“I’m here, baby.”
“Make it stop. Make it go away.” She starts to sob.
I know exactly what she wants. I’m a fucking bastard for not finding another way to soothe her. Hold her until her worries fade back into the depths of her tortured mind. But this is what she wants. This is how she ropes herself around the reality of what’s real and what’s not.
I throw the blankets off her, ridding us of any unneeded heat, and climb on top of her. Lifting her soaked night shirt over her head, I discard it on the floor and take my lips to her skin, blowing against her balmy flesh. She’s restless under my touch, so I work faster down her stomach, my breath feathering along her skin while my lips splay kiss after kiss until I’m pulling back her tiny shorts and spreading her legs wide.
“Please, Levi. Please.” I shouldn’t want this. Not like this, but goddammit, I’m hard as stone, loving the way her pink lips glisten as I spread them. A better man would say no and hold her until her terrors subside, but she creates this savage in me. I snuggle in between her quivering thighs and inhale her scent. My tongue slides out, and I make contact with her warm pussy. “Yes.” Her moan is like fuel for me. I swipe up her center, licking at her wetness. She’s so beautiful like this. Needy, aching, and swollen for me. Her thighs clench around my head, and I watch as goosebumps line her skin.
“You’re so beautiful like this. Like fucking heaven.” I swipe at her again, loving the way her body buckles with each assault. I spread her wider, using my greedy tongue to push inside her, needing to taste all of her. I fuck her with my tongue, loving all the sounds she fights to hold back.
“Levi,” she moans my name again, and I work her harder.
“That’s right. Say my name. Know whose tongue is fucking you. Owning you. Beg for more, and maybe I’ll grant you my finger.” God, I’m a fucking bastard. But my girl knows what she needs, and I know exactly how to give it to her.
“Levi, please. I need you. I need all of you.” I wonder if she understands what that statement does to me. If I was standing, she would have brought me to my knees. Because she has no idea how much I truly need her. I give her exactly what she wants, pushing a thick finger inside. I pump in and out, still using my tongue to tease her clit. When I push two fingers inside her, her hips begin to buckle. “Oh yes, yes…” she hits her peak, and I use a third finger while she rides out her orgasm.
I lap at her juices until I can’t take another second of not being inside her. I pull out and stand, kicking off my briefs, then find my way back to her. Her frenzied eyes, shining with undeniable lust, love, and need, mirror mine. When I drive inside her, it’s like a needle being pushed into my vein. She’s my fucking drug, and I’m so goddamn addicted.
We make love, we fuck, we struggle to breathe, until she moans my name, squeezing around me, soaking me with her release. I buckle once more, needing the deepest depths of her cunt, until I expand and fall over, mixing my orgasm with hers.
We lay quiet, catching our breaths, savoring in the aftermath. When my heartrate seems to level out, I lift up, wanting to assess her reaction. As I hoped, her eyes are shining with contentment. Gone is the fear. “You’re absolutely intoxicating.” I press a gentle kiss to her lips. Her breathing becomes staggered, and I worry she’s about to lose it.
“I love you,” she says, and it cracks my heart open.
“I love you too. Are you okay?” I have to ask. I need to measure what she’s feeling.
She swallows, as if pushing away emotion. “You remember how you tell me all the time I’m your drug and you’re addicted?” I nod. I’m not shy about telling her exactly what she is to me. “Well…I know I’ve never said it, but for me, you’re like my medicine—being with you, it…heals me.” It’s my turn to choke down my emotions. “It’s super corny. But it’s the truth.”
I want to spend my entire day, year, lifetime telling her what she means to me. But I let the silence of our breathing, the beating of our hearts, respond for us. Time passes too fast, stealing our moment. I know we can no longer pretend. It’s time.
“Are you ready for today?” I hold her gaze, needing to see every emotion that passes through her eyes.
“I am. I want to move on. Be done. I want him to realize he was wrong for what he did. And accept that he won’t. I’m prepared that it will be hard. But I’m ready.”
My strong little warrior.
“All right. Let’s get today over with.”
We get up and prepare to sit in a courtroom, face to face with Connor Miller for the last time.
Justin West, our top resident lawyer who’s been lead on the case, stands, addressing Connor. “Mr. Miller, please state for the record your full name.”
“Connor Braydon Miller.”
My palms are clammy. I fight the urge to pull at my neckline, my collar all of a sudden too tight. A million times I’ve been in this courtroom, but never has it been defending someone I love. I fought hard to be the one to take Connor down. It had to be me. I needed to be the one staring in his eyes when I took away his freedom. Even Jim had his moments of needing revenge. But there were too many conflicts of interest and his defense team shut it down. We are lucky enough to even be sitting at the counsel table. “And, Mr. Miller, please state for the jury your relationship with Benjamin Miller and Miller Industries.”
Connor’s disturbing smile sets an unease inside me. I worry what it’s doing to Hannah. Stay focused. “He’s my father. And that’s his company. One day to be mine.”
He’s fucking demented. Miller Industries is already being shut down and disbanded as we speak. By the time Braydon gets out of prison, which our firm plans to fight tooth and nail to be never, he won’t have anything. “So, you’re also aware of the charges against Miller Industries. Thirty-five counts of first-degree murder. Twelve counts of attempted murder. Not to mention, violation of environmental law, corporate fraud, antitrust violations, bribery. Did I miss anything?” Justin begins.
Connor smiles at the jury and responds, but Justin cuts him off. “Oh, wait. I forgot obstruction of justice, racketeering, tax fraud. Mr. Connor, let me rephrase my question, what criminal offense didn’t Miller Industries get prosecuted for?”
Connor’s shit smile falters, but not before slapping the mask of the devil back on his face and aiming his evilness at me. “Maybe sexual assault. The things I got to do to one of my fellow female coworkers is probably frowned—”
“You motherfucker!” Kip’s thunderous voice booms through the courtroom. Judge Foster slams down his gavel as Stacey stands, trying to get him to sit back down.
Connor laughs and starts licking his lips, enticing another round of expletives from Kip. “I’ll fucking—”
“Order!” Judge Foster slams his gavel again. “Order! Sir, if you do not contain yourself, I will have you removed from this courtroom!”
I fight not to turn around. I can’t bear what I’ll see on Hannah’s face. I need to stay focused. I hear Jim, who’s also seated at the counsel table, shift, demanding in his fatherly tone for Kipley to shut it down. Before the trial, the family had a sit down. It was embedded in every single family member if they couldn’t handle what they may hear, they should not be in the courtroom. Kipley lasted all of five damn minutes.
“Mr. West, please continue.”
Stay focused. He has this. It’s killing me not being up there. Justin continues. “Mr. Miller, what is your relationship with Matthews and Associates?”
Connor shrugs, keeping his cool. “I was hired as a first-year law associate.”
“You were hired or you scammed your way into—”
“Objection!” their defense team calls out. “Leading. He answered the question.”
Justin waves it off. “I’ll rephrase. What level of expertise would you consider yourself in information security hacking—”
“Objection. Hearsay. My client has never—”
“He has a full confession on record,” Justin points out, knowing it can’t
stand up in court.
“That was thrown out. It has no standing in this case.”
Judge Foster slams on his gavel. “Mr. West, please get to the question.”
“Mr. Connor, how long would it take to hack into a company system?” Before his lawyer has a chance to object, Connor replies.
“Under five minutes.”
Got you. I mark that up as a point for us as the defense huffs, taking the floor.
“Mr. Miller, what was your relationship with Hannah Matthews?” the defense begins.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. The defense attorney makes his way across the room and stands next to the jury, awaiting Connor’s reply.
“She was my girlfriend.”
“That’s bullshit!” Kip goes off again, and the judge loses his patience.
“Security, I want that young man removed from my courtroom.” Neither Jim nor I move to look behind us.
“All right. I’m going. Get your fucking hands off me.” A few quick moments, and the door to the courtroom slams shut.
“Continue.”
“Mr. Miller, how long were you and Miss Matthews intimate?”
“Quickly after she started. She became very interested in me and my side of the business. We spent a lot of time together. Before I knew it, she was throwing herself at—”
“Objection!” I fly out of my seat. “Relevancy. This doesn’t have anything to do with—”
Jim grabs my bicep and tugs me back down.
“Mr. Dent, you are not the head counsel in this trial. I suggest you mind your place, or you, too, will be removed. Continue, counsel,” Judge Foster reprehends me, and I sit, trying to slow my breathing.
“As I was saying, their relationship has everything to do with it, your honor. It’s important the jury understands the persuasive relationship they had and how Miss Matthews conjured up the whole plan to—”
“Watch it,” I growl back, shooting back up, slamming my hands on the table.
Judge Foster slams his gavel down. “Mr. Dent,” he warns. Jim grabs my hand, and I sit back down.
The defense, wearing a snarky smile, continues. “Mr. Miller, can you explain the first time Miss Matthews approached you about the Miller case?”
Connor sits a bit straighter, his facial expression morphing into a sad puppy dog. “The first time she approached me was at lunch. It was the first time she asked me out.”
Fucking liar. The first time they went to lunch. It was him.
“And can you tell the jury what you two talked about?”
He turns to the jury. “She asked me to help her destroy files for the Miller case.”
“Can you please state your name for the record?”
“Hannah Constance Matthews.” Hannah’s focus is directly on the defense as she replies, and I find solace in knowing the middle name is meant for me. A silent understanding telling me she’s okay.
The defense rounds his table and strolls over to the jury. “And, Miss Matthews, can you tell the jury your relationship to Matthews and Associates?”
Her smile is kind and genuine when her eyes find her father’s. “It’s my dad’s law firm. He built it from the ground up.”
“And you were employed there only because your daddy own—”
“Objection. Badgering.”
The defense attorney puts his hand out before the judge speaks. “I’ll rephrase. You were also an employee, correct?”
“I was. I was hired as a paralegal. I don’t have my actual law degree yet, so I wasn’t able to—”
“Thank you, Miss Matthews. Being a paralegal, would that give you access to confidential files? Security access to private files, let’s say?”
Hannah nods. “Yes, it was part of my job to type and file everything my boss worked on.”
“So, it’s possible if you were working on a case, let’s say Miller Industries, you could tamper with files if you wanted to?”
Hannah keeps her composure when responding. “I could. But I—”
“And let’s say if you were upset over something, maybe rejected advances, you could see yourself tampering—”
“Objection!” Justin throws his hand in the air. “Leading!”
That son of a bitch. I’m fuming. How dare he turn this around, making Hannah look like the bad guy. Even Jim beside me is buzzing with fury.
Judge Foster speaks. “Sustained. Get to the question, counsel.”
“Miss Matthews, did you make sexual advances toward Mr. Miller in order to coerce him to kill Clara Hill?”
“And then what did you do when Mrs. Hill opened the door?”
Connor’s defense team is working relentlessly to suggest Hannah killed Clara Hill. They’re holding a convincing testimony, which is making me sick to my stomach. Until Connor takes the stand and blows their case out of the water.
“When she attempted to shut the door on me, I kicked it open and took a bat to her head.”
There’s an audible reaction from the jury. Even his lawyer’s eyes pop at the wreckage of their now impending case. Connor sits on the stand with ease, his delusional mind uncomprehensive of his confession. He seems proud of his actions.
“What did you do then? Was Clara still conscious when you entered her home after assaulting—”
“Objection!”
“On what grounds? He claimed fault right on this stand.” The defense team concedes. They smell the loss right then and there as we all witness his mental haze as if he’s reliving that day and enjoying it.
“Sustained. Continue, counsel.” Judge Foster pushes us to go on.
Justin nods. “What did you do once you entered the home?”
With no sense of mercy in his voice, he answers. “She begged me not to kill her. Cried for her son, what’s his name again? Not that it matters…”
“And then what happened?” Justin asks.
Detail after horrifyingly sick detail. “She reached out for me, grabbing my leg. Got blood all over my pants, so I hit her again.”
The hairs on my arms stand at his chilling response. His tone is void of emotion. “Did you kill her then—”
“Objection! Hearsay!” His defense wears a desperate expression, pleading with him to shut it down.
“I’ll rephrase. Was Clara still alive after you hit her again?”
“Yeah, until I took the rosery beads she had wrapped around her finger and choked her with them.”
“Miss Matthews, how are you holding up?” Justin asks the question I’m desperately needing to hear the answer to.
“I’m doing as well as can be expected.”
He walks around the table, giving her his undivided attention. “Miss Matthews, it has to be hard to hear the allegations presented against you, a victim in all this, being put on the stand as an accused.”
Hannah nods. “Lies hurt anyone on the other end of their sharpness. But I’m here today to tell the truth and let the jury decide.”
My strong girl.
“And the judicial system was built on fairness. Today, we will prove that. Hannah, do you think you can replay some of your time held captive in Clara Hill’s home—”
“Objection. Hearsay.”
“Sustained.”
“I can.” She inhales a deep breath and begins. “I woke up tied to a bed, later to realize I was in Clara Hill’s home…”
She goes over her experience, and my stomach threatens to expel my coffee, the only thing I’ve been able to get down today. I listen because I need to feel the reaction of the jury, but I wish I could shut my mind off. “…then I was able to run, but he caught me shortly after. That’s when he stabbed me with the knife…” The next few minutes are in vivid detail. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a sobbing Cheryl leave the courtroom.
“Did he try to help you after you begged?”
“No, he said he couldn’t. His father was going to fix it all.”
“His father being?”
“Benjamin Miller.” She explains in fur
ther detail her short interaction with Benjamin, and I have to force myself to stay calm and not go find him in his jail cell and wrap my hands around his beady neck when she confesses the son of a bitch told his son to set her on fire. “And then what happened?” Justin questions, and Hannah breaks, a small sob escaping her beautiful lips. “Please, Miss Matthews, take your time. Do you need a break?”
God, I want to get up and wrap my arms around her. Why did I agree to this? I should have never put her through this.
“No, I’m okay.” She wipes away a stray tear before answering. “Braydon…or Connor, disappeared out the back. I was bleeding so bad, I could barely stay conscious, let alone run for my life. But I knew if I didn’t try to escape, I was going to die.” She weeps softly, then pauses to take a moment to compose herself. “When I finally found the strength, I got up and made my way to the door, but it was too late. He returned and threw me into the table, I believe. I hit my head hard and started going in and out of consciousness. I remember waking up and smelling the gasoline. He was soaking the house. I begged and pleaded with him, but he wouldn’t stop. He said I knew too much. The last thing I remember is the flick of his lighter.”
“The defense rests, your honor.”
I’m tired. Jim’s tired. Our whole damn team is tired. It’s been seven hours of going back and forth, jugular for jugular. The defense has finished their closing arguments. The rest of Connor’s testimonies have me in a state of sickness and rage.
“She coerced me to delete the files. She hated Mr. Dent for turning her down, so she wanted to get revenge.”
Connor was the one on trial, but those wolves fed her to the jury like she was at fault.
“She was in love with me. We were going to have a future until he ruined it.”
The defense fought hard to make Hannah out to be the monster.
“A lover scorned, out for revenge. What better way than with the privilege of daddy’s company? Sink her claws into a properly raised boy, deprived of love, and enjoying the attention of this attractive, promiscuous girl.”
Chicks, Man Page 28
