Protector's Claim

by Airicka Phoenix

  “I saw you.” I took another bite of my hot pocket. Chewed. Swallowed. “We were going to the Saint Louis Cemetery.”

  What I didn’t tell her was that we were half drunk off our feet and had taken a wrong turn, getting us lost and turned around. I barely remember most of that year with Eric. It was a blur of drinking, women, and waking up in the wrong country. It had been fun in the beginning. We were young, rich, and good looking enough to get into the best clubs, get the hottest women, and afford it without breaking a sweat.

  Then I woke up one morning with some brunette draped over my chest. My head was buzzing with the worst hangover to date, and I squinted out over the disastrous state of the hotel room and wondered what the fuck was I doing? I was nearly thirty, was this how I wanted to spend the rest of my life? Being like Eric?

  The man himself had been butt naked and face down on top of a girl in the bathroom, in a thick puddle of his own vomit. Some girl was half slumped against the wall, her skirt twisted around her hips, exposing the bare crease between her sprawled thighs. Even with a throbbing skull, it hadn’t taken much sense to realize he’d been in the process of fucking her before they’d both passed out.

  Oddly enough, that hadn’t been the deciding factor when I opted off the Eric train wreck.

  It had been Gabby.

  It had been a few weekends later during a dinner party and I’d looked up and there she was. It was as if I were seeing her for the very first time. I almost did a double take. But it was her, Gabby, little Gabby with those enormous, watchful eyes. Only, she wasn’t so little and I wondered how the fuck that happened.

  It was that moment she’d turned her head and those big eyes found mine from across the room. It was a split-second occurrence, but it hit me with the full impact of an atomic explosion.

  It was the most surreal moment of my life, but then she’d given me this tiny half smile.

  Polite.

  Timid.

  But Holy Christ ... she’d knocked the fucking sense right out of me.

  That was the night Gabrielle Thornton stole my damn heart.

  “Kieran?”

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah?”

  “You said we.”

  “Eric and I.” I dusted my fingers. “We were leaving one of the local pubs.”

  “It was the middle of the afternoon,” she remarked, her tone disapproving enough to make me chuckle.

  “Believe me, that wasn’t the weirdest place for us to be at that hour.” I finished off the last of my hot pocket. “Anyway, we passed the bistro and I saw you.”

  She’d had an enormous plate of pastries in front of her and sugar dusting her mouth and chin. She’d looked so adorable scarfing them down, I almost went over. But Eric had grabbed me and I vaguely remembered winding up at some underground rave with some purple-haired girl sucking me off under the table.

  I didn’t tell Gabby that.

  “We have a few hours before we have to be there,” I broke the silence. “Do you want to grab something to eat?”

  “We’re going to eat there,” she reminded me. “Mom will be upset if you don’t...”

  I never found out what Marcella would be upset about if I didn’t. Gabby seemed to have forgotten I was there as she went quiet, except for the occasional huff of air, followed by a quiet mutter about stupid hair.

  “Do you want me to let you go?” I asked her, slightly amused, but wise enough to know better than to show it.

  “Maybe,” she mumbled. “Unless you know how to properly curl hair.”

  I allowed myself to properly consider that before answering, “Better not risk it.”

  She chuckled. “Didn’t think so. I’m nearly done. I just ... fuck!”

  The curse took me completely by surprise, more so than her yelp of pain. It was a rare thing to hear Gabby swear beyond the minor curse words. But it was the loud clatter of something dropping that had me frowning.

  “You okay?”

  There was a stretch of silence.

  “I burned my face with the curling iron,” she moaned. “Damn it!”

  I was already half out of my chair, not exactly sure what kind of help I could possibly be, but those metal rods women twisted their hair up with didn’t look fun to be burned with.

  “Do you need...?”

  “No, I’m ... can I let you go? I promise to call you if I survive this.”

  “Yeah, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  She mumbled a goodbye and hung up.

  I spent the next three hours going over paperwork in my office and waiting for Del to call back. Part of me had hoped he’d have something within the hour, but realistically, I knew that wouldn’t be possible for anyone, especially the deep, dark stuff. If David was like my father, it would be buried beneath all the other crap.

  It was never clear how David and Walter met. The two just became friends one day and that was the end of it. It had never been brought into question when I became friends with Eric, and Mom mildly put up with Marcella. But knowing what I knew about my father, I had to wonder. It was a very real possibility they’d met during one of their dungeon excursions.

  I knew David was into the same type of bondage and torture my father had been interested in. I knew both their connections ran deep into the dark underbelly of the city.

  I wish I didn’t.

  I wish Walter had never taken me with him to that place, but he had and it had opened my eyes to another side of humanity that scared the shit out of me — and I’d been thirty. Old enough to have seen some pretty fucked up shit in my life, and yet, I had not been prepared for that hole.

  It had literally been a hole in the ground. I’d been so sure my dad had been fucking with me when he’d told me to climb down. But no, there was an entire world of shadowy corners, twisted and bound bodies, smells of sweat, piss, and shit, and human rot. Men and women were crammed into cages too small for their bodies, warping their shape into inhuman lumps. Bodies were splayed on boards, chained to crosses, and pulled open in grotesque and humiliating poses. They all seemed to be enjoying it, yet the sounds of their anguish had echoed like the wails of the damned along stone.

  “I have one picked out for you,” my dad had told me as we moved through the maze.

  She was barely eighteen, if she was at all, with eyes the clear blue of the open sky and hair that had been colored blonde, but with dark roots pushing out. That was the only normal thing about her.

  She’d been pulled apart, her legs strapped in a perfect split to a board by thick ropes crossing her thighs, knees, and ankles. Her arms had been twisted backwards in an unnatural bend at her back. The forearms were aligned and jutting perfectly straight, bound by more ropes. Her bunched fingers at the top were an unhealthy shade of purple. She was forced forward all the way so her tear stained face was mashed into the foam coat.

  She was naked. Her body was littered in bruises and welts, and positioned to the edge of the makeshift bed so her swollen, lubricated, and gaping mound hovered in perfect alignment to my crotch.

  I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do with her, even while a horrified part of me knew exactly what my purpose was.

  The girl whimpered and that was the end of it for me. I walked out without saying a word to my father. He didn’t follow me, and I never asked him what happened, nor could I look him in the eye again after that.

  I just never knew how extensive his interests ran until the will reading, until the lawyer had dumped a box of folders neatly organized with everything my father had invested in, all the perverse and twisted fantasies of a man I thought I knew.

  But I couldn’t be completely against it, not when it had brought me Gabby. Part of me, was sickeningly grateful.

  I left the manor when the driver arrived. There was enough time to get to Gabby’s apartment before she took off on her own. Her Honda was still in its usual place when we pulled up in front of her building. The ancient piece of junk glinted like an eyesore from clear across the
parking lot.

  “Just wait here,” I told the driver as I pushed open my own door; having money didn’t mean I was incapable of such small gestures.

  The weather was mild, but damp and slightly muggy. The rain had stopped, but droplets continued plummeting to the ground from the bare branches twisted over the path to the door.

  I didn’t hurry my pace. I reached the steps just as an elderly man was leaving. I caught the door before it could shut and slipped my way inside.

  Something plastic was on fire, or had been. Its stench was a powerful force thick through the corridors. It was nearly overpowered by the smell of a child’s ripe diaper. I could have sworn the smells only seemed to grow in intensity the more I visited. I didn’t know how Gabby could stand it.

  I reached Gabby’s door and knocked lightly.

  I heard the crack of hurried heels a full second before she stood before me, a vision in white and silver.

  She’d done her hair up in an elegant twist of curls piled at the back of her head. The absence of the heavy cape left the slender column of her throat and the curves of her shoulders exposed. Thin straps curved the satin slopes, the only thing keeping her dress in place.

  The fabric shimmered over her breasts, dipping between the mounds in a taunting V. She wore nothing underneath, so the dark outline of her nipples were perfectly visible through the satin sheath. A single slit cut up one leg to mid thigh, showing off just enough skin to make a man want to check if anything lay between him and heaven. But it was her face I couldn’t take my eyes off of. It was the dark, smoky contour around the green pools, the subtle blush in her cheeks, and the sultry red of her lips. It was how thick and endless her eyelashes appeared when they fluttered downward in her embarrassment.

  “Jesus,” I breathed.

  Her glossy lips bowed into a grin. “You haven’t seen the best part,” she said, and twisted on balls of her feet.

  She was right.

  The front was nothing compared to the mind-blowing view of the back. What little of it there was started just over the curve of her ass. The entire length of her spine lay bare, a perfect, white curve of flesh

  “Fuck.”

  I passed over the threshold and closed the door behind me. My hands settled on her waist, only to have her pull away.

  “Wait,” she gasped. “My mom wants the dress back. Hold on.”

  Hard enough to come in my pants, I just stood there as she reached for me.

  She pulled me from my pants, already hard and ready and drew me forward. Her skirts were pushed apart at the slit, baring her pussy. One leg was hooked over my hip and she impaled herself on my cock.

  I slanted each thrust to grind her clit with the shaft. She gripped me hard and met every pump with a downward plunge.

  “Faster, Kieran,” she breathed, watching the place our bodies met.

  I gathered her to me, careful not to wreck her dress as I drove into her.

  She came with a sobbed, “Yes!”

  “Pull out?” I hissed into her ear.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  I growled. “You’re not wearing panties.”

  Her head tilted back. “I know.”

  Fuck me!

  I came like I’d never come before. I shot gallons of it up inside her, an amount that would take days to slowly leak from her body.

  “Fuck, Gabby!”

  “Am I in trouble?” she teased.

  “You are fucking trouble.”

  She giggled and pulled away. We both straightened our clothes. I was handed a dishtowel from the kitchen to clean up with. She took it when I finished and tossed it in the corner by the door.

  “Come.” She adjusted my blazer. “Let’s get this over with. I want to go and leave as soon as we can.”

  That was the best idea I’d ever heard.

  She grabbed her coat and purse, and a fresh towel. She only grinned at me when I raised an eyebrow. Without answering, she led us out into the corridor, locked her door and turned to me.

  “Ready?”

  I nodded and took her hand.

  At the car, she laid the towel down on the seat, lifted the hem of her skirt and sat her bare ass on the fabric. It was only then the towel made sense to me, and it took all my restraint not to jump her again.

  I did, however, settle my hand on her bare, upper thigh, close enough to her heat that I felt it singe my skin. She was the one who parted her knees and nudged my hand higher, slipping my fingers over her lips.

  “What are you doing?” I growled into her ear, my fingers pulling apart her folds and seeking the button in between.

  “Enjoying my evening.” Her eyes lifted from beneath heavy lashes and met mine. “What are you doing?”

  I teased her clit, eyes never leaving hers.

  “If I wasn’t a possessive man, I’d strip you naked and fuck you right here in the backseat.”

  “After,” she breathed, eye slipping shut with the penetration of two fingers. “You can help me get the dress off.”

  I pumped inside her with unhurried drives, relishing in the rapid rise and fall of her breasts through the low cut of the dress’s top.

  “This is your mom’s dress?”

  She made a sound that was no more than a grunt. “I don’t know. It was waiting for me when I got home with a note...” She gasped, voice wavering. “To return ... faster, Kieran.”

  “No.” I nipped lazily at her earlobe with my teeth.

  I earned two muffled orgasms from her by the time we reached the manor. Both were caught behind her mashed lips with only a choked little whimper in my ear as evidence to my success. My fingers were dripping, sticky and thick with a mixture of both our essences. The towel was soaked.

  “You are a bad influence,” I growled into her jawline.

  Breathing hard from her most recent release, Gabby cupped my cheek. Her thumb settled on my lips where her gaze lingered hungrily. “I was innocent before you,” she panted. “I think you’re to blame.”

  It took every ounce of my self-control not to tear into her. The animal she brought out in me was a beast I had never met before. It was wild and untamed, ferial to the point of savage, and all it ever wanted was to devour her.

  “We’re going to finish this later,” I vowed as the driver — who had all but gone deaf and blind through the bulk of the drive — took the turn down the Thornton driveway.

  We arrived at the manor, behind a row of other cars. I let the driver open the door this time and help Gabby out. It had begun to rain, but the light drizzle was barely noticed as I ushered her inside.

  The place was lit with candles and decorated in dark, purple roses. People crowded every square inch, roaming from room to room and spilling into the foyer. I recognized a large portion, all the high fliers who usually frequented the upscale parties.

  A girl exchanged our coats for small, pink tickets. I stuffed ours into my pocket.

  “What do you want to do first?”

  Gabby had already pulled away from me, leaving an almost two-person gap between us. The hot, passionate woman in the car had gone rigid and withdrawn just by stepping foot into that place. It took all my restraint not to pull her back to me and remind her I wouldn’t let anyone touch her.

  “I should find my parents,” she murmured. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

  She was gone before I could even think to say hell no. I lost her in the sea of bodies with a swiftness that was almost supernatural.

  “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Kieran.”

  Wrapped in a beautiful gown of silver, my mother materialized from the crowd. Her dark hair was twisted into an elegant knot at the back of her head, pulled away from the oval shape of her face and the cluster of diamonds dangling from each ear.

  They were her good set, I noted. The one Father had given her on one of their anniversaries. They matched the thick choker around her slender throat and the bracelet at her wrist. There was a ring, if memory served, but she
wasn’t wearing any.

  She was as beautiful as ever, with just the right amount of nipping frost to make her fit right in with the rich and elite.

  “Mother.” I bent at the waist and brushed both powdered cheeks with my lips. “You look lovely.”

  Norah lifted her chin, a simple tilt to indicate all her pleasure in my remark. “Thank you. You wore the Armani.” Her hazel eyes took in my suit. “Perhaps no one will notice.” She fidgeted with her bracelet, a sign I’d made her uncomfortable. Her gaze shifted away from me to the people moving around us, as if half expecting someone to be looking over and pointing, horrified by my suit choice. “Did you come alone?”

  I shook my head.

  Cordelia took that moment to appear at my side, as if summoned by the sheer power of my mother’s fretting.

  In a scarlet gown, her blonde locks twisted up in a French knot at the back of her head, she was every bit a princess, just the wrong woman for me.

  She smiled brightly from me to my mother. “You both made it. Lovely.”

  I couldn’t think of a single, straight, hot blooded male who wouldn’t want a chance with Cordelia Thornton. She was beautiful, driven, cultured, and came from one of the wealthiest families. She also had that, come fuck me look down to a science. Back in the beginning, I’d almost considered it. It was one of those, why not moments after my fifth beer next to the pool on a hot as shit summer. She’d been there in a two-piece swimsuit that couldn’t keep a child covered, wet, and practically giving me a lap dance. I couldn’t remember why I said no, but it hadn’t happened, a decision I couldn’t be happier about.

  “Hello, Cordelia,” Norah murmured with the same stiff lipped displeasure she showed everyone who wasn’t important. “Don’t you look ... shiny.”

  My mother had a very basic grasp of social gatherings. In her world, much like Cordelia, there were two kinds of people, those worthy of being associated with and those who weren’t. Short of royalty, I had yet to meet a single worthy candidate. The Thorntons were essentially trailer park people in her eyes, money grubbing sewer rats looking to suck the life out of those higher than them. Walter’s friendship with David had been a dark day in our household. Then my friendship with Eric. Mother had refused to speak to either of us for almost a month.