Rannigan's Redemption: Complete Collection

by Pandora Spocks

  They stayed that way, gasping for air. “Holy shit, Michael,” she breathed.

  He pulled aside his shirt to plant a kiss on her shoulder. “Let’s take this into the bedroom for the next round,” he said, gently pulling out of her. He helped her stand and they headed toward the bedroom hand in hand. As they passed the bar, he picked up their glasses of bourbon.

  In the bedroom, she waited while he set down the glasses on the bedside table and removed the platinum satin-covered European pillows and deposited them on a chair by the window. He returned to Maggie and kissed her tenderly before sliding his shirt from her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor.

  Michael stepped back to look at her. “Jesus, Mags,” he breathed. He pulled back the grey coverlet to reveal crisp white sheets and Maggie slid into the bed, lying on her side with her head propped on her elbow.

  Michael unfastened his jeans and slid them down, followed by the boxer briefs. “Jesus, Michael,” she said, only half mockingly, as she took in his toned masculine physique. He gave her his signature slow smile and she could feel the moisture pooling again in her private space.

  “Now,” he grinned as he slid into bed beside her, “where were we?” Michael pulled her close, gently moving his hands to explore her body, lightly caressing her from her neck to her shoulders and breasts, down her arms to her hips, cupping her full ass, then moving to stroke her inner thighs to that place that she couldn’t imagine could still be needy, and yet was.

  As he did so, Maggie did some exploring of her own, tangling her fingers in that luscious smattering of salt and pepper chest hair, moving down to the defined abs that looked like something out of a fitness magazine, to his erect cock which stood ready to please. She used the bead of his arousal to wet his tip as she lightly circled it with her thumb and she was rewarded by a growl from deep in his chest.

  Michael rolled over and reached into the drawer of the bedside table, removing another foil packet. He tore it open and grinned at Maggie. “When you put on the last one...” he began, rolling it down over his massive and ready member, “Holy fucking shit that was hot!”

  Maggie giggled lightly. “I’m glad I got your attention.”

  “Oh, you have my attention,” he said, as she moved onto her back and he held himself over her, sliding his legs between hers. He held himself that way for a moment just gazing deeply into her bright green eyes. Maggie leaned up and kissed him tenderly. Michael teased her opening with his tip and she moaned softly, resting her head once again on the pillow. Keeping his eyes on hers he slowly entered her once again, and he held her gaze as he deliberately moved the length of his hard cock in and out.

  While the last time had been rushed and frenetic fucking, this time he wanted to make love to her, taking the time to enjoy her sensuality. He could feel her nearing her edge as her pussy began to involuntarily grip him harder, but she kept her eyes on his, even when her climax came, causing her to cry out.

  “Oh, shit, Michael!” Her excitement pushed him over the top and he came loudly as his essence shot out of him once again.

  He rested his forehead on hers for a moment before gently rolling off of her, coming to rest on his back, gasping for air. Maggie breathed in deeply and chuckled lightly. Michael pushed himself onto his side and gave her a curious look. “What?” he asked.

  She giggled again. “First of all, I’m dying of heat stroke under these covers,” she said. Together they managed to kick the coverlet and sheet off of themselves.

  “Is that better?” he asked.

  “Hell, yes!” she laughed, rolling onto her side to face him, left arm curled under the pillow under her head. She gave him a shy smile and he grinned back at her. “I’m also dying of thirst.” Michael leaned up to hand her one of the glasses of bourbon and took the other for himself. They both sipped appreciatively.

  “Being a sex god really does take it out of you,” Michael quipped, and she giggled again. He put the glasses back on the table and they lay just gazing at each other. He reached to lightly trace her outline with his fingers, from her shoulder down her side to her waist. When he reached her hip he stopped, pulling her forward onto her stomach. She lazily bent her knees bringing her feet to rest over her ass, ankles crossed. He leaned up to look at the sun tattoo on her hip, tracing his finger over it. “So this really is the only tattoo you have?”

  Maggie giggled. “Are you disappointed?”

  Michael smiled. “Not disappointed, exactly. The way you talked that time...I imagined all sorts of ink in all sorts of places.”

  She looked at him slyly. “You imagined my body?”

  “I’m a guy. It’s what we do.” He looked at her curiously. “Is that bad?”

  “I don’t know,” Maggie blushed. “It’s just that, well, I’ve imagined being here, in this bed with you, for a long time.”

  He smiled wryly. “Have you, now?” Michael looked thoughtful. “Why haven’t we ever done this before?”

  Maggie sighed deeply. “Because you are you. And you’re leaving tomorrow. With Vivian.” There was a sad glint in her eyes.

  Michael breathed out. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” He met her eyes, searching. “But we’re here together now. Are you sorry?”

  She shook her head sharply. “Of course not!” She leaned over to kiss him lightly.

  He took her hand and held it to his lips, watching her carefully. “How about I go refresh our drinks before the next round?” he asked impishly.

  Maggie laughed out loud. “Seriously?!”

  “Does that mean no?” he asked innocently.

  “It means hurry up before I change my mind,” she laughed.

  Chapter 43

  Michael eased out of bed, pausing to slip into his jeans before he headed to the living room to refill their empty glasses. “Be right back,” he said over his shoulder.

  Maggie grinned and rolled onto her back, gazing up at the modern silver chandelier hanging over the bed. Unbelievable. After all this time... Of course, he’s leaving tomorrow. She grimaced slightly. He’ll be in the Maldives for two weeks. With Vivian. She sighed deeply, wondering if she remembered exactly which one was Vivian. They were all fairly interchangeable. Stop analyzing it. Just enjoy the moment. We’re adults here.

  She could hear him putting ice in the glasses. The cold clink of ice cubes was replaced by the ringing of the doorbell. Frowning, she glanced at the bedside clock and saw that it was 11:30. Then she heard voices.

  “What are you doing here?” she heard Michael ask. “It’s nearly midnight.”

  “You called me, remember?” replied a female voice.

  “That was hours ago. I’m not alone,” Michael countered.

  Alarmed, Maggie tiptoed to the bedroom door. Her mind flashed back to Doc Watsons. Michael was checking his phone all evening. Realization dawned suddenly. He was trying to find a ‘victory fuck.’ And nobody was available. When he couldn’t find anyone else, he settled for me. She felt a cold buzzing numbness wash over her.

  The woman laughed. “Glorious. We haven’t had a threesome in ages.” Maggie didn’t wait to hear his reply. She went into his bathroom and quickly dressed. Shit! My panties and shoes are out there. Shit!!

  She hurriedly combed her fingers through her hair and straightened her blouse and skirt as best she could. In the mirror she saw the wild look in her eyes, the one she got when she tried to hold back tears. Her eyes fell to the bracelet on her wrist. Mechanically, she undid the clasp and lay it gently on the bathroom counter. Then she pulled herself up as tall as she could and made her way out into the living room.

  Michael, still shirtless in his jeans, was standing beside a chic-looking blonde in a long black trench coat. Because Maggie was avoiding Michael’s eyes, she saw the woman smirk at her.

  “Oh, my, what have we here?” the woman said.

  “Shut up, Gwen,” Michael warned softly.

  Silently, Maggie picked up her jacket from the couch and crossed to the kitchen counter, grabbing her shoes
and panties where they lay on the floor just beneath it.

  “Mags, don’t go,” he said.

  “No, don’t go. Stay,” the woman chuckled. She opened her coat and dropped it to the floor. Gwen had arrived at Michael’s door wearing a sheer black lace bustier with black stockings and a matching g-string.

  Maggie gaped at the woman briefly before turning toward the door. “I’ve gotta go,” she muttered.

  Michael followed her. “Mags, please...”

  Maggie couldn’t look at him. She felt too foolish. The last thing she wanted to do was to break down and cry in front of the two of them. As she pulled open the door, she heard Gwen’s laughter.

  “Really, Michael. Don’t you think a pity-fuck is beneath you?”

  “Shut up, Gwen!” he repeated, more forcefully this time.

  Maggie stopped for an instant, then continued toward the elevator without looking back.

  * * *

  Maggie didn’t answer her phone that night. She didn’t answer it the next day. In fact, she turned her phone off and left it that way all weekend. On Saturday she couldn’t find the strength to crawl out of bed. She felt as though she’d been hit by a truck. The scene kept playing over and over in her mind.

  I am an absolute idiot. I know what he does. I know that none of his women mean anything to him. I mean even less. I was simply available.

  She thought about how things at the office would be when he returned from vacation. He’ll probably act like nothing happened. Because in his mind, nothing did happen. We fucked. End of story. Except that it meant so much more to her. Well, it had. Until she realized...

  I can’t face him. I can’t possibly go on at work like nothing happened. Late Saturday afternoon, Maggie forced herself out of bed and went into the living room where she’d dropped her purse the night before. Picking it up off the couch, she rummaged around inside it and took out the business card Rance had given her.

  When you decide to leave the dark side, give me a call.

  She perched on the edge of the coffee table and glanced at her switched off phone. She put down Rance’s card and stalked to the kitchen where she poured herself a glass of wine and stood staring across the room at the phone on the coffee table as if it were a snake. Thoughts of the LeRoi case swirled through her mind, intertwined with memories of last night in Michael’s bed, in Michael’s arms. Pity fuck...

  “I can’t do this anymore,” Maggie murmured to herself. She chugged the wine and returned to her phone, firing it up and ignoring the eight missed calls and ten texts. She took a calming breath and dialed Rance’s number.

  * * *

  On Monday morning, Maggie knocked on the open door of Brian Murphy. He looked up, grinning in surprise. “Hey, Maggie! What are you doing on the 48th floor?”

  She forced a cheerful smile. “Hi, Brian. Sorry to bother you. Can I talk to you a minute?”

  “You’re not bothering me, come on in. What’s up?” he asked. “Is the 50th floor in shambles with your fearless leader away?” Brian laughed heartily.

  Maggie sat across from him gripping her leather folio. “I need to give you my two week notice,” she said.

  Brian’s mouth fell open. “You...what?”

  “I’m taking a job with the DA’s office. I start there two weeks from today.” She handed him her formal resignation.

  He looked down at her document as though something there would alleviate his confusion. “But...I mean...What did Michael say?”

  “He doesn’t know yet,” she said. “The resort where he’s staying doesn’t have phone or internet service.”

  “Doesn’t know?” he echoed. “I don’t understand, Maggie. I thought you were happy here. You’re a valuable part of the Murphy, Rannigan team. This seems so sudden.” He looked pleadingly back at Maggie.

  She shook her head. “This last case, LeRoi? It really did me in. I did things I didn’t like,” she explained. “Michael knows I was unhappy with the position I was in. I don’t think he’ll be surprised. You know, before I accepted the job here, I was planning to work for the DA’s office. I just sort of got side-tracked for a while.” She tried to smile reassuringly.

  “I don’t know, Maggie,” he said. “I hate like hell to lose you. I can’t think Michael won’t feel the same way.”

  She shrugged. “It’s time for me to move on,” she said simply.

  Rannigan’s Redemption Part 2:

  Running Rogue

  Michael Rannigan is running rogue. Since Maggie’s abrupt departure from the law firm of Murphy, Rannigan, & Metheny, he’s been in a tailspin. As he limps along in the new normal, he misses her more than he ever imagined.

  Maggie misses Michael as well. But she makes the best of her new job at the District Attorney’s office. Occasionally they cross paths in court, each assessing the other. Like Michael, she finds herself making questionable personal choices.

  When opportunity knocks for Michael he leaps at it, maybe as much to avoid Maggie’s absence as anything else. The fact that his decision impacts everyone else at the firm doesn’t slow him down at all.

  Then comes news that shakes him to his core. Now that he’s burned all his bridges, who will be there to help him pick up the pieces?

  Chapter 1

  Michael Rannigan reclined on a chaise on the private deck of their over-water bungalow and watched as Vivian snorkeled a few yards away. He reclined. But he didn’t relax. He had too much on his mind. Memories of his last night in New York before he left for vacation swirled through his thoughts. Initially he’d worked to downplay it in his own mind.

  It’s no big deal. I fuck around all the time. Maggie’s just another piece of ass. Deep down, he knew better.

  Vivian disrupted his thoughts as she tossed her snorkel gear onto the deck before climbing up and stretching out on the chaise beside his. “God, that water’s great!” she said, smoothing back her soaked blonde hair. “You really should try it.”

  Michael smiled his best self-deprecating grin, grateful for the mirrored Ray-Ban aviators that shielded his eyes from view. “I will. I’m just relaxing now, soaking up the rays.”

  Vivian frowned at him skeptically. “We’ve been here five days and you haven’t wanted to do anything. Except fuck. Which is great, don’t get me wrong. But seriously, Michael. What the hell?”

  Images from the past few days flashed through Michael’s mind. The way her tits looked with his hard cock sliding between them. Vivian bent over the chair in the sitting room of the bungalow. Vivian riding him in the hot tub that was sunken into the deck overlooking the water. Looking down on her white-blonde head as she sucked him off. There had been a lot of fucking. Even so, in his mind it hadn’t been Vivian at all.

  He felt a flash of irritation. “It’s my vacation and I’m doing exactly what I want. Relaxing. We don’t have to go and do all the time, do we?”

  “Whatever!” she snapped. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  Over dinner in the resort restaurant, Vivian was in better spirits. She was chattering on about some damn thing, Michael couldn’t tell what it was.

  Why does she keep talking? Looks like she’d run out of something to say eventually.

  Her sharp voice cut into his thoughts. “Are you even listening to me?” she asked. “I said, look at that cute couple over there.”

  Michael shifted in his chair to look in the direction she indicated. He saw a young couple a few tables away. The guy was rather plain, probably an accountant unless Michael missed his guess.

  The woman, on the other hand, was stunning. She had long blonde hair, nice sized tits, and great legs under the yellow sun dress she was wearing.

  She’s a little out of your league, isn’t she, buddy? He grinned at the thought.

  “Aren’t they just the cutest? They’re newlyweds.” Michael spun his head back to Vivian who held up both hands, surrender style. “Don’t worry. I don’t have any grand scheme or anything. I just think they’re cute, that’s all.”

&n
bsp; “Yeah, cute,” Michael repeated. He dug into his steak once again.

  Vivian huffed and put down her fork. “Okay, what gives?”

  Michael looked up at her in surprise. “What gives what? What are you talking about?”

  “What I’m talking about,” she began in a loud whisper, crossing her arms in front of her, “is you. You haven’t wanted to do a damn thing except fuck since we got here. That and laze around. You don’t talk to me, you don’t even listen to me. It’s like I’m here by myself.”

  Michael set his knife and fork aside and leaned back in his chair. “What do you want me to say, Vivian?” He didn’t attempt to hide his irritation. “I’m here on my fucking vacation. I want to relax. Because I work fucking hard. I’ve got a lot of things on my mind. And I just want to chill. Why is that such a problem for you?”

  “The problem for me is, I didn’t come here to be alone. Maybe I should just leave,” she challenged.

  Michael stared down at his plate for a moment before raising his eyes. “Maybe you should,” he replied softly.

  Vivian moved out of their bungalow that night and caught a flight home the next morning. Watching the float plane take off, Michael felt a sense of relief. He’d be back home in a little over a week and he had no idea what he was going to do about Maggie. He spent the rest of that day enjoying the peace of the luxury bungalow he now occupied alone.

  The following day, Michael left his sanctuary to relax on the beach. He chose a chaise far down the beach and away from the other sunbathers. Thoughts of Maggie still swirled through his mind like dry leaves in a brisk fall breeze.

  I can just go about my business like nothing out of the ordinary happened. I’m sure she’s not spending time obsessing over it.

  He shook his head. That wasn’t true. He knew Maggie well enough to know that she was bound to be thinking it over, considering how best to handle the situation. Besides, she’d been upset when she left, thanks to Gwen. She’d been in such a hurry, she’d forgotten her bracelet on the bathroom counter.