Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Ryell
As I’m sitting in my office, sketching an image of Lane gazing up at me with his mouth full of my cock, I can’t shake what he told me about his adoptive parents. Now it makes sense why Lane broke so easily. He said he didn’t like being ignored, but now I see the extent of it.
And I don’t fucking like that they treated him that way.
If I was able to break him after only a week of not speaking to or looking at him, then they really fucked him up.
The charcoal pencil splinters in my hand as I grip it tightly, imagining a young Lane begging for his parent’s attention.
With a grunt, I toss the sketch pad on my desk, pushing my fingers through my hair.
After we went to bed that night, I subtly asked Lane for the names of his parents so he wouldn’t know what I had planned.
He told me on a wide yawn and was asleep within seconds, so I don’t think he even realized he told me.
Turning toward my computer, I pull up the search engine and type in his parents’ names.
I find them, but there is nothing that shows their address, just a picture of two smiling people standing in front of a large Christmas tree.
The label under the picture says, “Attorney Parker Bauer and wife, Edith, Christmas party.”
“Obviously,” I mutter as I roll my eyes. “Like the fucking Christmas tree didn’t give that away.”
Parker is an older man with stark white hair, deep wrinkles and a tan that makes him appear burnt orange. He probably used to be in great shape, but age has bowed his back a little, though he tries to appear as if he’s still formidable.
Edith is the opposite, with bleach blonde hair as unnatural as her unlined face, stiff from Botox. Her smile is wide and fake, dripping with unhappiness.
My eyes roam over the couple, and I see it—that vacant look of nothing behind their eyes. They’re empty. They’re fucking shells, and they shouldn’t have had my Lane. They shouldn’t have done what they did to him, breaking him as a fucking child.
As I scroll through the photos, I find an old picture that looks as if it’s from a newspaper. It’s Parker and Edith with a small child around eight or nine in front of them, their hands on his shoulder as they all smile widely at the camera.
Lane.
He’s smiling, but he looks unhappy, like they’ve already broken him.
They will fucking die.
“Dr. Harper,” Candice says as she raps her knuckles against my open office door. I turn to her and close the sketch pad. No one gets to see Lane like that. That’s only for me.
“Ready for me?” I ask with a bright, fake smile.
“Yes sir. The patient’s wires are ready to be removed. He looks to be healing nicely.”
The patient I did the BSSO on is back for his follow-up and wire removal, which is something I can do in my sleep.
I step into the room and smile at the man in the dental chair though my mind is still on the little boy in that picture. Something twists my gut when I recall that image, how he tried to look happy but was hurting inside.
As I discuss what I’ll be doing during this appointment with my patient, I think about how I’ll right this wrong for my boy.
I remove the wires one by one, and I imagine Parker’s eyes going glassy in death and Edith watching him die before I end her life as well.
No sketch comes to mind when I think of their murder. I won’t pose them. I want them to suffer so they can feel a fraction of what they put my Lane through.
When I’m finished with my patient, I give him more post-op instructions now that the wires are removed, then I tell Candice to reschedule my patients for the rest of the day.
After I change out of my scrubs into gym clothes, I head over to Jacob’s office. I rarely show up to his job, but this can’t wait until after work.
Jacob is at a construction site when I get to his office, but after I call him and let him know I’m here, he tells me he’ll return immediately.
He arrives ten minutes later. When he steps inside his office, Jacob rolls his eyes and after he shuts the door, asks, “Are you here to ask me to help you with another body?”
“No,” I say, and he wipes his brow in mock relief. “But I am going to kill Lane’s foster parents.”
Jacob looks at me levelly. “What did they do?” I go through the story of what Lane told me and show Jacob the picture I found online.
He hums in agreement. “Yeah, I get it. Where are they?”
I shake my head. “Not sure. I don’t know how to look up shit like that. That’s why I’m here.”
Jacob nods, the smile on his face lethal. “You’ve come to the right place. I’m not super tech savvy, but I can pull an address, no problem. Give me like fifteen.”
Exactly fifteen minutes later, Jacob sends me a text with an address. I hit the link and pull up the directions. It’s a four-hour trip during rush hour, so I could get there in three and a half hours if I drive the speed limit. I don’t plan on driving the speed limit.
“When are you going?” Jacob asks, rounding his desk and sitting in the empty chair beside me.
“Next week, maybe. Wanna join?”
He rolls his eyes. “Hard pass. Do you know I had to get rid of those shoes I came to your place in? I got the blood out, but they were still sticky.”
I smile at him. “I’ll reimburse you.”
Jacob’s smile slowly fades, and he says, “You’re doing the right thing, avenging him. That’s not what a normal person would do, but we’re not normal. It’s how we show our love.”
“I don’t love him, Jacob. I’m obsessed with him, like you said. It’s not that deep.”
He smirks but doesn’t say anything further on the subject. “Do you want him to know about you avenging him?”
“No. He said they tossed him out before his high school graduation and he hasn’t heard from them since, so I’m sure he’ll never know they’re dead. I plan to make it look like a robbery gone wrong. No one but you and I will know.”
“No one that will live long enough to tell, you mean.”
We look at each other for a few seconds, then burst into laughter.
I really do love my brother. It’s different from what I feel for Lane. Lane is mine, I want to be with him every waking moment, for him to depend on only me, to want me as much as I want him. That’s not love. That’s possessiveness.
I open my mouth to ask Jacob how he knew he loved Alayna, but before I can, there’s a knock at his door.
“Come in,” Jacob says.
His receptionist steps inside and says, “Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt, but your wife is on line two. I told her—”
“It’s all good,” I say, getting to my feet. “I’ll see you soon, Jacob.” I give my brother a hug, and he pats my back.
“Be safe on your trip.”
“I always am.”
Just as I stop out of his office, I get a flash of a sketch in my mind, and I smile to myself. I’ll have to make a pit stop to gather some supplies before I go home, then I’ll draw Lane exactly how I saw him.
“Pose for me,” I say to Lane after I’ve greet him. It’s nice coming home to someone. Someone that asks how my day is and actually wants to know. Someone that is happy to see me. Every day I get home, Lane’s eyes light up, and his face radiates pure happiness.
A light, unfamiliar feeling fills my chest when I lay eyes on him. I like having him here, in my space, in my clothes.
Lane grins and nods. “Okay. In this?” He motions at the clothes he has on, a pair of my scrubs and a tank top that’s too big on him.
He’s gaining weight but not as much as I’d like.
He said his stomach fills up quickly and if he tries to stuff himself, he gets sick.
I don’t complain, but I don’t like that his ribs are still so prominent.
Shaking my head, I pull the bag from behind my back. “No, in this.”
He peers at the bag suspiciously but doesn’t ask questions. He takes it and pulls the items out, grinning shyly. “I’ve never worn anything like this before.”
“I saw a sketch with you in these.” I tap the bralette and thong that he has in his hands. “This thin strip of fabric nestled between your nice ass. Your pecs pressing against the seam of the bra. You’d look really fucking good with them on, baby boy.”
“Yeah?” he asks, eyes wide.
I nod and drop to my knees in front of him to remove the cuff from his ankle.
When it’s gone, I take his pants and underwear off, then take the thong from his hands.
Pulling him to his feet, I have him step into the underwear and slide them up his thighs.
His dick lengthens, but the underwear keeps him encased.
Lane runs his hands over the material and shivers. “I…I like how they feel. I’m surprised I don’t mind a piece of material up my ass like this, though.” I chuckle, but it’s abruptly cut off when Lane turns his back, and I get a full view of his ass in those pretty panties.
Swallowing thickly, I rearrange myself in my pants and stand to my full height. I run my hand down the curve of his ass, feeling the softness of his flesh against my palm. “You look good like this.”
“Can you buy me more, Daddy?”
“As many as you want, baby boy.”
He bites his lower lip and drags his shirt off. Quickly, he slides the bralette over his head, arranging it until it rests how he wants it.
I turn him around and step back, needing to see his entire body. Even though he’s thinner, he’s still plenty fit, his hard thighs and toned calves a sharp contrast to the delicate, pretty panties and bralette, his pecs beautifully defined in the cups of the lacy material.
I blow out a long breath. “Fuck, boy. I don’t have words for how fucking sexy you look.” Lane’s cheeks pinken, and he drops his head, but not before I see the wide smile that spreads across his face.
I grab my sketch pad from where I dropped it on the dresser and flip it open to a blank page. “On the bed, baby boy. Lie on your side. One leg hitched up. Yeah, like that.”
After he’s in position, I drag his chair to the end of the bed and take a seat. From my vantage point, I can see the curve of Lane’s balls and the thin strip of cloth that disappears between the crease of his ass.