Big Bad Lawyer (Misters of Manhattan Book 1)

by Lana Lachlan

  Well, that went better than expected.

  Sliding up her body, he put his finger in her mouth.

  “I feel awful coming in your face,” she mumbled around the wet digit.

  “No need.”

  She licked it clean. Okay, that was cute. Still, there was more to be done with this snippet. Taking a barstool to the bathroom, he set it in the shower stall. “Come here.”

  She came, looked at the stool. “Should I sit?”

  “You know better than that.”

  A cheeky dip of her lashes before answering. “Perhaps you should explain what you want, Sir?”

  His tongue-fest had made her cocky. He had a lesson plan for cockiness. “Perhaps I should punish you for back sassing me.”

  “But my poor bottom is so sore, Sir.”

  “Turn around so I can see.”

  It certainly looked sore—red and mottled with a couple of crimson palm prints where his hand had been extra hard. She still stuck her ass out. He smacked it several times to stoke the fire. Ophelia gripped the stool and held herself for the next blow. Already Ophelia’s pain threshold had shifted up a notch.

  Turning on the spray, he set the stool underneath.

  “What’s going to happen here, girl?”

  “You’re going to hurt me.”

  The pleading tremor in her voice left no doubt in his mind about what she wanted. “Assume the position.”

  She hoisted herself over the seat, swaying her hips provocatively. Everything about Ophelia was pure sensuality. Her appetite for discipline, her need to challenge, her honest love of fucking… and sweet Jesus, the minx now had her legs spread wide to show him her honeypot. He’d intended another hand spanking before he fucked her again but after that impertinence, the saucy wench needed something else.

  “Stay exactly where you are.”

  He fetched his belt, folded it, rested it on her ass. She looked around, her eyes wide and anxious, but also shining with excitement.

  “Is that for me, Sir?”

  “It is.”

  He certainly had her attention because she began to shake. Tucking the belt buckle in his palm so it wouldn’t touch her skin, he swung the strap to hit her ass across both cheeks. She yelped. He swung again and the yelp rose to a scream. He lashed solidly and rhythmically but carefully. Delicate Ophelia might hanker for hard discipline, but she wasn’t built for his dungeon levels of hard.

  He gave her another six blows, interspersing each with a hand slap to her upper thighs—the whips and slaps spraying water from her body. She lay draped over the stool like a limp rag, her small moans coming through the shower mist in time with each crack of the belt.

  He dipped a finger in her sex. She began to fuck it, sniveling in protest when he pulled out.

  “Patience, little one.”

  Another crack of the belt and she reared up, clawing at her butt. Swatting her hand away, he rubbed his work. “What do you need, Ophelia?”

  “I need you to fuck me, Sir.”

  His groin ached to the dirty talk. “You forgot something.”

  “I didn’t say ‘please’. I should be reprimanded.”

  “You’ve had enough.”

  Going by the fresh stripes on her already scorched ass, more than enough. Tossing the belt aside, he sheathed a fresh rubber in record time. As he inserted himself in her heat, he shuddered at the all-embracing strength of her grip. With her slim hips in his hands, his cock comfy in its shelter, she felt like a slippery erotic eel.

  “Take me, girly, take it all.”

  She pushed back.

  He pumped her methodically, pulling out every so often to dispense a smack to keep her primed. Her ass flexed hypnotically in time with each thrust and spank and when he adjusted her to get maximum penetration, he felt himself right where he wanted to be.

  “Fuck, that’s good.”

  She tried to wriggle out of range. “You’re too far in.”

  “Trust me, I’m not.”

  No answer but a few deep strokes later he felt her clamp him, heard her panting and wheezing behind her veil of wet hair. She’d come.

  “Oh… oh!” she blubbered. “What…?”

  “You had a cervical orgasm and it’s made you so frigging tight, this is about to become the fuck of the century.”

  Gripping her hips, he thrust into her with such force that the stool skittered forward to hit the shower wall. With her jammed up, he pummeled her—Ophelia and her stool rocking as though under the force of an earthquake. The sounds of their mating filled the bathroom—flesh slapping against flesh, his grunts of exertion and Ophelia’s moans and pants and the occasional squeal. He blew on a yell, burrowing deep to discharge, her incredible muscles wringing every last drop of cum from his juddering dick as she climaxed again. One hot union. Sex on steroids. Addictive sex.

  Sliding out, he disposed of the condom before carrying her to the bed to cradle her in his arms. He’d been tough on her, tougher than intended. Now he wanted to comfort her, to let her know he cared about his sexy submissive.

  Ophelia nestled against him like a warm kitten, her wet hair tickling his shoulder. “Did I do it right, Sir?”

  As he cuddled her, his mind played warm and caring with this young girl. “You did. You’re a good lass.”

  “I want to please you, JD.”

  Absolutely she pleased him. Ophelia might be light on experience but with her gift for sex, she didn’t need practice. As he turned her face up to look into her soft brown eyes, he saw the distinctive bond of sub to Dom. A complication he hadn’t wanted and would have to deal with, but not tonight.

  He kissed her forehead. “How’s your ass holding up?”

  A huff of complaint brushed his chin. “I won’t be able to sit down for a week.”

  “If you’re a good kitty, I’ll make it better.”

  The feline stretched in his arms. “How?”

  He reached around to pat her bruises. “I’ll think of something. In the meantime, what about room service? Anything you’d like?”

  “Something chocolatey.”

  “What is it with women and chocolate?”

  She snuggled into him. “It’s like having an orgasm in your mouth.”

  An appealing thought. “We can’t have you missing out on an orgasm, Ms. Tate.”

  Untangling himself from her arms, he rolled over to call room service when he noticed a text on his cellphone’s lock screen. The first line shot him to his feet, dumbstruck.

  Co-counsel and second chair: Ophelia Tate.

  No fucking way.

  Stalking to the bathroom, he called Burke. “Are you sure?”

  “Y-yeah, I’m sure, JD,” came the startled response. “Couldn’t believe it myself.”

  Neither could he. Ophelia Tate, a kid hardly out of law school would be opposing counsel on the highest profile case of the year.

  “Why her?” he demanded as though Burke was personally responsible.

  “Apparently, she put the case together, JD. Without her, they had nothing.”

  He paced the bathroom while he thought. He’d told Ophelia he’d enjoy seeing her in a courtroom but never in a million years could he have predicted this mess.

  “Anything wrong, JD?”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Burke.”

  He wasn’t worried about facing off against her in a courtroom. She might know her law books backwards but at trial, he’d eat her and A.D.A. Nealand for breakfast. But this was a complication. Sex between opposing counsel was strictly off-limits although that wasn’t the worst of it. Ophelia would be prosecuting a mobster who’d stop at nothing to stay out of jail. To Raynott, Ophelia Tate would be the equivalent of the straggling calf at the back of the herd. Easy prey to pick off.

  He had no choice but to stop this now. Not with a goodbye, but with something strong enough to break the bond and leave her walking away from both him and the case.

  He returned to the bedroom to find her in his shirt, lying on her stomach
with her feet in the air. “Can you make my bottom better now?”

  His answer would hurt her far more than his belt. “That was my date from last night. I have to go.”

  Bewilderment swamped her face. “You’re going to see Candice?”

  He gathered up his clothes. “That’s right. The room’s paid for if you want to stay.”

  She slid off the bed to stand in front of him, looking very small in his white business shirt. “I-I thought we…”

  He gestured for his shirt. “There’s no ‘we’ Ophelia, if that’s what you were hoping for.”

  She handed it over. “I don’t understand, Jake?”

  It took him several seconds to process the error. “Jake?”

  “JD… Jake. The librarian called you Jake.”

  She really had no idea who he was. “You misheard the name.”

  “Then who…?”

  He kept his face impassive against her confusion. “I’m Jack Slayer.”

  Horrified eyes met his. “You’re him?”

  “Got it in one, Ms. Tate, and this is over.”

  While he dressed, Ophelia sat on the bed naked, watching him. “So you move on, Jack? Is that how it works?”

  Her voice was so soft, he barely heard the question.

  “Look, go find yourself a nice guy who’ll buy you flowers and take you to the movies because the fact is, you’re not my type.”

  Her head dropped.

  He moved to the door, hating that this had to happen. “What’s more, I suggest you get Nealand to find another co-counsel because it’s obvious you’re not cut out for courtrooms. And if you do show at tomorrow’s meeting, don’t expect me to go easy on you because I fucked you. Frankly, you’re not cut out for hotel rooms either.”

  As he opened the door, a small sob carried across the room. In all his years as a hard Dom and ruthless attorney, he’d never felt like such a bastard.

  Chapter 5

  Ophelia felt all wrong. Her new suit was too tight, her hair bun too loose and her butt too sore to sit on. And no sign of the douchebag.

  Assistant District Attorney, Bill Nealand, looked at her kindly. “They’ll be here. Slayer wants this case to go away.”

  “He’ll want this to go to trial. He never loses.”

  A.D.A. Nealand gave a rueful smile. “True. He’s given me a few whoopings in court.”

  Ophelia shifted in her chair, only too aware of Jack’s whooping ability. She didn’t know which part of last night was the worst—bruised butt or bruised pride. He’d deserted her to go to his girlfriend. Yet Ophelia could hardly complain when he hadn’t promised anything more than a spanking.

  Bill interrupted her thoughts with a gentle pat on her arm. “As you did all the work on this. I’d like you to do the talking. Are you up for that?”

  “Yes of course.”

  Ophelia checked her laptop notes for the umpteenth time. She felt confident in her case but confronting Jack Slayer wouldn’t be easy with last night’s hot memories buzzing around in her head.

  “Good to see you, Bill.”

  Ophelia jumped as Jack strode into the room. Dressed in an immaculate black suit that probably cost thousands, he looked scrumptious. His presence seemed to fill the room or maybe it was she who felt smaller than she should.

  His eyes cruised her simple gray suit. “And I take it you are Ms. Tate?”

  Flustered at seeing him again, it took Ophelia several seconds to accept his outstretched hand. Immediately, she felt the sizzle. Even his bastardness couldn’t dilute the chemistry. “Mr. Slayer, this meeting was scheduled for four o’clock.”

  His lips curved in one of his lethal smiles. Damn that smile.

  “You’ll get time enough to prove yourself, Ms. Tate.”

  Ophelia’s hackles shot to attention. “I think we should get started as soon as possible. Some of us don’t have time to waste.”

  A.D.A. Nealand coughed, gestured toward a chair. “Please take a seat, Mr. Raynott.”

  Ophelia had been so consumed by Jack, she’d hardly noticed the other man. Of course, she’d seen him on the news and his photo in the police file, but in the flesh Sebastian Raynott looked older than forty. Tall, gelled hair slicked back, hooded eyes and a sneer. He looked every inch the gangster.

  Immediately, he fixed his sneer on her. “Have you finished law school yet?”

  Bill spoke before Ophelia could answer. “Not only finished, Mr. Raynott, but top of her class. What’s more, Ms. Tate has put together the case against you.”

  Raynott leaned forward menacingly. “There is no case against me, girlie, so I suggest you drop this case.”

  Jack took his seat. “Let me do the talking, Sebastian. This is a ridiculous charge and you know it, Bill. I want it dismissed right now and an apology for the time wasted.”

  A.D.A. Nealand turned to Ophelia. “I’ll let you take it from here, counselor.”

  Her moment to shine. That is, if she could stay calm under Jack’s uncompromising stare. He probably used that stare on witnesses in court to scare them into submission. Jack’s specialty.

  She watched him lean back in his chair and cross his arms. “Well, Ms. Tate, we’re waiting.”

  Ophelia pretended to read something on her laptop while she steadied her nerves. “Mr. Slayer, your client fired a shot at Mr. Kelso. The fact that he missed doesn’t diminish what he did,” she began, gaining confidence by the second. “Mr. Raynott is facing a lengthy prison sentence. However, if he pleads guilty, we are willing to recommend a reduced term of ten years.”

  Jack’s mocking gaze landed on hers. “Is that your best shot? You’ll need to do better than that because my client doesn’t even own a gun.” He stood, buttoned his jacket. “It seems there’s nothing more to talk about.”

  Ophelia produced her ace card. “We have a witness.”

  “What witness?” Raynott barked.

  Jack silenced his client with a wave of his hand as he retook his seat. “Your move, counselor.”

  “Someone saw your client on the victim’s balcony that night.”

  No reaction other than a rise of Jack’s left eyebrow. “We don’t deny that Mr. Raynott went to see Kelso.”

  “The witness lives in the building opposite.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “He saw and heard Mr. Raynott fire the revolver in the direction of Mr. Kelso.”

  “What the fuck!” Raynott burst out, jabbing a finger toward Ophelia. “No one saw me! You’re gonna pay for this, Miss Whoever the fuck you think you are.”

  Jack’s hand waved again. “Be quiet, Sebastian. Ms. Tate, your witness is mistaken.”

  “He saw it all through a high-powered telescope.”

  “Why would he be looking into apartments instead of the sky?”

  “It’s… it’s a hobby.”

  A short laugh broke up Jack’s face. “So he jerks off watching people get naked. Say goodbye to your case.”

  “That doesn’t change what he saw.”

  Jack smiled one of those ‘so what’ smiles. “Ms. Tate, by the time I’m finished with your guy, the jury will have him down as a pervert.”

  Ophelia held her ground. “This is one case you can’t win, Mr. Slayer.”

  His eyes drilled hers. “You may have heard, Ms. Tate, that I always win.”

  Yes, he’s the dragon slayer but she had right on her side.

  “He saw what he saw,” she argued, staunchly matching his stare down. “I advise you to take the deal or we will be upgrading the charge to attempted murder.”

  His brow rode high. “You’re advising me?”

  “I am. It’s a good offer.”

  “We’re not taking the offer.”

  Ophelia couldn’t hide her surprise. “Y-you’re not?”

  “No, we’re not. And for your sake, Ophelia, I’m asking you to drop the case.”

  He spoke softly and in that moment, she was back in the hotel room, cuddled up to him in those happy minutes before he’d w
alked out on her.

  “For my sake? Is that why you left, Jack?”

  His eyes flashed warning. “Drop this before the D.A.’s office ends up facing a lawsuit for false arrest and defamation.”

  Fury rolled through Ophelia like fire. “You are despicable, Jack Slayer!”

  The room went quiet. Nothing from Bill, not even a protest from Sebastian Raynott. Ophelia, unsure what to do next, chewed her lip.

  Jack’s jaw jumped as he spoke. “Give us five minutes, gentlemen. The counselor and I need to talk.”

  His control of the situation–of her–was so commanding that Ophelia felt like his submissive again. Without protest, she meekly let him steer her out of the room and down the hall.

  “Where’s your office?” he barked over her head.

  She showed him the way, aware of his hand on her elbow as he propelled her inside. He locked the door and closed the blinds before standing in the middle of the room, legs braced wide, his face like thunder.

  “If you want to be a litigator, you’ll need to control your emotions.”

  She backed up to the desk, seeing the way his gaze followed the line of buttons down her pink top. Her own gaze roamed him, a torrent of images forming of last night. And like last night, she felt helpless under his potent sensuality.

  “At least I have feelings, you callous bastard,” she managed to rage back at him. “You used me.” Leaning back, she rested her hands on the desk while looking him over in an attempt to breach his implacable exterior. No reaction. Coolly confident. “How many times did you fuck her, Jack?”

  Her words were spat out like an angry girlfriend desperate to land a punch.

  He advanced on her, his features still but Ophelia saw the barely leashed anger. “I expect you to act professionally.”

  “And if I don’t, will you spank me?”

  It got a reaction, if only a twitch of his lips. “Don’t tempt me. Are you going to behave in that meeting?”