by Kelly, Hazel
My breath hitches in my throat as he circles my opening, his wet tongue sliding in my silk and dipping in for a taste. My eyes roll back when he scoops me out, and I feel a million miles away, like I’m in some parallel universe where I’m nothing but this man’s plaything, and I’m loving every minute of it.
He wraps his palms around my thighs and gorges himself on me like a teenage boy who’s just read a blog about how to eat pussy, except this guy’s no amateur. He knows my body better than I do, and the waves of warmth he makes ripple through my bowed body.
I’m panting before he even fingers me, but the way he does it isn’t what I’m expecting. It’s less like he’s pleasuring me and more like he’s trying to make sure I’m ready for him, stretching his fingers deep inside me, making sure my insides are slick and warm.
I know I’m right when I hear a condom wrapper a second later.
He rises onto his knees and rolls the ball towards him just enough that he can spear me.
My eyelids flicker as he sinks inside, and he feels as big as I remember, so big I’m surprised he doesn’t tear straight through the delicate flesh of my stretched stomach.
He grabs my breasts once he’s buried inside me, groping me as he rolls me near and far, sliding me up and down his swollen cock.
Even though he only has two hands, they feel like they’re all over me at once, and I swear he’s filling me again more than I thought he could. And his taste is in my mouth, too, so there’s nowhere that he isn’t. And as he bounces me against the base of his shaft, it hurts so good I’m like a lightheaded rag doll.
He picks up the pace and pinches my nipples hard enough to jolt me from my daze. “Yeah,” I moan. “Don’t stop.”
Right when I think it can’t feel any better, he takes a hand from my chest and starts rubbing my clit, sending shooting streaks of heat through my burning center. “I’m going to come,” I whimper, wishing I could call his name.
He peels me off the ball and stands up, staying inside me.
I throw my arms around his neck as the blood rushes back to my head.
A moment later, he sits on the ball and leans back on the weight bench, propping himself up on his elbows. “Fuck me,” he says, like he wants it as bad as I do.
My feet find the floor beneath me as I brace myself against his chest and push myself up.
“Bounce,” he says, bucking his hips.
He hits me so deep I cough at the shock of it.
“Bounce,” he says, bucking his hips up again and finding my swollen clit with his upturned hand.
I squat gently at first, afraid I’ll hurt myself because of how bouncy the ball is, but the stabbing pleasure I feel in my core is delicious enough that I do it again and again. And soon I’m bouncing so fast my whole body feels like liquid energy, and I know I’m close.
I lean forward and crush my clit between us just as he pulls one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking me hard as the pleasure overwhelms me.
And then I come like a crashing wave, shaking as I pour all over him.
He leans up and rolls forward, laying me down on the mat without slipping out of me.
My mind is racing with all these things I can’t say—all these things I wish I wasn’t thinking. Like that he’s the best I’ve ever had. And the fact that I want to see him again. Maybe tomorrow?
He rolls to the side, slipping out of me too soon, and props himself up on his elbow.
I roll my face towards him. “I’m glad we did this.”
He laughs.
I look at his lips. I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone so bad. It feels like it’s the only thing missing. “Can I kiss you?” I ask, rolling onto my side.
He shakes his head. “I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“Are you saying kissing is business?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“But kissing can be pleasurable, too.”
“So can dating,” he says. “But that’s not what I came here for.”
“Right.”
“Please don’t be offended,” he says. “It’s not personal.”
“Because there’s no kissing.”
“Exactly.”
“And that’s how you want it?” I ask.
“That’s how I want it.”
“At least show me your face,” I say.
“Not a chance.”
“Even for a second?”
He sits up and reaches for his clothes.
“Are you afraid I’ll find you grotesque or something?”
“No,” he says.
“Then what is it?” I ask, sitting up.
“I’m afraid you’ll find me handsome beyond your wildest dreams.”
I laugh. “Oh, well, by all means protect me from that.”
“I intend to.”
I watch him begin to dress and eventually put my own clothes back on, too, though there’s no question that I much prefer to be naked in his company.
“At least give me something I can call you?” I ask as he opens the door and light floods in the room.
He sighs.
“Please,” I say, laying a hand on his chest. “So I have a name to say when I’m touching myself and thinking of you.”
He fixes his eyes on me and leans so close I can smell my sweetness on his breath. “Call me Mr. O.”
F I V E
I push my chair back and stand tall, spreading my limbs like a starfish in an attempt to clear my head and get in a powerful frame of mind before my first meeting with the opposing council.
Yes, it’s a little silly, but I find it helps me feel strong before important social and work engagements, and there’s nothing I won’t do to win this case. Of course, it only takes a few seconds before it feels excessive, so I finish my deep breath and lower my arms.
There’s a knock at the door a moment later.
“Come in,” I say, stacking the papers I want to have at hand.
Rebecca comes in looking paler than usual.
“Hi,” I say, feeling bad for her. Being taken seriously is hard enough around here without looking like you’re trying to smuggle a watermelon under your shirt.
“I just came by to wish you luck and make sure you don’t have any last-minute questions about the case,” she says, forcing a smile.
I know what this case meant to her, so it’s nice that she’s genuinely rooting for me. “I think I’m okay for this initial meeting,” I say, lining up the papers against the desk before slipping them into my briefcase. “My plan is to keep my cards close to my chest and figure out how close they are to settling.”
“They’re not,” she says. “But I suppose you have to start somewhere.”
“I did email you a few minutes ago,” I say, ignoring her pessimism. “About two of the witnesses.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“I just wanted to get your opinion on a few of their statements since you were actually there in person and understand the context in which they were said.”
“Sure.”
“But there’s no rush,” I say, walking around my desk. “Right now I just want to make sure I’m on time for this meeting.”
“Of course,” she says, taking the hint. “I’ll take a look at your questions before lunch.”
“Great,” I say, expecting her to lead the way out of my office. But she doesn’t. She just stands there. “Is there something else you wanted to say?”
“There is.”
“I’m listening,” I say, stopping short of telling her to spit it out already since a similar statement made her cry only last week.
“I wanted to warn you about the defense.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“The lawyer they’ve hired from Wayne Morgan is—”
“What?”
“Ridiculously handsome.”
I sigh. “Seriously, Rebecca. I don’t have time for this.”
She puts her hand on the doorknob before I can. “I wouldn’t mentio
n it if I didn’t think a warning was necessary.”
I roll my eyes. This is a professional situation, not a high school locker room.
“And I’m not just saying that because I’m hornier than I’ve ever been.”
I laugh, surprised at the unexpected girls’ moment we’re suddenly having. “Fair enough. I appreciate that.”
“I just don’t want you to drool on yourself or something and spend the next few weeks trying to redeem yourself.”
“I appreciate that,” I say. “Though most of the lawyers I’ve met make me want to throw up in my mouth, not drool.”
“Not this one,” she says. “He’s like…liquid sex.”
“I don’t know what that means, Rebecca.”
“I’ve found that pinching myself really hard under the table helps.”
“Jesus,” I say. “Are you done?”
She nods.
“Great.”
“Maybe you’ll disagree, and I’ll feel like a fool for mentioning it.”
“Let’s hope,” I say, brushing her hand off the doorknob and leading the way out.
“Good luck,” she says as I make my way down the hallway.
I turn over my shoulder and give her a professional nod, casting her inappropriate warnings from my mind. “I won’t let you down.”
I make a quick pit stop at the water cooler to wet my tongue—and hopefully catch a glimpse of the opposition before we meet face to face in the conference room down the hall.
Sure enough, I see Mr. Forsythe pass by the doorway, running his mouth at a tall man in a petrol-blue suit. I’ve only caught a glimpse of him, but something about the way his suit fits makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
No bother. I’m probably just letting Rebecca’s words psyche me out. Maybe she is trying to sabotage me after all.
I smooth my skirt down and head to the conference room. The men are getting settled at the long table as I come in, and I maintain an air of hurried annoyance that I find powerful people warm to quite well.
But when I set my briefcase next to my chair, something in the air shifts. I raise my eyes to the suit across the table.
The defense attorney’s eyes are fixed on me as he stands and extends his hand. “Owen Morgan,” he says.
His voice makes me want to run from the room. And then I notice his lips, and the way one side of his mouth curls up as he stares at me. “Nice to meet you.”
I look down at his hand like handshakes are a formality I’ve never heard of before, and I’m sure I recognize his fingers, his knuckles, his nailbeds. Fuck. I take his hand and hope I’m not blushing. “Cassandra Harrington. The pleasure’s all mine,” I say, regretting it as soon as the words have slipped out. I hope he won’t read into it, but I can tell by the way his lips twitch that he’s amused.
I pull my hand from his and shake his client’s boney hand, feeling ashamed of how much I preferred Owen’s as I take a seat.
“I trust Rebecca’s gotten you up to speed,” Owen says, his broad shoulders extending past his conference chair.
“Pardon?” I ask, trying to control my breathing.
“On the case?” he asks.
“Yes, of course,” I say, wondering how I’m going to explain to my boss that I can’t take this case because the defense has seen me naked. Of course, even if he hadn’t, Rebecca was right to warn me. He is handsome beyond my wildest dreams, and the beauty of his jaw is nearly rivaled by his wide cheekbones and his dark brows. To make matters worse, I can see his eyes better now, and while they’re just as black as they looked at the house, they’re even sharper in the daylight.
“So you know we think you have no case and that we have no intention of meeting any of your demands?”
I clench my jaw.
“And that despite the ever-growing number of clients you have on your side,” he says, “we both know they can’t afford to pay your fees forever.”
“What are you suggesting?” I ask.
“Ten thousand apiece to walk away.”
I think about the families who’ve been affected by the unsafe working conditions in Mr. Forsythe’s main factory. “Is that a joke?”
Owen and his client shake their heads. “We believe it’s more than fair—and more than necessary.”
I press my lips together.
“It’s more than any of them will get if we go to court as well, especially after they’ve paid for your representation.”
I lean back in my chair. “Well, Owen…” I let his name roll around in my mouth on the off chance that my voice has any hold on him the way his does on me. “I appreciate your bold bluff, but we both know that’s exactly what it is.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“My clients absolutely have a case, a case whose publicity alone is enough to soil Mr. Forsythe’s good name,” I say, folding my hands in my lap. “And as we all know, reputation is everything in business, especially when your company is charging higher trading prices than your closest competitor.”
The defendant shifts in his seat.
“Correct me if I’m mistaken, Mr. Forsythe, but hasn’t Dunnellon Enterprises been closing the gap between your businesses every quarter for the last two years?”
“What are you saying?” Owen asks, laying an arm on the table in front of his client.
“I’m saying you have no choice but to settle—and to settle big, not only because that’s the least my clients deserve, but because it’s going to take a lot of your dirty money to clear the conscience of your average customer.”
Owen looks slightly pissed, and I feel a smug warmth spread through my chest.
He turns so his client can whisper something to him, and my eyes fall to his neck and then his tie. Soon I’m thinking about where his tie is pointing, and I have to pinch myself so the train of thought doesn’t get away from me.
“It seems my client is prepared to negotiate—or at least hear your revised terms,” Owen says a moment later, clasping his all too familiar hands on the table. “Assuming they’re significantly less ridiculous than the most recent proposal your colleague put forth.”
I save my smile for later. “Excellent.”
They both stand at the same time. “I’ll give you some time to see what your clients are willing to accept,” Owen says. “And I’ll be in touch to schedule something.”
“Great,” I say, standing and pushing my chair in.
After that, Mr. Forsythe leaves without a word, but Owen looks at me one last time from the door, his gaze dropping to the floor and climbing up my body like his hands do in my dreams. “I should’ve known you were a fucking lawyer.”
S I X
I wanted to meet him in an office to discuss the case, in a setting that might help me stay focused, but Owen wouldn’t agree to it.
He said if I wanted to talk before the end of the week, it had to be lunch on Friday at a little café halfway between our offices. I gave in eventually, deciding it was vital that I pick my battles. Plus, his voice over the phone was making me feel weak in all my most unprofessional places, so I decided ending the call as soon as possible was my top priority.
Besides, I’ve had lots of successful lunch meetings in the past. Surely I can have one with him... And worst case, there’s always pinching myself till I bruise.
I see him as soon as he walks in, but I pretend to be absorbed in my phone. After all, he might think it’s okay to check me out while we’re on the clock, but I am not about to sink to his level.
“Hello, Cassandra,” he says, pulling out the chair across from me and taking a seat.
“Hello,” I say, sliding my phone in my purse.
“Do you go by Cassandra all the time or…?”
“No,” I say. “My friends call me Cassie, but—”
“Cassie it is.”
I squint at him. “What makes you think we’re friends?”
He laughs, and the low sound makes my chest tighten. “I don’t think we’re friends,” he says. “Bu
t I’d say we’re more than formal acquaintances.”
“Perhaps.”
The waitress arrives, and I’m about to order first when Owen starts speaking. “I’ll have the beef, and Cassie will have the salmon.”
My eyes grow wide.
“And if there’s a fresh batch of apple crumble bars, we’ll share one of those for dessert,” he continues.
“And to drink?” the waitress asks, turning her back to me.
“A carafe of iced tea,” he says. “Sugar on the side, please.”
By the time she nods and disappears, I can feel steam coming out of my ears. “What the hell makes you think you should order for me?” I ask, wishing the menu was more than one page so I could slam it shut.
“I’ve tried everything on the menu,” he says. “Besides, since when do you not trust me?”
“That’s irrelevant. I wasn’t going to order the salmon.”
He furrows his brow. “What were you going to order?”
“The chicken BLT.”
He shakes his head. “Good thing I intervened. That would have been a mistake.”
I straighten up in my chair. “Look, you might be used to controlling…other situations, but the same rules do not apply here.”
He narrows his eyes at me.
“And I am not intimidated by you.”
“Is it because I have my clothes on?” he asks, his mouth curving into a smile. “Because I’d be happy to oblige you if—”
“Stop it,” I say, raising a hand between us. “You’re completely out of line.”
“Am I?” he asks. “Because I can’t quite tell. It’s hard to take you seriously when you were shaking in my arms a week ago.”
I stare at him, wishing I didn’t find him so attractive. “Please try and be professional.”
“You know what? You’re absolutely right,” he says, setting his scrunched napkin on the table. “And I think if we go fuck in the bathroom really quick, I’ll be able to pull it together.” He starts to stand.
“Sit down, Owen.”
He lowers himself into his seat again and leans back.
My heart is pounding.
“Have I mentioned how much I love the sound of my name in your mouth?”
