30. Wentworth
THIRTY
Wentworth
Con: I don’t know what you’re doing, asshole but I’ve got a life on hold that I need to get back to. The least you can do is answer the goddamned phone when I call you.
He sent that text three days ago and followed it up with about a half dozen calls, all of which I’ve ignored. Matter of fact, I’ve been ignoring Conner for the past week because I know what he’s going to tell me.
It’s time to come home.
It’s all over the news—the subpoena that Con filed in federal court was finally granted and he was able to obtain the security footage from the ATM across the street that was pointed almost directly at the bus bench at the time of the accident. As it turns out, Lexi was telling the truth—she wasn’t the one behind the wheel when her car plowed into that bus bench.
The driver, identified as twenty-eight-year-old Aaron Mercer, works as a bartender at the nightclub Lexi Chase was spotted at, the night of the accident, and can clearly be seen placing Chase in the driver’s seat and fleeing the scene, directly after the accident. Subsequently, LAPD’s prime suspect, hotel tycoon Wentworth Hawthorne, can be seen arriving on scene approximately fifteen minutes later to console a distraught Chase, only seconds before placing the 911 call that likely saved Brian Maxwell’s life. Mr. Maxwell, age forty-three, is said to have been recently upgraded from critical to stable condition and is expected to make a full recovery. When asked, representatives for Ms. Chase declined to comment.
When they flashed the bartender’s mugshot on screen, I can begrudgingly understand why it was so easy for the cops to believe it was me. Even though he’s about six inches shorter, the dark hair and hand tats made us a close enough match for a lazy detective who wanted to make headlines and close their case, all in one felled swoop.
It's not just Conner’s calls I’m dodging. Silver and Delilah have both called and sent texts. Silver to check on me and ask if I’m okay, and Delilah to tell me that our mother is getting ready to make an appearance on The Today Show to let America know that she knew I’d been wrongfully accused all along and that Hawthorne Hotels International is still their number one luxury hotel chain.
I hope she went light on the Botox this month or she won’t be able to cry for the cameras.
Sending them both I’m fine texts, I reread Conner’s last text. I owe Con a hell of a lot more than dicking around and ignoring his phone calls.
Me: Sorry. Power’s been out here for the last few days. Phone’s been dead. Just got it charged.
My phone rings about thirty seconds after I hit send.
“I’m not even going to ask what hole you’ve been hiding in,” Con says as soon as I answer. “Because I really don’t give a shit. All I want is for you to hop on your little jet plane and fly the fuck home.”
“Okay.” Even though it’s the last thing I want to say, it’s the only thing I can say because I don’t want to because I fell in love and got married while you’ve been fighting to clear my name and keep me out of prison isn’t what he wants to hear. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow morning ,” Conner corrects me. “I gotta get home. My dickhead brother is pitching a fit because he’s the only one behind the bar, helping my dad.”
Sometimes I forget that Con isn’t an attorney all the time. That when he’s not busy rebuilding transmissions and rotating tires, he’s slinging drinks in his family’s bar. He earned his law degree from Harvard while he was technically still in high school because he was bored. As far as I know, I’m his only client.
“Yeah, okay,” I tell him, already regretting it. “Tomorrow morning.” Waiting a beat, I clear my throat. “The news said Maxwell is going to pull through?”
“Yeah—as soon as the swelling in his brain was manageable, they woke him up. He’s looking good. Responding to stimuli. There’s some memory loss but the doctors are confident that it’ll recover over time.” Conner’s quiet for a moment before he continues. “The family’s been asking who’s paying for everything so I set up a GoFundMe and wrote a program that donates random amounts from generated accounts attached to one of your offshore bank accounts.”
I also forget that on top of lawyer, mechanic, and bartender, Conner Gilroy can also do some scary shit with a computer.
“While you’re at it, why don’t you wire yourself what I owe you for the last six-weeks,” I tell him on a laugh.
“Already done,” he tells me. “I am now the proud owner of Castinetti Automotive—which will be Gilroy Automotive as soon as I get home. Don’t worry, I gave you the friends and family discount. You got a suit?”
Thinking of the suit I wore when I married Kait, I feel my stomach give a slight clench. “I’m sure I can get my hands on one.”
“Good—make sure you’re wearing it when you step off the plane because we’re rolling into the press conference straight away,” he says, suddenly all business again. “After that, we’re going to be accepting our very loud, very public apology from the LAPD. The mayor and the governor are going to be there. I need you bright and shiny.”
“Tomorrow morning in a suit,” I say on a sigh. “See you then.” I hang up before he can remind me to shine my shoes. Turning my phone off, I toss it onto the coffee table in front of me and stand. Kait’s been in the bedroom for the last hour or so, filling out nursing program applications while I worked up the courage to turn my phone back on. Standing, I give my face a rough swipe because I can’t put it off any longer.
I have to tell Kait I’m leaving.
Shit.
Making my way to the bedroom, I stall out in the partially open doorway when I catch sight of her because she’s lying on the bed naked, save for a black lace thong, her long dark hair spilling over her bare shoulders. On her stomach and facing away from me, her face buried in one of her notebooks, Kait doesn’t see me but she hears me.
“Is everything okay?” she asks without bothering to turn to look at me.
No.
I have to leave and it’s the last thing I want to do.
“As well as can be expected.” Telling myself it can wait, I make a rough sound in the back of my throat while leaning my shoulder against the doorframe. “What are you doing?”
“Making a list of nursing program options,” She tells me, lifting the pen I gave her a few weeks ago to waggle it at me over her shoulder. “Most of the good ones have waiting lists.”
“I haven’t gotten you anything for our anniversary yet.” Pushing myself away from the doorframe I move closer. “I can always buy one for you.”
When I make the offer, she laughs. “Is that standard gift etiquette for three-week anniversaries?”
Stopping at the edge of the bed, directly behind her, I give Kait a chuckle. “How the fuck should I know?” Letting my gaze trail up the length of her slightly parted legs, I feel a tight ache settle into my groin when it reaches the thin strip of lace between them. “You’re not dressed for dinner.” Like she can feel the weight and heat of my stare against the juncture of her thighs, she presses them together. “Matter of fact, Sunshine—you’re not dressed at all.”
When I state the obvious, Kait’s hips tilt forward to rub her pussy against the mattress. “I was thinking, I know it’s our anniversary and all,” she says on a laugh because it’s been three weeks and she still thinks the idea of weekly anniversaries is silly. “But what if, instead of going downstairs for dinner tonight, we just?—”
That’s as far as she gets before I’m closing a rough hand over one of her ankles and dragging her toward me, across the bed. As soon as her knees hit the edge of the mattress, I stop dragging in favor of wrapping my hands around her hips. “What—” Her words get lost on a soft gasp when I tighten my grip on her hips and pull, lifting them off the bed to grind the stiff bulge in my jeans against her pussy.
“What am I doing?” Shifting my grip, I palm her bare ass cheeks and squeeze, stroking the pad of my thumb over the strip of lace nestled between them. “I’d think that’d be obvious by now…” Pressing hard enough to make her squirm, I look down at her. Back arched, the delicate curve of her spine stiff with anticipation. Bare shoulders dug into the mattress, trembling slightly. Flushed cheeks and full, slightly parted mouth turned away from it so she can breathe, the sound of it coming in soft, short pants. “I think we might’ve found something new for your bucket list, Sunshine.” Giving her tight, lace-covered hole another teasing stroke, I nearly come all over myself when she presses back with a soft, needy whimper.
Fuck.
There’s no way she’s ready to be fucked like that. Not by me. Not with my cock. Not if I want her to enjoy it. Something like that would likely take weeks, if not months of prep work. But that doesn’t mean I can’t give her a taste of what she wants.
Releasing one of her ass cheeks, I reach into the front pocket of my jeans and pull out my knife, the quiet snick of it opening loud enough to pull a startled gasp up the length of her throat. “Who am I?” I ask, pressing the dull side of the blade against the back of her knee.
“My…” She lets out a long, shaky breath when I start to slowly drag it up the back of her thigh. Licking her lips, she tries again. “My husband.” She moans the last word when she feels the back of the blade skim against the soft skin of her inner thigh. “You’re my husband.”
Growling my approval, I slip my thumb under the lace edge of her thong. Dragging it between skin and lace, along the curve of her ass until the pad of it is pressed against her entrance. I give her a single, teasing stroke before I pull damp lace away from her slick, quivering pussy “Don’t move,” I warn her, my tone low and tight while I slip the blade of my knife into the thin space I created and twist, sliding its razor-sharp edge across the crotch of her panties, slicing it in two. Dull edge of the blade still pressed against her exposed pussy, Kait lets out a long, shuddering moan that sounds like my name.
Resisting the urge to press even harder, I toss the knife away, not even bothering to close it before I drop to my knees behind her. Palming her ass cheeks again, I open her wide, pushing my face between her thighs so I can fuck her with my tongue, licking and sucking every inch of her I can reach, until she’s screaming my name and fucking me back, hips bucking and flexing against the pressure of my mouth locked around her wet, greedy pussy.
“ Went …” She screams my name again, grinding back against the flat of my tongue while I suck her clit, fingers dug into her ass, thumbs hooked between her thighs in an effort to hold her in place while she comes on my face with a sharp, broken cry that wraps itself around the base of my spine and tightens my balls to the point of pain.
Pushing myself to my feet, I catch the hem of my T-shirt to drag it up, over my head. Tossing it aside, I reach for the front button of my jeans and yank it free before ripping the zipper open. Pulling them down, along with my boxers, I step out of them, kicking them out of the way. As naked as she is, I step closer, my stiff cock jerking against the back of her thigh when she presses back with a needy little whimper.
Wide, broad palm pressed against the small of her back, I use the other to press two, blunt-tipped fingers against her slick, swollen entrance. “ Shhh …” I breathe it out quietly while fucking them into her slowly, the tight squeeze of her pussy around them nearly enough to blind me. Pulling out, almost completely, I stroke them back in. “I know what my greedy little cock slut wife wants.” Fucking her deep and slow, I lower the hand I have pressed against her back, I tease her tight, virgin hole with my thumb, circling and pressing against it until she’s moaning, hips pumping and tilting into the fuck of my fingers and the tease of my thumb. “You want me here…”
“ Yes …” When she moans it, a blush blooms across her cheeks and her lids flutter against them, hips twisting while her hands fist themselves in the sheets beneath her. “ Please, I want …”
Giving her a final thrust of my fingers, I pull them free. Wrapping a hand around my cock, I notch the engorged head of it against her entrance. “I barely fit here, Sunshine.” Gritting my teeth against the feel of her pussy closing around me like a fist, I rock my hips against hers, pushing myself deeper. “We have to take it slow... I want it to be good for you.” Slipping one of my juice slicked fingers between her ass cheeks, I circle the tip of it against her tight hole, getting it wet before I press hard enough to push it inside. When she feels the invasion of it, Kait lets out a sharp, startled gasp.
“Relax...” I can barely get the words past the clench of my jaw, the heat and friction of her wet, swollen pussy closing in around me clawing at the base of my spine like a rabid animal. “Rub your clit for me.”
I watch as she unfists one of her hands from the sheets and pushes it between her legs. Feel the brush of her trembling fingers against the base of my cock while they slide up the seam of her quivering pussy to press against the top of it, teasing and stroking her own clit while I flex my hips again, fucking myself into her even deeper, my own release pounding down my spine. Shoving it back on a vicious growl, I close my eyes in an effort to keep it at bay. “Sunshine…”
She hears the question in my tone and she answers me on a long, low moan. “ More …” Swiveling her hips, she pushes back, showing me what she wants. “ Give me more .”
Jaw locked around a groan, I press my finger into her tight channel until she gasps again, fingers teasing and brushing against the base of my cock while she rubs her clit like I told her to. “ Fuuuck… there she is…” Pressing my finger down, I finally let myself fuck her. Free hand gripped around her hip, I hold her steady while I pump myself in and out of her, fast and hard, the added friction of my finger inside her, rubbing and pressing against the walls of her slick, swollen pussy, hammering against the base of my spine with every stroke. “So fucking greedy for my cum…”
“ Yes …” Grinding back on my cock, Kait lets out a long, shuddering moan, the grip and pull of her pussy closing around me like a fist while she comes apart beneath me, her entire body shaking like it’s on the verge of shattering into a million pieces.
I fall over her on a roar, my hand lifting off her hip to streak up the length of her spine. “ Fuck …” Hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pinning her down, I pound myself into her, cock jerking and spasming while the orgasm I’ve been holding at bay, barrels over me and drags me under until I’m breaking apart, right alongside her.