Defending Pacer

by TJ Hamilton

  I don’t stop driving into her. I can feel the build-up in the bottom of my balls, but I don’t want her to stop yet.

  Before I explode inside her, I move her from the wall and carry her out of the shower, my cock still buried inside her. Walking with my little goddess impaled on me, I head straight for the bed.

  I hope she expects to be fucked all night now. I don’t give a fuck about our lunch or our dinner; she has opened the gate, and I don’t intend on leaving this any time soon.

  I carry her with ease; she’s so light. She’s long, but light; like a little sparrow. Her lips slip all over mine and she keeps grinding into me as I walk.

  The soft mattress hits against my forearms as we land on the bed. I drive into her twice and watch her squirming in raptures of pleasure beneath me.

  She grins. “Can you put your gloves back on?”

  I study her for a moment, and shake my head with curiosity.

  What have I found here?

  ***

  Lighting a cigarette, I grab the thick fur rugs that drape across the back of the couch and spread them out across the polished concrete floor in front of the fireplace.

  I’m naked.

  Chelsea’s naked.

  It’s a wonderful thing.

  I’m glad I got the fireplace installed now. When I was building this place, the architect wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’d thought it was a waste of time and money. Now, as I watch Chelsea spread her gorgeous body out in front of it, I’m thinking I should give the guy a pallet of wine as a thank you.

  Pressing the button on the wall, the fire the wood that’s been stacked and waiting in place instantly ignites. I haven’t been up here for a few months, but my staff still comes and cleans once a week for me. They also stack my wood and keep the fridge stocked, so all I have to do is just open the door and relax. You never know when the opportunity strikes to come out here … and being here with Chelsea right now is my pay-off for that theory.

  As I draw back on my cigarette, I crack the window open just enough to let the smoke out that’s collected within the big open space. I lean back against the waist-height windowsill, and just watch her while I enjoy my cigarette. Her curves are sensational. They roll in all the right places. God, I can’t get enough of your body, honeybee.

  She rolls over and watches me. Her smile is slight, just enough to tell me she likes what she sees. Having a cigarette with a view of a gorgeous woman after four solid hours of fucking is indescribably good. As I inhale, I think about all the other positions I could have her in. I look down at my little man. The life has practically been sucked from him. I chuckle.

  “I think you broke him,” I tease.

  She gasps dramatically. “He better not be broken! I can’t live with myself if that’s the case. Bring him here and I’ll try to revive him.”

  She signals me to come to her with her index finger. Casually strolling toward her, I take the final drag of my cigarette and flick the butt into the flaming fire. Exhaling the contents of my lungs, I sink down and lie next to my honeybee.

  I slide my hand down the length of her long leg and raise it up to see her feet. Ten toes.

  She giggles. “What are you looking at?”

  I’m not telling her how perfect I think she is.

  “You know, I could keep fucking you all night, but at some point we are going to have to eat.” I tuck her soft blonde hair behind her ear as I speak.

  The tattoo on the back of my hand—the one that usually reminds me of how many lives my hands have taken—now shows me just how much they want to care for someone.

  Her doe eyes softly gaze at me. “Do you mean to say the world is still revolving out there?”

  She makes me laugh. She’s right; nothing else matters in the world right now, except for my honeybee and me. I smooth her hair back, and run my palm across her cheek. She nuzzles into my hand. Her skin. Soft and edible.

  “I can call the restaurant and get them to deliver?”

  Her eyes spring open and narrow for a moment, deep in thought. “Just how often do you do this kind of thing? Or am I going to regret asking that question?”

  I can’t help but laugh. Sure, I love fucking women, but I couldn’t be bothered bringing any of them out here. This is where I like to come to be left alone. Her jealousy is cute, though. I shake my head at her. Do I tell her the truth, or leave her hanging? God, I wish I knew women better sometimes.

  “I’ve never brought anyone out here,” I admit, folding and telling her the truth.

  Glancing away, she avoids my stare. “That was the rehearsed response I was expecting. Guys are so predictable,” she snaps back.

  I hold her chin and raise her face to mine. I want her to look me dead in the eye. “Hey, I have no reason to lie to you. No other woman has ever known as much about me as you do. There’s just no point in lying to you. Do you understand?”

  She nods. An enormous grin spreads across her face, and I tenderly kiss her soft lips. Our kiss is gentle, opposite to the heated kisses from earlier. Our twisting tongues confirm how much trust is between us. I will never give her a reason not to trust me. This is the first time I’ve been so open with someone. It’s a wild feeling, laced with vulnerability. I never want her to know just how undone she makes me.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I watch Pacer’s gorgeous round ass cheeks as he walks up the four stairs to the kitchen level of the house. He’s off to find his phone and have our dinner delivered. Seeing his ankle monitor as he walks reminds me that he has a curfew.

  Damn it! Just when we were enjoying each other, his criminal activities get in the way.

  “What’s the time? There aren’t any clocks in this house,” I call out.

  He reappears. His body is even better without clothes. He has muscles, but they’re not bulging. They’re in proportion with his strong physique. His chest is broad and his shoulders are square. Ink covers one side of his ribs, all of his left arm, and his left pec. The tattoos are a blended mix of pin-up girls, old sailor symbols to religious figures and script quotes about loyalty … or something. They don’t match, but all fit in with one another just fine. I want to study them more, and learn if there is a meaning behind each of them. In fact, I want to study Pacer more. I want to know everything about him.

  I grin at how much of a stalker I am with him.

  “Yeah, there’s a reason for no clocks,” he says with a smile, as he makes his way back down the stairs. “This is one of the only places I can escape as much of the world as possible. Time means nothing to me out here.”

  “As your barrister, I need to remind you that you have a curfew to adhere to … and an ankle monitor that will alert authorities when you’re not home.”

  He shrugs and lies on the rug again. “As the guy who wants to fuck you all night long, I need to tell you that I have it sorted and that you don’t need to worry yourself about technicalities like that.”

  What is he talking about?

  “Unfortunately, this is the one technicality that you should worry about. I can’t have you being locked up now. Not after you gave me multiple orgasms … multiple times.” I bite my lip at the thought of those orgasms.

  He laughs and touches my face. I love how tender he is, but then how he unravels me with his dominate hand when it’s needed. I know what atrocities his hands have caused, but somehow they make me feel safe.

  “I’m not going anywhere, honeybee.”

  I believe him.

  “Do I want to know?” I brace myself for his explanation after asking the question. A part of me finds this so exciting, but the other part—the lawyer part—knows how much work this could mean.

  “Not unless you want to know the truth.”

  Do I? Do I want to know the truth?

  “Just make sure you don’t get caught. I’m already under the pump with your case … and it would be devastating if you left me now.”

  “I wouldn’t risk it. Trust me.” His smile is devilish.
>
  “I do.” There’s a strange pull in my emotions when I say those two little words.

  I push him back into the rug and climb on top of him. Who needs food when you have this?

  ***

  The sun bearing down on my face startles me from my sleep. My eyes spring open, but I can’t move. Pacer’s arms are draped heavily around me, the weight of his embrace constricting yet amazing. I feel at peace. It’s perfect. We’re still in front of the fireplace. I don’t remember falling asleep.

  I try to move again, but for a guy who’s not overly muscly, Pacer is really heavy. He grunts and swings his leg around me, now completely enveloping me.

  It makes me smile.

  Lying my head back against the cushion again, I figure I might as well enjoy the moment. I wish I knew the time. I have an important day ahead. Today’s the day Pacer will be acquitted of all charges, and I no longer have to worry about losing him.

  Wriggling around within the confines of Pacer’s arms, I finally roll around to meet his peaceful, sleeping face.

  Is he such a heavy sleeper because he doesn’t get to rest like this often? Or has our mammoth fuck-fest exhausted him? Maybe it’s the house? It does feel peaceful and secluded here.

  I carefully lean in and kiss his soft lips as he sleeps. His arms flex as he slowly wakes. His lips move and reciprocate the kiss. I feel them stretch into a smile. Opening my eyes, I see Pacer looking at me behind weary, hooded eyelids. I grin back. This is something I can get very used to.

  “Mmm … morning,” he grumbles.

  Damn, even his sleepy voice is sexy. It’s a vulnerable sound first thing bright and early.

  “Good morning. I really need to know the time, so I’m going to find a clock … somewhere.”

  “Fuck the time,” he groggily murmurs, and kisses me again. His tongue finds its way into my mouth. It dances around mine, causing my slightly swollen pussy to pulse. I don’t think I could have any more sex, even if I tried. I feel raw down there.

  I try to unsuccessfully speak with Pacer’s tongue still in my mouth. “I need to do things today,” I mumble. Pacer’s tongue slips away and his eyes open a little wider. “I have a job, remember? I have to meet with the judge this morning. That means I need to contact him before he’s in session … which begins at nine.”

  He rolls his eyes playfully. “Fine.”

  Unwrapping his arms from around me, he stretches and yawns loudly. I know the feeling. I kneel and stretch backwards with my hands at the small of my back. Wow, that amount of sex is a serious workout. My muscles ache and my bones feel old. Pacer rolls over and reaches for his phone on the nearby coffee table. I giggle when I think about how the idea of dinner was quickly ditched last night, along with Pacer’s phone when we considered ordering food. On that thought, my stomach joins in the morning grumbles with it’s own hungry sound.

  Pacer’s eyes flick to my stomach. I cover it with my hands, suddenly feeling exposed.

  He shakes his head unapprovingly. “It’s only six-twenty in the morning. You’re an early riser, I take it? We have plenty of time, and you’re not going anywhere without me getting something into you for breakfast.”

  I chuckle and raise my brow. “Something in me for breakfast? That sounds hot.”

  “I would love nothing more than to see you naked all day, but if we don’t get clothes on some time soon, we’re going to end up staying here.” He grins.

  If only we could. The thought of us being able to come here and be left alone for days is dreamy. Today’s mission is all the more important when the outcome could result in more of this.

  Pacer holds his hand out to pull me up with him as he stands. “Go and find your clothes, honeybee. I’ll get breakfast cooking. Bacon and eggs?”

  My wild grin is unavoidable. The thought of him cooking for me is even dreamier than my thoughts of staying here alone with him. In fact, everything about Pacer is dreamy.

  I almost skip across the cold concrete floor as I make my way to the path of clothes that has been spread from the front door all the way to the main bedroom. I haven’t needed clothes until this point, so it’s a nice reminder of how this all began around fourteen hours ago.

  Holy shit! That means we’ve been having wild sex with each other for at least ten or so hours! Is that even normal? No wonder I’m walking like I’ve been bareback horse riding all day.

  The space around me is really cosy for such a stark, minimalist house. The warm carpet in the bedroom is a welcome feeling under my feet. I like that we didn’t just sleep in the bed like normal people do. But Pacer and I are far from normal.

  I grab Pacer’s shirt from next to the bed and decide to throw that over me. I laugh as I go to button it up, remembering that they were half ripped of yesterday.

  On my way back to the kitchen, smelling something on the stove, I remind myself that this is as far as we can ever really get. Sure, we can have wild weekends together in the seclusion of this house, but that’s all our relationship can ever be. We come from the two families who probably hate each other the most in the city.

  But if Romeo and Juliet could make it work … wait … bad example.

  I catch a glimpse of Pacer from the hallway. He’s in a white bathrobe and moving around the kitchen like a trained chef. The sight instantaneously breaks me from my reality check. God, he looks good.

  Pacer catches my downtrodden look when I enter the kitchen.

  “What’s the matter, honeybee? Cute shirt, by the way. It looks good on you.” He flips bacon on the grill and talks at the same time. Impressive.

  He must get the kitchen skills from his Uncle? Or is it his Mum … or sister? It reminds me of how much more I want to learn about him. There has to be a way to make this work.

  I wrap my arms around him from behind and hold him tight. “Just work stuff on my mind,” I lie … well, not completely. “You look comfortable in the kitchen. I have to admit that I have terrible cooking skills. I think I would probably burn water.”

  His strong torso jiggles within my arms as he laughs. “I’m Italian. If I wasn’t able to cook, I think my whole familia would disown me.”

  There’s that divide between our lives again. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone in my family cook. Maybe Dad grilled on the BBQ once, but that’s a very vague memory.”

  Pacer pulls me around to him and holds me with one arm while still tending to the cooking. “I might have to teach you some of the basics one day.” He winks.

  “I’d like that.”

  My smile hides the doubt that’s crept into my mind again. It’s doubt that’s telling me how our fate is sealed, no matter how much I wish it to be different.

  “One thing I can make is coffee.” I smile genuinely this time.

  The coffee machine in the wall rivals the one at Dolorous. Coffee might as well be intravenously injected into you when you’re a barrister. You pretty much get an addiction to caffeine the moment your law degree hits your hands. So coffee, I know.

  Pacer and I manoeuvre around each other very naturally. It feels as if we’ve been together for years, but there’s still that new spark there that makes it exciting. It’s the type of spark you get when you spend time alone with someone for the first time and imagine what life would be like ten years from now, but you also want time to stand still for as long as possible.

  There has to be a way to make this work.

  ***

  “Just how many cars do you have?” I ask, as Pacer opens the door to the garage.

  “If you stop to think about those questions before you ask them, you would have the answer for yourself.” He opens the car door of his slick black Porsche. “I’m a guy, I’m Italian, and I can afford these kinds of luxuries. What else am I going to spend my money on?”

  His cockiness is so attractive. I bite down on my smile and slide into the leather seat of his sports car. I still don’t really get guys though. I have just as much money to spend on cars, but don’t own a single set of w
heels myself. Living in the city helps, I guess. I just walk or catch a taxi. Or is that a girl thing?

  Pacer kicks the engine into gear and a song by Nelly, “Ride With Me”, pumps in the speakers. Nelly’s singing that it must be the money. The sound startles me, and I laugh at the song choice. It’s one of those songs that’s classically crass, but was really popular ten years ago. A sideways glance, a shoulder shrug, and Pacer presses the back arrow for the song to start again. The acoustic guitar riff is catchy, and I grin as we launch out of the garage and roar up the hill at a fast speed.

  Cars … definitely a guy thing.

  ***

  On the way back, I contact the magistrate’s assistant and convince her that my new information is urgent enough to meet with the magistrate during his recess at eleven.

  “This better be good, Chelsea. He will fire me if I’ve wasted his recess break,” Amber says over the phone.

  “Amber, I wouldn’t do that to you. Thank you. See you later.”

  Ending the call, I glance over at Pacer and sigh. It’s hard to tell how Judge Nolan is going to react to me accusing the council of not only committing perjury in his court, but also that they’ve committed a miscarriage of justice against Pacer. Well, mostly. The fact that he did admittedly murder Collins is significant compared to Jackson Reed getting him behind bars with dirty statements and false witness accounts. But there is more to this. There is more to Jackson and Pacer, and I know it.

  Searching through my phone, I find Logan’s number and send her a text.

  CHELSEA: Can you grab my leather document holder from my bedroom before you leave Mum and Dad’s? I’ll meet you at my place at eight

  LOGAN: See you there, you crazy fuck!

  I giggle at the message and Pacer takes his eyes from the road for a moment. Giving me a sexy as hell grin, he turns his attention back to driving. The smile hasn’t faded for a moment. Jesus, he drives me crazy and makes me insatiable for more of him.