Defending Pacer

by TJ Hamilton

  Déjà vu.

  I’m sitting in the foyer of honeybee’s office once again, waiting for her to escort me inside. Except this time, I’ve just spent twelve hours fucking you until my dick went limp.

  The wooden door swings open and there she is, boring suit, boring hair … but I know what lies beneath. She’s late again, but I didn’t expect anything else.

  “Thanks for seeing me, Pacer.” I’m certain she’s saying it for the benefit of listening ears.

  “It must be important.” I follow in the act, and try not to laugh at my joke.

  I had to see her again. She knows damn well that I wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  I feel them all watching—lenses, whether they’re a camera or the naked eye. They’re all the same and I pay little attention to any of it.

  I know I’m being watched when I’m in public, so I stay out of it as much as possible. It’s been my motto for years, and so far it’s helped. I’ve spent less than a year in prison when I’ve faced a combined one hundred and forty years’ worth of charges against my name. They can’t get me, and she can’t work out why. She will never know, no matter how far she digs.

  My hands stay in my pockets as I walk, and feeling the packet of cigarettes within them just makes me want to light another … right now. I can’t help it—I’m an addict.

  Honeybee’s ass waving at me from her skirt gives me a flashback of that same ass bouncing against my cock when I had her on all fours. Lifting my leather glove to my top lip, I rub it past my nostrils, catching the scent of her. It’s still there. Fuck you smell good, honeybee.

  She waves at the open door to her office. “Take a seat, Mr Fratelli.”

  I stroll through the doorway and do as I’m told. “Make sure the blinds are shut,” I say, not looking at her when I speak.

  The door closes behind me, and I hear her footsteps against the plush carpet. The brush of her fingertips against the back of my neck makes my smile impossible to hide. You are a firecracker, my honeybee.

  I take hold of her hand, and pull her around to my lap. She fits perfectly in my arms. I want to rescue her from all the troubles she’s about to walk into. If only I could just pick her up and carry her out of this office, like they did in the shitty romance movies of the 70s. But it’s not that simple. There are debts to be paid, so I have to stick around until they’re settled.

  Looking into her deep blue eyes, I wish I could tell her everything so that it stops her going on the wild goose chase that she’s about to head down. But right now, I want to spread her gorgeous body across her desk, and have her begging me not to make her moan.

  From the angle that she’s in on my lap, my thumb slides up her thigh with ease. Her skirt has enough stretch to let my hand travel towards her sexy little honey pot. She doesn’t stop me either. Her lips crash onto mine, as if she never wished us apart in the first place. Her kiss makes my worries dissolve; her tongue makes my control disintegrate.

  I hold her under her ass and tilt her hips towards me. My other finger slides her panties aside and slips into her sweet spot. Her body winces. I forgot how tender she must feel. My cock has been on fire all day, so I can only imagine what she must feel like.

  She chuckles and holds my face in her hands as she kisses me hard. I love the feeling of her palms against my cheeks.

  My gloved finger works into her slit with gentle strokes. I feel her relax, and she rocks onto my invading finger. Her head tilts back in pure bliss. It’s something about my gloves that really sets her off. Whatever it is, I love it.

  I keep working her until My cock starts to swell, now sitting uncomfortably in my pants.

  There’s a jolting knock at her door and she flies off my lap.

  Adjusting her skirt, she leans into the door and speaks. “This had better be good.”

  It’s a younger girl’s voice. Must be that cute secretary I’ve seen a couple of times. “Brad just said he saw your Dad down stairs. He thinks he’s on his way up here. I have told him all morning that you were in meetings, but I guess he’s just not taking no for an answer.”

  “Fuck.” Her blue eyes flash back to me. “Lets get out of here before shit hits the fan.”

  She grabs her folder from her desk, and coat from the hat stand beside the door.

  I follow her. “We’ll leave through the stairwell. Thanks, Sienna. I’m going to my next appointment with Mr Fratelli.”

  Sienna doesn’t raise her eyes to me before Chelsea leads me down a series of narrow hallways. Wood panelling is on each side, broken up by the occasional glass window that peeks into someone’s office. We reach the emergency exit at the end of the hallway and Chelsea pushes down on the handle. The door swings open. Thank fuck it’s not alarmed.

  “You do this often?” I joke.

  She glances back at me with a look that’s less than impressed. Why is she being so touchy? It’s not my fault her father is hell-bent on seeing her. Is she that insecure about us being together? Surely it can’t be that bad?

  She keeps running down the stairs. She’s quick for a chick in heels. Is she seriously going to run down all twelve flights of stairs? I stop at the next landing and go to open the door to the right.

  “What are you doing? Not this level.” She snaps out with both voice and hand.

  “Are we going down all twelve flights by stairs? I’m not trying to be funny here, but I haven’t exactly dressed for this.” I watch her eyes take in my well-chosen suit by Hugo Boss. “What’s the sudden rush to get away from your father? I know he’s not going to be happy, but we do have business to attend to, together.”

  She sighs and nods. “You’re right. It’s just this whole newspaper exposé has got me all wound up. This thing between you and I—I thought we were going to get a chance to work out what we were before we had to share it with everyone else.”

  Her half-smile is gorgeous. Is that embarrassment? I move in and hold her, pulling her into me. Taking a deep breath and searching her eyes, I try to find the answers I need.

  “And what do you want us to be?” I ask with a low voice.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know … and I’m sure you don’t know either. We’ve spent all of a night together. How does anyone know what they feel after twenty-four hours?”

  “I know.” I don’t care anymore. I know exactly how I feel. I’ve known from the moment I met her.

  “You do?” Her eyes rake across my entire face.

  Smiling to give her reassurance, I hold onto her tight. My gloved hand palms her face.

  See it in my eyes, honeybee. See how much you mean to me.

  She kisses me again. Our mouths really have a hard time leaving each other. I don’t need to say any more, and neither does she. We both might not say it, but there’s definitely something between us. Fuck, I feel like a soft-cock for just thinking it. But with her, it’s different. I want to love her. I need to love her, and I’m going to love her. Right here, on the stairwell.

  Loosening my belt, and unbuttoning my pants, I sit against the steps and pull her with me. She wrenches up her skirt and I slide her panties off. I take them and put them in my pocket. She watches me, and smiles. With a quick wink, she gets it—I’m keeping them.

  Popping open two of the buttons on her blouse, I get better access to her perfect tits. Freeing just one of them, I take it between my teeth just as she sinks down onto my hardened cock.

  The risk of getting caught only seems to add to the moment. Right now we both need this. Our actions shout everything that we can’t say to each other. We don’t need the words just yet. The words are more frightening than having sex in the stairwell. But this is not just sex; I want to make love to her.

  She grinds slowly into me in the direction my hands make her move as I hold onto her ass. Her arms hold around me, tight.

  Don’t let me go honeybee. Don’t ever let me go.

  She breathes heavy, but we daren’t make a sound louder than that. Not here. Her pulsing pussy quickens. I look her in
the eye as I feel my build-up about to peak.

  I almost feel embarrassed that I’m so close to coming already, but we both knew this was just a quickie. Even still, I try to hold back.

  “Come with me, Pacer,” she whispers.

  Those words alone leave me little choice in the matter. Even though we’ve already had unprotected sex, I’ve still haven’t come inside her yet. Until this moment, I’ve loved watching my seed explode all over her belly and tits. Until now, it hasn’t been more than us fucking. But now, it’s …

  The sensation within me is unexplainable, but rife.

  Her lips on mine, her pussy all over me, my heart is for her.

  ***

  The same group of paparazzo that got me on the way into Chelsea’s office still wait as we pass by in a taxi. They don’t see us, so I guess the twelve flights of stairs wasn’t the worst idea in the world after all. It gave us more time alone, which was actually enjoyable after our moment of lovemaking on the stairwell, and meant we exited the building in the side street, away from prying lenses.

  The taxi driver keeps glancing back in his rear-vision mirror as he drives. He catches my stare with his next glance. Go ahead, fucker, stare again … I dare you.

  He gets the warning and fidgets with the steering wheel. Stopping just outside the Metro police station, I throw the cabbie twenty dollars. “Keep the change.” You piece of shit.

  Chelsea takes my hand when I offer, to help her out of the taxi, but quickly lets go when she’s standing. It makes me smile. I get it—I’m the city’s most hated crook, and she’s pretty much its favourite daughter.

  Luckily, the media hasn’t been tipped off about our appointment here this morning, and Chelsea holds her head high as we enter the police station. That-a-way, my girl. They all love to stare. Go ahead, assholes. I hang back and let Chelsea do her thing. The cop leaves the desk the moment Chelsea is finished talking. She rolls her eyes when she turns to me.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to all the judging eyes.” She sighs.

  “You get used to it. Trust me.”

  There’s that fucking smile again. Fuck it! My cock can’t take much more of this torture, honeybee.

  “Come through, Miss Tanner.” I hear a voice past Chelsea’s shoulder.

  Funny, they never address me. That’s right; I waste all their resources. As long as things keep sailing the way they are, they’ll always be wasting resources with their investigations on me.

  The young cop escorts us into the elevator. He doesn’t look me in the eye when it’s just the three of us. They’re all tough until we’re alone. Flexing my interlocked hands out, they crack inside my gloves. I watch the young cop’s eyes glance sideways and can’t help my smirk.

  We exit the elevator. I know my way around the station. I know the codes on all the elevators, and could get my hands on an access card if I needed, but none of these fuckers are worth my bother. There are bigger pieces of shit in the city to worry about than these pissy little excuses of humanity.

  “Mr Fratelli.” My name is said with exaggeration. “I didn’t expect to see you in here so soon. Miss Tanner’s commitment to her client is obviously paying off.” Inspector Cunt-face makes my hackles stand on end, mentioning Chelsea in that tone.

  Chelsea glares at me as a warning to calm, but I’m not going to let the sour-faced bitch get the better of me. My glory is in getting off all of these charges as soon as Reed is dealt with.

  “I believe Judge Nolan had the orders delivered to you this morning,” Chelsea fires off before the bitch can say another word.

  “Yes, I received them, along with the delivery of today’s newspaper.” Her snide smile makes me wild.

  I will rip your fucking face off, cunt, and skull-fuck you with scissors.

  “We’re not here to discuss tabloid stories, Karen. Remove Mr Fratelli’s monitor. I’m sure you have better things to do than attempt to intimidate my client.”

  Thank fuck you’re here, Chelsea.

  Soon-to-be-faceless cunt laughs so audaciously at Chelsea’s demand. It makes my nostrils flare. Make this quick, Chelsea. I’m quickly losing my shit.

  Stomping my foot up on the cunt’s desk, I lift my trouser leg and glare at her. Chelsea takes out the documents from her leather document holder and places them down. She signs them then pushes the paperwork over to the other side of the desk. The smart-ass inspector unlocks the cabinet. She makes her way over to my leg and slowly unlocks the monitor. From this angle, I could easily smash her face into her pot of pens, but that would just be too easy.

  I clench my fists; the leather of my gloves makes a squeaking sound. It’s the type of sound that makes you think of something cinching around your neck. Or at least that’s what it reminds me of.

  Inspector Cunt-face glances up at me and shakes her head. Don’t even test me today, cunt. The monitor loosens and she steps away with the device in her hands. Taking a seat, she signs the paperwork in front of her.

  “Are we done now?” I look at Chelsea, and she nods in reply. “Good. Say hi to Michael and the kids for me, Karen,” I add as I open her door and walk out.

  I hear Chelsea scrambling with the paperwork before she follows quickly behind.

  Pressing the elevator button, the lift dings open.

  “You’ll need the code …” Inspector calls out.

  I snigger at her, take Chelsea by the hand and enter the elevator. Dialling the code to access the ground floor, the elevator doors shut.

  Chelsea looks at me with wide eyes. “What the fuck was that all about, Pacer?”

  “Shut the fuck up, right now. Got it?” Doesn’t she fucking understand she’s being monitored in here?

  I don’t look at her, but I can feel her heart breaking from here. It makes me fucking wild that I just spoke to her like that. I don’t want to hurt her, but fuck me! Maybe it’s not such a good idea if we’re together. I can deal with whatever they throw at me, but I can’t control what it does to me when any of these pricks talk to Chelsea like that. What if I really lose my shit one day, and there aren’t any more debts to be paid? I pull my phone out of my pocket and find Giorgie’s number.

  “The front of Metro police, now!” I bark as soon as he picks up.

  I hang up the phone. My temper is reaching breaking point.

  We get out of the lift, and the fuckwit cops stop in their tracks as I stomp my way out of the station. If any of them utter a single comment, I don’t know what I’ll do. I keep my eyes ahead and reach for the front door. I don’t know where Chelsea is, but I hope she’s right behind me. I don’t trust myself at all, right now.

  The cameras are waiting outside the station. Fuck the cops! They would’ve loved letting the media know we were here. I look back and find Chelsea covering her head with her leather folder as she leaves the station. My heart twists. Keep your fucking cool, Pacer.

  “Just go. I’ll contact you later,” she says as she shields her face from the flashes.

  Can she see how furious I am, or is she pissed at me? My rage heightens. You’re right, Chelsea. This isn’t fucking worth it!

  I light a cigar and see the SUV approaching with Giorgie behind the wheel. He never lets me down, this kid.

  With a swarm of cameras surrounding me, I fling the rear door open. They ask so many questions, I can’t even distinguish a single one. As the car pulls away, I watch my honeybee hold the cameras back. She stands on the steps in front of the station, stopping to give them a statement, like a pro.

  I slam my fist into the back of the passenger seat.

  Why did you let them get the better of you? Pacer, you’re fucking weak asshole.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Clear skies. The skies have been lovely and clear today. I’ve only just noticed it now, and the day is almost over. I’ve been staring out of my office window for longer than I should be. There’s been nothing in my head other than the sound of rambling radio frequencies that you hear in between changing radio stations
on an old car stereo.

  I’ve got to get down to police archives already. My day has been like a spinning washing cycle, twisting one direction, then back the other—my head and heart are the biggest casualties. Why did I have to let my heart get involved? What was already a really difficult situation, I’ve only just gone and made worse by falling in love with my client.

  What?

  Did I just think that? Really?

  But how can Pacer be confessing his love for me one minute, and treat me like a piece of dirt the next? Because he’s a prick. They’re always in there; you just have to scratch the surface. I really should’ve known better.

  I pick up all my documents across the desk, and slide them into my oversized handbag. My phone is face down on the desk, the same position it’s been in all day. Sitting alone and silent since lunchtime. I don’t want to turn it back on until I’m ready to deal with what’s waiting for me when I do. Pacer’s the only one I care about talking to at this point, and he hasn’t left a message with Sienna, so he’s obviously not that troubled enough to really contact me. If I check my phone now and Pacer hasn’t left a message there either, I know I’ll be disappointed, or some other stupid feeling like that. I’m better off leaving it alone, for now. That kind of self-sabotage can wait a little longer.

  Shit! It’s almost six! I’ve forgotten to get to Lou’s before he closes. That’s twice in one day that I’ve forgotten about the normal things in my life, all because of Pacer. It’s a fucking washing machine day!

  I dare to pick up my phone. Staring at the blackened screen, I consider all the other ways I can search for Lou’s phone number. Holding my breath, I turn it on to find Lou’s number from this morning. It’s the easiest way. Call me lazy … and possibly a self-harmer.

  132 text messages

  57 missed calls

  Today is officially a record. Blowing out a long puff of air, I take hold of the office phone and dial in the number for Lou’s. It takes a long time before Lou picks up. I hope I haven’t missed him before he’s closed for the night.