In Your Corner

by Sarah Castille

  Jake fists my hair and tugs my head back. “The harder I am, the better if feels, and I can tell you, it’s never felt so fucking good as it does right now.”

  He slides his hands under my ass and lifts me against his hips. “Fingers in the fence,” he orders. “I want you doing nothing but thinking about how I feel inside you.”

  Trembling, I reach up and hook my fingers through the wire, palms toward him. My back arches and my breasts brush against his chest.

  “Such beautiful breasts.” He nuzzles his way down. “Want to play with them all night.”

  “Please…don’t.”

  He gives me an evil smile and draws one taut nipple into his mouth. So warm. So wet. His tongue circles, his teeth nip, his lips suck. Over and over again, his tongue teases my nipple until my breast is sore, swollen, and I am writhing against him, near mindless with need. When he turns his attention to the other one, I resort to begging.

  “I need you inside me, Jake. Please. Now. I can’t take any more.”

  Taking my weight with one hand, he slides his fingers along my wet folds and then up over my swollen clit. My body coils tighter and tighter and when he dips two fingers inside, I suck in a sharp breath and whimper.

  “Christ, you’re wet.” His lips are hot on my ear. “So goddam wet. I was worried you wouldn’t be ready, but my baby needs me bad.”

  “Yesss. God, yes.”

  His growl of satisfaction inflames me. I wrap my legs around his waist and tighten my thighs, drawing him so close his piercing bumps against my clit and my entire body shudders violently.

  “None of that, little minx. You’re only getting off with me buried deep inside you.” And without warning, he lifts me and then slams me down over his jutting cock.

  No easing in. No taking it slow. No giving me a chance to get used to the piercing. Instead he impales me and my breath catches in my throat as sensation floods my brain. So big. So thick. So hard. He is everything I remember…but more.

  But it isn’t the depth or girth of him that fries my brain. It isn’t the violence of his thrust or the slide of his cock through my swollen channel. It’s the exquisite, electrifying scrape of his piercing over my most sensitive inner tissue that makes me scream.

  I am not one of those women who wonders if G-spots really exist. Or if she has a G-spot. Or even where her G-spot might be. My G-spot and I are intimately familiar. I have a special set of toys for G-spot pleasuring. I can direct a man’s fingers or cock—or once even his tongue—to the exact spot for maximum pleasure. I know where, when, why, and how I want my G-spot touched. But nothing can match the feel of cold, hard steel.

  He lifts me almost all the way up and then thrusts inside, deeper this time, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. Then he pounds into me, hands curled tight on my ass. Every thrust is a new burst of mind-numbing sensation as his piercing drags over my most sensitive area, and although I am coiled tight and ready to explode, I almost don’t want the beautiful torture to end.

  Almost.

  “Ready for me, baby?” He slides his hand between us, fingers brushing over my swollen clit as my body slams against the fence again and again. Even as I am driven to new heights of pleasure, an unfamiliar heaviness curls low in my belly. Deep, dark, and delicious, it almost pulls me out of the moment.

  Fingers pinch. My world explodes. A shriek rips from my throat as I am rocked by an earth-shattering orgasm. Pleasure thunders through my body, sending wave after wave of sensation all the way to my fingers and toes. With one last violent thrust, Jake joins me, coming hard in hot, heated jerks. And as he pulses against my swollen tissue, the heaviness deep inside me becomes a second wave of brain-fuzzing, scream-inducing exquisite pleasure.

  Jake groans and leans against me, still supporting my weight. I can feel his heart pounding. I can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest. I can feel liquid trickling down my legs from my G-spot release. Now that was a first.

  “Fuck, baby. We were always good together, but never like that.”

  We hold each other for a few moments and then Jake withdraws and leaves the cage to dispose of the condom. When he returns, he has a first aid blanket with him and, in true fighter form, a water bottle.

  “Always good to stay hydrated in the cage.” He spreads the blanket on the mat and then pulls me down on top of him so my head is resting on his chest. Emotionally and physically drained, I listen to the steady thud of his heart and the rasp of his breathing. My fingers trail over the soft hair leading down from his chest to the piercing, glinting in the overhead lights.

  “Did it hurt?”

  He gives a bitter laugh. “Made me a better fighter. After pain like that, I don’t feel anything else.”

  “But…why?”

  His jaw tightens, and for once he won’t meet my gaze. “After we broke up, it was something I just wanted to do. Maybe it’s the rebel in me. Or maybe in some twisted way I wanted to punish myself for losing the best thing that ever happened to my life.”

  My heart squeezes in my chest. “That wasn’t you, Jake. That was me.”

  “You tried to make it right,” he says softly. “I almost fucking lost my mind the night you and Makayla went looking for me and got kidnapped. And the other times you tried to talk to me…I knew you were genuinely sorry. I could have listened. I’ve just never been good with forgiveness. I don’t come from a forgiving family.”

  I stroke a finger gently over the tip of his cock, toying lightly with his piercing. He comes semierect almost instantly in my hand. “So you do things like this? You really are a renegade. I can’t imagine many men who could even conceive of getting pierced. The guys I know take out their frustrations in the gym or sports field or usually the bar—not on themselves.”

  He draws my hand away and brings my fingers to his lips, kissing each tip with a featherlight brush of his tongue. “Ever since I was a kid, I couldn’t follow the rules. I was constantly getting into trouble. My parents blamed me for everything that went wrong, even my father’s alcoholism. So I became who they thought I was. A rebel. Hung out with the wrong crowd, got into trouble with the law…the total opposite of Peter.”

  “I can’t imagine what that was like.”

  “Fucked up. That’s what it was like.” He rubs his hand up and down my back, warm and soothing.

  “I finally decided I had to get out. Moved here because it was warm and I had a friend from high school who offered me a job on his construction crew. He fought at Redemption and invited me along. One night was all it took. Torment helped me get my life back together, showed me how to use fighting to deal with the anger I had inside, and he asked me to teach some classes. I would never have discovered how much I enjoy teaching if not for him. Redemption saved me in more ways than one.”

  “Me too,” I whisper, remembering the shadows of the Redemption fighters descending on the alley outside Hellhole.

  Jake chuckles. “Everything was going so well. I thought I had sorted myself out. But when you broke it off…that cut me bad. And then when I came to sort it out and caught you with Drake, that was the end for me. It was like I had failed again. I was still who my parents always thought I was. A fuckup. But this time I couldn’t hurt myself with booze or drugs or stupid, petty crime. I had my fight career to think of and my teaching. So I got pierced. Painful but cathartic.”

  My body stiffens and guilt winds its way up my spine. I try to pull away, but Jake tightens his grip, holding me close. “When I saw you again at your firm, all cool and calm like I was any other client when I was fucking shook up inside, I thought nothing had changed. You were still totally in control of yourself, your life, everything. You’d moved on.”

  “In control? I dropped my notepad and pen like a total klutz.” I snort a laugh. “I could barely breathe. I said stupid and inane things. You were the one who was all cool and calm. You intimidated me.”
>
  “Don’t remember it that way.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “But I like to hear it.”

  I shift in his arms, tilting my head up so I can look at him. “So what changed?”

  His body tenses and he draws in a ragged breath. “Seeing you in that alley… Fuck. You were covered in blood, and we couldn’t wake you. I thought you were gonna die, and I wished to God I could have one more chance.”

  His arms tighten around me, and I blink back my tears as I remember how desperately I wished I could have one more chance with him too.

  “But it wasn’t just that,” he says softly. “In the hospital, with your parents on your case, so cold and detached, and you so desperate for their approval… I totally understood that. Same thing I struggled with all my life. You looked so defeated. Like you needed someone in your corner. Changed everything for me.” His voice cracks, breaks. “I thought maybe you did actually need me in a way I need to be needed. And maybe this time, you would let me in.”

  Chapter 14

  I LIKE THE SOUND OF THAT

  “Ray, shoes off the table. Have some respect.”

  Ray shoots me a curious glance as I storm through the office. His feet don’t move.

  “And, Penny. Change the screensaver back to the corporate logo. A thirty-inch close-up of Vetch’s face is going to scare clients away.”

  “Awwww.” Penny’s lips quirk into a smile but I don’t acknowledge the joke.

  “Seriously, guys. This is a law office, not a social club.”

  Ray snorts from behind his paper. “Who’s being social? I’m reading the news. Pen’s working. You’re the one yammering on.”

  Despite the fact he can’t see me, I shoot him a searing glance. “New rules. When a client comes in, we’ll enact Operation Client protocol. This means Ray will sit up and read a magazine and pretend this is not his living room. No lounging. No swearing. No feet on the table. Penny will type. It doesn’t matter if you have anything to type; the sound of fingers hitting keys makes it sound busy. No personal conversations. No calls.”

  Penny frowns. “Something the matter?”

  “Nothing’s the matter. Do I look like something’s the matter? It’s Monday. We have cases to run and new clients could walk in the door at any moment. How will they know we’re a law office? I don’t have a sign. I don’t have a brand. All we have is the monogrammed stationery and the firm colors. I think we should…”

  Ray peers over his newspaper and raises a warning eyebrow. “We should what?”

  I rethink my decision to remove his comfy Victorian couch and also my new idea to have everyone wear firm colors. I’ve never seen Ray in anything but commando clothes and commandos don’t wear navy blue. “Never mind.”

  “Thought not.”

  “What’s this all about?” Penny persists. “I thought you were finally chillaxing about the firm. We were having fun, going to dangerous areas of town, taking on more pro bono files. You gave Ray his couch. I thought you were leaving the big law firm behind for a brave new Amanda Westwood & Sons world.”

  Wincing at her all too accurate assessment, I shake my head. “Fact is, Penny, sometimes the old things are best. There was a method behind the Farnsworth & Tillman madness. I understood it. This half Victorian, half modern firm with you two hanging out chatting all day and me never knowing where the next client is going to come from, or what the hell I’m doing, or where the hell I’m going…is not comfortable. I need stability and certainty. I need to get some control over my life.”

  “She’s running scared,” Ray mumbles from behind his newspaper.

  “I heard that, Ray. I am not scared of anything.”

  “Definitely scared.”

  “Seriously?” Penny glances over at me. “So, spill. What’s going on?”

  Blood rushes through my ears so fast I can barely hear her words. Damn Ray. But until he said the word, it hadn’t occurred to me the unsettling feelings I’ve had all weekend might be…fear.

  But what do I have to be afraid of? After we left Redemption, Jake dropped me home because he had to catch an early morning flight to Portland on business. He texted me from the cab, the plane before takeoff, the cab again, and his hotel. Warm texts. Sweet texts. Sexy texts. I dutifully texted him back, relieved I didn’t have to face him. But all the while my stomach roiled and my mind twisted itself in knots. I pushed when I shouldn’t have pushed. And now he’s going to expect something from me in return.

  “Nothing.”

  Ray snorts from behind his newspaper. “That’s what Pen said to me when I asked what the fuck is up with her. She’s almost bouncing out of that chair.”

  For the first time this morning, I take a good look at Penny. Her eyes are sparkling and she is, indeed, bouncing in her chair.

  “What’s up?”

  She taps on her new Vetch screensaver and makes a lewd pumping motion with her fist, then mouths “tonight.”

  Laughter bursts from my chest, a sudden release of the tension I’ve carried with me all weekend. For a moment, I can’t believe this is the same Penny who wears floaty florals and drinks tea.

  “Are you sure?” I whisper. “Is he safe?”

  “Seriously.” Ray shakes his head. “I’m a fucking PI. You two think I can’t figure out what’s going on over there? Pen’s got a new man. Amanda doesn’t like him. Come on, Pen. Let’s see him.” He motions to the screen with his chin and waggles his finger. “Turn it around. I know he’s there.”

  Swallowing hard, Penny turns the screen.

  Silence. And then…

  “Jesus Christ, lookit that loser. Gimme a different visual.” Penny taps on the keyboard and pulls up a full picture of Vetch and then a couple of the band. Ray’s eyes widen. “Hell. You can do better than that, Pen.”

  “He’s the lead singer of the Slugs.” She gives him an affronted stare. “And he’s asked me to come to his hotel tonight for a private dinner.”

  “Guy like that’ll use you and send you packing.”

  To my great surprise, Penny just shrugs. “That’s fine with me. I haven’t had a good shag for six months, and afterward, I’ll be able to work the street cred of having slept with the lead singer of the Slugs.”

  “Slug is right. You’re not goin’. Final.”

  Penny frowns. “Sorry?”

  “Nothin’ to be sorry about. You’re not going. Done.” Ray drains his cup and slams it on the table then slaps open his newspaper.

  Penny gives a thin laugh. “Like you can stop me.”

  Ray drops his feet to the floor and leans forward, his voice dropping to a low growl. “I will stop you, Pen. Guy like that sees you as a play toy. Shagging you is the last thing he’ll do. You’re gonna get hurt, sweetheart, and it’s not gonna happen on my watch.”

  Penny sucks in a sharp breath. Ray puts his feet back on the table. I cough and suggest we get to work.

  “I can take care of myself,” Penny blurts out.

  “Girl like you knows nothin’ about guys like him. You’re all sweet innocence, pearl buttons on your blouse, tight little pencil skirts, and fucking sexy shoes. You’re class and he’s an ass. You want to get laid that bad, I’ll take care of you.”

  I choke. Penny splutters. Ray casually turns the page.

  “You’re offering to sleep with me so I don’t sleep with Vetch?” Penny’s voice rises in pitch.

  “Lookin’ the way you do, being sweet as you are, it’s not a sacrifice, sweetheart.”

  Penny’s cheeks glow red and her fingers drum on her desk.

  “I think in a perverse, twisted kind of way, he’s trying to be nice,” I whisper. “He’s worried about you.”

  Penny’s eyes narrow. “Or maybe it’s been a while since he had a shag.”

  “Actually.” I raise my voice loud enough for Ray to hear. “I don’t allow interpersonal rela
tionships at my firm. Especially when I only have two employees.”

  Ray shoots me a glance “Not an employee. Independent contractor.”

  “Well, I’m going.” Penny folds her arms and glares.

  “You’re not.” Ray doesn’t even bother to lower the newspaper.

  Poor Penny. After suffering through years of failed relationships with her, I totally get why she wants this date. And who am I to stand in her way? Maybe we shouldn’t judge him by the needle tracks on his arms or the pupil-less, drugged-out eyes. Maybe he’s that thin because he has a high metabolism and pale because he’s a vampire and can’t go out in the sun. Who am I to judge? Maybe, like Sandy, he has a good heart.

  The front door opens and closes. A process server walks in, this one bald and burly. He looks around and scratches his head. “Sorry to disturb you folks. I’m looking for a law office. Attorney’s name is Amanda Westwood? Don’t suppose you know where it might be?”

  “Arrrrrgh.” I glare at Ray and then at Penny before I smooth my face and hold out my hand for what I already know is going to be another life-destroying package from Farnsworth.

  After the process server leaves, Ray swings his feet to the floor. “Unfortunate timing.”

  “There is no good timing when Farnsworth is involved.” I throw myself onto the couch beside Ray. My blood chills as I flip through page after page after page. “I can’t believe this. He’s making every application in the known universe. It will take me months to address them all, maybe even half a year. Usually attorneys try to drag out a case, but I can see what he’s doing. He’s coming down hard and fast, hoping to scare me off.” I toss the documents on the couch and bury my face in my hands.

  “You need help, you just ask.” Ray gives my shoulder a squeeze.

  “You know I’m happy to work overtime,” Penny says.

  “Thanks.” I choke up before I can tell them it’s not just the time; it’s the money. And Farnsworth must know I don’t have much. Certainly not enough to hire the number of contract attorneys I now know I will need to run this case, and definitely not enough to afford big law fees to hire someone else to run the case. My parents are out of the picture. No way could I borrow more money from Max, and no bank will lend me money with my loan to Max outstanding. What the hell was I thinking? How could I have been so naïve?