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"I've only got two minutes until my next class. I have emailed you two numbers. One is the number for Peter Landry's mother. The other is for Megan Delanta's sister. Do not tell them I gave out their numbers, but you should be able to get enough info. I think they’d both be happy to talk to you."
Wow. I was shocked at how far he'd gone to help me. He could get into a lot of trouble for this. Then again, he’d be in so much trouble for what he’d done with me already so what difference did this make?
"I don't know how to thank you." I stammered, still taking in the essence of his gesture.
“Oh don't worry, you'll thank me tomorrow night on your knees."
"With pleasure, Mr Anderson." I giggled. Simon was right.
Both Megan and Landry's mother were more than happy to talk. I’d been so terrified they would ask how I got their numbers that I’d crafted a whole story about tracking them down on Facebook and then searching the internet until I found their details.
"That bastard should rot in jail for what he did to my sister." Megan hadn't even attempted to hide her disgust of the criminal justice system for finding Landry guilty of only manslaughter. "He kidnapped, raped and murdered my sister and argues it was an accident? How do you accidentally rape and murder someone?"
Mrs Landry, on the other hand had been grateful at the decision.
"My husband committed suicide last year, and peters brother died in a car accident early this year. Peters all I have left." She had whispered tearfully. "I know he did a bad thing, but I also know when he is on his medication he is a different boy. He wouldn't hurt a fly."
Chapter Seventeen
I spent much of the afternoon thinking. Not about my essay. Or Simon. But about him. His parole hearing was coming up.
Two days.
Two days and I would know if he was being released. I had tried so hard not to think about it. I couldn't think about it. Not without breaking down.
Talking to the people hurt most in the Landry case had made me realise I wasn't the only victim in my situation. I'd never considered his family. How had his mother felt, knowing she'd raised a son capable of doing what he’d done? Did he have brothers or sisters? They must have gone through hell after his conviction. His name was in no way concealed through any of the trial. Everyone knew who he was, and people can be cruel to relatives of offenders. I took a deep breath. I needed to stop.
I took a long shower, forcing every thought out of my mind. Simon had texted he was on his way over. Stepping out of the shower, the doorbell rang. Shit. I had expected more time. I quickly dried myself and threw on a sun dress. Finally. I threw the door open and smiled at him. It suddenly occurred to me how much better I’d become at the simplest thing like opening the front door. Gone were the heart palpitations, knots of anxiety, and feelings of terror. In replace were feelings of excitement. Speaking of which, god he looked good, the last few days apart somehow made him seem even more attractive, if that was possible. He eyed my dress appreciatively.
“You look pretty.” He wet his lips, my eyes drawn to them, so soft, so
moist. I leaned in and kissed him. Wow that felt good. I felt his hand graze my ass.
“No underpants?” He raised an eyebrow. I swatted away his hand as it tried to work its way under my skirt.
“I was hot. And in a hurry” I said defensively. He shook his head, amused. His fingers raised the skirt of my dress again so his hand touched my bare bottom. I bit my lip. It took all my willpower not to throw myself at him. As much as I wanted him now, I wanted him to want me more. I groaned inwardly. How old was I, six?
No, that would be weird. I laughed aloud, earning myself an odd look from Simon.
“Do you often laugh at nothing?” He teased, slapping my bottom. I jumped, not expecting that. It tingled where he had struck me.
“Yes.” I answered honestly. “I'm kind of weird sometimes. I thought you would have figured that out by now.” I confessed, smiling like an idiot.
“I have noticed.” He laughed, kissing my nose. He began to fiddle with the buttons on the front of my dress. “That's one of the things I love about you.”
“That I'm weird?” I replied, crinkling up my nose. Usually people hated that. People being my family. My family meaning my mother.
“That you are who you are.” His hand roamed over my upper back. “No bra either.” He said approvingly. I giggled as he slid the dress off my shoulders. Soon, I stood in front of him, completely naked.
“Turn around.” He instructed. I did. I breathed in as his hands began to work their way over my body. He reached around my stomach, lifting his hands over my breasts. They rested there while he kissed my neck. He spun me back so I faced him. He grabbed hold of my thighs and hoisted me onto his hips.
He pushed my back against the wall, his erection very obvious. He continued to kiss me as he led me to my room. He threw me onto my bed, literally. I laughed, my body bouncing at the force I was thrown with. I self-consciously grabbed hold of my breasts which were also jiggling about with the movement.
“Don't cover them, they're so sexy.” He protested, restraining my arms either side of my head as he took in my body. He kneeled at the edge of my bed, parting one leg and placing the other over his shoulder. He was face to face with my sex. He gently blew on my opening. I gasped, thrusting at the sheets, I grabbed a handful of pink and blue floral duvet and clenched my body as he began to lick my opening.
“Oh my lord.” I gasped, groaning loudly. He held my legs in his firm grip, my squirming getting me nowhere. His tongue moved in circles, hitting the right notes, like he was a musician in an orchestra. Occasionally he'd nibble gently sending ripples of ecstasy through my body.
“Holy fuck!” I groaned. In the distance I heard the faintest of voices respond to my calls.
