Harkham's Corner (Harkham's Series Book 3)

by Lowell, Chanse

  * * *

  Mrs. Fahey was in the waiting area.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, lowering her eyes.

  “You’re not scheduled,” Adam answered her unasked question.

  “No, I’m not.” She held her hands clasped together, her shoulders hunched over, and she wore no makeup. “I’m here because . . . Well, I . . .” She glanced around the empty room.

  In the background there was the sound of the examining rooms being tidied up and things being shut down for the day.

  “Should I get my father?” He kept a fair amount of distance between them.

  “I suppose you could, but I . . .”

  He turned to go. “Make an appointment, please. That’s how this works. It means we respect your time, and you should respect ours. It’s what we do in an office.”

  He took a step, and a hand landed on his shoulder.

  He swung around. “You can’t touch me.” He yanked his shoulder out of her grip. “That’s not allowed. You’re not authorized to practice medicine or lay your hands on me.”

  She sniffed and shuddered as if she was cold. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to say—”

  “Say goodbye. That’s what you’re supposed to say. It’s after appointment hours. I have a wife. I have two kids. They wait for me. They don’t have dinner without me, and I’m not going to make them wait or be late. I don’t do that. Plus, my soda gets warm, and I hate that when I come home to a warm soda sitting next to my dinner plate. And they make kind of sad faces. I refuse to let them look that way. That’s what good husbands do—they’re available for their family and put them first, keeping smiles on their faces for good.”

  Her eyes flew open wide, but she stood in place, hands joined back together in front of her lower abs. “I know you’re a very good man and a terrific husband. Every client who comes here also knows you’re a dedicated son. I wanted to ask you something, though . . .” She dropped her head, and her brow furrowed as her face scrunched up.

  “Are you on something, Mrs. Fahey? You know that’s not a good idea,” he said, taking a small step closer to see if he could examine her face a little better, even if it was tipped forward.

  “No. I’m not on drugs. I wish.” Her shoulders dropped a few inches, and she positively sagged.

  “Well, maybe you’re just hungry. When I need something to eat, I get all mopey and my brother says I turn into an ovary on wheels. I don’t know why the wheels—it’s not like I wear those tennis shoes with the wheels in them. I’m too old for that, but if I was younger, then yeah, I might try them. They would help me see more people and then I could help out better.” He smiled.

  She lifted her head a tad and gave a timid grin back. “God, you are so cute.”

  He grimaced and removed that step he’d taken toward her. Sometimes he regretted getting this close to anyone.

  “You know who’s cute? My daughter. She’s so cute, she lets me play dolls with her.”

  Now, Mrs. Fahey grimaced. “It’s just that I . . . Well, I’m pregnant, and it’s not my husband’s baby.” Her eyes filled with water at those words.

  “There are better ways to handle a baby than telling a doctor’s apprentice.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. Right about now he wished the numbers would whisk him away, but they didn’t.

  “I didn’t mean to have this happen. I fell in love with someone else. My husband ignores me. I don’t even think he loves me. And I couldn’t take it.”

  “So you flirt with me? Is that a good idea?”

  She shrugged, but it looked more like she was trying to disappear. “No, it’s a crappy idea, but he’ll know it’s not his as soon as he sees this baby.”

  “Why is that? Is the father of the baby a different race?”

  “No.” She held her breath for a minute, and she scratched the top of her right foot with the bottom of her left. “The baby will have red hair and blue eyes.” Her face pinked, and she finally took a breath, looking at him like he was her guilty partner.

  “Well, those are great recessive genes to have, but what does that have to do with me?” His jaw tensed, and so did those tendons in his neck. Was she playing a trick? He hated those.

  Did Zach tell her to say this?

  “Ha! I know!” He slapped his right thigh. “Tell my brother to give me my coat back and demand your money from him right away.”

  The bridge of her nose got all wrinkly, and her top lip lifted. A look of horror crossed her eyes.

  Choppy looked like that sometimes when begging for food or when she was scared no one would feed her.

  This woman really needed to eat.

  “You’re brother? I don’t understand.” She shook her head and looked completely confused, yet still very guilty. “My name’s Ryan, and I have to ask you something . . .”

  “Mrs. Fahey,” he said in a clear, concise tone, “there is not an answer for what you want to ask. You will have to make decisions, but I’m not a part of them. I’m not going to make the choices for you. My soda’s getting warm. Goodbye.”

  He took off his borrowed doctor’s coat, draped it over his arm and left.

  She was still inside there, like a trapped animal.

  Well, maybe someone would feed her.

  It wouldn’t be him, though. He only fed Choppy, and that was it.

  He knew what kind of tasty treats his pal liked.

  * * *

  Lick!

  A soft warm tongue ran up Adam’s leg.

  “I’ll feed you later, Choppy. I’m sleeping,” he said, rolling over.

  “I’ll tell Choppy you said her meal needs to wait,” Mari said, chuckling.

  Another wet lick ran up his thigh.

  “Huh?” He groaned as something even softer, a little less wet, got closer to his groin.

  He stirred a little.

  “What do you think Choppy would say if she could talk?” He started to answer, but she interrupted with, “Besides that you’re a man. Right now, that’s very obvious.” She took his solid dick in her hand.

  Oh, but he was hard. Very.

  And he throbbed a little.

  “She might say that we make cute puppies?” He wiped his eyes.

  She wiped his leaking tip with her tongue.

  “God, that’s . . . I need to wake up more before you do that,” he said and then laughed at his ridiculous statement.

  “Really? You’re telling me you don’t like waking up this way?” She pinched his inner thigh the way he did when he wanted to keep her from crying out during orgasm.

  “I do, but I . . .” He yanked her up to face him. “But I . . . I need to talk to you about something first.”

  “About what?” She snuggled up to his chest, wrapping an arm around his ribs.

  “Secrets.”

  “Oh, that.” She sighed. “We already talked about it, and I haven’t pressured you, have I?”

  “Only mean wives do that, and you’re never mean.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. I beg to differ. I’ve been a raging lunatic lately with the way the baby’s been nursing amongst other stressors.”

  “Button just knows what he likes.” He yawned and stretched a little.

  “Yeah—he’s exactly like his dad—a breast man.” She blew across his nipple.

  He giggled, but he knew he was still a man. Men could giggle when their sensitive nipples were messed with. He was sure of it.

  She blew once more, but he covered it with his hand. “You’re distracting me.”

  “I know.” She cupped his balls.

  “I . . . I want to tell you now,” he said, trying again to get her mind off sex.

  “Later. You usually decide when and how we make love . . . Well, this time I need it.” She straddled him and stared in his eyes. “Sometimes I like to know you’ll let me do this.”

  He reached up to cup her breasts, but she winced and deflected his hands away. “They’re too raw right now. You can touch them again in a few days.”


  He frowned. “If Button doesn’t know who those belong to, then I’ll talk to him.”

  “He knows they’re mine.”

  “Wrong.” He gripped her waist and moved her where he wanted her. “I’m the man. I own this house. I own the car. I own these.” He stared at her chest.

  “I know you do, sweetie. I was only trying to bring out the caveman so you’d bite and attack me.” She held back what looked like a big laugh.

  “You’d provoke me just for sex?” He wiggled under her.

  “Of course. I’d do a whole lot more than that for sex with you.” She blew him a kiss and then rested her palms on his chest.

  This view was better than being up on that stage when he was playing his music, feeling above the world.

  “What would you do?”

  Her eyebrows licked her hairline. “Hmm . . . That’s a loaded question. I think I might run someone over to get to you if I knew you were at home waiting for me naked and hard.”

  His mouth flooded with words and water. “Really? I need to try that tomorrow.” His breath hitched a little.

  “I’m sure you will.”

  “Be gone. Don’t be home when I get here. Be out shopping or something.” He bounced his hips some to get a bit of friction.

  She smiled, and it was devious and made him feel all sorts of bitey.

  He pushed himself up and bit above her right breast, nipping and scraping his teeth.

  “Ahhhh . . . Easy, love, only do that if you want the baby to see you’ve claimed what’s his.”

  “Mine! I told you—I’m the man. These breasts belong to me.” He bit on the other side and gripped her hips with his thumbs hooking into her rougher than usual.

  “What would you do with a pair of breasts?”

  “It’s time for less questions and more lovemaking,” he said, gripping her behind the neck.

  She resisted.

  “Goddammit, you wanted this. I want this. Stop teasing. I’m sorry I took too long, but I’ll tell you later what’s bugging me. Let me have time with my dick inside you. I like that part the best out of my entire day, and right now I want to enjoy my day.” His breaths were charging out of his nostrils so hard he was making this whining noise through his throat.

  “Okay, sweetheart.” She stroked from his bangs to the nape of his neck, pulled his head into her breasts, cradling him. “Shhh . . . I can tell you’re a wreck tonight—all over the place. I love you. That’s all we need to think about right now. Let me show you.”

  “You’ll make it all go away?”

  “Are there numbers?” She tickled at the back of his shoulders.

  “No. Just a need to drive inside you hard and then to share some icky secrets. Can I do both of those in that order?” His head popped up, and he looked her in the eyes, pleading for acceptance.

  “Who’s the man of this house?” Her eyes were teasing his.

  Silly woman was playing with him.

  He pinched her ass.

  “Me. Always me. I’m a man. I’m your man, and I want to prove it. Roll off me.”

  She grinned. “Not a chance, buddy. I’m the one that’s going to love her man tonight.”

  She pushed him back down, her hands braced on his chest again, and she rubbed her folds along his length.

  It was nice.

  “I don’t want nice tonight. I want bitey. I want pulling. I want you—in my eyesight, begging for me to keep going, begging for me to stop, but always begging because you love me.” His voice was gravelly, and he sounded like someone else entirely, but he didn’t care.

  She wasn’t going to fuck him. That was his job. He was a man.

  He tossed her off him and pinned her down. “Please . . . I know this isn’t nice, but I can’t do nice right now. I’m buried in secrets and burning for you. They hurt me, and that’s not nice. Can I do this?”

  She grinned and dipped her chin down so she was staring at his erection between them, ready to go. “Are you asking if you can take advantage of me?”

  He nodded, his heart lodged in his throat and in his ears, because all he was hearing now was how it was pounding furiously for her.

  “Yes, please—I’ll kill someone if that’s what it takes.”

  He swallowed before he spoke. “Wait a minute . . .”

  She laughed.

  “You didn’t really want to take charge, did you?”

  She shook her head and kept laughing.

  “You did that because you knew it would trigger me into action. You sneaky woman.”

  “Please—don’t be nice, honey. Just fuck me hard. Like you do when something’s eating you up inside. Eat me until it goes away.” She spread her legs under him.

  “Later. I can’t eat right now. Nice people can do that when they’re not bothered. I need to have your words in my face where I can hear them.” He lunged forward, trapping her head with his hands, his dick powering inside her. She gasped. “Do you understand what I need?”

  “Adam,” she gasped. “Yes, I . . . I do. I want this, too. So much.” She wetted her top lip.

  “Good. Then I know you’re able to be nice when I can’t be. I love that.” He stayed there, his muscles flexing, his cock aching, his head exploding with random words, numbers, musical notes—but above it all was the sound of her harsh breathing and the whimpers she released as he kept her there.

  “Please, sweetie—you are nice. Soooo good.” Her innocent eyes held him.

  She wasn’t really innocent—he knew that, but right now she was his victim, and she was allowing him to do as he pleased.

  Raw power ran through him like a current through a cord, only it sat in wait at the tip of his dick.

  A moment later, his legs couldn’t take it anymore. They moved, rocked, pulsed, but his cock didn’t. It only reached a little more, hitting her soft insides, gripping him.

  “I’m not nice, and I don’t want to be nice. Nice people get hurt. Today this woman tried to hurt me. Mrs. Fahey.” He jammed himself in her as he said that vile woman’s name. There really wasn’t any further he could go, not really, but he found a way, using his arms wrapped around her head for leverage.

  She kissed his forearms. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry. She’s not a very good person to be stressing you out like this, but I’ve got you. I’m here for you. Anytime she comes around at work, you can call me. You know that.” Her soft voice and swelling lips kissed some more.

  He got lost in the feel of her.

  Her legs brushed up against his hips gently.

  “I want her—unnnngh!” Press. “To go.” Press. “Away!” He nudged her legs apart as far as they could go with his own and pressed and pressed and pressed with little harsh jabs of his dick inside her. They were small, but they were fierce and almost pushed parts of his balls inside, too—that’s how deep he was getting inside her.

  She stroked his jaw with the backs of her hands, caressed down his neck and gave him a look of total devotion. “She makes you feel dirty, doesn’t she? Like you did something wrong, but she’s the one trying to cheat, not you. Tell me what you said to her.”

  He shook his head and looked away, keeping up his grotesque manic pace.

  She only softened all the more under his assault, her touch going even more velvet and tender.

  “She’s not what a man like you could ever want. You’re a man that’s decent. You’re a man that saves people because you care. She doesn’t care if she’s hurting you, so that makes it even worse.” She sat her torso up like he had earlier when he was trapped under her. Well, sort of trapped. She could never really do that to him, because he was a man. “I know.” She brushed her cheek against his, and her nose across his ear and whispered once more, “I know. Let it go. You’re home now—safe. I know.”

  Oh God! His body shook, starting at his chest. Was he crying? Was that okay?

  He was showing her he was a man right now by being inside her, but he was crying at the same time.

  Wetness rolled dow
n his cheeks.

  “You do?” His sobbing voice gave it away if the moisture hadn’t already.

  “Yes, love. I know—it’s why your father, Thomas, makes you so crazy, too. You can’t understand someone like that.”

  He was about to come, but that seemed even meaner than those people she was talking about. He hadn’t touched her softly, told her he loved her or even made her feel good.

  He bit her. He dug his hands in and battered his ram into her like she was the thing he wanted to break apart and steal away.

  She was, but still . . .

  “I love you—I love you so much. Can’t you see how much I need you all the time? And sometimes when I’m away from you, I can’t have you, and it makes me so angry that if another woman acts like that to me, I just want to shove her out of my face for not being you. And she. Is. Not. You!” He huffed hard.

  This time instead of bruising her insides with his cock with wounded, hurting sex, he slowed down, gentled his mind, heart and cock. It all came flooding out of him the second she placed her hand over his heart.

  This was why he couldn’t take it sometimes.

  She was the reason his heart worked as well as it did.

  “Jesus—I love you, Mari,” he choked out as he came completely undone.

  And oh my God, she was coming, too. Crying right alongside him, creaming his cock and thighs, and sweaty and smiling and kissing him.

  “You do understand.” He sighed and flopped down on top of her, but avoiding hitting her sore breasts in the process.

  “Yes, I do. I understand you. I just think of what’s the opposite of me, and I come up with how you think about things. Works every time.”

  He growled. “Don’t you ever say that. The only way we’re opposite is that I’m a man and you’re a woman. That’s it. And I like that you’re soft where I’m hard. And I like that you say the right things that make me think numbers are boring compared to you. I like most of all that you’re the kindest person I know, but you hide it because you don’t want to take credit for it. That’s all I need in this world.” He kissed over the marks he’d put in her temporarily, then he rubbed with small circles to ease any ache that might be there.