“You can’t force a person to do something they don’t want to do.” The sadness returned to his eyes.
His words slapped me in the face. I slowly walked to the sofa and sat. I was always angry at my mom for leaving me, but over the years I had come to believe that she had no control over herself. That she was lost so deep in the darkness that she couldn’t distinguish a right decision from a wrong one. I believed she wanted to stay with us, with me, but needed a hand to reach out and guide her back to us.
“Why did she want to leave us?” My bottom lip quivered as I tried to hold back my tears. I looked at my dad, my eyes pleading with him to answer, She didn’t have a choice. Her actions were out of her control.
“She was just tired,” he said flatly.
“She wasn’t tired of being my mom.” Tears were streaming down my face.
“She was just tired of being, sweetheart, so she finally made the choice that day to stop.”
She made the choice.
My chest caved in as all the air rushed out of my lungs when I heard those words. Sobs were escaping me at a rapid pace while my heart and soul shattered.
She made the decision to leave me. She didn’t want to be my mom anymore.
My eyes were so blurry from my tears I didn’t see my dad approach and sit beside me. I flinched when I felt his hand on my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Mabry. She did love you, but she just couldn’t pretend to be happy any longer.” His voice trailed off, whispering the last few words.
Wiping my eyes, I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to compose myself, and asked, “Did you blame me? Is that why you just left me alone?”
We stared at each other for several seconds. The look in his eyes answered my question.
“It was hard to be there for you because you’re just like her, and I missed her so much. I still do. Even now it hurts. You have her blue eyes, soft chestnut hair, and creamy pale skin. You’re so beautiful.” He raised a trembling hand, cupping the side of my face, and gently ran his thumb back and forth over my cheek.
The air in the room changed and so did the look in his eyes. I could tell he no longer saw his daughter sitting in front of him. He was looking at the love of his life. A chill ran through me when he shifted his position. His hand slid to the back of my neck. Leaning toward me slightly, he pulled me in closer as he tilted his head. I jerked away from him and jumped up. My breathing was shallow and erratic. I felt like I was going to be sick.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” I blurted out.
I ran down the hallway to my room, quickly threw my things in my suitcase, and headed for the front door. Before leaving I looked back and saw my father still on the sofa, sobbing into his hands. Tears gushed out of me as I realized that any hope I might have had to someday get him back was gone.
I’m sitting in front of her as she leans back on my desk, proofing a letter for me, her dark rimmed glasses perched on her adorable little nose. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, exposing that spot right at the nape of her neck that drives her crazy when I run my tongue over it. As usual her makeup is light and natural, except today she’s wearing a deep red lipstick, making her lips look extra pouty. She raises the pen she’s holding and slips the tip of it into her mouth. My dick immediately twitches. My eyes roam down her body admiring the way her light gray dress glides over every curve so smoothly. I wonder if she’s even wearing panties. I shift uncomfortably in my chair. Looking down I recognize the sexy black heels with the strap around the ankle. They were draped over my shoulders and digging into my back a couple of nights ago when I had Mabry on the edge of the dining room table, my face buried between her thighs. I look back up, trying to control the urge to shove her dress up and have a repeat performance of that night. My eyes stop at the wide black leather belt around her waist. Fuck me. We’ve used that on occasion too. No matter what part of her body my eyes land on, my dick reacts. I know she feels my gaze because her nipples are hard and straining against the material of her dress. I take in a deep breath and let it out quickly.
“You sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable sitting on my lap?” I smirk up at her.
The corners of her mouth curl into a sexy grin. The pen she’s holding is aimed in my direction. “We agreed. No funny business at work.”
I run my hand up her thigh and feel the shiver that moves through her body.
Sweet baby Jesus! I think I feel a garter.
“Sweetness, the business I’m thinking about engaging in would definitely not be funny. I hope it wouldn’t be anyway.” I ease out of my chair, inching my way up her body as I say, “That’d be quite a blow to my ego if you were to laugh as I bring you to the ultimate height of ecstasy.” I flash her the smile as I cock my eyebrow.
We’re face-to-face now. My hands planted firmly on either side of her hips, caging her in. Her chest rises and falls a little faster than normal as she looks directly at me. My lips skim down the side of her face heading toward her mouth, and I nibble lightly at the corners. She’s so caught up in the moment, I’m able to take the letter from her and toss it on my desk.
Moving my mouth to her ear, I whisper, “Let’s play hot secretary and bossy naughty boss.”
Her body shakes as the most beautiful sound in the world flows out of her mouth. “It’s amazing how you can get me hot and make me laugh at the same time.”
“I’m a full-service love machine, Sweetness. I can make you laugh, moan, scream, and beg for more.” I kiss a path along her jaw and down her neck.
“So this hot secretary and bossy naughty boss… Who gets to be the boss?” she asks in a low sexy voice.
“You’ll always be the boss of me,” I say against her neck.
“Okay.” It comes out like a sigh as she tilts her head to the side, exposing more of her neck to me. She allows me to linger a few seconds before shoving me back. The look in her eyes is smoldering, intense, and makes me completely hard. “Well, Bradley, I was not pleased with the report you turned in to me.” She places her hands on the desk, leaning back on them for support.
“I apologize for my incompetency, Ms. Darnell. Maybe this will please you.” I take a step toward her.
She quickly extends her leg, planting the sharp heel of her shoe on the lower half of my chest. “I’ll be the one to tell you what pleases me.”
A huge grin crosses my face.
“Now, do as you’re told or I’ll report you for being insubordinate.”
“You’re the best girlfriend ever.”
She pushes her heel gently into my chest. “Get serious or I’ll be forced to slap that hot as fuck grin off your face.” She tries to keep the stern look, but a slight smirk sneaks across her lips.
“Yes ma’am.” A smile starts to play on my face but I quickly make it disappear.
Lowering her leg, she instructs. “Pay attention, I’m going to tell you exactly what I want you to do.” She peers at me over her glasses. “Do you need to write this down?”
“I got it.”
“Excuse me?” she asks, flirty sarcasm flowing through her words.
“I mean, no ma’am. I’ll pay attention and remember everything you tell me.”
She removes her glasses and places them on the desk. “Good to hear that, Bradley. The first thing I’ll want you to do is get on your knees in front of me and run your nose up my leg to my inner thigh while your hands shove my dress over my hips.”
My breathing picks up and every hair on my body rises. “Yes ma’am.”
“Then I want your tongue to flick me down there,” she says, glancing down. “I like it fast and hard.”
I take in a big gulp of air. “I can do fast and hard.”
“Next, I’ll have you to peel my dress off. You’ll then drag your tongue up to my tits and suck them hard. I basically want everything hard, Bradley. Do you think you can be hard with me?”
“I’m already hard.”
She smiles and says, “I can see that. You know just the th
ought of you inside of me is making me wetter than I’ve ever been before.”
“Mabry…” My entire body vibrates with tension. I can feel tiny beads of sweat on my forehead and my breathing sounds as if I’ve sprinted around the building several times.
“No, no, no…” she says in a sing-songy way.
“Ms. Darnell, as I’m getting harder so is the ability to stand here and not attack you.”
“Just one more thing. After you sufficiently tongue fuck me, you’ll bend me over this desk…” She stands, turns, and bends over the desk in front of me. “…you’ll properly fuck me. Pounding into me hard, fast, and continuously.”
I make my way to her immediately. When she stands, her back meets my chest, surprising her. My hands glue themselves to her tits, massaging and pinching as I suck that special spot at the nape of her neck. Her hands grab my hips, pulling them to her as she grinds her ass against my dick.
“Brad, we can’t do this now. We need to stop,” she moans breathlessly.
My lips move to just below her ear. “Shhh, Ms. Darnell, I’m working on a raise.”
A cute giggle escapes her. My hands move down to the bottom of her dress. Hooking my fingers under the hem, I slide it up. Suddenly there is a loud knock on my door, jolting both of us out of the moment. Mabry spins around to face me. She runs her palms down her dress, and then up around her hair, tucking in any stray pieces. I try to calm my perfectly good, but wasted hard on. I’m combing my fingers through my hair while Mabry’s putting her glasses back on, just as the door opens and my brother Peyton sticks his head in.
“You’re supposed to wait until somebody says come in,” I growl at him in frustration.
“Now, what or who could you be doing that would be inappropriate for me to see? Oh, hi ya, Mabry.”
“Peyton, you’re such a dick…” I say.
Mabry places her hand on my chest, stopping me from laying further into my brother. She keeps eye contact with me as she stands and says, “I need to get going. I’m meeting Sylvie.”
“Again? You two had a girl’s night just a couple of days ago.”
“She’s having guy trouble. Since I found the most perfect Mr. Perfect in the world, she wants some pointers,” she says in a low voice, not wanting Peyton to hear.
“Well, lookie who’s full of cheese today.” I grin, then lean in, kissing her on the forehead, and whisper, “Can I come by tonight?”
“Yes, please. I’ll text you when I’m home.” Her face lights up with a gorgeous smile before she turns and walks toward the door.
“Mabry,” Peyton says, standing up straight as she approaches.
“Peyton,” Mabry says, walking out.
Peyton doesn’t hide his admiring glare of Mabry as she passes him. “Mmmm, that’s one fine piece of…”
“What the fuck do you want?” I ask, cutting him off.
“Dad wants us in his office now.”
“For what?”
“Don’t know, bro, but he looks pissed.”
“He always looks pissed,” I point out.
“Yeah, well, he looks exceptionally pissed today.”
The air is stifling in my father’s office or maybe it just feels that way to me. He’s sitting behind his massive desk, his face partially hidden in shadow with his chin resting on his laced fingers. He doesn’t make a move or a sound to greet Peyton and me as we enter. Both of us know instinctively to sit in front of his desk in silence until he’s ready to speak. As the seconds tick by, I occupy my mind with thoughts of being with Mabry and finding out if she is, in fact, wearing a garter.
“I’m glad you’re smiling now because you won’t be in a few minutes.”
“What?” I ask, jolted out of my Mabry haze by the deep baritone of my father’s voice. I glance over at a chuckling Peyton.
My father’s cold piercing eyes fixate on me. He’s already being condescending with just one look. “Do you know a Rebecca Hyams?” he asks in a stern accusatory tone.
The answer “no” is on the tip of my tongue because at first the name didn’t ring a bell. I always knew her as Becca. Once it sank in, so did my chest and stomach.
“I knew her at Duke.” My answer sounds slightly defensive.
“Did you fuck her?” He says it so bluntly it catches me off guard.
“Damn, way to get to the point, Dad,” Peyton remarks.
The best way to handle my father is to answer his questions as straightforward as possible using the minimal amount of words. “Yes.”
“Were you dating? Was it a relationship?”
“No. We were together just a handful of times. I didn’t even know her that well.” A pang of guilt shot through me. Every word that comes out of my mouth is true, but it feels as if I’m belittling Becca’s impact on my life somehow.
“So, no “I love you’s” ever passed between the two of you?” he asks, continuing the interrogation.
I hesitate, remembering the night Becca told me she loved me. “No. Why are you asking me about Becca?” Instead of just coming right out with the information, he’s goading me. I’m getting irritated with his little game of twenty questions.
“She committed suicide while at Duke, but I’m sure you knew that already.” He leans back in his leather chair.
“What’s that got to do with Brad?” Peyton chimes in.
“When was the last time you saw her, Bradley?”
“I guess during my second year in law school, so about two years ago.”
“Specifically, when was the last time you laid eyes on her?” He’s in full lawyer mode now.
I’m getting more and more uncomfortable with each question, but I suppress the urge to shift in my seat. Staying still and grounded shows strength and confidence. Moving about and fidgeting shows your opponent that your nerves are surfacing. This has been drilled into my head by my father since before I entered law school. My eyes are pointed directly at him, but I’m looking over his shoulder at the row of law books that line his bookshelves. I didn’t want to answer “specifically” when I saw her last.
“That night,” I whisper.
“Excuse me?”
My glare moves to meet his. Clearing my throat, I repeat my answer, “That night. I saw her the night she committed suicide.”
“Fuuuck.” I hear Peyton mutter.
“Now you answer my question. Why are you asking me about Becca?”
Leaning forward, he shuffles through some papers in front of him, picks up one, and tosses it across the desk toward me. I glance down at the document. “Because her parents are bringing a wrongful death lawsuit against you, Son.”
I immediately look up at him when I hear the venomous sound that comes from his mouth when he calls me “son”.
“I don’t understand,” I say, slightly dazed.
“Well, it’s pretty simple. They claim you were directly responsible for the death of their daughter.”
All the air leaves my lungs. I had worked hard to get past the guilt I felt regarding my connection with Becca’s death, but it all came rushing back with that one sentence. My past is about to meet my present.
Mabry.
“How is that possible?” Peyton asks. “She committed suicide. She decided to take her own life. This is total bullshit.”
“They don’t even know me. How can they think I had anything to do with her death?”
“Apparently there’s a letter that implicates you as being the major cause of her distressed mental state which caused her to take her own life.” He spouts out the information as if I’m a client. A client he can’t stand to represent.
“Brad, listen, this shit isn’t going to make it to court,” Peyton says.
I stare straight ahead in silence. I have so many thoughts and feelings whirling around inside of me, but I block them all out. There’s only one thing I’m able to focus on.
Mabry.
“Peyton’s right. This won’t make it to court. The docket is so backed up it would take years. Besides
, this is a frivolous suit. No judge in his right mind would even take the time to consider hearing it. My guess is they want money, plain and simple. They see a cash cow and are ready to pounce,” my father explains.
“How much?” I ask.
“One point two million.”
A whistle shoots from Peyton’s mouth.
“Fuck, I don’t have that kind of money.”
“No, but the firm and I do.” My father’s eyes burn into me. His words are full of sarcasm.
“It’s been two years. Why now?”
Mabry.
“They claim they’ve been too overwhelmed with grief to take action until now. I think it’s taken them this long to find a lawyer who would take the case.”
“Who’s their lawyer,” Peyton inquires.
“Tennyson McGuire.”
Fuck me.
“Shit, he’s good,” Peyton says.
“Not only that, he’s hungry. He knows this suit will garner him attention even if he’s able to squeeze just a dime out of us. Most likely, they’ll want to deal. They’ll come down some on the amount and drop the case if we go ahead and pay up. They know we don’t want this to get out and have the family name and reputation of the firm dragged through the mud. I’ll have Tina set up the meeting.” He turns toward his computer and clicks away at something.
Peyton and I look at each other, wondering if we are free to go. We both hesitate for a moment before standing.
“Peyton, let me speak to your brother alone, please,” my father says abruptly, never looking at us.
Peyton glances over at me before exiting.
“Sit down, Bradley,” he commands. He swivels his chair in my direction and leans back. His expression flat. “Did you have anything to do with this girl’s death?”
I’m not sure how to answer his question. Technically, no, I didn’t do anything besides break up with Becca. I had no knowledge then of her mental status or that she was going to kill herself. But I’ve always felt partially responsible, and apparently I am since Becca mentions me in her letter.
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