by Audrey Storm
“What do you want?” she breathed, her voice shaky.
“Oh, Claire,” the man laughed, suddenly grabbing a chair and yanking it underneath himself so he that was sitting just inches from her. “I only want what I asked you for that night: your purse.”
Claire frowned. “You’re telling me that you’re doing all this for a wallet?”
“Well, that is what I’d want you to think.” Shrugging, he added, “It’s what they want you to think, anyhow.”
“T-they?” Claire stuttered.
“Oh, my clients,” the man said, pulling out a knife. It glinted in the artificial light, and Claire gulped. “They wanted to know what you’ve gathered on the Smith case. It could cost them millions, you know.”
Claire’s eye widened. “This is about the Smith case?”
“Oh darn,” the man sing-songed to himself. “She knows. Guess I can’t leave her, then.”
Claire scowled at him, her hands fists in her lap. “What—” But suddenly the knife was in front of her face, and she scrambled backwards.
“Uh-uh,” the man said. “Can’t let you leave, sweetheart. Can’t let you tell.”
Claire jumped as he dived, slashing the air with his knife. She pushed herself under a desk and clawed to the other side. The man laughed behind her, and it made her sick. As he shook a desk and called for her, she realized.
He was playing with her.
“Claire!” he yelled. “Come out!”
But Claire wasn’t listening. She was trying to grab her purse from where she’d set it on the ground earlier today, her goal clear—she had to get to her phone.
But the man saw her reach for it.
“I don’t think so!” he yelled, and she yanked her arm back just as he stabbed the carpet where her hand had been. “You want this?” he hissed, grabbing her bag. He shook it, and threw it across the room, the contents of it flying out. “You don’t get it! It’s mine!” Claire moved while he was laughing, her eyes on the little metal thing that had fallen out by Aaron’s desk. She grabbed it before the man noticed, and held it by her side.
She texted the number Chad had left her on that cream colored paper. Help, she wrote. Mugger trying to kill me. She debated writing something about the Smith case, but she didn’t think she had the time. She hit send and stuck the phone into her pocket.
“Cla-aire!” the man called again. “Claire!”
Bang!
Claire jumped at the sudden noise, and for a moment she thought that the man had smashed a desk. But then an angry voice sneered, “You!”
She opened her eyes, and whirled around. “Chad?” she gasped.
He was there, hitting the man with an umbrella while Ainsley held a gun on him. “Miss Claire,” he said, obviously relieved. “Thank goodness.”
“You piece of shit!” Chad roared, stomping the man until he crumpled, his hands held out in surrender while the knife lay forgotten on the floor.
“Chad!” Claire yelled. Chad looked up, an angry mess of messy blonde hair and fierce blue eyes.
“Claire,” he breathed, a smile blossoming on his face. “God,” he said, leaving the man as he jogged between the desks to her. His eyes searched hers, and whatever he found there made him laugh. “So, still think this isn’t attempted murder?”
“Shut up!” she yelled, throwing her arms around his neck to cry into his shoulder. “You suck at rescuing people!”
“But I did rescue you!” he laughed, hugging her back. A siren in the background made her look up as blue and red lights flashed through the windows.
“Worry not,” Ainsley said, gun still pointed at the man. “We called the police.”
“Oh,” Claire said, feeling breathless. “Oh, good.”
Chapter 5
She went back with Chad that night. After all the police statements and the shock blankets and the phone calls to her boss, the only thing she wanted was that big poster bed in the guest room.
Chad didn’t even ask, he just helped her into the car and took her there. Ainsley drove in silence, glancing back at them every once in a while through the rearview mirror. Claire didn’t care, and—as Chad silently welcomed her into his arms—she got the feeling that he didn’t, either.
The house was quiet when they arrived, and though Claire realized that it was really no more so than normal, it still made her nervous. She didn’t want to be alone, and the warm arm around her shoulders was only too tempting.
She didn’t expect him to take her to the guest room, no advances made.
“Goodnight,” Chad said, closing the door himself for once. She stared after him, her arms around her stomach, and a small voice slithered through her mind. “Just like in college,” it hissed. “He says he wants you, but then he leaves you.”
“But,” Claire said aloud, her voice making her flinch in the silence. But Chad hadn’t left her, not like last time. She was the one who had always demanded space, and he was simply finally giving it to her. But she didn’t want it, not tonight.
She changed into her nightgown, and let her hair down from the usual bun. She ran her fingers through the brown curls, smoothing out the little knots that had formed during the day, and sighed. It was now or never.
The click of the door’s lock sounded like glass breaking in the darkness, and Claire closed her eyes from it. She strained her hearing, trying to judge if Chad had heard it and was getting up. But, as she stood there, crouched by the connecting door, she heard nothing. Holding her breath, she turned the knob, and opened the door.
Chad wasn’t standing in the doorway like she’d imagined he’d be. She breathed a sigh of relief and stood, trying to make out his room in the darkness. Taking small steps, she used her outstretched hands to avoid furniture that might otherwise trip her.
As she skirted around an end table, she bumped into something huge and flat with her back. Using her hands to feel it, she realized that it curved, and that just past the end it had a blanket sticking out. She’d found the end of his bed.
Bingo.
Keeping a hand on the edge of it, she followed the side up to the wall that it was pushed against. She could hear Chad breathing now, but it wasn’t the slow, deep rhythm of a sleeping person. He was awake.
“Chad?” she called out quietly.
Something moved under the covers, then, “Claire?”
Claire didn’t answer; she just swung her leg up onto the bed and crawled until she found his arm. Lying on her side, she cuddled up next to him, squeezing her head between his neck and shoulder.
“Claire, what’re you doing?” he tried again, half-turning to wrap an arm around her. “What’s wrong?”
“I just…” she said miserably. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“Oh, Claire,” he said, and there was affection so soaked into his words that Claire couldn’t hold back the tears burning her eyes. “Claire,” Chad said after a moment, no doubt feeling the wet spots gathering on his arm. “Are you crying?”
“God,” she breathed shakily. “Can’t you just, I don’t know—comfort me, or something?”
“Of course,” Chad agreed softly, squeezing her close.
They stayed like that for a while. The only sound in the room was the fan on his bedside table blowing, and the steady beat of their hearts.
“Being cornered by him today,” Claire said, her mouth dry. “It was terrifying.”
“Oh, Claire,” Chad held her closer. “I’m so—”
“But,” she said. “I-it put things into perspective, you know?” When Chad didn’t say anything, she licked her lips. “I’m saying,” she said. “I’m willing to try again. To be us.”
Chad sighed from beside her. “You’re just saying that because you had a near death experience.”
“Of course!” Clair said, sitting up. “And it made me admit some things to myself! Like, yes, I would really like to date Chad again! He was the best relationship I ever had, up until he lied about me to his friends. But hey, I get it, I�
��m not pretty or—”
“What?” Now Chad was sitting up. “Why would you think that? Claire, you’re beautiful!”
“Yeah,” Claire scoffed. “Because fat can be beautiful,” she rolled her eyes.
“Hey,” Chad said, cupping her face. “You can call yourself ‘fat’ all you want, but all I see is a beautiful woman with a brain that could top all of the lawyers at my father’s firm—”
Claire moved before she could think, cutting him off with a kiss. He was rigid for a moment, obviously caught by surprise, but then he melted against her, moving his lips as he found places for his hands.
“Chad,” Claire murmured, pulling away to turn her head and kiss him again. He growled at the feel of it, slipping a hand into her hair to pull her close and grind his lips to hers, his tongue prodding until she opened wide. He urged her to move with his hands, and soon she found herself on her back with a hand down her panties.
“C-Chad!” she pulled away, her two hands on his muscular arm.
“Oh?” he asked cheekily. “Did I find your sweet spot?” Claire could only moan in response, his fingers hot against her opening as he found his way inside. When he rubbed against a certain bundle of nerves, she arched her back and gasped.
“Chad,” she gasped, yanking on his shirt. “I can’t...” Swallowing, she tried again, “Please, I need you in me.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Using his thumb to pull down his briefs, Claire watched his dick spring free. It was just as she’d remembered it, though she could tell that he’d taken up manscaping at some point.
A scrape of wood and she could barely make out that he was opening a drawer in the darkness, though the little square of plastic he took from it was much more recognizable. Ripping it open with his teeth, Chad put the condom on while he continued to rub circles around her opening. It wasn’t as intense as the feeling of his fingers inside of her, but it was a warm, buzzing sensation that made her stomach melt.
Chad pulled her underwear down her pale legs, kissing her meaty thighs as he went. By the time he had come back up to her face, she was a blushing mess.
He stared into her eyes as he moved his hips over hers, and kissed her when he entered.
Claire gasped at the sensation. Chad stilled, but she shook her head. “Keep going,” she moaned, scraping her nails down his back. He kissed her forehead, and pulled out just to thrust back in.
It was like college all over again—Claire couldn’t keep her voice down, while Chad simply breathed deeper and kissed her neck. He even remembered to do that little thing she liked, the slow grind as he entered her, and she couldn’t help but tense up at the feeling. She was close.
“C-Chad,” she moaned, clenching up as she felt it coming. Chad moved faster, perfectly aware of what was happening, and she gasped through her release. Chad kissed her cheek before speeding up, his own orgasm seconds away.
“Claire!” he hissed, and she ran her hands over his back, holding him to her. Chad only nuzzled against her and breathed as his orgasm rocked him.
“So,” he said, finally rolling to his side while keeping a warm hand on her stomach. “I’m thinking about tearing down that connector wall and just making this one big bedroom.”
Claire laughed to herself. “Do whatever you’d like, I don’t live here.”
“You could,” he said. “You can.” Holding her closer, he asked, “Would you?”
Claire was too tired to respond, so instead she just kissed him goodnight and cuddled close for sleep.
THE END
GO TO THE INDEX
Bad Boy to the Rescue
Bad Boy to the Rescue
Chapter 1
“So what's been going on at work? Your boss still giving you a hard time?” Danny asked, taking a long sip of whiskey and wiping the drops off his scratchy stubble. He leaned on the bar and his dark hair drooped over his forehead, looking all broody and mysterious. As they passed, women were drawn to him and when they caught his eyes their hearts fluttered with desire as they imagined what a night with him would be like. He had an edge to him, a roughness that meant he was unpredictable and wild, and this was exuded from him in a way that seemed to pull people towards him. He couldn't explain it, and neither could the women that fell for him, some of whom were already married or in relationships, and yet when they came across this fine specimen they were helpless and slaves to their base desires.
The only one immune to this affect was the woman sitting beside him, his best friend, Carrie. The two of them were enjoying their bi-weekly late night drink together. She had a glass of white wine and her fingers were resting on the gold edge of the bar.
“Yeah, but that's just the way he is. He's such a jerk but what can I do? I have to just put up with it.”
“I don't know how you do it every day, go into that office with all those people. Does it not drive you crazy?”
“Gotta make a living, right? And I'm done struggling. You know I spent far too long trying to make my dreams come true. It's better this way, I get to put food on the table, I'm much less stressed, and I don't have to worry about things anymore.”
“But do you actually enjoy your job?” he asked pointedly. Carrie's eyes darted down and she raised the glass to her lips in order to avoid answering the question.
“I thought so,” he said smugly.
“Well, sometimes you have to make sacrifices. It's not ideal, but you have to pay your dues in this business. I'll keep my head down and work hard, then hopefully next year I'll get a promotion and I won't have to deal with that jackass anymore, and then eventually I'll be the one barking out orders.”
“You really think you'll be with the company for that long?”
Carrie shrugged, “I don't see why not. It feels nice to have some solid foundations for the future. Makes a change to the last few years of my life.”
“It feels weird, seeing you like this.”
“What, happy?”
“No,” he said, laughing, “Just, well, okay, don't take this the wrong way, but having your shit together.”
“Thanks.”
“You know what I mean, you were always the dreamer, the one that just floated through life and did whatever she wanted. I actually liked that about you. It's kind of a shame to see that part of you die, if I'm honest.”
“You've never had a problem with being honest before. And that part of me isn't dead it's just...taking a break. I have to be pragmatic, you know? Life isn't going to wait for me to get up on my feet and I don't want to be one of those people that held onto a dream for too long, only to turn around when they're forty and realize that they missed out on all of the fun stuff.”
“I still think you could have made a go of it, you were so close, I mean you had that story published in that magazine right, you could have gone on from there.”
“I think that magazine had a readership of about fifty people. I mean, look, okay, yeah, if I had my way then I'd be a bestselling author and I'd be able to make a living from writing but sometimes these things just don't work out. At least this way I can still write for fun but I can do other things as well. I know this is the best thing for me in the long run,” she said, trying to sound convincing but she wasn't sure if she pulled it off, especially not in front of Danny, who knew her better than anyone, even herself.
“Sounds like Martin talking, not you,” he said, narrowing his eyes and swallowing the remaining golden liquid in his glass. When he set it down, the ice that was left clinked softly, and he immediately signaled to the bartender to pour him another.
“And what's wrong with that?” Carrie said, bristling, knowing that another argument was coming. Danny inclined his head and exhaled deeply, unable to prevent himself for speaking the blunt truth.
“You know there's something wrong about that guy. He's trying to change who you are. I mean, look how much different your life is to what it was just a few months ago.”
“Yeah, instead of worrying about where the next meal is co
ming from I'm actually able to treat myself to things, and instead of crashing on my best friend's dirty couch I have a comfortable bed. The only changes I can see are positive ones.”
“I'm just saying be careful, that's all, there's still a lot you don't know about him and there's just something that makes my spider sense tingle.”
“You're just being your usual over-protective self. I'm not a kid anymore, I don't need you fighting my battles for me,” she said, and the words came out more bitter than she wanted. She was perhaps the only person that could speak to Danny in that way without him yelling back, although more often than not they did have very loud arguments.
“I'm not trying to fight your battles, I'm just expressing my concerns. You always told me that it's bad to bottle my feelings in so I'm just trying to be honest with you.”
“Well Martin is here to stay so there's no use you getting all upset about it.”
“Isn't it weird that you work with him as well though, don't you feel like he's just keeping tabs on you?”
“No, he's not here, is he? Anyway, I appreciate him getting me the job. And we're not really working together. He's got his own office. We only go into work together and then come home together. Sometimes we see each other for lunch. It's nice. It's homely. It's something that I've never had before and it's something that I really value so I don't need my best friend giving me hassle for it.”
“I'm not trying to give you hassle,” Danny said, putting his hand in his head, “I'm just...god, I don't want to argue about this. Let's just forget I said anything.”
“Yeah,” she said. Then her phone buzzed. She opened it and a smile curled on her face. Speak of the devil. Danny scowled and finished off his drink, and immediately ordered another.