Defending Pacer - Hamilton T. J. - Страница 25

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Popping open two of the buttons on her blouse, I get better access to her perfect tits. Freeing just one of them, I take it between my teeth just as she sinks down onto my hardened cock.

The risk of getting caught only seems to add to the moment. Right now we both need this. Our actions shout everything that we can’t say to each other. We don’t need the words just yet. The words are more frightening than having sex in the stairwell. But this is not just sex; I want to make love to her.

She grinds slowly into me in the direction my hands make her move as I hold onto her ass. Her arms hold around me, tight.

Don’t let me go honeybee. Don’t ever let me go.

She breathes heavy, but we daren’t make a sound louder than that. Not here. Her pulsing pussy quickens. I look her in the eye as I feel my build-up about to peak.

I almost feel embarrassed that I’m so close to coming already, but we both knew this was just a quickie. Even still, I try to hold back.

“Come with me, Pacer,” she whispers.

Those words alone leave me little choice in the matter. Even though we’ve already had unprotected sex, I’ve still haven’t come inside her yet. Until this moment, I’ve loved watching my seed explode all over her belly and tits. Until now, it hasn’t been more than us fucking. But now, it’s …

The sensation within me is unexplainable, but rife.

Her lips on mine, her pussy all over me, my heart is for her.

***

The same group of paparazzo that got me on the way into Chelsea’s office still wait as we pass by in a taxi. They don’t see us, so I guess the twelve flights of stairs wasn’t the worst idea in the world after all. It gave us more time alone, which was actually enjoyable after our moment of lovemaking on the stairwell, and meant we exited the building in the side street, away from prying lenses.

The taxi driver keeps glancing back in his rear-vision mirror as he drives. He catches my stare with his next glance. Go ahead, fucker, stare again … I dare you.

He gets the warning and fidgets with the steering wheel. Stopping just outside the Metro police station, I throw the cabbie twenty dollars. “Keep the change.” You piece of shit.

Chelsea takes my hand when I offer, to help her out of the taxi, but quickly lets go when she’s standing. It makes me smile. I get it—I’m the city’s most hated crook, and she’s pretty much its favourite daughter.

Luckily, the media hasn’t been tipped off about our appointment here this morning, and Chelsea holds her head high as we enter the police station. That-a-way, my girl. They all love to stare. Go ahead, assholes. I hang back and let Chelsea do her thing. The cop leaves the desk the moment Chelsea is finished talking. She rolls her eyes when she turns to me.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to all the judging eyes.” She sighs.

“You get used to it. Trust me.”

There’s that fucking smile again. Fuck it! My cock can’t take much more of this torture, honeybee.

“Come through, Miss Tanner.” I hear a voice past Chelsea’s shoulder.

Funny, they never address me. That’s right; I waste all their resources. As long as things keep sailing the way they are, they’ll always be wasting resources with their investigations on me.

The young cop escorts us into the elevator. He doesn’t look me in the eye when it’s just the three of us. They’re all tough until we’re alone. Flexing my interlocked hands out, they crack inside my gloves. I watch the young cop’s eyes glance sideways and can’t help my smirk.

We exit the elevator. I know my way around the station. I know the codes on all the elevators, and could get my hands on an access card if I needed, but none of these fuckers are worth my bother. There are bigger pieces of shit in the city to worry about than these pissy little excuses of humanity.

“Mr Fratelli.” My name is said with exaggeration. “I didn’t expect to see you in here so soon. Miss Tanner’s commitment to her client is obviously paying off.” Inspector Cunt-face makes my hackles stand on end, mentioning Chelsea in that tone.

Chelsea glares at me as a warning to calm, but I’m not going to let the sour-faced bitch get the better of me. My glory is in getting off all of these charges as soon as Reed is dealt with.

“I believe Judge Nolan had the orders delivered to you this morning,” Chelsea fires off before the bitch can say another word.

“Yes, I received them, along with the delivery of today’s newspaper.” Her snide smile makes me wild.

I will rip your fucking face off, cunt, and skull-fuck you with scissors.

“We’re not here to discuss tabloid stories, Karen. Remove Mr Fratelli’s monitor. I’m sure you have better things to do than attempt to intimidate my client.”

Thank fuck you’re here, Chelsea.

Soon-to-be-faceless cunt laughs so audaciously at Chelsea’s demand. It makes my nostrils flare. Make this quick, Chelsea. I’m quickly losing my shit.

Stomping my foot up on the cunt’s desk, I lift my trouser leg and glare at her. Chelsea takes out the documents from her leather document holder and places them down. She signs them then pushes the paperwork over to the other side of the desk. The smart-ass inspector unlocks the cabinet. She makes her way over to my leg and slowly unlocks the monitor. From this angle, I could easily smash her face into her pot of pens, but that would just be too easy.

I clench my fists; the leather of my gloves makes a squeaking sound. It’s the type of sound that makes you think of something cinching around your neck. Or at least that’s what it reminds me of.

Inspector Cunt-face glances up at me and shakes her head. Don’t even test me today, cunt. The monitor loosens and she steps away with the device in her hands. Taking a seat, she signs the paperwork in front of her.

“Are we done now?” I look at Chelsea, and she nods in reply. “Good. Say hi to Michael and the kids for me, Karen,” I add as I open her door and walk out.

I hear Chelsea scrambling with the paperwork before she follows quickly behind.

Pressing the elevator button, the lift dings open.

“You’ll need the code …” Inspector calls out.

I snigger at her, take Chelsea by the hand and enter the elevator. Dialling the code to access the ground floor, the elevator doors shut.

Chelsea looks at me with wide eyes. “What the fuck was that all about, Pacer?”

“Shut the fuck up, right now. Got it?” Doesn’t she fucking understand she’s being monitored in here?

I don’t look at her, but I can feel her heart breaking from here. It makes me fucking wild that I just spoke to her like that. I don’t want to hurt her, but fuck me! Maybe it’s not such a good idea if we’re together. I can deal with whatever they throw at me, but I can’t control what it does to me when any of these pricks talk to Chelsea like that. What if I really lose my shit one day, and there aren’t any more debts to be paid? I pull my phone out of my pocket and find Giorgie’s number.

“The front of Metro police, now!” I bark as soon as he picks up.

I hang up the phone. My temper is reaching breaking point.

We get out of the lift, and the fuckwit cops stop in their tracks as I stomp my way out of the station. If any of them utter a single comment, I don’t know what I’ll do. I keep my eyes ahead and reach for the front door. I don’t know where Chelsea is, but I hope she’s right behind me. I don’t trust myself at all, right now.

The cameras are waiting outside the station. Fuck the cops! They would’ve loved letting the media know we were here. I look back and find Chelsea covering her head with her leather folder as she leaves the station. My heart twists. Keep your fucking cool, Pacer.

“Just go. I’ll contact you later,” she says as she shields her face from the flashes.

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