Fighting for Alexa

by Jennifer Ann

  With her eyes closed, her mouth jerks away from mine and she pants, “Michael…holy hell you feel amazing.”

  “You gonna come for me, baby girl?” I tease, thrusting into her with a twist of my hips.

  Watching the elegant curve of her lips as they pucker, the graceful arch of her neck when she arches her back, the final build of my own release comes to a head. It’s raw and real, the sensation of her tight walls contracting around me numbing both my body and mind. She’s rendered me helpless to a degree I never thought possible, and yet at the same time, I’m totally conscious and in total control.

  I pump into her a few final times, wishing like hell that I could hold her in my arms as she violently shudders against me. I come seconds behind her, huffing and groaning against her smooth neck as she’s gently stroking the top of my head.

  I have many regrets, things I should’ve said and done differently. But when it comes to Alexa, there’s no going back at this point and righting what’s wrong.

  I’ve fallen too fucking deep for this woman to tell her the truth.

  7

  Alexa

  After giving into my desires for Michael yet again, I’m buzzing from the sensation of his cock inside me, exhausted from not being able to soundly sleep at night since we first met, missing him in a severe way that I have no idea how to process, and worried about his future to the point of making myself physically ill. I’ve become a junkie in need of a fix. It seems I’ll never get enough of Michael Harrison.

  More than that, however, I’m tortured by the helpless look he gave me before Smith escorted him from the room. I’m seized by guilt whenever it dawns on me that I’m free to do whatever I want while he’s locked away.

  And every time I close my eyes, I see his gorgeous face and hear his deep, rolling voice saying that he loves me. I’m convinced he meant it in jest. How could he truly feel that way when we’ve known each other less than a month? Aside from Tatum, no one else has said those words to me. Whatever I’m feeling for him also runs deeper than a strong physical attraction. But there’s no way it could be love. How in the hell am I expected to label what I’m feeling after everything I’ve been through?

  The threat of a panic attack consumes me whenever it seems I’ve reached another dead end in uncovering the dirty secrets kept by the Four Brothers. Which is all the damn time. Not only do I lose sleep at night thinking about those poor girls, but I’ve promised Michael that I will get him out of there.

  What if I can’t save those girls? What if I can’t save him? Allowing myself to get involved with Michael on a personal level is hands-down the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, but I’m too far down the rabbit hole to go back. My happiness is dependent on his freedom. What happens from there is anyone’s guess, and the uncertainty of it all makes it difficult to breathe. Regardless, I’ll do whatever it takes to prove his innocence.

  Following my visit with Michael, I arrive back at the office long after everyone else has left. As I’m going over the notes of our conversation an hour or so later, there’s loud banging on the office door. Quietly pulling open the top drawer on my metal desk, I reach for my Beretta. I’m instantly at ease with the weight of it. Our office isn’t in the safest area of the city. What if the Four Brothers know what I’ve been up to? Would they have followed me back to Miami?

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  I nearly jump from my damn seat with the racket. Despite the hours clearly printed on the front door, someone seems pretty determined to be seen. They must’ve seen my office light from the street to know someone was here. When my cell phone vibrates in front of me, skipping across the desk, I nearly crap myself. Then I see the alert of a message from Jack Matthews and release a long sigh.

  That’s me at your door.

  Rolling my eyes, I stick my Beretta in the waistband of my dress slacks and head through the sadly outdated office for the front door. The non-profit organization doesn’t have the funds to replace the shag carpet or nicotine-stained walls. And as much as the lingering smell of the place has raised my monthly dry-cleaning bills, I should be asking for a raise. But I consider myself lucky to be employed and able to keep a roof over my head after a lifetime of depending on the grace of others.

  Jack’s slim figure is clearly visible through the frosted glass door, but I curl my fingers around the handle of my weapon just in case. Swinging the door open, I smile kindly at the old man standing in the hallway, wearing a plain black t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans.

  I’ve only met with the former president of Four Brothers in person one other time, but his love for Michael was plain as the hooked nose on his face within minutes of our introduction. When he started referring to Michael as “his boy,” I assumed they were father and son until I learned that Michael Harrison Sr. has been in a mental institution for several years. Regardless of their official connection, I immediately understood they were exceptionally close.

  “Good evening, Jack. What brings you all the way to Miami?”

  He responds with a wry smile that sets deep wrinkles around his eyes. “Seems my boy is worried about you.”

  Excitement sparks in my belly. Michael’s been talking about me with Jack? I pull my suit coat back to show him the Beretta. “Like I told him numerous times, there’s no need to worry. I can take care of myself.”

  Chuckling, he steps inside the office. “I don’t doubt that. He’s concerned all the same.” He tips his head back to my office. “Care if we sit for a spell? Have some things I wanna talk to you about.”

  Oh shit. Would Michael have told him what’s been going on between us? Is this the part where he tells me to stop messing around with Michael?

  “Actually, I was just heading out for the night,” I say with a dismissive shrug. “Can I buy you a drink at the bar across the street instead? I need to get the hell out of this place, and I could use a bite to eat.”

  “As long as there’s a spot that would give us a little privacy.”

  “It’s a Tuesday night, the place will be dead. We can grab one of the booths in back.”

  “All right then. I’ll meet you there.” Dipping his chin, he gives me a warm smile that makes me glad Michael has him as a friend. Since we first met, Jack has been nothing but kind and thoughtful. For a fleeting moment, I allow myself to wonder what it would be like if Michael was released and we were a couple. With Jack around, maybe I’d finally have the kind of father-figure I’ve always dreamed about.

  But it’s ridiculous for me to dream about anything when my life has proven to be one never-ending nightmare.

  No more than ten minutes later, the old biker and I are situated in one of O’Brien’s musty booths with green vinyl seats and tall, intricate oak backs that do a decent job of secluding us from the few patrons sitting at the bar. The usual music, heavy on bagpipes, floats through the air, keeping our conversation to a low din. From the way Jack keeps looking at me, I already know he’s ready to push the attorney-client privilege to new heights as soon as we’ve put our orders in with the new waitress.

  “What is my boy hiding?” he blurts the second we’re alone. “What kind of shit did he get himself into?”

  “You know I can’t repeat anything Michael has told me.” Taking a deep breath, my fingers trace the outline of the metal logo hanging from my purse. “Whatever he’s keeping from you is his business.”

  “Didn’t figure you’d be an easy one to crack.” He chuckles to himself. “MJ clearly likes you, although I don’t know why he wouldn’t. If nothing else, I’m glad he has you to sort things out with. You really think you’ll be able to get him outta there?”

  “I’m going to do whatever it takes to make it happen,” I say, inwardly kicking myself for making the promise yet again. “But it’s not going to be easy. I might be in over my head with Michael’s situation, and I don’t know who I can trust.”

  One of his eyebrows quirks. “You trust me?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “That boy is all I
have left in this life, Miss Darrington. Eats me up to see him there, knowing there’s not a damn thing I can do to help. You probably already know that when he was sixteen, MJ’s momma was strangled and dumped to rot in their front yard. But you probably didn’t know MJ’s the one who found her. Messed him up good. The cops never really figured out what happened, and they never arrested any suspects. The night she died, MJ started sleeping in the clubhouse, and he never went back home. Eventually I started to suspect that something wasn’t right, and invited him to live with me. Wasn’t until after MJ enlisted that the truth came out and his old man tried ending his own life.

  “Turns out Michael Senior was a violent son of a bitch. Not because he was unkind, but because he was haunted by his past. We served an especially brutal tour in Iraq, saw three of our brothers get blown to bits. I didn’t know at first that kind of thing was going on, or I would’a done something about it. He was clever enough to avoid giving MJ bruises or broken bones. Should’ve known the way he always stuck around the clubhouse whether his old man was there or not. Poor kid just wanted to get away from it all. MJ’s convinced his daddy didn’t kill his momma even though the cops planned to arrest him. Shot himself when he heard they were comin’.”

  My heart clenches with the horrifying truth behind Michael’s story. I knew the part about his mom being murdered from reading his file, but there wasn’t a mention of abuse by his father. Damn it, I care about Michael enough already the way it is. Hearing his story has me yearning to wrap my arms around his broad chest and never let him go. I almost choke on an unexpected wave of tears that, thankfully, I’m able to hold back. But it doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

  Watching me with a knowing look, Jack folds his arms over his chest. “I’m telling you this so you can understand how badly I want him out of there. You should understand that there isn’t anything on God’s green earth that could stop me from making it happen. MJ doesn’t seem to understand this. You, on the other hand…you have the exact same lovestruck look I saw in my boy’s eyes earlier today when he asked me to keep an eye on you. I don’t know what’s going on with you two kids, but it’s obvious you care about each other. And if you care about MJ even half as much as I do, then you’re ready to do what it takes to make him a free man.”

  The slow burn of a blush fills my cheeks. Guess I can add “smart old man” to his list of favorable traits. But it’s also a harsh reminder that I have to be more careful about wearing my heart on my sleeve, or letting my emotions get in the way of being Michael’s best hope.

  “You’re asking me to put my career on the line, as well as Michael’s trust by telling you what he confided in me. If he wanted you to know, he would’ve told you by now.”

  The old biker bobs his head. “Guess I am. S’pose that means you have to ask yourself how far you’re willing to go in order to bring him into your life without guards and barbed wire fences in your way.”

  When the little blonde waitress returns with two mugs of beer and a tray of chips, I blurt, “We’ll take two shots of Patrón, too.”

  Although I haven’t agreed to anything, a slow, pleased smile slides onto Jack’s face.

  Crafty fucker.

  I must look on edge when Smith leads me back to the visitor’s room, because he keeps throwing me these skeptical glances.

  My conversation with Jack kept me up long after he left for his motel. He made me promise to carefully consider his offer to get involved with whatever secrets Michael has been keeping, and get back to him as soon as I made up my mind.

  As I weighed the pros and the cons of my options, I realized I’m ready to go the extra mile for Michael. Oddly enough, by doing what’s necessary I’ll betray his wishes, and could end up losing him.

  So, being the selfish bitch that I’ve apparently become since Michael Harrison came into my life, I decided that I had to be with him one last time in case he can’t forgive me once he learns what I’m planning. Luck was on my side when I was able to convince the warden that I needed a special meeting with my client to prepare for his upcoming motion hearing.

  “Everything all right?” Smith asks, pulling his pants up higher. “If you’re worried about being alone with Harrison, I can stay this time.”

  “No,” I answer, stopping myself before I add way. “I need to be alone with my client.”

  Smith grunts, “Have it your way.”

  The second Michael steps into the visitor’s room, my body becomes alive with the memory of him inside me. Though we’ve been with each other several times by now, his eyes still consume me like a man who’s gone his whole life without a drink. Then his lips tilt with a sexy grin and I’m at his mercy. As badly as I want to run to him and kiss the shit out of those full lips, it’s a miracle my feet stay firmly planted.

  “Afternoon, counselor,” he greets me with a dip of his chin.

  Oh how I’ve longed to hear the deep roll of his voice, and feel the rough touch of his fingertips on my nipples once more. What few dreams I’ve had whenever I’ve actually slept since we first met have been fueled by those very things.

  “Are the handcuffs absolutely necessary?” I boldly ask, turning to Smith. “He hasn’t done anything to make me fear him, and the last time I was here, I noticed they were cutting into his wrists.” When the guard that accompanied Michael casts a weary look Smith’s way, I add, “With you right outside the door, I don’t see why it would be a problem.”

  Michael’s eyes flash wide, then he bites down on his lips to hide a smirk.

  “Go ahead,” Smith grunts to the other guy.

  I’ve practically soaked through my underwear in anticipation by the time they’ve removed the cuffs and Michael is rubbing his thick wrists. Finally. He’ll be able to touch me without any restrictions.

  “Thank you,” I say to the guards, wishing they’d hurry the hell up so we can be alone.

  I’m not even positive I’ve heard the sound of the door closing behind them before I’m rounding the table to Michael, throwing myself into his massive arms as he stands. He hugs me tight to his hard chest the way a child clings to their favorite toy. I dig my fingers into his back, swooning with the mixture of his masculine scent and powerful muscles flexed around me like a python. It feels like it’s taken a lifetime to get to this moment.

  Despite first wanting to pretend sex with Michael didn’t mean anything, and having been through a good share of one night stands to have easily dismissed it, we’ve forged an unspoken bond. Or maybe our bodies did it for us, having perfectly fit together and created a deeper connection. Whatever the reason, I’ve never felt safer or more at ease when encapsulated in his arms.

  “Fucking hell,” he mutters with his lips pressed to the top of my head. “I can’t believe I finally get to hold you. You have no idea how badly I want to walk out of here with you today.”

  “I think I do.”

  “You can’t,” he answers with a harsh bark. “It should be total hell whenever I don’t get to see you, but remembering what it’s like to taste you, to feel you wrapped around my cock has made me stronger than I’ve been in months. You have no idea what you’ve done to my head, baby girl. The mere memory of your voice pulled me out of some pretty dark thoughts from my past.”

  Agh, again with the mention of his heart-wrenching childhood, my eyes pool with tears. Wriggling away from his chest, I cross the room to block the door before returning to his arms. I rise to my tip-toes to meet his hungry mouth and tongue, matching them stroke-for-stroke. One of his hands cups my ass while the other tangles in my hair, tilting my head back while making it clear that I belong to him.

  Having him freely touching me, claiming me in a way that I’ve refused every man before him, feels phenomenal. Normally I prefer to be the one in control, the one calling the shots in and out of the bedroom. But with Michael…for some fucked up reason, I want him to brand me as his.

  Soon he’s lifting me into his arms and wrapping my legs around his waist. I’m so lost in our kis
s that I hardly notice as he reaches around to flick my underwear to the side until he slides a thick finger into my slick opening. Soon one finger becomes two, and his thumb joins in to swirl against my clit. I mewl into his mouth, finding euphoria in his light, teasing strokes.

  “My gorgeous girl…so wet for me,” he growls just before his touch becomes more insistent. Then he’s setting me on the table and drawing back with a dark gaze that has me even more wet than before. “I’m going to fuck your sweet little pussy with my mouth. Can you promise to stay quiet?”

  I blanch with his sexy declaration, hardly aware when I nod. I unfurl slowly as he nudges me down to my back on the cold table. For a split second I worry what would happen if Smith were to barge his way in and catch me with my legs open. But within seconds, Michael has my skirt around my waist and he’s ripping my underwear off my legs. We both make feral noises when his raspy tongue first dips into my wetness. It’s been so long since a guy was down there with his mouth that it feels like the first time, only Michael’s strokes are so calculated and talented that it basically is the first time.

  And as he continues to twist his tongue around, stopping every so often to let his lips suck and nip, I’m certain it’ll be the first time a man has made me come with only his mouth. He suckles like he doesn’t want to waste a single drop, like he’s discovered the nectar of the gods. I’m teetering on the most epic of climaxes when one of his hands extends to a nipple, pinching it under my bra and essentially shattering my control. I break under him, digging my nails into his arm as if it will keep me from falling to the floor.

  Michael quickly pops to his feet in time to cover his mouth over mine, consuming my whimpered cries and filling me with my own bitter taste. I wrap one arm around his thick neck and reach for his pants with the other, wanting to feel him before the severe buzz from the intense orgasm leaves my body. But his kisses slow to a languid pace, and he captures my hand to lace our fingers together. It’s almost like he’s getting ready to make love to me.