Page 29
I let him finger me for a while, and almost didn’t stop him because it felt so good, but I ended up pushing him away and attacking his fly. He whispered the word “Yes” when I undid his zipper and pushed his pants down his hips. I smiled to myself when he groaned as I took him in my hand, and felt a state of euphoria over his rumbling grunt of ecstasy when I took him in my mouth.
I worked him over softly, lovingly, building him up slowly. I wanted to suck him down, every drop, and the excitement over having him come in my mouth had me moving faster and faster.
But then Brody ripped away from me, muttering, “Need inside you now. ”
I made a sound of protest, but it wasn’t very convincing, so I helped him get my clothes off, deciding… yes, I wanted him inside of me too.
The closest piece of furniture to suit his needs was the couch. He pushed me to my knees in front of it and bent me over. My fingers gripped the cushions as he kicked my coffee table out of the way, sending the books on top of it crashing to the floor.
Then he was kneeling behind me, his hands softly caressing the skin on my back. He smoothed his hands up and down my spine for a few moments, causing me to relax and lose some of the lustful haze I had been mired in.
But when he dragged his fingers down to my h*ps and dug his fingers in, my heart rate spiked. He drove into me in one perfectly aimed thrust, knowing my body better than I did. He pushed in deep and sure, and held himself there with his harsh breaths fanning over my back.
Only after I tried to pull away, wriggle my hips, anything to get him to move, did he react. He chuckled softly and started pumping.
Soft, slow, deep.
Then harder, faster, deeper.
Over and over, dragging me further and further down into a swirling sea of feeling and emotion. My heart felt every thrust, every groan, and every touch. It was so much more than seeking a harder orgasm.
We were seeking a deeper connection.
When we both exploded together, I knew we had found it. I felt the moment when things changed for us yet again.
We collapsed to the floor, a tangle of limbs and layered kisses on sweaty skin. We quietly held each other while we drifted down, and then we fell asleep.
Thinking of how we made love, frantically but intimately… I shiver all over and blink again at my computer screen. Sighing, I know I’m not going to be productive so I decide to go help bathe puppies.
I find Brody and Savannah outside in the fenced kennel area. They have a large tub set up on the concrete patio in the shade, bathing a medium-sized mutt that looks like an Australian Shepherd and Lab mix. They’re both kneeling on folded towels to protect their knees, hands immersed in thick, bubbly foam as they scrub the dog down. They’re talking quietly, and I take a moment to enjoy the ease with which Brody has opened up, and even the fact that normally shy Savannah has made a connection with him.
Stepping out onto the concrete, my movement catches Brody’s eye. He looks past Savannah’s shoulder to me, a tender smile touching his lips when his gaze finds mine.
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to withstand the lure of washing the dogs before too long,” Brody says with a smirk.
Walking around to his side of the tub, I reach my hand out to his head. I rake my fingers through his shorter hair from temple to the back, and he tilts his head back to smile up at me. Taking that as an invitation, I lean over, planting a sweet kiss on his sun-warmed lips.
Sliding my glance over at Savannah, I see her head tucked down, intent on the dog before her, but she has a coy smile on her face. She’s happy for us, but she wouldn’t blatantly call out my public display of affection the way Gabby or Casey would.
“I’m just taking a break,” I say, although I really want to get down on my knees next to Brody so my shoulder can bump along his while we work. Anytime I’m touching Brody is the best time of my life.
“We got three more dogs to do, and then we’re done,” Savannah says. “But I need to get going soon. I’m doing a photo shoot this evening. ”
“With the douche?” I ask with a grimace.
Savannah is a struggling photographer who works at our small, local paper. They pay her peanuts, and it’s not enough to survive on. She supplements her income doing work with a local portrait photographer, but he’s a lecherous dirtbag who constantly throws out sexual innuendos and tries to cop inappropriate feels on her. Unfortunately, to pay her bills, she’s stuck working there part time.
“What douche?” Brody asks.
“The one that Savannah works for part time. He seems to think that women are turned on by cheesy, sexual come-ons and awkward groping. ”
“Why don’t you quit?” he asks curiously.
“I’d love to,” Savannah tells him as she stands to grab the hose so she can start rinsing the charge. “But I can’t afford to. I’m trying to find a roommate, which will help, but even then I need to keep a part-time job in addition to working at the paper. ”
“Casey,” Brody says as he pulls his soapy hands back. He sticks them out to the side for Savannah to rinse them off.
“What about Casey?” she asks.
“Yes, Casey,” I agree.
She looks at us blankly, so I clarify. “Casey has been talking about moving out of her parents’ house. You should get her to move in with you. ”
Savannah’s eyes furrow inward. “Oh, I don’t know. Do you think we’d get along as roommates?”
“Absolutely,” I tell her. “And take that from someone that has had plenty of sleepovers with her. ”
Savannah’s eyes shine with interest. “Maybe. It would certainly be nicer to have someone I at least know rather than a stranger. ”
“Casey is great. You know she’s a little wild, but she’s neat, organized, and unobtrusive. It’s a great fit—”
My phone starts ringing in my pocket. I pull it out and when I see the caller ID, I turn from Savannah and Brody to answer it. “Hello. ”
“It’s Jim Price. ”
“Hey… let me get to my office so I can pull those numbers up on the computer,” I tell him, motioning with my hand to Brody that I’m going back inside. He just tips his head to me in acknowledgement, and then turns his attention back to the dog.
Walking into my office, I say, “Sorry… was trying to get somewhere private to talk. ”
“I figured,” was all Jim said.
He’s savvy that way. He’s a private investigator I hired based out of Raleigh, and all of my research on him said he was the best.
“So what did you find?”
“I talked to the cop. Of course he remembered the accident because the first thing he said was, ‘You mean the one with Senator Hutchens’ daughter?’ At any rate, he admitted he found it odd that the driver’s seat was pulled all the way forward, and that Brody had injuries to his knees consistent with the damage to that side of the vehicle. ”
“So why did he accept his story that he was driving?” I ask, pissed as hell.
“You know why… because there were other explanations for those facts, and Brody was admitting to driving. Plus…”
“Plus,” I finish for him. “It was Senator Hutchens’ daughter, and he wasn’t going to rock the boat. ”
“Bingo,” he agrees, “although he would never admit that. ”
This news is distressing to me. I know Brody told me to let it go, that there was nothing that could be done to clear his name because Stacy was never going to admit the truth. But I couldn’t let it go. I want justice for him, because he deserves it. So I called an attorney, who pretty much dashed my hopes. He told me that in order to do anything, Brody would have to prove to a judge that he was denied a fair trial. Since he pled guilty, and didn’t even have a trial, no judge was going to overturn the conviction.
I was also told by this attorney, in strictest of confidence of course, that there was no way in hell the governor was going to give a pardon
. Not with him being in the same political party as Senator Hutchens and them being golfing buddies and all.
As a last-ditch effort, I hired Jim Price to see if he could dig up anything at all that would help. I was out of options. I told him the basics and set him loose a week ago. Now he’s pretty much telling me I’m at a dead end.
Sighing with dejection, I tell him, “Thanks Jim. I really appreciate it. Send me your bill. ”
“Wait a minute,” he says with relish. “I didn’t say that was all I had. ”
“What do you mean?”
“Check your email. I just sent you a file chock-full of lots of goodies for you. Decide what you want to do with it. Oh, and my bill is attached to the email. ”
My fingers are already flying over my keyboard as I disconnect the call.
Opening the attachment, I see photographs of Senator Hutchens. They’re a bit grainy, but it’s clearly him. He’s sitting in the backseat of a car, kissing a woman. There’s a series of photos, and you can see they are time-lapsed. As I flip through, you can see him pull away, and all I can tell is that she’s young and blonde. I’m guessing this is not Mrs. Hutchens.
Flipping through the images, I see more of Senator Hutches and the woman entering a hotel.
A grin starts spreading across my face. Jim hit the f**king lottery.
Closing out the pictures, I open up the document attachment and skim it quickly. It’s a report from Jim. It basically says he subcontracted a private investigator in D. C. and had him trail the senator. He hit pay dirt on day three of the stakeout. The report went on to give details of the tryst and even who the woman was. It wasn’t difficult to find out she was one of his aides.
Closing the documents out, I save them over to my hard drive and then immediately back them up. I sit back in my chair and mull over a way I could possibly use them to get Brody pardoned. A stealthy approach to Senator Hutchens seems the best bet, with a demand he push the pardon through with the governor in exchange for the originals.
“What are you doing?” Brody says from my doorway, and I yelp in fright.
“You scared the hell out of me,” I say with a grin, standing up from my chair. Pulling him in my office, I shut the door so Savannah can’t overhear us and push him over to my chair. I set him down in front of my computer.
“I have something to show you,” I tell him excitedly.
He gives me a placating smile and says, “Oh-kay. But if it’s internet p**n , I want to tell you up front, I’m not that type of guy. ”
“You are so that type of guy,” I tell him with a laugh as I open up the images folder. “But no, that’s not it. ”
The first photo of the senator comes up, and I flip through them. By the fourth photo, Brody whistles low through his teeth. “Holy shit. Where did you get these?”
“From a private investigator I hired,” I say proudly, sitting my hip on the edge of the desk and crossing my arms over my chest.
“A private investigator?” He sounds befuddled.
“I hired one. To see if there was anything that could be done to get your conviction overturned. I also talked to a lawyer too, but like you said, there’s no way it’s going to happen. ”
“So you had Stacy’s dad investigated?” he asks with a measure of uncertainty.
“No, I hadn’t even thought of that but the PI did, and he got this stuff. Can you believe it? I guarantee you I can get a pardon walked through once I flash him these. ”
Brody shakes his head and peers at the computer again. “Unbelievable. ”
“I know, right? What a sleaze. ”
“No,” Brody says as he turns to me, his eyes heavy with disappointment. “I mean… you’re unbelievable. ”
My stomach sinks and I can tell by the tone of his voice, he is not only not happy I did this, but he’s a little disgusted. This is so not what I thought his reaction would be.