by Lane Hart
"Don't we have to check out in like," she raises her head to get a look at the clock. “Crap, five minutes?
I reach over to pick up the landline hotel phone and press zero without moving off of Page.
"Front desk," a woman answers.
"Hey, this is Jackson Malone. Can I keep the four rooms in my name for another night?" I ask while admiring Page's beautiful, flushed and very satisfied face below me.
"Sure, Mr. Malone. That won't be a problem since Monday's are our slowest occupancy day. I'll make the reservation for you right now."
"Great, thanks," I say, and then hang up the phone. "Nope, we don't have to check out until tomorrow at noon."
Page laughs underneath me. "So now what?" she asks.
I reach for the phone again and dial Jude's room number.
"Hello?" he answers.
"We're staying another night. Let Dad know."
He chuckles on the other end of the line. "And why would that be? So you can practice the rear naked choke hold with Page? Ask her if I can watch, you know for training purposes. Oh but, wait, you're probably just kissing each other, right?"
I hang up on him.
"Now we're going to stay here in this room for the next twenty-four hours. Shit!" I exclaim when I suddenly remembered something important. "Okay, after I grab some condoms we're going to stay right here, and I'm going to fuck you at least once on every surface in this room. You decide where you want it the next round, and I'll be right back." I reluctantly stand up, throwing away the used condom to start getting dressed.
"Jax, wait," Page stops me, sitting up on her elbows. "Maybe you ought to have Jude buy them, you know with the charges and all, and the media being so greedy to get dirt on you?"
"Hell, you're probably right." I grab my cell phone from my pants pocket to call him on his, this time in case he's already left his room to find Dad.
"Why are you calling me instead of mounting a beautiful blonde right now?" he answers.
"I need a favor. Can you go buy me some condoms?"
He laughs. "And what if I refuse?"
"Then I guess I'll have to, but we're trying to avoid bad press."
"I'll think about it."
"Jude!"
"Kidding. I'll go," he huffs.
I let out my breath in relief. "Thanks. Box of Magnum Thins. At least a dozen, not a skimpy three pack."
"TMI, man, and you're going to fucking owe me for this."
"I know," I respond before hanging up and climbing back into bed with the gorgeous, naked woman watching me.
"A dozen?" Page asks with a smile. "A little optimistic of you, don't you think?"
"I know three wouldn't be enough. Six probably won't be either," I assure her. "Are you hungry? I can call in something."
"Not for food," she says, reaching down to stroke my semi-hard cock back to life. I brush my lips over hers and kiss her softly, holding myself back from entering her by only a thin thread until there's a knock on the door.
"Finally," I say. Jumping up I grab a towel from the rack in her bathroom and wrap it around my hips before yanking the door open.
It's not Jude.
"Oh, um, they told me this was Page's room," Elliot, the bastard, stammers in surprise.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Other than his eyes widening in surprise, he looks the same as he did out in front of Page’s office a few nights ago. He smooths his hand nervously over his brown, side sweeping politician haircut.
"Well...it was. But, um, her whirlpool didn't work so we switched," I quickly come up with the lie. "She's in the next room over now, eight-twenty." I give him my room number.
"Really?" he asks, looking over my shoulder into the room. I know he can't see the bed from this angle, thank fuck. I can tell by the narrowing of his eyes that he wants to call bullshit and storm past me into the room, but he won't because he's a pussy. Or he's just smart because he knows I'd kick his fucking ass for even trying.
"Yeah, but after we got back from court, I think she went down to the spa to get a massage or some shit," I further the lie to try and get rid of him before he pushes the issue and I fuck up my pretrial release with a new assault charge.
"Oh, right. I'll try to find her there," he says, and then thankfully, he heads back to the elevator bank, rubbing the back of his neck and looking up and down the hall.
As soon as the door shuts, Page is up and dressing. "Crap, crap, crap. Quick, go get your things and bring them in here, and then give me your key."
There goes the most awesome day of my life, right down the motherfucking drain.
"Here, they gave me two," I tell her, grabbing one of the keys from my pants pockets and offering it to her. "Are you going to tell him to leave?"
"I'm going to try. He can't find out about us, or he'll turn me in!" she exclaims while grabbing her bags, that were thankfully already packed since we'd planned to check out when we got back from court. "Hurry!" she instructs me.
Fucking son of a bitch.
I throw my clothes back on then start the room swap, grabbing my bags from the other room and dragging them to the new one.
I should've told the bastard I'd just fucked his fiancée and been done with it, but Page was right. If she pissed him off, he'd rat her out to the State Bar.
After Page is gone to settle in her new room and wait for the asshole to return, I sit on the edge of the rumpled bed and look around, wanting to break everything in this damn room in anger and annoyance. Then Jude actually knocks on the door. I go yank the door open and let him in without a word.
"You sure do have a lot of clothes on to be fucking."
I walk back over and sink down on the unmade bed, my elbows digging in my knees while I cover my face in frustration.
"Where's Page?" he asks.
"In her new room, which is my old one."
"Oh-kay?"
"Elliot just showed up."
"Who the fuck is Elliot?" he asks.
"Page's fiancé."
"Ohhh."
"I opened the door, thinking it was you. Thank God he didn't see her in here."
"So I guess you won't be needing these?" he asks with a smirk, holding up the brown bag.
"I need to punch something."
"Wanna head to the gym?"
"Might as well," I agree with a sigh. "Just give me a second to change."
Chapter Ten
Page
I quickly shower and then dress in some cotton shorts and a t-shirt. I scatter a few of my things around Jax's room to make it appear like I've been here more than five minutes. I can’t help but notice that his room is not nearly as nice as mine. Then there's nothing for me to do but wait for the inevitable.
I've just pulled my laptop out and sat it down on the desk to look busy when there's a knock on the door. Here we go.
Yanking it open I pretend to be shocked by his presence. "Elliot? What are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd surprise you. I was driving back through from my meeting in New York and figured I could give you a ride home. When's check out?"
"Oh, well we decided to stay another night."
"Why?" he asks, and I don't miss the tick in his jaw.
Think quickly. Think quickly. "To talk to one of the employees, a potential witness, who doesn't come into work until tonight."
"Oh." I'm pretty sure he bought my lie.
"So I bet you're in a hurry to get home. You don’t have to wait for me."
"Not that big of a hurry," he says, reaching for my hip.
I quickly swat his hand away. After I've slept with Jax, he deserves to know the truth. Well, a partial truth. "Elliot, I've been thinking, and um, I don't want to do this anymore."
"Do what?" he asks.
"This. Us. I'm not…I don't want to marry you."
"What the hell are you talking about?" He walks past me, moving farther into my room and looking around, so I let the door close.
"I don't want to be with you anymore," I s
ay softly to his back.
"So what, you're breaking up with me?" he asks when he whirls around, his voice growing louder, his face turning redder. "What the hell is going on, Page? Is fucking around with your client that damn good?"
"I didn't fuck my client," I lie with as much conviction as possible.
"Bullshit!" he yells before jerking down the collar of my shirt, exposing my breasts. "Where'd all those fucking marks come from, you lying bitch?"
"Elliot, stop. You...you need to leave," I stutter, trying to pull away and get his hands off me.
The next thing I know my left cheek is stinging painfully, and he's forcing me backward, down onto the bed, his hands wrapping tightly around my neck.
"Is this what he does to you? Is this what you like now?" he growls as his face contorts above mine in anger. My hands start clawing at his, my nails digging into his flesh while I bring my knees up to my chest trying to keep him off of me. He doesn't budge.
Realizing I'm completely powerless to stop Elliot I do the only thing I can think of.
"Jax!" I scream his name, hoping I'm loud enough for him to hear me through the thin walls. Then the room starts darkening, and I feel myself drifting off, my body going limp.
When I come to again Elliot's hands are gone from me. I cough and gasp lungs full of desperately needed oxygen. I finally manage to sit up and find Jax on the ground, on top of Elliot, hitting him over and over again while Jude tries to pull him off. My hearing finally starts coming back to the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, and Jax's loud cursing.
"Jax!" I try to yell, but my voice is too hoarse. And I had to say, after what just happened, it is kind of satisfying to see Elliot getting beat half to death. Finally, Jax eases up and lets Jude pull him away.
Chest still heaving, Jax stands up and comes around the bed to my side. He rubs his thumb gently over my sore cheek and then his fingertips trace down along the sides of my neck. "Are you okay?" he asks, his dark eyes still sizzling like hot lava after his eruption. I nod, and he pulls me against him, his arms going comfortingly around me. I let myself melt into his warmth for just one peaceful second.
"Camera. Record now," I say softly against his chest. Reaching into his pocket, Jax pulls his phone out with one hand and brings up the video application, hitting record. Keeping the phone out of sight he holds it against his leg.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jude asks with a kick to Elliot, who's still on the floor. "Were you trying to fucking kill her?"
Elliot sits up, his face bloody, glaring daggers at me or Jax, maybe both. "You're fucking done, Page! I'm reporting your ass to the Bar, and you'll never practice again."
"You do what you think you need to do," I say calmly for the recording. "And I'll do what I need to do, get a warrant against you for attempted murder. It'll be really hard for you to win elections from prison."
"No one will believe you."
"Look at her fucking neck!" Jax yells at him. "Your handprints are still on it!"
"I'll tell the police it was you. That you choked her, and she lied and blamed it on me because she was fucking you!"
"Jude and I just had to pull you off of her because she was passing the fuck out. It'll be the three of us against you."
"I've got better lawyers," Elliot replies, swiping a hand over his oozing lip and staring down at the blood. "She's fucking you, and he's your brother, both worthless witnesses."
"What if we hadn't been next door and heard Page scream for help? What if I didn't have a key to get in? Would you have killed her, then blamed that shit on me, too?"
"Probably," Elliot finally admits.
"Well, then it's a good thing we've got your confession recorded," I tell him.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" he snarls.
"Say cheese motherfucker, you're on candid camera," Jax tells him, showing him the phone. "And damn, I fucked your face up. If you ever lay a hand on her again you won't walk away. They'll have to carry your ass off on an ambulance, probably to the morgue."
"Did you just threaten me on video?"
"Yeah I did! You could've killed her, you dumb son of a bitch. If you're not smart enough to learn from this lesson then the next time you'll pay for it. Now get the fuck out of this room, and if you say one goddamn word to anyone about her or me, this video goes live for all your constituents to see."
Pulling himself up on the foot of the bed, Elliot finally gets to his feet, cupping a hand over his still bleeding nose. "This isn't over," he warns before finally leaving.
"Jesus Christ!" Jude exclaims, coming over to examine me closer. "This is what fucking being strangled looks like right after it happens." He and Jax both take pictures of my neck with their phones while it's fresh.
"You alright?" Jude asks. "You sure you don't want to call the police?" I nod, even though my eyes begin to water. The reality of the situation is finally starting to hit me. "I'll head on out. Let me know if you need anything, okay?" he says. I nod again.
After he's gone, Jax stretches out on the bed and pulls me against his chest. I can't hold it in any longer. My tears turn into messy, embarrassing sobs on the front of his shirt, but Jax doesn't comment, he just tries to comfort me.
Everything is going to hell, all because I crossed a line I shouldn't have.
"Shhh. It's okay," Jax says against my hair. "That was some seriously scary shit. All I keep thinking about is that Jude and I were about to leave. If we hadn't…if he'd…God, I hate that bastard so much."
I nod my agreement.
"Look, he's not going to say anything, you know that, right?"
"Yes. But someone will," I tell him "Eventually. And we won't have blackmail on them."
"Then we'll be careful," he assures me.
I shake my head. "It's too dangerous."
Jax loosens his grip to pull back. "What are you saying?"
"Can we just stay here and hideout until my neck heals? I don't want anyone seeing it and accusing you of doing this. Then we can go home, but this stops until after your trial."
"I want more than that, but I get it. If that's what you want then…okay. But I'm going to try and change your mind over the next few days," he says with a smile.
Chapter Eleven
Jax
Page is sitting at her desk across from me in her office, asking me a million questions. They're basic questions we know the prosecutor will likely ask me at trial, and Page wants to work on my "attitude."
"How many women have you slept with?"
"Huh?" I ask, lost in thought remembering how damn good it was to sleep with the woman in front of me. "He can ask me that?"
"Maybe. I'd like to know for curiosity's sake," she says with a shrug and a blush.
"A lot. More than a lot. Three or four a week, for say ten or eleven years. You're good at math, what's that come out to?" I ask with a smirk.
"One thousand, five hundred and sixty on the low end and two thousand, two-hundred and eighty-eight high end," she mutters.
"Okay, so between one and two thousand."
"You're joking right?" she asks, her fingers pausing over the keys on her laptop.
"I don’t keep a running tally."
"God, Jax! That's...that's disgusting!"
"Hey, I didn't hear you complaining Miss Two Thousand, Two-Hundred and Eighty-Nine, would it be?"
"Definitely regretting that slip in my judgment," she mutters under her breath.
"Hey!" I scoff.
It's been weeks since I last woke up with Page in my arms, both of us naked, going at it before our eyes ever open, more times than we could count. It had been the best few days of my life, being able to get to know Page and just be together. Her dad had called and left a few messages, which I could tell upset her. So one afternoon while Page was in the shower I'd listened to the messages. Her dad bitched about her breaking up with Elliot and how she needed to make amends with him. I called Miles Davenport back on my phone and informed him that the asshole almost killed Page an
d then sent him the video as proof. Page still hasn't figured out why her father is suddenly sweeter than honey to her, even though he has to know what the two of us are up to and how it could end Page's career.
So yeah, I'd been on top of the world sharing every second with an incredibly gorgeous woman. A woman I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love with, something I didn't think was even possible. But then we had to return to the real world where attorneys and their clients can't fuck. That brief taste of heaven was just enough to drive me insane, desperate to have it again.
"If the prosecutor asks, give a vague answer like, 'a couple a month for the past few years.' Nothing more specific," Page says, bringing me back to our trial prep.
"Got it," I reply with a wink. "So, princess, how many guys have you been with?"
"Just four," Page says to me on an exhale.
"And those four include the jackass senator and me?" I ask in surprise.
"Uh-huh."
"Wow." I laugh.
"Hey, I'm proud of the fact that I'm not a whore."
"Unlike me?" I offer.
"You're not really a whore since you don't get paid. So you're more like a manslut."
"Oh, well, thank you for that distinction, princess."
"Just trying to be accurate. So, moving on, tell me about your childhood."
"Why do you need to know about that shit?" I snap. I realize I've probably been more caustic than necessary when Page actually flinches in her seat. The topic is just not one that's up for discussion.
"The prosecutor will want to know if you got into any trouble when you were a juvenile. Any sort of sexual act or violence in your youth might be deemed relevant. I don't want any surprises."
"I can assure you that my juvie record consists only of assaults. On other boys."
"Why'd you get into fights with other boys?" she asks with a tilt of her head.
"Because they said shit that pissed me off."
"What'd they say?"
"That’s none of your fucking business!" I snarl.
"What the heck, Jax? You snap like that in the courtroom, and you're going to end up behind bars!" Page exclaims, standing up from her desk and pointing to the door. "Get out of my office, and don't come back until you can go more than five minutes without being a complete jerk!"