Saving Kyle: A Serial Killer Romance
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His name is Michael Kyle Hansberry, a young, suave, hot billionaire felon. He's my Kryptonite; I was head over heels for him before he was facing a life sentence in prison for killing a man and possibly others. However, I was his first obsession just two years ago, if you get my drift. Now, I'm representing him in his criminal case. Yes, I'm his lawyer. I was so gullible. I was so naive. Wow, this feels like something out of a 90s romantic suspense movie. Remember Disclosure with Demi Moore and Michael Douglass. Yeah, things just spun out of control. Didn't matter what time of day and where. Things kept happening. Kyle is so dangerous to my soul. I'm an innocent Christian girl. I must play a good heroine to get my serial killer boyfriend off his life sentence. The evidence is stacked against him. That's not the only thing.
Red-soled heels clicked across the barren linoleum hall floor of Corrections. Hips swayed in the expensive skirt suit with the center back slit at the bottom hemline. Hair tucked up in a sophisticated bun as defense attorney, Jennifer Stannis Hannigan was escorted by Private Royce and Lieutenant Mack of the State Police to a room at the end of a long hallway.
The news had covered the case of Dillan Baldwin’s death for the past couple of weeks now, Jennifer following every report and printed word closely. She had to, for the man now at the center of it all was a... well, either party involved did not clearly label it.
A brief and exciting encounter that turned into something long-standing and beneficial but never official, a win-win situation for them both. Impromptu meet ups for a release they seemed incapable of finding with anyone else, decompressing after stressful days on the job for her or, in his case to release the pent up energy he quelled when with his rotten family, or simply in want, to fulfill each other’s needs. It had lasted like that for a while until she’d met her fiancé. Then it ended and a tango of wicked games and mind-fucking bullshit ensued.
Until she needed him and everything changed.
However, in the circumstance, Michael Kyle Hansberry was no exception to his own privilege, and that’s exactly what led him to where he was today and why Jennifer was where she was. He was cuffed and booked; held on multiple charges that would no doubt led him to see far over twenty-five to life in a state penitentiary. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“You can wait for Mr. Hansberry in here.” Lieutenant Mack held the door for her as she stepped into the windowless single-camera room.
“I trust that will be shut off once my client is in the room?” She eyed the security camera in the room's corner ceiling. “Or do you just want to get your attorney-client privilege violation out of the way now?”
“Of course, Counselor,” Mack nodded, “it’ll be off the moment Mr. Hansberry enters the room.”
She nodded and took a seat in the chair opposite where her client would sit. She organized herself, pulling a pen and pad of paper from her briefcase. She sighed and waited, thinking back to when she first laid eyes on Kyle two years ago.
Two years ago
It was a warm and bright one on the day she’d shown up for a summer function, for a charity she couldn’t remember, but a function no less. She handed the valet the keys to her BMW 4 Series white metallic coupe and smoothed the non-existent wrinkles of her jungle green, above the knee bohemian dress.
The country club where she held membership since before she was born, and casually at that, was throwing their summer party, a garden party event that kicked off the season with tray passed foods and an open bar.
Deciding she should make face, because it was for charity, Jennifer waltzed into the main lobby in nude heeled sandals and out the double doors where the lush grass spilled over with club patrons crowding around linen cloth-covered tables, while staff in their club polos and tan khakis passed around trays of food and champagne. She caught a tray as it passed by, swiping a long-stem glass filled with champagne for herself. Wide and black framed, Jackie-O-like sunglasses covered her green eyes as she stepped into the crowd, her blonde hair pulled back into a festive ponytail and off her back in the summer heat.
A few of her father’s friends had found her as she moved through the lawn space, greeting her and smiling at her, striking up brief conversations. She politely spoke with them. She didn’t want to be rude, but also didn’t care nonetheless. Her father had been gone three years now, her mother since she was a child, and his firm in her care was so young and powerful. At thirty years old, Jennifer was in charge of one of the top defensive firms in the greater Boston area and she was at the top of her game for as young as she was; aptly named one of the top lawyers in the area.
Then, upon finding a garden chair to take residence on, Jennifer pulled out her phone and checked messages and emails. She grew bored as the day wore on, carrying on conversations with people, but those too grew boring and when the champagne wasn’t enough anymore, she moved to the bar for something stronger.
Taking reprieve from the heat and growing humidity, Jennifer stood between chairs at the bar next to a seated, tall man with broad shoulders covered by a dark green polo shirt and black designer pants, Sperry’s on his feet. She gave him a once over and turned her attention back to the bartender, ordering herself a scotch sour and moved her attention to her phone.
“That’s a tough drink for a lady.”
She thought the man sitting to her right, the man with the broad shoulders, was the one speaking up, but to her surprise it was someone else, the man to her left. Red polo, plaid golf pants and a greasy-looking mustache.
“Well, I’m not your average lady,” Jennifer raised her brow.
“Hardly,” the red polo leaned in. “I’m Lee. How about you put that drink on my tab, and we sit outside.”
A snort sounded from Jennifer’s right.
The bartender set Jennifer’s drink in front of her and she slid over to him a large tip. She bit back the smirk she wanted to share and inhaled, “Well, Lee... it is an open bar, so there is no need for the tab. And as far as the seat outside,” she leaned forward just a little, “I’ll pass. Men like you, with your greasy mustache and horrible plaid golf pants, I eat men like you for breakfast. No one with tact tries to pick up a woman at an open bar with not one but two failed lines on being a lady and buying her a drink.”
A dejected Lee grabbed for his drink and left the room, leaving Jennifer to take up a seat at the bar and sigh with a deep roll of the eyes. The bartender snickered as he cleaned a couple of high balls for an order. The man in the green shirt smirked as he brought his beer to his lips, not once looking at the interaction but simply listening. It was silent for a bit, Jennifer sipping her scotch sour, taking in the air conditioning and the lack of company. Now and then, she’d catch the man in green looking at her from the corner of his eye. She had to admit he was hot and had a great boy hiding under his clothing. It was either the booze or the heat, but she felt a pooling between her legs.
It was then a clearly ditzy, brassy brunette dressed in a white sundress, huge, brimmed hat and ghastly chunky heels giddily called out to the man in green from the doorway and Jennifer could have sworn she heard him groan in annoyance.
“Kyle! There you are!”
“Fuck me,” he grumbled before he barely turned his head to acknowledge the brunette. “Liss, didn’t think I’d be seeing you here.”
“Oh Kyle, you’re so funny,” the woman giggled and looked at Jennifer, “he’s so funny.”
Jennifer bit her lip back and feigned humor in her eyes, “hilarious,” she said, scrunching up her nose.
“So, I just won in the silent auction a trip for two to Barbados, and I think you,” the brunette pressed into the man at the bar, touching the tip of his nose with her fingertip, “should go with me. I’m going to go powder my nose and be right back so we can chat.”
As quickly as she entered, she was gone, and Jennifer couldn’t help but say something.
“That girlfriend of yours, she’s...”
“Not my girlfriend,” the man, now known as Kyle, shook his head. ”She’s a fucking gnat.” Kyle looked up at the mirror behind the bar. “She’s a whore I can’t shake.”
“So she’s stalking you?” Jennifer wondered.
“Many do,” he replied with a smirk and raised brows, a cocky tone to his words.
“I’m Jennifer,” her lips mimicked the smirk on his own, almost subconsciously. She liked him. Already she could tell he was fun, a little dangerous, but fun.
”Kyle,” he nodded, and sipped his beer. “So what do you do that gets you in here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”
“Attorney. I’ve been a member here since I was in diapers,” Jennifer replied, sipping her scotch. Her body was turned to his in her chair, slender legs crossed at the knee.
He gave her a once over, his eyes trailing up her legs, eyes narrowing at the hem of her skirt line and up to the way her breasts curved against the bust of her dress. “Hmmm, well, that explains the scotch.”
“Scotch is synonymous to legal work for you?” Jennifer quipped.
Kyle rolled his eyes. “Hardly, you just don’t look.... I expected...” he paused, “I don’t know, just not that.” He could see it now though, tight button-down blouses tucked expertly into pencil skirts, hair pulled back and neat, he bet she wore glasses too from time to time. She probably needed a good fuck. She seemed like she could use one. Her legs were long and lean, and she had sexy skin and green eyes. He was quick to assume she did yoga or pilates.
“Hmmm, well, what do you do?” She asked with a quizzical look, then gasped. “Wait, let me guess, trust-fund entrepreneur playboy?” Jennifer licked at her lips, taking that last sip of her drink. She glimpsed Liss on her way back from the ladies’ room, quickly catching the eye of what seemed to be a friend of hers. “I think your gnat is back.”
Kyle’s eyes catch the mirror again and sees his former one-night stand in an animated conversation with someone. “For fuck sakes,” he groans.
“Seems like you need an out. If she’s stalking you, running will not help,” Jennifer pointed out.
“You got a better idea?” Kyle couldn’t help but wonder.
“Well, clearly subtlety won’t work. You’re going to need to be more...” Jennifer thought, “aggressive.”
“Oh, it’s not been subtle, I don’t do subtle,” he pointed out.
An odd idea struck her quickly, always thinking on her toes, “Then a more visual approach, perhaps?”
Kyle grunted, “You offering?”
“Depends,” she shrugged, “what’s in it for me?”
The sexiest of sly smirks crossed his plump lips and his eyes danced with a little danger as Kyle replied, “It’s not about what’s in it FOR you, but what could be IN you.”
Jennifer didn’t even need to think about it. She needed a little mischief in her life, an escape from the stressful career, the late nights and long weekends. She needed a release that she hadn’t felt in ages, a proper good all senses igniting release. And who else to get it from than a trust-fund fuckboy who, in his own words, didn’t do subtle? “Deal.” She put her hands on his smooth jaw, pulling him in for a deep and desperate kiss.
Not one to turn an offer away from an attractive woman, Kyle kissed her hard, his tongue dipping into Jennifer’s mouth, neither having a care of the venue they were in. He was a great kisser, and he smelled delicious, woodsy like mahogany and teakwood with a hint of oak. Her fingers gripped his shirt as his hands dropped from the bar to her hips.
She tasted like scotch and vanilla, no doubt from her drink and lips. Her taut waist fit perfectly in his huge hands, and he heard the faintest squeak emit from her as she relaxed into their kiss.
Then came the shriek of disappointment, and he smirked against Jennifer’s lips before breaking away.
“Kyle, what the hell?” Liss whined. “I was just telling you we were going on a trip!”
His eyes were still on Jennifer as she leaned in to whisper, “Coat room, out to the left, three doors down on the right,” before grabbing her clutch and walking away from him and the scene they caused. A wink from the bartender sent her smirking as she headed out of the room.
Minutes later, Kyle was opening the door and finding his way in the dark. He needed little light as Jennifer’s hands were quick to find his belt and flies, a clank coming from the buckle as it hung down where her hands were already looking for what she wanted. His lips found hers and she was quickly backed into the wall by the door. He moaned as she stroked him, lips dragging across her neck and back up her jaw. She smelled expensive, sensual even, warm and strong, but had this hint of floral softness. A heady mix of jasmine, cedar, and amber. A scent that was driving his senses wild.
“You don’t waste any time, do you?” he whispered against her skin, nipping at her. His body caged her in as a hand moved for the bottom of her dress.
“Not when I know what I want,” she panted against his assault, her hand full of his hard, thick cock pulling him free.
He palmed her cunt, feeling her already wet panties, and somehow Kyle knew this was well worth the antics. His first two fingers swiped over her panty covered folds and pressed against her clit and she moaned against his lips, all the while still stroking his dick.
When Kyle moved her panties to the side of her folds, Jennifer hitched her knee over his hip as she lined his tip against her slick. She guided him up and down, wetting him, and then, with a thrust forward of his hips, he slid right in.
“Fuck,” she purred against his ear, a ground out groan coming in reply. He was thick, stretching her pleasurably.
Kyle felt the warmth depths of her walls around him, snapping his hips forward while in the same motion he lifted her to seat inside her. Jennifer’s ankles locked at the small of his back as he fucked her into the closet wall. He used the wall as a brace to carry the shifting weight from his pounding into her, her cries of heat in his ear urging him on. Her voice dripping in ecstasy, encouraging him.
“Oh yes, right there,” she cried, “so fucking good.”
“Fucking so tight,” he ground out. He could feel her bubbling around him, imagining her coil tightening. When she snapped, he pounded into her harder, chasing his own rush and when he was near, he pulled free, dropping her to her feet harshly, losing his load on a coat nearby.
As Kyle fixed himself, Jennifer fixed her panties and made sure her breasts were properly in her dress. She pulled her ponytail free from its mess and fluffed her hair a second before opening her clutch and dropping the hair tie in and removing a card.
Jennifer slipped the card into his pocket with his back turned to her. “Call me when you want a good fuck,” she said with confidence and walked out.
The door opening interrupted Jennifer’s thoughts, and Kyle entered, cuffed, looking smug as ever, dressed in a blue sweater, tweed pants, and his loafers. His hair looked like he’d run his hands through it a few times during his booking and processing. Mack cuffed him to the table, allowing the man to take a seat comfortably.
Cold blue eyes, vibrant from his current attire, looked back at her, still a smug smirk across his lips, hands folded together on the table. He moved to speak, but she held up a manicured finger at him. Her eyes moved to the camera in the corner, waiting for the light to go off. As she waited, she took him in again, seeing the man behind the facade. The man she knew hid beneath the smug and arrogant exterior. He looked stoic, but she read the look of deep plotting behind those cold blue eyes. His jaw was clenching, flexing under grinding perfect teeth, fingers pressing into one another as his hands were clasped in between them.
Then she spoke, “watc
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