APPEAL: Esquire Black Duet #2

by Faiman, Hayley

  “Mrs. Myers, this is Lucas Black,” Lucas murmurs, his voice is husky from sleep and oh so sexy. “I’m thirty-six,” he chuckles as his dancing green eyes look down at me. “My family lives in Carmel now. My parents are married and have been for forty-five years,” he states. “I’ll personally ensure her safety. Labor Day?” he says, smiling widely. “Sounds lovely. I guarantee that we will be there.”

  He laughs a few more times before handing me back the phone. I look from the device, then back up to him before I place it against my ear again.

  “Mom?” I ask on a whisper.

  “He’s bringing you for Labor Day,” she states. I can tell she’s smiling. “I don’t agree with you two living together. You already know this, however, you’re a grown woman and pay your way, so I can’t say much. I will, however, urge you not to give away all of your milk for free, Brooklyn. Hold back something for the ring.”

  I bite my bottom lip at her words, trying not to burst out in laughter. My mother has never given me sex advice before. She only told me not to do it and expected me to stay a virgin until the day that I walked down the aisle wearing a pure white dress.

  After a few more minutes of chatting, we eventually tell each other goodbye and she makes me promise to call her more often.

  I feel like a shit daughter.

  I haven’t called her nearly as much as I should. I’m her only child, and I should keep better contact. She knows how busy I am with work, but it’s really no excuse.

  “All good?” Lucas asks when I end the call.

  He holds his hand out, and I slip my phone in his grasp, watching him as he deposits it on the table he’s standing next to.

  “She told me to hold something back for a ring. She doesn’t want me to give all of my milk away for free.” I shrug, trying to hold back my laugh that is bursting to escape.

  Lucas reaches down, moving me directly in front of him before he bends slightly and picks me up by the backs of my thighs. I squeal, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as he walks us to the living room.

  “Only one other thing I want from you, kitten,” he murmurs, his nose nuzzling my neck.

  “What’s that?” I breathe.

  I have a feeling that I know, but I want to hear him say it. I want to hear the words tumble from his lips. It’s going to be sexy as all hell.

  He grunts, setting me down on my feet. He spins me around, then presses his hand to the center of my back, urging me to bend over the arm of the sofa.

  I do, wishing to please him as I always desire to do. His hand trails down my spine to the crack of my ass. I suck in a breath when I feel two fingers press against my back entrance.

  “This beautiful little ass of yours, Brooklyn. I want to fuck this ass, and you’re going to let me. In fact, you’re going to fucking beg me to do it, sooner rather than later,” he states as he begins to massage the entrance.

  “Baby,” I moan, pushing back against him, uncaring how absolutely filthy it, and he, is.

  I was right. His words are sexy as all hell. He groans as he continues touching me, rubbing me, and applying pressure to only that part of my body, touching me nowhere else. My pussy grows slick with desire. I want to touch myself so badly right now.

  “Fuck, yeah, kitten. You want my cock deep in your ass, don’t you?” he asks.

  With a shiver, I moan. I do. I want it any way he’ll give it to me. I want it now. I cry out when I feel the sting of his free hand as it slaps against my ass.

  I throw my head back with a cry, my pussy pulsing and begging for more.

  “Baby,” I whisper again, hoping that he’ll at least attempt to put me out of my misery.

  I feel his finger, now wet, slowly slip inside of my back entrance. My eyes slide closed as he slowly pumps that finger in and out of me.

  His other hand gently glides around my hip and he fills my pussy with two fingers, causing me to shake slightly.

  Simultaneously, he fucks me with his fingers and grinds his palm against my clit. It’s not enough, and yet it’s too much all at the same time.

  I lift on my toes, attempting to take more of him, deeper, inside of both my ass and my pussy. I let out a long, deep, foreign sounding groan when his one finger is replaced by two, sinking deep inside of my ass, fucking me with them.

  “Lucas, holy shit,” I cry.

  He doesn’t speak, choosing to continue to fuck me at both ends. I try to keep my body upright, my thighs and knees shaking as I climb closer and closer toward my climax.

  “Come,” he growls above me. “Goddamn, come for me, Brooklyn,” he demands.

  Lifting my head back, I let out a sob so loud that it hurts my ears. Then I come, long and hard, my pussy and ass squeezing simultaneously.

  I’m completely boneless, unable to even murmur a protest when I feel Lucas’ hand wrap around my hips, wrenching them back, as his cock presses against my center.

  He fills me in one thrust, one hand wrapping around my hair, forcing my neck and back to arch in the most deliciously painful way. I can feel his labored breaths as they wash over my sensitive skin.

  His fingers tighten in my hair, sending a burning sensation through my scalp as he slams his hips against mine over and over. It’s dirty and hard, it’s mind-numbingly beautiful, all at the same time.

  “Brooklyn,” he moans, it sounds like a curse and a prayer mixed together, as his hips still.

  I feel his cock grow before his cum spills inside of me. Lucas doesn’t release me immediately. Instead, he lowers his chest against my back, keeping his hand in my hair as he kisses and nuzzles the side of my neck.

  “You’re not keeping anything from me, Brooklyn,” he murmurs against my skin. “Ring, no ring—you’re mine, and that includes your beautiful body.”

  “Lucas,” I try to say in a warning tone.

  He grunts, pushing his cock deeper inside of me and pulling my head back, his mouth at my ear. “You’re my woman, Brooklyn. I’m not playing house, and I’m not playing games with you. You won’t play them with me, either.”

  “Okay,” I rasp.

  LUCAS

  I scroll through my newsfeed, wondering why on earth I’m even on Facebook. I should delete the app. I have no desire to see what my friends are up to. Most of these people I haven’t seen since high school or college.

  Immediately, I stop my scrolling when a picture catches my eye. It’s a guy I went to high school with. We played football together. He’s standing against a wood building, his wife standing in front of him, their hands are both resting on her large belly.

  Their two other children, one boy and one girl, are leaning against their legs. They’re all smiling at the camera, using the image to announce their newest member’s impending arrival.

  “What do you think?” Brooklyn asks as she stands across the room from me. I’m taken away from the photograph, unsure of how it makes me feel.

  Looking up at Brooklyn, she’s wearing a skirt, blouse and matching jacket. It’s a good-looking suit, making her look sexy as fuck, but also professional. She would fit in perfectly at my office. Where she doesn’t fit is that fucking shithole she’s now working.

  “Looks good, beautiful,” I state. She presses her lips together. “What?” I demand.

  She shakes her head. “It’s way too expensive, Lucas. This one suit would cost more than half of my wardrobe combined. I wish you would let me go to a discount shop.”

  It takes everything inside of me not to burst out laughing. She’s telling me this as though I didn’t already know that shit. And I’m not going to refuse the discount store again, we already yelled at one another in the car over it.

  “Kitten, pick out whatever you want. I’m starting to lose steam, so hurry it up. I won’t take you to a discount store. Get that shit out of your head,” I grunt.

  We’re on store number four, and I know she’s trying to bargain shop. Problem with that is, I don’t bargain shop.

  Sure, if something I like happens to be on sale
, then that works in my favor. I like nice things, and I buy what I like. I work way too hard to spend my off time searching for bargains.

  Brooklyn nods and goes back to the dressing room, her shoulders slightly slumped in defeat. She’ll get over it. My focus returns back to the picture of my old classmate.

  I replace the wife with an image of Brooklyn, round with my child. The panic I expect doesn’t materialize. Just as it never has when it comes to her. Nothing about her, or us, scares me. It all feels strangely natural.

  Once I stopped fighting things, once I accepted my own fucking feelings on what was happening between us, that is.

  We spend the rest of the afternoon shopping, and I can’t get the image of her pregnant with my baby out of my mind.

  I want that.

  I never thought that I wanted children. I see the worst of divorces and custody battles, so I never imagined even attempting marriage and children, but somehow all that vanishes when I think of Brooklyn.

  “I’m shopped out,” she admits with a sigh, breaking my inner thoughts. “It’s not fun shopping with you,” she states.

  I chuckle. “Well, good. I don’t plan on being your shopping buddy. Not very often, at least.” I grin as I guide her into an ice cream shop.

  It’s not lost on me that my Brooklyn likes her sweet desserts. Her eyes light up when she sees the place. It’s one of those FroYo shops where you fill your own cup, add your toppings, and then they weigh it and charge you by the ounce.

  I’ve personally never come into a place like this, but it screams kitten to me. She doesn’t even look back at me as she hurries toward the machines. Holding her bags near the counter, I wait for her to fill her cup.

  She’s busy at the topping counter when I feel a presence behind me, watching me. I look back, but there’s nobody there. It causes me to frown. Something is off and it’s time for us to head back to my place, I can feel it deep inside of me.

  Brooklyn appears at my side. I don’t hold back the low chuckle at the sight of her overflowing cup. She’s got chocolate frozen yogurt, topped with pretzel bites, chocolate chips, caramel sauce, and whipped cream.

  “Anything else on there you need, kitten? A cherry?” I ask.

  She gives me a narrowed eye and shrugs. “No cherry for me. Those things are inedible,” she murmurs.

  I pay the girl behind the counter and grab a spoon, shoving it in the side of her monstrosity of sugar before handing it to my woman. She quickly snatches it up before we head outside, continuing toward my car.

  “You have to eat all of that before you get in my car,” I grunt.

  She grins into her dessert before she responds, “Thank you, Lucas. You’re too good to me.”

  Her voice is soft and full of emotion. It isn’t a smart assed remark to match mine and I feel something wash over me. She’s truly thankful for me. That thought alone is foreign to me. It is literally nothing.

  Brooklyn is mine, and it’s my duty to take care of her. I may have been single for most of my life, but my parents instilled what it means to be a man in me from an early age.

  One of those things they instilled was that a man always takes care of what’s his. Financially, physically, and emotionally.

  I may be failing at some of the emotional shit, but I hope that I can more than make up for it with the other aspects.

  We don’t say anything else as we approach my car. She finishes her dessert and throws the cup in the trash as I load her bags in the vehicle.

  “Ready to head home?” I ask as I slip into the driver’s seat and buckle myself up.

  “Home,” she murmurs, her face tinting pink.

  I reach over and wrap my hand around her knee, giving her a squeeze. “Yeah, kitten. Home—our home.”

  “Still feels weird, but yeah, baby. I’m ready to head home,” she breathes.

  I grunt as I start my engine. “Whatever you need to do to make it feel like yours, do it.”

  “Whatever?”

  I grin toward the window. “As long as it’s not pink pillows.”

  She bursts out laughing, it sounds like goddamn music to my ears. It’s gorgeous.

  Driving home, I rub the center of my chest. I feel fucking full and content. I feel different than I ever have in my life, and I know that’s because of Brooklyn.

  Chapter Five

  BROOKLYN

  Lucas and I have slowly worked ourselves into a routine. We wake up together, go to work together and then come home—together. It’s like a fairy tale, one that I never want to end.

  I feel like I’m holding onto him for dear life. He’s there too, but his grip isn’t as tight.

  There’s something in the way that he watches me when he thinks that I’m not paying attention. He’s in this, he’s here with me, but he’s also still so guarded.

  I just keep my focus straight ahead, knowing that he will come around—hoping that those walls will crumble bit by bit until they’re nothing but rubble and dust.

  Today I have to shove all of my worries, and our relationship issues aside. Today is finally the day. This case is set to close, and I for one cannot wait. This isn’t my first time getting ready for court, but I feel like it is.

  I feel like a newborn fawn just trying to find my footing. I place my hand against my stomach, unsure of why I’m feeling so incredibly nervous today.

  So many aspects of this case have changed my life, not to mention the stalking. I hope against all hopes that it’s over with after today. I’m not sure my nerves can take much more.

  I’m wearing one of the new pencil skirt suits that Lucas bought for me, against my will. It’s navy-blue, and I pair it with a deep fuchsia, silk blouse beneath the jacket.

  My hair is in a chignon at the back of my neck and I’ve kept my makeup simple and light, adding a medium berry shade of color to my lips.

  Slipping my feet into my new navy high heels, I gaze at my reflection in the full-length mirror.

  “Ready, kitten?” Lucas asks.

  My stomach flutters like a million butterflies are nestled inside. This is the main reason I’m a ball of nerves. Lucas is going to be there, watching me, judging my performance.

  I press my lips together and turn my head toward him. He’s wearing a charcoal gray suit, the legs of the pants straight fitted and tailored to perfection. He’s also wearing a crisp, white shirt underneath the jacket, and a navy tie that matches my skirt suit.

  He has on gorgeous black shiny shoes, and his hair is styled so neatly that there isn’t a single piece out of place.

  He looks like a life-sized Ken doll.

  “I’m nervous,” I openly admit.

  Lucas steps up behind me, pressing his chest against my back and wrapping his hand around my waist. “Absolutely nothing to be worried about, kitten. You’ve prepared perfectly for this case. You’ve spent hours researching, investigating, and writing recommendations. You’ve done everything you can to protect that child.”

  He lowers his head and places his lips at the side of my neck. I shiver in his arms, tilting my head to the side, moaning at the feel of his mouth on me. It doesn’t matter that just an hour ago he was inside of me, his naked body pressed against mine, I want him again.

  “Now, when this is all over with, we’ll go out to a nice dinner and celebrate this goddamn case from hell being done and finished,” he rasps against my skin.

  His breath skims my neck with each word that he says, and I find myself having to press my thighs together.

  “Dinner and margaritas.”

  He chuckles, brushing his lips against mine before he straightens, his green eyes dancing as they search my face.

  “Dinner and margaritas,” he agrees.

  I feel better after his pep talk, but I’m still nervous about seeing Curtis Dunning, especially after the confrontation in my work parking lot. I’m still convinced it was him who burnt my poor little condo to the ground.

  The thing that bothers me is that nothing else has happened, nothing
has escalated. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, to see what will befall me next, but everything has been eerily quiet. There have been no more flowers, no notes, and no more phone calls.

  I can’t focus on anything, except the case and the court hearing, as Lucas drives us toward my office building. Lucas stays silent as well, though I’m sure he does it to give me some peace and quiet to mentally freak out. He’s used to going to court. He does it so often that it’s probably just another day to him.

  Me? I’m completely terrified.

  When he pulls to the curb in front of my building, he reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of my neck.

  “Lucas,” I whisper.

  “You’re going to be fucking perfect today, Brooklyn. When it’s all over, I’ll be right here at six to pick up your sexy ass. We’re going to celebrate with dinner and margaritas. Then, we’ll go home and celebrate a completely different way,” he smirks before he brushes his lips against mine, careful not to smear my lipstick.

  “I can’t wait,” I sigh.

  “Hurry inside, kitten, before I fuck you right here,” he warns, his voice suddenly gruff.

  I don’t hold back my laugh as I open my door and slip out of the car. I turn around, waving my fingers at him before I make my way inside of the building. Kay is standing at the entrance, lifting a brow at me. Obviously, she’s been oblivious to the fact that he’s been dropping me off and picking me up every day the past couple of weeks.

  “We’re living together,” I announce.

  Kay’s eyes widen in surprise and her mouth hangs open slightly. “Are you sure you want to do something like that with him? With Lucas Black?” she hisses.

  I know she’s trying to take care of me. Lucas has a reputation, and I’m sure that’s what she’s basing her conclusions on. But she doesn’t know my Lucas.

  At the risk of sounding like a cliché, he’s not Esquire Asshole when we’re alone. He’s not soft and sweet, but he’s still mine, and he’s different when it’s just us.

  The way his green eyes darken when he looks at me, it’s as though he sees something special inside of me—something that maybe even I don’t see about myself.