30 Days (Morgan Family Series Book 1) (14 page)

“It’s good.”

“Thank you.” I wait until he’s eaten a few bites. “Can you tell me why you’ve been drinking?”

“My father and I had a disagreement. I’ll handle it.”

“You don’t seem like you handled it well tonight.” I say. “Better than other nights.”

Cameron slips off the counter and adds his dirty dishes to the dishwasher then turns it on.

“Stay with me tonight.” he pleads. He comes to stand between my legs and I kiss his forehead. “I miss having your skin on mine. Your legs around my waist.

Being inside you.”

He trails kisses from my neck up to my earlobe. The superhuman willpower I claimed to have starts to weaken.

“Stay with me tonight.” he says again.

“Okay…”

One word.
Okay.
That’s all I needed to hear. She said it.
Finally.
I lift her in my arms and carry her to my room. I’ve been aching for her for weeks now. Wanting to be inside her.
Wanting to feel her pussy clenching me.

I cup her ass while she pulls her shirt over her head. I hear her heels clink to the floor. I close my mouth over her nipple, suckling the rosy peak through the lace of her bra. I stroke her core through her pants, frustrated that there’s so much clothes between us.

I toss her onto my bed and shed my shirt. I push my pants to the floor and climb on top of her. I feel her trembling beneath me and it reminds me of the nervousness she felt the first time we were together.

I unbutton her pants and slide them over her hips. I tug her panties down and toss them on the floor with her other discarded clothes.

“Bra too.” I tell her and she leans up, unclasping her bra. I smile as it lands on the floor.

I start to lean over her, but she pushes me down on the bed. Her fingers curl inside the waistband of my boxer briefs and she pulls them over my cock and down my legs. I kick them off my feet.

Memphis licks her lips and lowers her mouth until she crowns the head of my dick. I groan as she takes me deep. My hips involuntarily rise off the bed to fuck her mouth. One hand cups my balls and massages while the other strokes in time with her mouth.

“Oh…fuck…” I mumble.

My dick hits the back of her throat only to be brought out to the tip and taken deep again and again.

“You need to stop…” I warn her.

She slowly draws me out of her mouth and straddles my waist. I hear her fumbling in my drawer and then she’s rolling a condom over my length. She rises up and then lowers herself down, sheathing me in her warmth.

I grip her hips as she sets the rhythm. Her tits sway as she rocks back and forth. I gyrate my hips in movement with her.

“Yes…that’s it Memphis…ride me…fuck me…” I encourage her.

I thumb her clit as she glides her pussy over my cock. Her head falls back and her hands rest on my thighs.

“Please…Cameron…” she begs, bouncing up and down. “Yesss..Cam…oh

God…”

My balls tighten and I know I’m close to exploding. Memphis’s pace is frantic

as she seeks her own release. She cries out my name, riding out her pleasure as I pump mine into her. She slows and then collapses on top of me. I slip free of her and hold her against me, kissing her neck, her cheek, her lips.

I tell myself again not to fuck this up as I dispose of the condom and return to my bed. I curl up against her and feel her relax against me. I start to drift off to sleep.
One more time…do not fuck this up.

I sit the tray of water down, ignoring Phil Andrews. He looks frantic.
Nervous.

I can hear a video being played behind me, but I don’t turn around and look at the screen. I start towards the door instead.

“Ms. Stone, maybe you should view this footage. Put a fresh set of eyes on it for us.” Mr. Morgan suggests.

“I…I don’t know.” Phil stutters.

I turn and face Mr. Morgan and ask him what he needs me to do. Cameron’s face is set in a hard stare at the file on the table in front of him.

“I’d rather she didn’t view it, Mr. Morgan. With all due respect.” Phil states.              

“With all due respect to you Mr. Andrews, you came to us. You are the client

pushing this case when you don’t really have anything to push. Your preliminary hearing is tomorrow and you have no evidence to back up your statement. Ms.

Stone, look at the screen and tell me if you see any evidence that our client was drugged.”

I grasp my hands together in front of me to keep them from trembling and watch Mr. Morgan press play. Ecstasy comes to life on the screen. I recognize every dancer, including myself. I’m in my blonde wig and I’m onstage. I swallow hard, but keep my eyes on the screen.

Mindy is covering her area and Phil Andrews comes to sit in it. He orders a drink from the waitress, Paula, and she goes to get it. I watch him have three drinks and then he goes to the private dance rooms with Mindy. His hands are empty. I watch their private dance. He consumes nothing. He emerges empty handed as well. Nothing in the footage insists that he was drugged. Even when they leave, he’s empty handed and so is she.

“What do you think, Ms. Stone?” Mr. Morgan asks.

“It appears that the waitress served your client. The footage shows her retrieve his drinks from the bar and the drinks were poured while the glass was sitting on top of the bar. There is no indication of any illegal substance in the glass or being put in the glass before the beverages were served to your client. When he consumes his second drink, it’s poured the exact same way and served by the same waitress. Same for the third. If he was indeed drugged, it doesn’t appear that it happened during his stay at the club.”

“It happened!” Phil argues. “She drugged me in my car!”

“With all due respect…” I hesitate, but then continue, “that argument will not change the fact that you left with her to begin with and that was prior to your allegation of being drugged. Do you need anything else, Mr. Morgan?”

I notice that slight smirk on Cameron’s face. It matches the smirk on Mr.

Morgan’s face. I try not to smirk at all. I hate being put in this situation.

“That’s all. Thank you, Ms. Stone.”

I walk out of the conference room and try to calm the hammering my heart is doing. I feel sick about what just happened. Seeing myself on the screen. Having Mr. Morgan see me on the screen.
Even if he didn’t know it was me.
It was humiliating.

“Well done, Ms. Stone.” I look up and see Mr. Morgan standing at my desk a little while later. “We’ll go to lunch at Manganello’s to discuss a raise for you.”

He walks off before I can tell him I have lunch plans with Cameron.
He wants to discuss a raise?
I haven’t been working here that long. If he wants to give me a raise, I’ll take it though. I open IM and send Cameron a message.

              I wait for a response, but don’t get one. I pick up the phone to call, but Mr.

Morgan comes by and asks if I’m ready. I frown at my single IM and hesitate before telling him yes.

I sit at Manganello’s and wait for the client my father sent me to meet. He assured me he was taking Memphis to lunch today to discuss giving her a raise so I knew our lunch plans would be canceled. Now whoever this client was I was meeting, was already ten minutes late. I check my phone again and when I put it back in my pocket, Collette sits down in front of me. The waiter takes her drink order and walks away.

“What are you doing here?”

“Excuse me? I thought your father explained.”

“You’re the client.” I realize.

“Yes. This divorce is becoming a real thorn in my side. Philip is…”

“Divorce? Collette, one of the paralegals can handle this. I’m a criminal

lawyer. I don’t have time to worry about petty divorces.”

“Your father assured me you would take care of it.” she grits out. “He told you wrong.” I start to rise and she grabs my arm.

“I paid $300 for a consult and you’re going to give that to me.” she says,

firmly.

“What the fuck do you want from me, Collette?” I growl. “Is your soon-to-be-

ex-husband taking you to the cleaners because you fucked his father too?”

She visibly flinches and her eyes swell with tears. “I made a mistake,

Cameron. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to you.” she says, quietly.

“I can’t help you with your divorce. I don’t have time.” I say, coldly. “I’ll refund your money for this meeting and set you up with one of the paralegals.”

I get up and head out of the restaurant. I hear her heels clicking as she follows behind me.

“Wait!” she grabs my arm and turns me around. Her lips cover mine for a brief second, her body melts against me. I push her away and she breaths against my mouth.

“I’ve missed you.”

“Go back to your husband, Collette. Whatever you did, beg for forgiveness and pray he lets you come home.”

I walk away from her and out of the restaurant. I start walking instead of hailing a cab back to the firm. I want to go get a drink. Drown out the annoyance and

anger my father has caused to rage inside me. Annoyance and anger at him making Memphis watch that footage and at him setting up that meeting with Collette.
I thought avoiding each other was how we maintained our relationship.

I pass a bar and linger outside it. Maybe just a few drinks. I open the door
and my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Shit.
My calendar reminds me I have a meeting with Jim and Beasley in thirty minutes. I hail a cab.

I’m irritable when I walk in the conference room. I don’t bother hiding it
.
This case isn’t going the way I prefer it to. Tanner Beasley is being charged with First Degree murder of his wife and he still won’t give us his alibi.

Several eyewitness neighbors have given statements to hearing gunshots and seeing him flee the property. Of course, it was dark outside and none of the neighbors actually have a clear view of the property. It could’ve been anyone fleeing, but without a rock solid alibi everything is circumstantial. People have been convicted on circumstantial evidence.

There’s no murder weapon and there wasn’t any gunshot residue on his hands. All of Beasley’s guns are registered and the bullets used to kill Mrs. Beasley did not match any of the guns that belong to Mr. Beasley.
Still, no alibi he’s willing to share.

“Where were you on the night of November 7, 2015, Mr. Beasley?” I ask and he gives me a confused look, not answering me. “Do you recall your whereabouts on the night of Saturday, November 7, 2015, Mr. Beasley?”

“What the hell are you doing kid?” he asks, angrily.

“This is what the prosecutor will ask you when you take the stand in court. You’ll be under oath, Mr. Beasley. Unless you don’t want to take the stand. We need to make that decision now.” I explain. “If you take the stand, you’ll be asked where you were.”

“I didn’t kill my wife!” he says adamantly. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“I can’t tell you where I was!” he cries, anguish in his voice. “I’m a deacon at the church! I…I’m a good man! I have problems! I don’t go there anymore…not since that night!”

“We all have problems, Mr. Beasley.” Jim soothes. “But you’re facing a murder charge.”

“I…” he starts and tears stream down his face. “I only went so I could see Amber.”

I press ignore on another call from Cameron. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s called now and wonder when he’ll give up.
Just give up already.
Go kiss the blonde I saw you with again.

I take the hot dog from the vendor and pay him, telling him to keep the change. I bite into it and curse when mustard drips onto my fingers. I manage to lick it off before it drizzles onto my shirt. I should’ve changed clothes
.
Instead, I’d walked down the block to the hot dog vendor in my black skirt and white pin-striped shirt. The same outfit I wore to work. My black stilettos click on the sidewalk as I walk home.

I miraculously finish off the hot dog without making a mess and enter my apartment building. I walk to the end of the hall and check my mailbox.
Empty.
Guess that’s good there aren’t any bills. I trudge up the back set of stairs and stop halfway up. Cameron is sitting at the top. Even in the dim lighting, I know it’s him. I grip the railing.

“You aren’t answering my calls.” he says, solemnly.

“Didn’t want to talk to you.”

I slump against the wall and lower myself to the step. I feel trapped and don’t feel like trying to run away from him. I know I should just walk past him and to my apartment, but his presence is simply intimidating. I cower on the step and hope he’ll leave. He doesn’t.

Cameron comes to sit beside me. I scoot closer to the wall and don’t look at him. I know he won’t disappear if I avoid looking at him, but I know my strength will disappear if I do look at him.

“I knew eventually I would fuck up, but I don’t even know what I’ve done, Memphis.”

Really?

“Your father took me to lunch today.”

“I know. He told me he was giving you a raise. I’m proud of you.”

“He took me to Manganello’s.” I say, quietly. “Do you like that restaurant?”

“It’s not what it looked like.”

“It wasn’t? It looked like you kissed another woman.” I laugh.

“She kissed me! My father set that whole thing up, Memphis. He wanted you to see that. I pushed her away.” he explains.

“I don’t know what I thought this was, but I’m an idiot for thinking I was anything more than just a thirty-day whore to you.” I say, bitterly.

I move to stand, but Cameron stops me. I wrestle against him, but he holds me firmly in his lap.

“I bought you for thirty days. Big fucking deal. Those thirty days are over and you stayed with me, Memphis. You buried yourself so deep within me that I don’t know how to let you go now. Don’t make me.” he pleads, resting his forehead on mine. “Please don’t make me.”

He shifts and moves me until I’m straddling his waist. “I can’t let you go.” he whispers against my lips.