Claimed by Him (New Pleasures Book 1)

by M. S. Parker

  He shook his head. “Not anymore. Give me what you have, and I’ll take it to the cops. You’re done.”

  If he’d asked me if I wanted the police to take over, I might’ve considered it, but him telling me like that? Hell no.

  “I’m not done.” I squared my shoulders and glared up at him. “I promised Theo that I’d find his daughter, and I’m still going to do that.”

  “Like hell you are.” He took a step toward me. “I’m the one who hired you, so I can fire you.”

  “Go ahead,” I snapped back. “Fire me. Won’t make a difference. I’m going to find her.”

  “Let the cops do their fucking job, Rona!” He was close enough now that I could again smell the soap he’d used to wash his hands. “You’re through!”

  “Do their job?!” The drugs were starting to work, and the anger under the pain was coming out now. “They don’t give a damn about her! That’s why you hired me in the first place!”

  “I’ll make them care,” he said, his nostrils flaring in a way that shouldn’t have been attractive but was. “I’m not going to let you get hurt like this again. It stops. Now.”

  I curbed my impulse to just kick him out of the office. “If you want to take what I’ve found to the cops, that’s your call, but I’m not done. I’ll keep looking for her whether you’re paying me or not.”

  He glared down at me. “You’re infuriating! I’m just looking out for you.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you to.”

  He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then cursed.

  And then he kissed me.

  I was shocked enough that it took me a full three seconds to even realize that I was being kissed. Not because it was a bad kiss. It was the opposite, actually, something fierce and deep. Like he was trying to prove his point with sheer physical domination.

  I grabbed the front of his shirt and pushed myself up on my toes, trying to take control of the kiss. For a moment, he let my tongue invade his mouth, let me think that I was in charge, and then his hands were on my hips, pulling me so tight against him that I could feel the hot, hard length of him pushing against my stomach.

  His teeth sank into my bottom lip, and a flash of pain went through the sensitive flesh. I whimpered, and the sound seemed to break him from whatever had taken him over. He pulled his head back, air rasping in and out of his lungs, his eyes dark.

  “Don’t you dare stop,” I said, shoving my hand between us. He groaned as I grabbed him through his pants. “You’ve got me all worked up here.”

  “You’re hurt,” he protested.

  “I’m going to hurt you if you make me take care of things myself.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was the threat, the image of me getting myself off, or the fact that I was rubbing him harder than necessary, but something I did cut through any objections.

  He grasped my hips and picked me up, turning us around so that he could set me on the desk. His mouth moved down my neck, and I let my head drop back. The Vicodin had left my mind floating, but not so much that I didn’t know what I was doing or that I wanted to do it. With him. All the tension that had been between us just moments ago had shifted into a different sort of heat, and I knew that it might consume us both.

  He grabbed the hem of my shirt, and I put my hands on his, pushing them down to the waistband of my pants before I reached for his zipper. I turned my head to take his mouth as I worked his pants open, but he immediately took control, his tongue tangling with mine.

  I lifted my hips as he yanked down my pants, then I helped by kicking them off one leg. His teeth worried at my bottom lip as he pulled my panties to one side and pushed a finger inside me. I hissed, biting his lips, nails digging into his narrow hips, but I didn’t even consider asking him to stop. If a single finger felt this good, I couldn’t wait to feel what it was like to have him filling me.

  I tugged on his pants, reaching around behind him to grab his ass with both hands. Fuck. It was just as tight as it looked. I pushed the pants lower until I could finally see that thick, hard shaft. Damn. He was big all over.

  I cursed as he pulled his hand away from me, but then I realized that he was reaching into his back pocket. He tossed his wallet onto the top of the desk and retrieved a condom. I leaned forward and bit his chest through his shirt, earning a curse. His hands didn’t even pause as he opened the packet and rolled the condom on, and I knew he wasn’t going to take it easy on me unless I asked him to.

  No way in hell was that going to happen.

  He wrapped his fingers around the back of my neck, his thumb under the side of my jaw that wasn’t throbbing. His eyes locked with mine, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He held there for a moment, and when I didn’t say anything, he eased the first inch inside me.

  I breathed out a curse that turned into a muffled yell when he drove forward, filling me completely.

  Concern etched his features. “Did I–?”

  “No,” I said quickly, breathless. “I’m good. Please, don’t stop.”

  And that was the end of our conversation. I clung to him as he slammed into me, each stroke jarring my bruised ribs. Air burst from my lungs in pained breaths, but the ripples of pleasure that came from the friction of his body against mine helped even more than the Vicodin.

  I squeezed my eyes closed, focusing on absorbing the conflicting sensations as I moved my body to meet his. There was no rhythm, no finesse, just friction and throbbing as all the right parts rubbed all the right ways, fit in all the right ways. I dropped one hand between us, fingers easily finding my throbbing clit.

  We were both wound too tight to draw things out, and something like that would’ve made things far too intimate, so we both chased the end with little regard to anything else. As my orgasm hit me hard and fast, I gave myself over to it, grateful for the escape, however brief.

  Jalen’s mouth crashed into mine again, his kiss almost harsh as his body jerked, driving deep enough to make me gasp. A second orgasm followed the first. Or maybe it was the first getting stronger again. Either way, it sent pain and pleasure rocketing through my body, my pussy clamping down on his cock as he came with a grunt.

  We stayed like that for several seconds, giving our bodies the opportunity to come down before we moved apart. Or, more accurately, he took a few steps back, then turned away. I stayed where I was, needing a few more moments for my battered body to recuperate. Neither one of us said anything, but it wasn’t until he fixed his clothes and then headed for the door that I realized he didn’t intend to say anything at all.

  Fourteen

  I didn’t bother cleaning myself up. Instead, I quickly cleaned up the desk, picked up the bag of trash that now contained my bloody first aid stuff and a used condom, and then made my way next door to my apartment.

  Until I was safely inside my place, I didn’t acknowledge the anger that had been simmering inside me from the moment I’d come down from my high. But when I was finally in a place where I didn’t have to worry about Adare coming in and asking questions, I let it all out.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I tossed the trash bag into the kitchen trash and then leaned against the fridge. “What the fuck was I thinking?!”

  I supposed most women would’ve been pissed at Jalen leaving without a word, but I knew I was the one who’d fucked up. It was beyond unprofessional, but I couldn’t say that I’d never done that sort of thing before. Clay had been that sort of thing. Not illegal or immoral, really, but definitely not advisable.

  I didn’t do the casual sex thing very often, preferring instead to take care of things myself, but my last two partners had been questionable, I couldn’t deny that. And I’d risked other people in both cases too. Clay had at least gone into things with his eyes open. He’d known that if we’d gotten caught, there’d be negative fallout to his career. Jalen wasn’t the one who’d suffer consequences for what we’d done. If what had happened got out, the business could take a hit. Which meant Adare would take a hit. Not because she’d done
something wrong, but because I’d been completely unprofessional.

  Never again.

  I stripped out of my clothes and tossed them into the hamper before going into the bathroom. While I showered, I made two important decisions.

  One, I could never tell Adare what I’d done unless she asked. I wouldn’t flat-out lie to her, but I didn’t see any harm in keeping things quiet. If it became something important, I’d tell her, but otherwise, there wasn’t a point.

  Things might be awkward with Jalen – in fact, they almost definitely would be – but it wasn’t like I actually had to work closely with him on the case. I could keep things completely professional until I found Meka. After that, our worlds would stay apart. We’d have no reason to see each other again.

  When I climbed out of the shower, I felt physically cleaner, but that was about it. My body ached, and it wasn’t all from the beating I’d taken. I could see marks on my neck and hips that I knew hadn’t come from my assailant. A part of me wanted to put on long sleeves and pants, tear off the bandages that Jalen had put on the cut above my eyebrow, and remove any physical reminders of what happened.

  But as I walked out of the bathroom, I knew that clothes and a new band-aid weren’t going to make me forget any time soon. He’d been too big, too rough. Not because I hadn’t wanted it that way. I had. And it had been amazing. If he hadn’t been a client, I would’ve appreciated every ache and twinge that reminded me of how great it had been. Now, I only wanted to forget.

  Well, I also wanted food.

  I hadn’t eaten much for lunch, and I’d burned far too many calories today not to get something in my system. I didn’t, however, want to cook. I grabbed an individual cup serving of macaroni and cheese, followed the directions and then popped it into the microwave. While it cooked, I got out a bottle of water and told myself that alcohol was the last thing I needed, especially with the blows to the head I’d taken tonight.

  I was just finishing my food when someone knocked on the door. I got up, wincing as things pulled and pushed. I should have thought to bring some of that Vicodin home with me. The over-the-counter stuff that I had here would barely take the edge off. If it was Adare on the other side of that door, it’d be worth telling her what happened just to ask her for something stronger.

  The moment before I reached for the doorknob, I wondered if it was actually Jalen on the other side. If he’d come back to apologize for walking out, just leaving me there, sitting on the desk with my pants off, body bruised, pussy fucked. Or maybe he’d come back to yell at me. To tell me how unprofessional I’d been. That he’d been serious about firing me.

  Except it wasn’t Adare or Jalen standing there, staring at me in my bathrobe.

  It was Clay.

  “What happened to you?” Anger flashed in his eyes, but it wasn’t like it had been with Jalen. At least on my end of things.

  “Long story,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why are you here?”

  He scratched the back of his head. “Um…it’s about your dad.”

  Well, shit.

  Just when I thought today couldn’t get any more fucked up.

  Fifteen

  I tried to keep my face blank as I sat down, but Clay knew me too well.

  “Okay, seriously, what happened to you?”

  “I got mugged,” I said. “Nothing broken, and nothing some rest and painkillers can’t handle.”

  He sighed as he sat down next to me. “You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?”

  “I’m not lying.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

  I deflected. “Is this really the discussion we need to be having now? You said you wanted to talk to me about my dad. How…what…”

  I didn’t know what question to ask even though my brain had been scrambling to think of something.

  “I know,” Clay said quietly. “I know everything. I saw the file.”

  The air rushed right out of my lungs. When he said he needed to talk about my dad, I’d thought that maybe he’d heard a rumor that he wanted to discuss. But this…this was more than I’d thought it would be.

  “I can explain,” I said. “Anton didn’t tell you because we didn’t like talking about it.”

  Clay shook his head. “That’s not it. I understand why neither of you wanted to talk about it.” He put his hand on my knee for a moment, but there was nothing sexual about it. “I’m so sorry.”

  I nodded, then took a slow breath. “What do you want to know?” I didn’t want to talk about it now any more than I had before, but he knew enough that it’d be better to give him answers than let him guess.

  “I’m not here for answers either.” He still looked sympathetic, but it moved to the background. He was all business now. “Your father filed an appeal.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face as I shook my head. “That’s not possible. The case was airtight.”

  “Because of your testimony,” Clay said. “And there wasn’t anything wrong with that. He’s claiming insufficient counsel.”

  “Bullshit,” I said.

  “Yeah, that’s what pretty much everyone involved in the case thinks.” He stood and went into the kitchen, coming back a few seconds later with two bottles of water. “I’d say you need alcohol for this conversation, but it’s not a good idea to mix it with whatever you’re taking for that.” He gestured at my face.

  “Thanks,” I said dryly. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

  He sat back down next to me but put a little more space between us this time. I knew this was serious, but a part of me wanted to keep going with the easy banter the two of us had always enjoyed, even back when I was just Anton’s little sister. Once he started giving me details, I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t happening.

  “The defense attorney who handled your father’s case was arrested three weeks ago on bribery charges.”

  “Shit.”

  Clay nodded. “Exactly.”

  “All of that lawyer’s cases are getting reviewed then?” I asked. “As a precaution?”

  “I wish it was that simple.” He took a drink before continuing. “Every defendant he ever worked for is filing an appeal, but not all of them will be granted a new trial. They have to prove that something happened in their case.”

  “That’s what, hundreds of cases? It’ll be years before anything happens, right? And with my testimony, there’s no way he could be granted a new trial. I was there. I told everything that happened.” Panic clawed its way up my throat.

  “Your dad’s case is one of the ones that was specifically involved in the investigation that busted his lawyer,” Clay said. “It was a corruption case, internal affairs looking into some cops they thought were dirty. One of them got arrested and started talking, implicating a handful of other cops – some officers and some detectives – as well as a couple other lawyers.”

  “What’s the connection?” I spoke around the lump in my throat.

  “One of the detectives implicated was the same one who took your witness statement back then, and the officer who gave the name was one of the first responders. Both men’s financials show payments from the defense attorney to their personal accounts around the time of your father’s trial. They both gave sworn statements that they’d been paid to make sure your father went to jail.”

  “And since the bribes were for a conviction rather than an acquittal, my dad’s appealing on the grounds that his defense attorney was actually working against him.” I followed the facts to their obvious conclusion.

  “Two days ago, Internal Affairs found the payments. They were verified and submitted as evidence in your father’s appeal. This morning, the judge granted him a new trial.”

  Even though I’d been expecting this outcome from the moment Clay had started explaining things, it still felt like I’d gotten hit again. My chest tightened, and my lungs constricted, making it difficult to breathe. With everything that had happened today, I wasn’t s
ure I could take anything else, but I couldn’t show that side of myself to Clay. Not when we needed to keep some space between us.

  “They’re going to need you to testify.”

  I nodded, unable to speak just yet. That wasn’t a surprise either. There had been other people involved, other victims, but nothing had been more damning than his thirteen-year-old daughter sitting in the witness stand and talking about what he’d done. I’d been old enough and strong enough to stand up to the defense attorney’s questions, but young enough that it had been difficult to find a way to discredit me without getting a sympathy vote from the jury.

  “I know it’s been nine years, but–”

  “It’s not something you forget,” I interrupted quietly. “I remember every detail.”

  He touched me now, taking my hand and holding it between his. “I wish I could tell you that you wouldn’t need to do this, but it’s out of my hands.”

  “It’s all right,” I lied.

  “No, it’s not.”

  I managed a partial smile. “No, it’s not,” I agreed. “But I survived it then, and I’ll survive it now.”

  “You had Anton then,” Clay said, squeezing my hand. “And you’ll have me this time. I already put in a formal request to be involved with making sure you’re protected and that you get where you need to go.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I protested.

  “You’re my friend,” he said simply. “And it’s what Anton would’ve wanted me to do.”

  I nodded because I didn’t have it in me to argue. My choices were simple. Testify and relive that awful day, knowing that some suit was going to pick apart every single thing I said and try to make me out to be unreliable. Or option two, refuse to testify and watch as my father went free.

  No way in hell was I going to let that monster out.

  “I can stay for a while,” Clay said, “so you aren’t alone. No funny business, I promise.”

  “Do you have a room reserved somewhere?”

  “I was planning on driving back tonight.”