by Maya Hughes
“You’ll be happy to know I have a parole hearing coming up.” The closest thing to what I’d describe as a smile spread across his face. My stomach dropped. Parole. How was that even possible? How did they let a murderer out after only fifteen years?
“How?” It was all I could croak out. My hands went numb and my throat constricted. The collar of my shirt, even with the top button undone, still felt far too tight.
“Got myself a lawyer who wasn’t a fucking moron. I’ll be out at the end of the month. Since you’re always trying to reinvent yourself, first as a rich preppy kid and now as the big shot at whatever business you’ve got yourself involved with, maybe I need to reinvent myself too. Take a page from your book,” he said, looking so proud of himself. I gritted my teeth.
It never failed. Every visit, it was the exact same thing. I’d clawed my way to where I’d made it with no help from him, but he always saw me as an imposter. A fuck up like him, who’d never truly make it. Never really be accepted in the rarefied circles of society. He’d been cast out the moment those handcuffs clicked into place.
“You cannot come to New York,” I said, forcing myself to keep my voice level. When he was here I could deal with him. I did my annual visits, paid my penance, but I couldn’t have him in the same state as me, let alone the same city. That was why I’d fled to the East Coast to begin with.
“I can go wherever the fuck I want to and don’t you forget it,” he said, his voice as hard as steel and his eyes slicing into me. “Don’t worry, it will be just like old times,” he said, like it was a fucking family reunion. I didn’t want anything to do with old times. Those father-son bonding trips still turned my stomach.
He’d only been convicted of one murder. The last job to clean up the last of the dirty deeds Rhys’s parents needed buried, to preserve their new altruistic public image. Then they died. They weren’t there to protect him anymore, so he’d ended up in prison.
Only one murder, but I was sure there were many other bodies buried. Buried to cover up the misdeeds of his employers. The misdeeds of the Thayers. While they got to live out what was left of their lives as the darlings of the press and the world, I knew the secrets that lurked beneath the shiny façade.
I stood from the table without another word, my dad barking after me as I left the room. My hands shook as each set of metal bars clanked open. Each one opening felt like a wave crashing over me, threatening to drown me under its weight. I wasn’t being freed from this prison, I was being dragged back into a life I thought I’d left behind. These walls served to keep a villain out of my life for the past ten years, but the monster might soon be free.
I needed to get back to the city. I needed to feel like I could breathe again. I needed to see Rachel. Just the thought of her made me feel lighter, like a lifeline thrown out to me when waves were crashing overhead, threatening to drown me. As soon as I was out of the prison, I practically lunged for my phone, snatching it from the tray.
Me: Hey
Rachel: Hey stranger, how are you?
The smile was immediate. I could feel the edges of my lips tugging upward, like they had a mind of their own. They knew something I tried to deny. It had been over a week since I saw her. Trying to prove to myself that I didn’t need to see her.
Me: Fine. I’m back in the city tonight. Meet me at my apartment at 9.
I’d planned on flying out tomorrow morning, but I needed to get out of here. I could get the next flight and be at the apartment by 8:30.
Rachel: Alright. Are you okay?
Me: I’m fine.
How the hell did she know from one text that something was wrong? I’d tried to keep my distance, but screw that. I needed her and I’d have her. Tonight.
16
RACHEL
Killian’s text caught me off guard. He’d only sent a couple of texts the entire week. I hadn’t contacted him because the guilt of what I was doing continued to gnaw at my gut and make me want to hide my head under my desk whenever Mr. Thayer came into the office.
“Morning, Rachel,” Mr. Thayer said, breezing into his office. How could anyone hate him? Let alone hate him enough to try to destroy all the good work he did? How terrible was it that I couldn’t even help him the way he deserved? I was caught in a web and I didn’t know how to escape.
“Good morning, Mr. Thayer,” I said, following him into his office. The wrap around floor-to-ceiling windows let all the early morning sun into the office, making it even brighter than usual. Everything was glass and earth tones, which made the room feel like an extension of the outside.
“Rachel.” He stopped at his desk, laying his jacket over the arm of his chair. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Rhys? When you call me Mr. Thayer it makes me think of my dad. Just call me Rhys.”
“Of course, Mr.— Rhys,” I corrected myself, flustered that no matter how many times he told me not to, I still slipped back into Mr. mode. I stood with my tablet ready, and rattled off the meetings he had scheduled for today. When I finished, he was turned in his chair, staring out over the city.
“Were you able to find out anything, Rachel? Anything about the elections?” He swiveled around in his chair, his eyes so sad the pain thudded me right in the chest. He didn’t deserve this. I’d have to talk to Killian. Find out why. I shook my head.
“No, Rhys. I know it’s Killian Thorne, but other than that I haven’t been able to get any more information. I can stop digging, maybe search in a new direction. Maybe try to get more from the board members,” I said, hoping my pounding heart couldn’t be heard halfway across the room. Please give me this out. Make it easier for me to walk away.
“No, it’s okay. Keep exploring what’s going on with Killian,” he said, letting out a deep breath. My shoulders slumped, my out snatched away from me. I’m sure he didn’t mean the kind of ‘exploring’ I’d been doing with Killian.
“We used to be best friends,” he said distractedly, staring at the picture of Esme he had on his desk. That perked my ears up.
“You were?”
“Yup. The first two years of high school. His dad worked for my parents. I was a boarder at the school, but he was bussed in from not too far away.”
I was sitting in the seat in front of his desk before I even realized what I was doing. I needed to hear this. To find out just what the hell happened. I guess he took my sitting as a cue to keep going because he laid it all out.
“He grew up with my late wife and…and some other people from his neighborhood. My parents ran a scholarship program and Killian and Beth were both scholarship recipients and that is how they were able to attend. I lived on campus, so I was there almost year around.” He shook his head like he was trying to banish bad memories.
“There was an issue with Killian’s dad one summer, the summer my parents died. He was arrested and it changed Killian. I never looked into what it was. I was dealing with the fallout from my parents dying. He’d never wanted me getting involved with his life at home, so I respected that. When he came back, after that summer, he was different. Angrier. Rage poured off him wherever he went.” I could feel that, although it didn’t seem like it boiled over anymore. It was more like a slow simmer trapped under a glacier’s worth of ice.
“Did his dad end up going to jail?” I said, gripping onto my tablet to keep my hands from shaking. Was that what was going on? His dad was in jail? Was he still in jail? How did I even ask him about this?
“I guess, but he wasn’t even close to his dad. From everything I’d ever heard from him, he hated his dad. Something happened and I’ve never been able to find out what, and now with these board challenges—” He shook his head and ran his hand along his jaw. “Just do whatever you can, Rachel. I really appreciate it.” He went back to his computer and I took that as my cue to leave.
Why was Killian after Rhys? What happened when they were in school together? Did it have anything to do with what was going on now? A decade and a half later, was he still trying
to get back at Rhys for what happened back in high school?
KILLIAN
I paced my apartment, antsy from the minute the wheels touched down to get home. While I tried to convince myself that I wanted to be back in my own city, in my own place, and away from my dad—all true—another part of me knew why I wanted to be back in the city. Her frizzy curls and ridiculous glasses danced in my mind and captivated me like no one else.
I checked my watch again. There was a knock at the door. I wrenched it open, faster than I should have. She stood in front of me, her bag slung over her shoulder, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead.
“You’re late.” I moved out of the doorway a little, but not enough that she wouldn’t have to touch me to get by. She was flustered. I liked her flustered and off balance, like she made me.
“Sorry, I’m really sorry. I missed my train and the next two were packed,” she said, sliding past me, trying to get by without touching me. That wouldn’t do.
“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” I said, fingering her curls. “You’ll have to find a way to make it up to me.” A tremble traveled through her and I bit back my smile.
“What did you have in mind?” she said, her eyes big and wide behind her lenses.
“Strip.” I stepped back, closing the door behind her.
“What?” Her mouth worked a mile a minute as she tried to form that single word. But I saw it in her eyes. The fire that flared up whenever she thought of doing something naughty with me.
“Strip for me,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the door.
“Okay.” She dropped her bag to the floor and started hastily unbuttoning her clothes.
“I didn’t say undress like you’ve got a tick on you. I said strip. Here, I’ll make it easier.” I grabbed my phone and found the perfect song. It came piping through the speakers that ran throughout the apartment. She glanced up at the ceiling, looking for the source of the pounding, seductive beat.
“That doesn’t make it easier. I don’t know how to strip,” she said, nibbling her bottom lip. I wanted to take it into my mouth and suck on it, teasing her like her fidgeting presence did for me.
“I’m sure you can figure it out.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city.
“Someone might see.”
“Then they are going to be a jealous SOB because I don’t share.” I crossed to the leather arm chair in the living room. She followed me over, dragging her bag along the floor. I’d have laughed if I didn’t have a raging hard on that made it difficult to think, let alone laugh. I still wasn’t sure if she’d even do it. It was a test of sorts. Whenever she was with me, she seemed to loosen up a bit. Less worried about who she was supposed to be, and more focused on what I wanted. A distraction from the world out there. I might be a passing fancy to her, but I’d milk that for all I could.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” she said, letting go of the strap of her bag. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and my cock pressed harder against my zipper. Her eyes opened and my naughty girl was back.
Perfection.
17
RACHEL
When he opened the door, this wasn’t what I thought we’d be doing. I thought we would get right down to the sex. That seemed to be the MO, but stripping… that wasn’t something I’d ever done before. Hadn’t even thought of doing. I was too afraid to do one of those pole fitness classes Dahlia raved about, but when I saw the way he looked at me, I didn’t think he’d care how shitty I would be at it.
I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. Game on. Let’s see how far I can go with this. I glanced over at the windows once again and figured, screw it. The other buildings were far away, and they might be able to see something, but not much. Maybe I wanted to put on a show.
He turned the music up and the song started again. I took my glasses off.
“Leave them on,” he said, leaning back in his chair. I pushed them back up my nose and closed my eyes, letting the rhythm of the music flow through me. The pulsing and pounding of the beat made my body throb and I slid my hands up and down my body. Slowly, I unbuttoned my shirt, popping each button out of the hole to the beat of the music. I slid my shirt down my arms and danced in front of him. My pussy throbbed and I could feel the wetness in my panties. I wasn’t nervous anymore. I just wanted to put on a show. A show he’d never forget.
He adjusted himself in his seat. I could see the outline of his cock in his pants. I decided to get a bit bolder and turned around, unzipping my skirt. I glanced over my shoulder and slid it down over my ass. I wasn’t wearing a thong or anything, but my cute black underwear with lace details got a nice reaction. I heard him groan behind me as I bent at the waist to slide the skirt down my legs.
I stepped out of my skirt and I spun around on my sensible kitten heels. I kicked them off and stalked closer to him. I did my best sexy walk, putting one foot in front of the other until I got closer to him. I dropped down, putting my hands on the arms of the chair. My bra and panties were the only thing between him and me. The song changed and I did a dip, swinging my hips from side to side, bringing my breasts inches from his face. His eyes burned with a fire so hot I thought it might burn me.
I turned and rubbed my ass on his lap. His hands slid along my waist and I pulled away.
“No touching,” I said, over my shoulder. “Isn’t that the rule in strip clubs? No touching the performers.” I helped myself up with the arms of the chair and slid up and down his lap, leaning back against his hard chest.
“That is the rule in the clubs. But we’re on my turf, so house rules apply and those say I can touch as much as I like.” He fingered my bra strap, sliding his finger under it and rubbing it along my back. I shivered and let him drop it down.
“And aren’t strippers supposed to get naked? You’re still practically in a bathing suit. The rest,” he said, pulling the other strap down. I stood from his lap and turned toward him. My breath caught in my throat and all the bravery I’d had before fled.
My heart hammered in my chest. I undid the clasps on the back and let the bra slide down my arms. It hit the floor and the sound bounced off the walls. That was when I realized the music had stopped. There weren’t any other sounds in the room, except the sound of my breathing and his. I crossed my arm over my chest, covering my breasts. I don’t know why I was suddenly self-conscious. I’d just been grinding on his dick and he’d seen my boobs before, but not under this much scrutiny.
“All of it,” he said again, more firmly. There would definitely be a wet spot on my panties when I took them off. I slid my hands under the waistband.
“Come here. I want to see,” he said. Of course, he did. I walked to him on unsteady feet and stood between his open legs. He leaned forward and tucked his fingers along the sides of my underwear and tugged them down, exposing me to him, excruciating inch by inch. There was no hiding now. His focus was completely on me. I fought the urge to squirm, to squeeze my thighs together to relieve some of the tension building between my legs.
He slid them completely off and showed me the wet spot.
“It looks like someone is enjoying herself.” My cheeks heated and I ducked my head.
“More,” he said, tucking my underwear into his pocket. I could feel the wetness coating the inside of my thighs. My clit pulsed and throbbed. I wanted to reach down and touch it, but I didn’t know if that was allowed. How screwed was that? I was wondering if I was allowed to touch myself in front of him.
“I…I don’t want to make a mess,” I said, nibbling my bottom lip. “Do you want me to take your pants off?”
“No.” He stared at me. His breath coming out hot and heavy. He was gripping onto the arm of the chair, like he needed to hold himself back. At least I wasn’t the only one affected. I dropped down onto his lap, facing him this time.
I dropped my arm from my breasts and he sucked in a breath. I got bolder and dropped myse
lf down, rubbing my wet pussy against him. The feel of the smooth fabric of his pants against my bare, heated flesh increased my desire. It was so naughty. Here I was sitting on the lap of a man, completely naked and dripping, and he was completely clothed. I slid up and down, rubbing myself along him. The cold metal of his belt buckle brushed against the top of my pussy and made me shiver.
My clit was pounding now, throbbing, ready for attention. I dipped my fingers between us and tapped it. His eyes were on me the whole time. Boring into mine. Daring me to stop. But I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to keep going. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to come. I wanted to be who I was with him. Bold and daring.
Without warning, he grabbed onto my waist, raising me up, before the sound of his zipper broke through the silence in the apartment. He palmed my ass with one hand and slid on a condom he got out of nowhere with his other. His hands dug into my cheeks as he slammed me down onto his cock in one smooth breathtaking motion. I was so full, I screamed out, wrapping my arms around his head and dragging him to my chest.
“Fuck,” he bit out before he took control, bouncing me up and down on his cock. He pushed into me and withdrew before hammering back in. His smooth belt buckle rubbing against my clit. I was so close.
“Please,” I cried out. “Please let me come.” I trembled in his arms, doing everything I could to keep myself from coming.
“Not yet,” he groaned. His assault continued. He sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, his teeth teasing my peak. I whipped my head back and forth and cried out. It was too much. Too much to handle. I was racing toward my orgasm and the waves were crashing over me, threatening to push me right over the edge. He picked up the pace. His lips ran over my neck, biting me there, which inched me towards the edge, but only the slightest bit. My thighs shook and my back went rigid.
“Now,” he ground out along my neck. I bucked and his strong hold was the only thing that kept me there. That kept me from rocketing away. He roared into my neck, squeezing me to him until we were nearly melded as one. A study in denial of pleasure and its eventual release, as he came down from his high.