Marcel planned to romance the hell out of the Honorable Sharla Ratliff. He would say whatever he had to say and do whatever he had to do to get between her legs.
And once he did, he would dismiss her exactly the way she had dismissed him in court today.
Chapter 13
Sharla
Sharla beamed like a schoolgirl smacked with her first kiss. And she did exactly what any excited schoolgirl would do. She called her best friend to dish.
As soon as the valet opened her car door and she waved goodbye to Marcel, she called Reese on speed dial.
“You’ll never guess what I just did.”
Reese inhaled loudly. “If you’re calling to tell me you slept with some random guy, I don’t want to know about it.”
“I just made out with Marcel Dennard.”
“What? Where?”
“In an elevator.”
“An elevator? Please tell me it wasn’t in the courthouse.”
“Of course not. I’m not crazy. We met for drinks at WP 24.”
“So, how was it?”
“Electric. I swear no man has ever made me come that fast before.”
“Oh, my God! You said you made out with the man. You actually screwed him in an elevator?”
“Not exactly. Let’s just say if the boy’s magic stick works half as well as his fingers, I’m a goner.”
“Dang. You two surely wasted no time. How’d you end up hooking up with him so fast?”
Sharla told Reese about Marcel appearing before her today and how poorly he had argued his motion. “And then he called my chambers and basically ordered me to meet him for drinks.”
“Hold on a minute. You can’t date that man if he has a case in front of you. Have you lost your damn mind? If the opposing counsel found out you two hooked up, you’d be in big trouble. That’s a definite conflict of interest.”
“We didn’t hook up until after his appearance,” Sharla explained. “The other side won, so what’s he going to complain about? And the case got settled on the courthouse steps. So there’s no ongoing conflict.”
“Shouldn’t you at least wait until the settlement agreement is signed and the case is officially dismissed?”
“Probably, but—”
“But nothing. If you ask me, both of you guys are walking way too close to the line. If he appears in front of you again, you’ll definitely have to recuse yourself.”
“I know that.”
“This doesn’t sound like you, Sharla. You’re usually so cautious.”
“This is the new Sharla. Don’t worry. I’m just using him for experimental purposes.”
“I do not want to hear that again.”
“Well, it’s the truth. I’m still proceeding with my act-like-a-man campaign. I plan to have sex with him and remain one-hundred percent emotionally detached.”
“Give me a break. Do you remember how you practically melted when that man strolled into Kendall’s earlier today? You’re already emotionally attached.”
“I am not. All I’m doing is taking your advice. You told me to have some fun and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“I said have fun. Not be a ho.”
“See that’s the problem. A man can have sex with as many women as he wants and he’s just dating. But a woman who does the same thing is called a ho.”
“That’s just the way the world is.”
“Well, not my world. At least not anymore.”
“Girl, I’m worried about you getting hurt again.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Sharla said with a firm assurance. “I know exactly what I’m doing. You wait and see.”
Chapter 14
Marcel
The next morning, Marcel sat at his desk admiring the Los Angeles skyline. It was just after nine. He didn’t know what time Sharla arrived at work but figured it had to be soon. He was counting on a call from her any second now.
Thirty minutes ago, he had three dozen of the largest yellow roses he’d ever seen delivered to her chambers. Rather than ordering them over the phone, he stopped by a flower shop not far from his house and meticulously selected each stem. His goal was to wow her. And he was confident the flowers would do just that.
The message on the card had been simple: Looking forward to getting to know you.
By nine-thirty, Marcel still hadn’t received a call. He’d given strict instructions that the flowers should be delivered by eight-thirty. He called and confirmed that Sharla’s first appearance that morning was at ten o’clock. She should definitely be in her chambers by now. So why hadn’t she called to thank him?
He shouldn’t have been so aggressive, fingering her in the elevator like that. She had definitely wanted it. Despite his quest for revenge, he found himself genuinely drawn to her.
Marcel had wasted enough time thinking about Sharla. He turned to his computer to finish drafting a brief. A minute later, his Apple watch vibrated and he checked for a text message.
NICE FLOWERS. THANKS
Nice flowers? What the fuck?
She didn’t even have the decency to call and thank him? Marcel had spent over two hundred bucks and she responded with a freakin’ text? And Nice? He expected her to call gushing over how she had never seen such exquisite flowers before in her life. He certainly hadn’t.
Now he really was pissed. His anger rose just thinking about how he was going to play her. His Apple watch vibrated again.
HOW ABOUT DINNER? TONIGHT. MY PLACE.
What the—?
Marcel didn’t get this chick. One minute he thought he was calling the shots, the next minute it was as if she was pulling his strings.
He picked up his phone and texted her back.
SURE. WHAT TIME?
Her response was already there by the time he finished typing.
EIGHT WOULD BE PERFECT.
In the next text, Sharla included her address. He knew the area well. She lived in Leimert Park off 2nd Avenue. He paused, weighing what he was about to text next. What the hell? He was going for it.
SHOULD I PLAN ON SPENDING THE NIGHT?
He waited, nervously biting his lip. After a minute passed, he knew he’d gone too far. Then he noticed the three dots, signaling that she was typing.
WE’LL HAVE TO SEE.
He rubbed his chin and smiled. The Honorable Sharla Ratliff was straight up baffling. It had been awhile since he messed with a chick who wasn’t predictable. He could use a little excitement in his life.
Marcel wasn’t sure he would get laid tonight, but he certainly planned to try.
Chapter 15
Sharla
Sharla had gone back and forth trying to make up her mind about what to wear. She finally decided on ripped jeans and a tight, pink tank top—minus a bra. As she stared at herself in the mirror, she looked like a teenager. Felt like one too. Anticipation over her impending date with Marcel and what she had in store for him made her bubbly with excitement.
An hour later, when she welcomed Marcel into her home, he too was wearing jeans.
He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She caught a whiff of that same citrusy cologne he wore the night of the dance.
A few curly wisps of chest hair peeked up from his black shirt. Sharla loved men with hairy chests. Not gorilla hairy but just a sprinkling. She got off on rubbing her nipples against the coarse hair, and couldn’t wait to do that to Marcel tonight.
“Nice place,” Marcel said. He presented her with a bottle of wine while glancing around the living room.
“Thanks. I don’t think I ever asked where you live.”
“Redondo Beach. As a Texas boy, I dreamed of having a beach house. But a couple of blocks away was as close as I could afford to beachfront property in Cali.”
Marcel foll
owed her into the kitchen.
“I hope you like turkey lasagna. It’s one of the few dishes I make well.”
“Love it. Need any help?”
“Nope, everything’s ready. How about opening the wine? The corkscrew is in the drawer next to the refrigerator.”
As he turned his back to her, she admired his strong shoulders and wished she was bold enough to ask him to take off his shirt. It would be quite the turn on to eat dinner while staring at his chiseled chest. With that hard body, he must’ve spent a lifetime in the gym.
Sharla set the food in the middle of the dining room table, lit a couple of scented candles and they sat down.
Marcel took the seat at the head of the table. Sharla was about to take the opposite end, when he stopped her.
“I don’t want you sitting way over there.” He patted the chair to his immediate right. “Come sit next to me.”
Sharla did as he asked.
For the next hour or so, they chatted casually, discussing everything from politics to faith to family. Marcel was in the middle of a conversation about a deposition that had gone awry when Sharla couldn’t take it anymore.
“You know what I want right now,” she interrupted.
“What?”
“You.”
Marcel reacted with the cool seduction of a sleek black panther. He leaned over, kissed her, then pulled her to her feet. She started unbuttoning his shirt, anxious to feel his bare chest brushing up against hers. Reaching skin, she raked her nails across his pecs. She had never been with a guy who actually had abs as hard and ripped as a washboard.
Marcel lifted her tank top and Sharla eagerly massaged her nipples against his chest hairs. His hand slid past her unzipped jeans and into her panties and delicately fingered her. She was stoned with lust.
“Let’s go to the bedroom.” She took his hand and led him down the hallway.
Her crystal lamp with the blue light bulb provided the only illumination in the room. Marcel’s skin glistened as he pulled back the comforter and laid her down on the bed. He then proceeded to explore every inch of her with his hot tongue. He began at her ankles, licking and kissing his way up her legs. He moved at a snail’s pace as if he was determined not to leave an inch of skin untouched. She had never been licked from head to toe before and it drove her wild.
Marcel tugged her by the ankles until her butt reached the edge of the bed. Getting down on his knees, he crouched between her legs. His tongue flickered in and out of her navel, as he moved lower and lower. Sharla bit her lip and closed her eyes, anticipating even greater pleasure to come. When his mouth finally arrived at the place that longed for him the most, she gasped as his firm tongue lapped at her sweet spot, intermittently kissing her inner thighs.
Like a gourmet chef stirring the pot, Marcel took his time, patiently waiting for his brew to come to a boil. Just as he brought her to the brink of coming, his mouth pulled away.
Taking her by the shoulders, he set her upright. His large hands gripped her thighs, gently spreading them apart. She could barely keep her whimpers inside. Her head reared back, too heavy to hold up.
Marcel eased a long middle finger inside her, moving slowly at first, then deep and fast like a high-powered drill. His thumb whisked past her clit so quickly it left a trail of smoke. His middle finger continued rotating inside her, opening a spigot that sent her juices gushing down her thighs, soaking her expensive sheets.
Marcel’s tongue replaced his fingers, turning Sharla’s whimpers into screams. He knew how to teeter her on the ledge without allowing her to fall off. She lifted her ass, pressing herself into his mouth, craving more of his tongue.
When she began to tremble, a sure sign that she was close, Marcel pulled away and flipped her over, doggy style.
The change of position was so smooth, so swift, that she was on her hands and knees before she realized that she was no longer in a sitting position. The torn condom wrapper on the floor to the left of the bed caught her eye. She didn’t even see him put it on.
Marcel burrowed just an inch or so inside her.
“Ow!” Sharla screamed, pulling away. She knew from feeling him up in the elevator that he was big but not anaconda big.
“I know, I know,” he said, as if he was used to this reaction. “I’ll take it easy.”
“No! You’re too big! I can’t—”
His right hand tenderly kneaded the curve of her back as if to calm her down. “I’ll be gentle. I promise. Just relax.”
Sharla closed her eyes and bit her lip. Her entire body tensed as he tried to enter her again. It hurt, but she was so turned on she didn’t want him to stop. This was like giving up her virginity all over again.
“You okay?” Marcel asked, holding her gently by the waist.
“I think so.”
Sharla grimaced in pain as he slowly plunged inside her, stretching her in ways she had never, ever experienced before. Once she had consumed all of him, she boldly arched her back, joining him in an effortless rhythm. As he repeatedly slammed into her, she relished each blow, her pain melting into pleasure.
“Damn, you’re tight,” Marcel growled. He was a talker, which turned her on even more.
The naughtiness of their sex thrilled her. It was a chance to abandon her stuffy judicial role. No one would ever imagine she could be this uninhibited.
Marcel’s fingers tightened around her waist as he gathered speed, riding her like a bucking bronco.
How in the hell could he last this long?
Just as she was about to cry out for relief, Marcel signaled that he was approaching the finish line.
“Now, baby. Now!” he yelled, ordering her to come.
She spread her legs wider, closing the walls of her tunnel even tighter around him. Noticing the mounting intensity of his heaves and grunts, she timed her explosion to match his.
Marcel collapsed onto her back, his hot breath heating up her left ear.
“Damn, baby,” he exhaled. “Damn.”
He rolled over and they lay side by side. Sharla glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was 10:02.
Still breathing hard, Marcel snuggled closer to her, attempting to rest his head on her shoulder. Sharla abruptly pulled away and hopped out of bed.
“I have to be up early tomorrow,” she said, lifting her silk robe from the chaise next to the bed and slipping into it. Her tone wasn’t nasty, just indifferent.
“So I’m afraid you’ll need to leave.”
Chapter 16
Marcel
Marcel was sure he hadn’t heard her correctly, so he didn’t react. After whipping it on her, Sharla certainly wasn’t kicking him out.
Was she?
So he lay there, completely still, trying to make sense of what was happening. He was still winded from a performance even he had to applaud as magnificent.
“Did you hear me?”
Sharla flipped on the lights. Marcel shaded his eyes with his left hand, too stunned to speak.
He’d been with a ton of women and, on occasion, invented an excuse to bail shortly after coming. But no woman had ever kicked him out of her bed.
Whenever his temper flared like now, Marcel forced himself to remain calm. It was best to relax and react only after thinking things through. Judge Sharla was messing with his head. He would not give her the satisfaction of knowing how low she made him feel.
“Sure. Okay. No problem.”
He hurled his legs around to the side of the bed, stood, and grabbed his boxers and jeans from the floor.
If all she wanted was sex, that was fine with him.
He could feel her staring at his back and he had to stop himself from smirking. She wanted a reaction, but he refused to give her one. He struggled into his pants, then slipped into his shoes, still not saying a word.
When he turne
d around to face her, Sharla looked as beautiful as ever. Her robe barely covered her thick bush. It took every ounce of restraint he could find not to grab her by those luscious thighs and ram himself into her again.
No. He would play it absolutely cool.
“I meant to tell you that the lasagna was great,” Marcel said, zipping up his jeans.
You were too, but I’ll be damned if I tell you that.
“Thanks.” Sharla was standing in the doorway, seemingly perturbed that he was taking so long to button his shirt. “It’s my mom’s recipe.”
Marcel walked past her out of the bedroom toward the front door. When he got there, he pecked her on the cheek and stepped outside, still furious. He was almost at his car, which was parked in her driveway, when he stopped cold.
The driver’s side of his BMW had thick, jagged scratches from wheel to wheel. Someone had keyed his car.
Sharla must’ve been watching him from the window. She poked her head out of the front door.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yeah. Somebody keyed my goddamn car.”
Sharla dashed back inside, then returned wearing jeans underneath her robe.
“I can’t believe this.” She bent to examine the long scratches. “Are you sure it happened here?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
The front door of the house directly across the street opened and an elderly man stalked across the street.
“Is everything okay?” he asked once he reached them. “I thought I saw something funny going on over here.”
“Hi, Mr. Kemp. Did you see somebody key this car?” Sharla asked.
“No, but I did notice an SUV blocking the driveway. A second later, somebody ran out of your backyard, hopped inside and took off.”
“A woman or a man?” Marcel asked.
Unlawful Desires Page 5
