched by her desire for him, and he pressed one long finger against the tender mouth of her sex. She stilled in anticipation, her breathing harsh and ragged. As he circled the tight slit, coaxing her to open for him, to let him in, she thrust her hips up frantically and the tip of his finger slid in.

  “Oh!” she whispered, taken by surprise, then his palm began to move in slow circles, gently working her clit.

  “Atticus, Atti,” she whispered, her hands finding and gripping his cock as it lay full and heavy between them. Her touch was a wonderful torment and he kissed her ravenously, drinking her in, needing to be inside her. She was getting close to the edge as his tongue pushed into her mouth, probing, urging her toward orgasm as his finger loosened her tight virgin pussy. She began to cry out as she ground her clit against his palm and he forced a second finger inside her just as she was rocked with spasms.

  “Good girl, my beautiful Sky,” he whispered into her ear and he lowered himself and pushed carefully into her. His cock was rock hard and determined, but he felt it hit against the barrier of her virginity just a few inches in. He had never felt anything as wildly erotic as this beautiful, innocent girl beneath him. She was determined to have him, had saved herself for him, and for a split second he almost changed his mind and pulled out.

  She raised her hips then, and wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands gripping his finely muscled ass and drawing him in. She was soaking wet, but unbelievably tight. He drew out for a moment then thrust hard and felt that thin bit of flesh rip and let him in. She squeezed her eyes shut and steadied her breathing while he kissed the few salty tears that she shed. Then she opened her eyes and her face wore the purest look of serenity. He shook his head at her audacity and smiled. Then he claimed her mouth, and her sex, rocking into her, rhythmically fucking as her little pussy clinched and gripped his cock with such ferocity it was almost painful.

  The feeling was so intense he could barely hold himself in check. If he had been with an experienced woman, one he was only with to share the pleasure they could offer each other, he would have fucked hard with a wild ferocity. He would have punished her with his long, thick cock, making her scream, taking his pleasure as he wrung orgasm after orgasm out of her. But he loved this woman, and really, she was still a girl, and to cause her pain would have been immensely hurtful to him.

  “Ah, ah, please don’t stop!” she cried out as yet another climax ripped through her, and so he lowered his mouth to hers and let himself go. Thrusting hard and deep, her wetness and her blood easing the way. Until at last, his body jerked and then stilled, poised above her as his hot, thick come flowed into her deepest recesses.

  Atticus rolled onto his back, taking Sky with him so that her head rested against his chest. He ran his fingers through her long golden hair as she practically purred with contentment. She felt the urgent racing of his heart and loved that it matched her own heartbeat almost exactly. How she loved him and she was fascinated with the effect his body had on hers. She had loved every second of their lovemaking, even the parts that hurt. She didn’t dare let him know how difficult it had been to accommodate his size. The quick stab of pain when her virginity was lost was not that bad, but she could only hope that her sex would eventually stretch to fit him more comfortably. Now she understood what Hadley had meant when she’d hinted around about Holden’s size ‘down there’. Her older brother, Jack, walked from the bathroom to his bedroom naked all the time, and she hadn’t paid much attention, but he was nowhere near as big Atticus. Oh well, bigger is always better, it would get easier she decided, laughing so that Atticus stirred.

  “Let’s take a shower,” he said, “we’ll wash some of this blood away and start all over…”

  Skyler didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. She sat up and straddled him and he lifted and held her while she settled ever so slowly onto his throbbing erection. She had that effect on him, he was twenty years old and his cock stayed hard most of the time, but with Sky he couldn’t imagine that he would ever get enough. As she settled onto him, her face a valiant mix of agony and ecstasy, he knew it wasn’t easy for her. She was slick and drenched or he would never have fit, and although they might not have been sized quite the same, her exquisite tightness seemed to have been made only for him.

  They sent Hadley and Holden away when they knocked on the door the next afternoon. Atticus told them they would catch up with them eventually, like in a week or so. He and Sky were perfectly happy in their comfortable hotel room with twenty-four hour room service and no interruptions. They had no intention of spending a minute apart from each other anytime soon.

  *

  Hadley and Holden went back to Pass Christian, packed their bags, and locked up the beach houses. Holden’s father was flying from the east coast back to California, and he stopped and picked them up on his way. Mia was staying in New York for a while and Bly made it clear that he would rather not talk about it. Hadley settled into the sofa on the jet and began
to study the script Ian Morrissey had FedExed to her. It was an unbelievably good part for a barely known actor, and she felt blessed and lucky for the chance. Her character was rich and complex, the daughter of a politician who falls in love with the son of the head of a fierce motorcycle gang. She felt the excitement build inside her—this was what she was born to do. To act, to bend her personality into a plethora of shapes, to become other people and do it with such skill that the world would be awestruck.

  Holden saw the look of rapt pleasure settle on Hadley’s face as she pored over the script. There was her true passion, the love of her life. His father had been right, she would break his heart, and in doing so, she would break him. It was a fucking hard pill to swallow when your father’s prediction turned out to be true. His heart belonged to her and he could only hope that her love for him would hold firm. He prayed he wouldn’t end up like his father, after all.

  *

  “So Dad wants us all home next weekend for some kind of family pow-wow, who knows what that’s all about. Skyler and I were going to spend that weekend in New York before I have to be back at the Academy. She’ll be going to Paris for the fall fashion shows, so we won’t see each other for a while. It’s inconvenient as hell to come all the way to California, but if Dad needs us, something must be up.” Atticus held his phone between his chin and his shoulder as he spoke to Hadley.

  “I had a text message from him this morning, he said not to mention it to Mom. I’d be willing to bet he’s going to tell me in no uncertain terms that Mom has thrown some sort of hissy-fit about me postponing my college education. God knows she calls and texts twenty times a day to let me know how I’m screwing my life up and how embarrassing it is that I will be the only illiterate member of this the family. Just what I want, another long-winded lecture from her about how much she sacrificed to put herself through college and law school.”

  “Well, Hadley, she is telling the truth, no one helped her out. I mean, yes, she got paid to pose for that magazine cover, but you know how demeaning she considers that to be. Look, I’ve gotta go, see you on the weekend and you can tell me about the movie and how things are going between you and Holden. Love you, Hads, later.”

  “I love you too, Atti, you’ve got my back, right? If Mom goes on a rampage about college? Okay, see you soon.”

  *

  Hadley sat back in her chair and closed the script that lay open in front of her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything to eat—days on the set were grueling. She arrived at dawn, slept in the chair while her hair and makeup were done, rehearsed and shot her scenes, and napped in her trailer when she had ten minutes free. It was the hardest thing she had ever done and she loved it, but she missed Holden terribly. He had to be back at the Naval Academy in a week and his father had insisted he fly to New York to visit Mia.

  Alexander Bly liked to keep a tight rein on his children, although he given up on trying to control Atticus a long time ago. Anyway, Mia was at an extended stay spa according to Alex Bly, but Hadley knew that was code for some kind of intervention most likely.

  Oh, Holden, just thinking about him made her wet and needy. She had become addicted to him and his beautiful sea-glass colored eyes and that huge, magical cock of his. He’d only been gone a few days and she’d already worn dark sunglasses into a Brookstone store at the mall to buy a personal vibrator. He had unearthed a vein of sexual desire in her that she never dreamed existed.

  “Hadley, are you busy? I need a moment of your time please, doll.” Sammy, her personal assistant tapped on the door and she told him to come in. “Hey, Hads, I’d like you to meet the set’s technical advisor. This is Reef Townsend and he’s yours for as long as you need him. Anything you ever or never wanted to know about motorcycle gangs, he’s your man. By the way, the producers are in a big fight with the director, so you’ve got a couple of hours free. Have fun, kids, toodles!”

  “Hi, I’m Hadley Hale. You’re Reef? Your name is Reef, like a coral reef? I’m not sure if I heard it right,” Hadley said.

  “You heard it right. My name is Reef, short for Reefer,” he said and she understood immediately the meaning of a man’s voice being dark and dangerous.

  “Reefer? Like… marijuana?”

  “You got it, Hadley Hale. Just like that barely legal weed. My parents were hippies, and I’d be willing to bet they were stoned when they named me.”

  “They were hippies, what are they now?” she asked, and wondered why the hell she sounded like some little girl who still wore a training bra rather than the lead in a major movie.

  “Now they’re old hippies. What would you like me to teach you about bikes and bike clubs?” he asked, and he took a cigarette out of a pack then looked in her eyes and crushed it in his fingers.

  “You’re funny,” she said. She was feeling more like herself, more in control as she recognized the unmistakable glint in his eye. “But, funny in a scary, who knows when you might slit my throat sort of way.”

  “I would never slit your pretty throat, but there are things I can teach you… and you’ll want me to.”

  That stopped her from uttering a single word for the next five minutes. She finally realized her mouth was hanging open when he laughed and scratched the short blonde stubble on his chin. She needed to tell him to leave so she could lie on the sofa and call Holden. The man standing in front of her was older than she was, probably twenty-three or -four, and he was way too sexy. He was rough and rugged and wild looking, with tousled blonde hair and eyes that moved leisurely over every curve of her body, and he didn’t try to hide it. She could tell it wasn’t because she was a woman on the verge of success. He looked at her like a lion sizing up his prey, and he very much liked what he saw. He made her think he could easily capture and devour her, without a hint of remorse, and the scariest part was, she was afraid she might let him.

  “Okay,” she said, pulling herself together and doing some major acting so that she seemed calm and cool. “Teach me about the life of a biker chick, that’s my role in this movie. I know a few things about motorcycles, like, Harleys are cool, Ducati’s are for rich old men, and any other bike is unacceptable. So, you wanna get a cup of coffee, a bite of lunch, or whatever? We can sit and go over the parts of the script I need help with.”

  “Sure,” he said, and when they stepped outside her trailer he smiled a killer smile and handed her a motorcycle helmet.

  *

  Finn and Charlotte had relived their honeymoon in Villefranche-sur-Mer. They stayed for a month, until the symptoms of Finn’s disease began to make themselves known. Charlotte didn’t notice them, she was too happy. She felt completely free, she said, for the first time in ages. Finn hid the signs well, he made excuses for his forgetfulness and occasional loss of balance. He didn’t tell her about the constant ringing in his ears and the feeling of waves sloshing in his head, or the tingling, followed by numbness that caught him unaware. Charlotte had insisted on getting another small tattoo, a second heart that looped through the first one. The original heart, tattooed low on her left hip, had Finn’s name inside, and the new one proclaimed, “My love.”

  Back home in San Diego, Finn saw his doctor and with a saddened sigh he was told he had been lucky so far, but the end was in sight. He was given the number for hospice. They would come to his home, kind-hearted caretakers, with gentle hands and plenty of morphine. Finn crumpled the paper into his pocket and went home to tell Charlotte that he would love her until the end of time.

  “Hey, you brought wine and chocolate soufflés, what’s the occasion, my love? Not ready to give up on our honeymoon just yet? That’s good, neither am I, you know. It’s like a whole new fire has been kindled inside me. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, Finnegan, isn’t that crazy?” she said, as he pulled her to him and covered her mouth with a kiss so passionate it left them limp and clinging to one another when it finally ended. “Whoa! You always surprise me, am I the absolute luckiest woman, or what? Okay, I’ll
get the wineglasses. It’s so gorgeous out tonight, let’s sit on the porch. We should talk about Hadley, she said something about this biker guy she’s met; he sounds like trouble.”

  “My love, listen to me, this is important. Do you love me, do you trust me?” Finn asked. He held her face in his hands, caressing her cheek, his fingertips lingering on her lips.

  “Yes, my love, always. What is it Finn, what’s happening? Something’s changed, you’re scaring me.”

  “No, don’t be afraid, Charlotte. Your heart is safe with me, that can’t change.”

  “Alright,” she said, her arms circling his broad shoulders, her hands at the back of his neck, clinging to him. He held her fiercely, pressing her body into his as if he were trying to memorize every little nuance of his Charlotte.

  “Just let me be sure Charlie is safe and sound in his bed, and all’s right in our fine little world. Here, find one of our special songs on my iPod,” she said, smiling as she backed away, holding onto him until the very last moment, her eyes never leaving his. “Don’t leave, stay here and I’ll come right back to you. Wait for me, my love.”

  He sat on the front porch step, searching for a certain song, with the majesty of the California evening spread out around him. The stars blinked on in the inky sky as if God had flipped a celestial switch, and the whoosh of the great blue Pacific whispered through the canyons. Dogs barked, a last flutter of wings as sparrows settled into branches, the smells of cooking and laughter from neighboring houses, so sublimely simple. He closed his eyes and leaned back on his elbows and Charlotte’s voice wafted out an open window then mingled and became part of the night as the song began to play.

  “Tonight looking back on all this life, funny how the time goes by, and how sometimes it slides away. Time sliding through the dead of night, you shake until you start to cry, your eyes won’t dry, ‘til light of day. And sleep away, don’t let it go, don’t let it fade, your dreams may cave, and falling apart is the only way, we go so low, when you don’t know… I will… I will. If you go, take a little piece of me, hang it by the place you sleep, and dream of me.”