Unethical (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Blake

I almost lost it when Payton rocked her hips into me and pulled my hair. The mixture of pain and pleasure went straight to my cock.

I had every intention of taking this slow, but once I saw her in those little black shorts—forget it. I couldn’t hold back.

It seemed pretty unfair that I had my shirt off and she still stood fully clothed. I stuck my hands under her tank top, my thumbs brushing over her tight stomach. Her arms raised straight in the air, and I ripped the shirt over her head.

Her chest heaved, and her breasts spilled over the fabric of her lace bra. Screw being good. This was so much better. She was gorgeous, from her auburn curls to the perfect handful of boobs that brushed against my chest. I pushed her against the wall. This would be the perfect place to bend her over and fuck her into oblivion, but I wanted it to be a little classier the first time we got back together. I needed her to see how much she meant to me—that she was my world.

I slipped down the straps of her bra and the cups covering her breasts, and I ran my tongue around her nipple until she groaned. I nipped at the tip, which puckered in response. She fisted my hair and yanked hard. I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face. Nothing beat her reaction to my touch.

My tongue worked its way over to her other nipple, and she cried out when I made little circles with my tongue. She raked her fingers across my back.

“Bedroom?” Her request was barely audible over her heavy breaths. She didn’t have to ask me twice. She squealed when I picked her up and rushed down the hall.

I pushed through her door and laid her out on the bed. Her legs unhooked from my waist as I trailed kisses down her body using my tongue and teeth. She arched as my hands brushed past her ribs. I took the signal and slipped my hands behind her back and undid the clasp of her bra. It ended up somewhere on the floor, and I went back to kissing her, my tongue working its way to her breasts. She writhed under me as my stubble skimmed over her nipple. I looked into her eyes, and her expression changed into a devious smile.

She grabbed my shoulders and pushed me to the side. She pinned me down on the bed, taking control, completely restoring my belief that a god did exist. Another thing that had changed since the last time we were together. Before, all the stars needed to align and Venus had to be in retrograde before she took off all her clothes. Her being on top during sex? Never an option. Now, she slid onto my lap, straddling me with those ridiculously short shorts that begged to be taken off.

I glided my hand over her silky smooth thigh as she slipped her tongue into my mouth. She rocked her hips against me, and I swelled more—if that were even possible. She gave a mischievous grin and kissed my neck. Her lips set my skin on fire as she trailed down my stomach. She slipped her finger underneath the band of my jeans and boxers. Without missing a beat, she unbuttoned my pants and tugged them off, along with my boxers, exposing my cock. Her face hovered close, and I twitched, anticipating what she was going to do next.

“Payton, you don’t have to— Oh God.” Her mouth wrapped around me, and she slid her warm tongue in circles. She hummed, and the vibrations sent stars crashing across my eyelids. I closed my eyes tighter and pushed my head deeper into the pillow, trying to hold out as long as I could. It had been a while since a girl had gone down on me, since Payton came back in my life. And with Andrew in the room all the time, I hadn’t had the chance to service myself in a while, which meant this might be a short show. I didn’t dare look at her or that’d be the end of me. I counted backward from a hundred. Anything to keep that silky mouth on me.

She circled her tongue around my shaft, and her teeth lightly grazed me as she made her way back up to the tip. I fisted the sheets, and her name came out through my ragged breath.

She hummed again, bringing me dangerously close to the point of no return. “Payton,” I warned.

She didn’t stop, so I leaned up on my elbows to assess the situation. She looked me straight in the eye—those green eyes of hers so seductive, so fucking sexy. It sent me over the edge.

My body jerked around, and with the complete ecstasy wracking through me, I was unable to control the spastic movements. It surprised me when she didn’t pull away at the last second, and instead let me explode into her mouth.

“Fuck,” I muttered as she took my whole length. If this wasn’t the hottest thing in the world, I seriously didn’t know what else could be. She withdrew me from her mouth, swallowed, and her eyes turned dark and hungry.

Holy fuck
. Who was this sex goddess that currently resided in my ex/not-so-ex-anymore girlfriend?

As much as going to sleep sounded like a great option as the post-orgasm lethargy crept in, Payton deserved the same five-star treatment she’d given me. I needed to taste her, to feel her sweetness in my mouth. I scooped her in my arms and pinned her down on the bed. Sliding her shorts off her body along with her black lace thong, I took the opportunity to admire her exquisite body sprawled out on the bed, completely relaxed, a sexy little grin on her lips. She was so much hotter when she was confident about herself, and not trying to cover up what she thought were her “faults” like she had done in high school.

My kisses started at her flat stomach, which flexed underneath my touch. I slid my hand up her thigh, and she wriggled beneath me as I came closer to her sweet spot. My thumb grazed over her clit, and she cried out.

Her eyes screwed shut as I slipped a finger into her wetness. I inserted another finger and massaged my thumb over her clit as I flicked my other fingers inside her. She let out a low moan and pushed on my shoulders, pushing me lower.

“Is there something you want?” I asked innocently. I knew what she wanted. I wanted her to say it. I liked this new, brazen Payton.

“Please, Blake,” she whimpered.

“Please, what?” I kissed the area around the spot that made her mine, her body contorting every time my lips came near.

“Ohmigod, please, just please go down on me.”

So. Fucking. Hot.

As the lady requested, I obliged by running my tongue over her center. She tasted terrific, so sweet. I moaned as her taste filled my mouth. She mewed as I swirled my tongue and entered her wetness. Her hips rocked and pushed my tongue deeper. My cock hardened again from seeing her in this much pleasure. I replaced my tongue with two fingers in her and circled my tongue around her clit, spelling out the alphabet.

I had gotten to the letter W when she pushed her hands through my hair and shouted my name.

I pulled away, wanting to see her squirm. I needed to see the effect I had on her. “Do you want me to stop? I mean, if you’re not enjoying this…”

Her breath rushed out in jagged huffs, her eyes unfocused. By the way her legs shook, she hovered on the brink of release. Her voice came out hoarse as she said, “What the fuck? Get back down there.” She pushed my shoulders again, guiding me to exactly where she wanted.

I loved this bossy Payton. I was hard again, throbbing, but this wasn’t about me. This was about giving her the pleasure only I could give her. I moved my tongue back onto her, and she gasped.

Her hips bucked, breathing grew more rapid. Her muscles tensed up. She was so close. I made it to Z when she cried out my name again, tightening around my two fingers.

She lay on the bed as I traced kisses back up her chest and neck. Her limp body melted into the mattress, and I wanted nothing more than to hold her in my arms the rest of the night.

“Wow.”

“Wow,” I agreed. Seeing her in total bliss was better than any orgasm I could ever have.

I woke up dazed and disoriented as Payton moaned beside me. Her little space heater ass made it uncomfortable to spoon her, but she pulled me closer, her hands holding my arm in a vise grip.

Another whimper came out, and then she said, “No, Dad. Please.”

I didn’t know whether to wake her from this dream or be completely selfish and let it play out so I could get more details.

She sniffled, and I made the executive decision it’d be a dick move if I let her cry in her sleep. I shook her shoulder, but her cries grew louder.

“No! Daddy!” Her scream pierced my ears. If she didn’t stop, her neighbors would probably report a domestic dispute.

I shook her harder. “Payton, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

Her body stiffened, and she sucked in a jagged breath. “Blake?”

“Yeah, baby, it’s me.” I stroked her hair and kissed her sweat-slicked skin. I continued planting kisses on her until she stopped crying. It killed me to see her so upset. I would do anything to make it go away. Her body shook as I held her. How often did she have these dreams?

I knew what it was like being haunted by the past. If people didn’t face their demons head-on, they kept coming back, especially while sleeping. As much as I ragged on my aunt, she helped me through my mom’s passing and got me into therapy so I could talk to someone about it. I never told Payton, because I didn’t want her to see me as weak, but now I understood I wasn’t weak; I just needed help.

She sniffled and wiped her hand across her nose. “Can you take me somewhere tomorrow?”

“Sure. Where were you thinking?”

“The prison.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Payton

I kept my gaze fixed on the cement exterior as we made our way into the prison. I had never visited one before. I didn’t even know how to get in contact with my dad once he was ushered into his nine-by-nine cell.

Blake put his hand on my shoulder, and the earnest look in his eyes made me stop in my tracks. “I’m here for you. Anything you need, just tell me.”

As much as I wished Blake could solve my problems, I needed to do this one on my own. For the past two years, I had pushed my grief into a neat and tidy stack in the back of my mind; it had slowly spread into other crevices, poisoning my soul. I couldn’t live this way. I needed my dad—he was all I had left.

Blake ushered me to the receptionist who sat behind what I assumed to be bulletproof glass.

“Name?”

“Payton.”

She looked up at me, obviously peeved by my response. “Last name?”

Oh
. “Cooper.” A shudder wracked through my body as I used my last name that I had hidden from everyone for so long.

“License, please.”

Fumbling in my purse, I found my wallet, extracted my California ID from behind my Florida ID—I still had my old driver’s license with my father’s last name since I’d told the Florida DMV I lost it—and handed it to her through the slot below the glass.

“Who are you here to visit today?”

What if he didn’t want to see me? What if it was too late? I could still leave. If I just asked for my ID back, I could retreat to the car, and my father would be none the wiser.

A Hispanic lady loudly smacking her gum walked up behind me with six kids in tow. One let out a blood-curdling scream and ran around the reception area. More people came through the entrance, the line behind me slowly building along with my need to get out of here. I’d gladly take one of Dr. Centafont’s lectures right about now. Maybe even a second chance at stabbing Andrew.

I turned back to the receptionist. I could do this. Plus, I couldn’t keep stalling and make the people behind me wait any longer. Visiting hours closed later this afternoon, and most of these people looked anxious to see whoever was on the other side of the metal bars. I blew out a shaky breath. “Evan Cooper.”

Her long nails clicked against the keys as she typed something into her computer. She squinted at the screen and handed back my ID. “Go wait in the reception area over there,” she pointed to the rows of seats to my left, “and someone will be out to escort you.”

Blake had already saved me a seat in the reception area. The back of his head pressed against the glass window that overlooked the parking lot.

“You ready for this?”

I shook my head, staring at my shoes. “I don’t know.” A chill twisted through every crevice of my body, and I didn’t know if it was from the cool waiting room or the thought of seeing my father. Blake put his hand on my thigh, and I gnawed on the zipper of my jacket, my mind working on overdrive.

How would I even start a conversation with him?
Oh, hey Dad. Sorry I didn’t visit you for two years. How ’bout them Bears?

Yeah, the conversation wouldn’t be awkward whatsoever.

I had stewed long enough about Mom’s death. My parents had their reasons for keeping me out of the loop, I got that, and now it was time to do the right thing and pick up the pieces of our wrecked relationship.

A buzzing sound came from a door that I assumed led to the prisoners. A wiry guy in uniform opened the door and walked into the reception area. He studied his clipboard and tapped his finger against it, muttering something under his breath.

“Cooper. Please come with me.”

Blake squeezed my thigh. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

I nodded and got out of the chair, leaving my purse and cell phone with him. Clenching my shaking hands, I walked over to the door and took deep breaths through my nose. I glanced back at Blake one more time, his wide smile the only thing keeping my feet moving forward, closer to my dad.

After going through a metal detector, the guard led me past what looked like a cafeteria, where several tables were spread across the room. A few families filled the tables, visiting, kids squealing and running around the area. I assumed the guard would take me in there, but we kept walking.

He stopped in front of an opened door and pointed inside. I peered into the room, which looked like an interrogation room without the two-way mirror.

“He’ll be down in a few minutes. Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll come get you when your thirty minutes are up.”

I sat down at the side of the table that faced the doorway.

My stomach lurched as I stared at the clock hanging above the doorway. I shifted uncomfortably as a lull in the commotion from the cafeteria of families filled my tiny room with an eerie silence. I flinched at every stroke of the second hand, like some twisted version of Chinese water torture, or maybe I had developed some sort of eye tick.

I drummed my fingers on the metal table that would separate me from my father. My fingerprints left smudges on the reflective surface. I wiped away the prints with my sleeve. If only it was that easy to erase the past.

Somewhere between one hundred eighty and one hundred ninety finger trills on the table, my father arrived. True to fashion, he donned an orange jumpsuit, his hands and feet uncuffed. He looked the same as he had last time I saw him, except for dark circles under his bright green eyes. The same color as mine.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at me like he didn’t quite believe what he saw. Was he mad? Pissed? Relieved? His face gave away nothing, which sent beads of sweat pooling on the small of my back. I squirmed in my seat. I didn’t have anything to talk about. What if he didn’t, either, and we sat in painful silence for the entire thirty-minute visit? The ticks from the second hand echoed in the room, my eye twitching on each loud
click.
One thousand eight hundred ticks of silence would rank right up there with chick-flick marathons and dates with Andrew—complete and utter torture.

In one swift movement, he strode over to the table and pulled out the seat. The metal chair screeched against the linoleum and broke the deafening clock-tick cycle. He sat and put his hands on the table, interlacing his fingers. “Hello.” His voice came out unsteady, wavering on the
o.

“Hi.”

This was a bad idea. Very bad. Maybe I should have written a script. I could even include blocking.
Insert awkward hug between father and daughter. Two tears trickle down Evan Cooper’s cheek, glistening in the stage lights.

We stared at each other for an excruciating amount of time. I pulled my curls into a bun, away from the sweat beading around my hairline.

He sighed and ran his hands over his sideburns. “You look so grown up.”

“So do you.” Why did that actually just come out of my mouth?

A beat of silence.

The corner of his mouth jumped up, and he let out a small laugh. “I suppose I do.”

Another beat of silence.

Oh my God, why did this have to be so excruciatingly awkward?

Should I just pretend things were back to normal? Explain why I hadn’t contacted him in two years? How come nobody made a study guide for these types of situations? It could be like my MCAT textbook with multiple choice questions.

1. If subject X is visiting subject Y in jail for the first time in two years, what is the appropriate dialogue?

A. “Yo, daddio, long time no see. What’s shakin’?

B. “I hate you for leaving me to fend for myself when I needed you most.”

C. “Orange is so your color.”

D. “I missed you so much. I love you.”

D. Definitely D.

“I missed you.” My voice wobbled, hot tears collecting in my throat.

He reached across the table and grabbed my hand, grazing my knuckles with his thumb. “I missed you, too. How have you been?”

“Good.”
Better than you.
“Busy with school.”

A wobbly smile crossed his face. “Where are you going? What are you majoring in?”

It hit me harder than a battering ram to the chest. He’d missed out on two years of my life. He knew nothing about me now. And it was all my fault.

“I’m at Drexler now, majoring in biology with a pre-med emphasis.”

“My baby girl.” He gave my hand a tight squeeze. “I’m so proud of you. Do you like your classes?”

“Yeah.” I did, except for one. “Well, most of them. I don’t really like my ethics class. The teacher’s a jerk.”

“Why’s that?”

Because he hates on you
. “Ugh. Dr. Centafont just has a stick up his as—butt.”

His brow rose. “Nick Centafont?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Went to med school with him. He was a jerk back then. I’m not surprised he hasn’t changed. He tried going for your mother at an event, and she ended up going home with me.” He gave a wry smile.

How Professor Snape of Dr. Centafont. The grudge was starting to make a lot more sense. But Dad talking about “taking my mom home” had too much of a gross factor for me to handle. “Ew, Dad. Don’t talk about Mom that way.” He frowned, and I immediately wished I could pluck the words out of the air and tuck them into my jean pocket. Why did we have to bring up the mom subject? I didn’t know about him, but I wasn’t quite ready to talk about it yet.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
And we were back to clock torture. After thirty-seven agonizing
tick tocks
he said, “I miss her.”

“Me, too.”

He hesitated, shifting in his chair. “Did you get my letters?”

“Yes.” My cheeks burned. I wouldn’t admit that I hadn’t read them all until just last week.

“So you understand—”

“Yes.” I pulled my hands away and set them in my lap. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” My lip quivered, and I was sure that, if I spoke again, I’d break down.
Keep it together. You’re finally getting somewhere with him.

“It hurt me, too. But it wasn’t my decision to make. I hope you realize that.” A tear tracked down his reddened cheek, and he quickly wiped it away.

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

“I’m so glad you came. I missed you so much.”

And it started. Snot ran down my nose. Sobs wracked through my chest. Tears blurred my vision. “I missed you, too, Dad,” I croaked.

His chair squealed against the linoleum as he kicked it back and raced over to my side. He wrapped me in a hug, and I cried into his orange jumpsuit, soaking the fabric with my tears.

“I love you, Daddy.”

His body shook, and I looked up to see tears flowing freely down his face. He squeezed me tighter. “I love you, too.”

The car ride home had been filled with a comfortable silence as I stared out the passenger window and hummed along to a Kenny Chesney song on the radio. Blake pulled into my apartment complex and cut the engine.

“Thanks for coming with me today.”

He squeezed my thigh. “You’re welcome.”

Maybe it was the emotions swirling around my bloodstream, but I had an overwhelming urge to show him just how thankful I was. I unbuckled my seatbelt, leaned across the bench seat, and nipped at his ear. He groaned as I glided my tongue over the fleshy part of his lobe.

He grabbed my waist and pulled me on top of him, and I could feel just how excited he was because of my kisses.

“You know what that does to me.”

Fire set between my legs, and I wanted to feel him inside of me. Knowing Whiskey Creek had plenty of families with young kids, we needed to get inside before we scarred them for life. I slid off Blake, and he reached over and smacked my ass as I went to exit the truck. I shot him a look, and we both raced to my apartment door quicker than I had sprinted in a while. It had to be a new personal record.

Before the door was locked, I had Blake’s shirt off and worked on his jeans that hung low on his hips. I ran my hands over the lickable V-lines, and, heck, if I was taking chances today, might as well go all in. I dropped to my knees and ran my tongue along the grooves between his hips. He shuddered and threaded his fingers through my hair.

“Get off your knees,” he ordered.

“You don’t want this?” I grazed my teeth across the fabric covering his erection.

He groaned, his dick throbbing against my mouth, but he scooped his hands under my arms and pulled me to standing.

“No.” His intense gaze sent a shiver down my core. “I want to make love to you.”

He stuck his warm, steady hands under my shirt, and I lifted my arms as he gingerly dragged it over my head and kissed down my neck. I arched my back, my nipples pressing against his chest. My breath rushed out as he rubbed his thumb across the fabric of my bra, over my hardened tips. The pleasure shot straight down, low in my belly, and I ached for him. My knees buckled as he nipped the edge of my bra, tugging it down with his teeth.

He reached behind me, unhooked my bra, and it fell to the floor. I waited to see what he planned to do next. He backed away, his gaze roaming up and down the length of my body.

“How did I get so lucky?”

He drew me into his arms and crushed his lips to mine. My legs wobbled, and I held on to him tighter as our kiss deepened. He pushed me backward, down the hallway.

The only clothing left when we entered my bedroom were my lace panties and his boxers. I knew I had surprised him last night by taking charge. Redefining myself over the past two years taught me I had nothing to be ashamed of, at least when it came to my body. But, tonight, I wanted him to take charge. I had the feeling he sensed this, because he scooped me up, carried me to the bed, and laid me down. He hovered over me, his intense gaze zapping an electric current through my body.

My legs spread open, inviting him, my knees trembling as I anticipated him entering me. It always shocked me how something so large could fit. I squirmed under him, growing impatient.

He worked his fingers down my stomach. They passed the place I really wanted him to be, and grazed along the inside of my thigh. I rocked my hips, trying to send him the message of where I wanted his fingers.
C’mon, future Dr. Blake. Use that common sense you tout so much about.
He smirked and brushed his thumb over the fabric of my panties. And then it was gone, traveling down my leg. I wasn’t in the mood for teasing. I needed this. Now. Grabbing his hand, I placed it back on my panties.