He knelt down on the limo floor and watched my middle finger swivel around. “God, Lynn, you’re so fucking wet.”
I brought my fingers to my lips and sucked my wetness off, the exact way he had at Quay. Haas’s eyes burned through me. “You keep doing that and I’m going to fuck you so hard in this limo that we won’t make it to the bedroom.”
I popped my finger out of my mouth and returned to rubbing small circles around my clit. “Are you just going to stare while I please myself, or are you going to help?”
Removing my hands, he brought his mouth to my clit, slowly sucking and licking each crevice as my hands ran through his soft-as-silk hair. My body arched into him, adding pressure to my core. With each lick between my lips, I climbed higher; I felt my core pulsing and aching for release. He pushed two fingers deep inside of me, rubbing against my G-spot, then positioned his mouth over my clit and sucked hard as he pumped his fingers. I cried out and came apart in his hands, losing my breath and my sense of feeling as I whimpered under his touch. I rode out the high, trembling as Haas lightly licked my clit until I was done. Taking his fingers out of me, he brought them to his mouth and licked each one as I blushed.
“Don’t be shy now, doll,” he said as he wiped the side of his mouth. “You’re the one who asked if I was going to help.”
I reached up and grabbed the sides of his face, pulling his mouth to mine and kissing my orgasm off his tongue. I felt him fixing the bulging erection in his pants. I reached down to assist him just as the limo stopped in a parking garage. He slowly pulled away, a devilish grin plastered on his face.
“We’re here, sweetness.”
Feeling a bit embarrassed by my vixen stunt, I pulled my dress down, climbed out of the car, and followed him to the elevator. When we entered he waved a white card near the button panel and hit a button while the doors closed behind us. He spun, pressing my body against the mirror as his lips lowered to my neck. With each floor we passed, my heart pounded harder and harder in my chest.
“I need you to know that I plan on fucking you seven ways from Sunday. I’ll have you begging me to stop. Your cunt won’t be able to take another orgasm.”
My body melted at his words, and fear and desire ran deep through me. When the cart stopped and the elevator door opened, Haas reached for my hand, pulling me into him. He placed a wet kiss on my lips as he walked backward into his home. I followed him into his foyer, totally captivated by his sexy, carefree smile.
He kissed the tip of my nose and stepped away. My heart stopped the second I realized where I was, and pain filled the pit of my stomach. It was the same house that I’d cleaned only a few hours earlier.
Peyton’s house. I was in Peyton’s house with Haas.
Fuck.
Braelynn
Stopping dead in my tracks, I pulled away from him. Without a word, I balled my fists at my side, turned on my heels, and headed back for the elevator. My heart raced in my chest and cold sweat formed on the back of my neck, but I was no longer intoxicated.
Nope, not even a little buzzed.
I was stone-cold sober.
I had practically fucked Haas, and now I was walking into his home. The same home he shared with Peyton.
Fuck! Fuck me. Fuck my life.
I pushed the elevator call button; I couldn’t get out of there quickly enough.
“Lynn, what’s wrong?” I heard him call from behind me, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I was mortified.
The elevator doors opened instantly, and I ran in and pressed the lobby button. Finally finding the courage to look at him, I said, “Haas, I can’t. I’m sorry.”
After the words came out of my mouth, I lost the courage to keep my eyes focused on him, and I bowed my head to the floor in shame. He was married and I’d been ready to beg him to fuck me all night long. My panties were still in his pocket, and my core still twitched from the orgasm he’d given me.
The doors closed in front of me and I fell, letting my knees hit the hard floor. I couldn’t believe Haas was Peyton’s husband.
Fucking great.
Saturday, I lurked around the house in my pajamas. After the night I’d had, I refused to leave the house, so I curled up on the couch with Chinese take-out and Talenti gelato. Kennedy strolled through the front door with a huge smile plastered on her face, not caring that it was one in the afternoon and she was just now doing the walk of shame.
“Hi,” I said. “How was your night?”
Stealing a piece of my sweet and sour chicken from the carton on the coffee table, she sat next to me on the couch. “Who cares?” she said, hugging the pillow. “I’ve been screwing Caleb forever. How was your night with Mr. … Mr. Toe Curler seems appropriate. How was he?” She slapped my thigh.
Kennedy and Caleb had been fuck buddies all through college. His family came from a long line of trust fund babies that owed their wealth to different industries, enterprises, and so on. Though it was clear as day he was interested in a more serious relationship, she always told him she didn’t want a boyfriend until she was thirty. Kennedy was convinced that your twenties were when you found yourself, worked your ass off, and partied hard. Though Caleb casually dated other women, he never said no to Kennedy when she called, no matter what time of day it was. Kennedy had entertained a casual date or two, but nothing ever stuck. I was convinced she was in love with Caleb, but afraid to admit it to herself.
“Nothing happened.” I took a big spoonful of gelato and shoved it into my mouth.
“Take out and ice cream? You only do this when you’re upset. Was he bad in bed? Was his pee-pee too teeny-weeny for Lynnie?” she asked, bringing her forefinger and thumb together.
I squinted from the brain freeze before I responded. “There is something seriously wrong with you. You know that, right? No, he wasn’t bad in bed. I never got that far.”
Taking the Talenti Banana Chocolate Swirl and my spoon out of my hand, she dug out a scoop and pushed it into her mouth. “Did you chicken out?” she mumbled.
I yanked my ice cream from her dirty Caleb hands. “No, I didn’t chicken out, okay? Stop with the twenty questions. He brought me back to his house, which ended up being my new client, Peyton’s, house.”
“Wait, what?”
I took a deep breath. “Haas, the guy from last night, brought me back to his house, which also happened to be the same house I was hired to clean by Peyton. Now stop touching my pity-party meal.”
“Fuck, Lynn. What did you do?”
I wasn’t ready to talk to her. I needed to sulk, so I shook my head in response. I brought the throw cover over my body and lay back on the couch.
“What an asshole,” Kennedy said, getting up from the couch and making her way to her bedroom. Our apartment had two bedrooms adjacent to one another with a bathroom in each room. Kennedy had the master bedroom since it was her grandmother’s place.
Placing my empty ice cream carton on the coffee table, I changed the channel on the television to something less depressing than the sappy Lifetime movies that had been playing all morning. Though I felt horrible about what had happened with Haas, I knew I had to face Peyton. I should have called and spoken with her directly, but I chickened out and texted instead.
Me: Hi, Peyton. Unfortunately, I will not be able to clean your house anymore. It is conflicting with my school schedule. I do apologize for the short notice. Thank you again.
Peyton: I understand. If your schedule clears up in the future, please let me know.
Me: Will do. Thanks.
I brought the covers over my head as I closed my eyes and prayed that I could erase Haas’s eyes from my memory, his touch from my skin, and the feeling of his tongue pressed between my thighs. With no such luck, I tossed and turned and imagined what it would have been like if I had stayed.
Sunday morning I woke up refreshed and in need of fresh air. I sent Gus a text message to meet me for brunch before I hopped in the shower.
Gus lived on the Upper West Si
de on West 88th and Columbus, and I lived on the other side of the park on the Upper East Side on 81st and Lexington, so Turtle Pond in Central Park was our usual meeting place. It was a chilly morning with temperatures dropping down close to freezing. I sat on a bench facing the pond as I waited for him to arrive.
I was wiping my pink nose with my tissue when I saw him approach. His silky black hair was hidden under his pompom winter hat, and he was wearing jeans with a navy blue military-style coat.
“Baby Brae,” he said, sitting next to me. With my smile wide on my face, I leaned my head into him, and he wrapped his arms around me as we took in the view of Turtle Pond. “You want to tell me about Friday?” he asked, kissing the top of my head.
I didn’t move from his comfortable arms. “Seriously, Kenn’s already dished?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “She was worried about you. She said you didn’t want to leave the house yesterday.”
Kennedy knew not to press the issue. She knew I would eventually tell her what else happened, and how I felt about it. She also knew that I wouldn’t avoid it with Gus because I could never hide anything from him.
“Ugh!” I threw my head back, yelling at the sky. “He was hot and yummy, and his kisses were electrifying. We fooled around in the limo, and I did things I never thought I would do. I was confident, Gus, something I haven’t been in years. Then he gave me the best orgasm anyone other than myself has ever given me. You know me. I don’t do the one-night stand thing, but God, did I want him.”
I closed my eyes and buried my face in his chest. “He brought me to his place and we walked into Peyton’s house—my new client. I’m so mad at myself. I should’ve known he was too good to be true.” With my face still pressed to his chest, I turned and kicked a rock on the ground, taking my frustration out on it.
“It’s not your fault. You know that, right?” he asked, squeezing me a little. I pulled away from him so I could meet his eyes and nodded. It wasn’t my fault, but it didn’t lessen the anguish I felt. He brought his lips to my forehead and rubbed my arm, reassuring me.
“Enough about that. Let’s go eat. I’m starving, and I also need some serious retail therapy. I start my internship next Monday and I don’t want to wait until next Sunday to do some shopping,” I said, standing up.
After brunch and hitting a few stores with Gustavo, the ordeal with Haas was no longer on my mind. I was organizing my new business chic clothes in my closet, along with some sexy lace undergarments I’d just purchased, when I realized I hadn’t called Loren yet to tell her about the internship. Loren’s phone rang twice before she picked up.
“Hi, sis,” she said, her voice reflecting how happy she was to hear from me. Though she was ten years older and more a mother figure than anything else, my sister was my world.
“So, guess who got the internship,” I said while hanging my royal blue blouse in my closet.
“Shut up!” she screamed into the phone. “I knew it. Congrats! I’m so proud of you …” Her voice broke.
“Lo?” I questioned. “You okay?”
She sniffled into the phone. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just so proud of you, and I know Mom and Dad would be too. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to get upset.”
“It’s okay. I know. I miss them too. How is school going?” I asked, changing the subject. Once I’d started my final semester of law school and had begun prepping for the bar exam, Loren decided it was time for her to go back to school. She was currently studying to be a physical therapist, but having been out of school for over sixteen years, it was kicking her ass.
“I’m getting used to the schedule. I have no idea how you did this on a full-time basis.” She laughed.
“Well, I had no choice. You and Jennifer wouldn’t have it any other way.” Though I had bitched all the time about them putting so much pressure on me to do well in school, I was thankful now.
“That’s true. Listen, I need to study for tomorrow’s class. I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“Okay. Love you, Lo.”
“Love you too. Congrats again, baby girl. I’m so proud of you.”
Braelynn
The first day of my internship, I was up at the crack of dawn. I couldn’t get any sleep the night before because I kept tossing and turning, fearful that I was going to oversleep. Since I was already awake, I decided to doll myself up and make a killer first impression on who I hoped would be my future colleagues.
After my makeup and hair were flawless, I dressed in my lace bra and panties before shimmying into a matching garter belt, sliding stockings up my legs, and attaching them to the suspender bands. The boost of sexiness under my charcoal gray pencil skirt would make me fearless on my first day. I tucked my blue silk blouse in and slid my feet into my pumps, checking myself in the mirror one last time. Feeling excited, I grabbed my suit jacket and tote-like briefcase and headed out.
I pulled the door open to the office and read the sign: Goldstein, Pierce & Wallis. I was nervous as I approached the receptionist and provided her with my information. She asked me to take a seat and told me someone would be out shortly. I sat, taking in the white leather chairs and the beautiful aquarium filled with colorful fish which ran along the wall behind the receptionist.
“Braelynn Wolf?”
“Yes.” I stood and walked over to the beautiful, milk chocolate-skinned woman with tight spiral Afro-like curls.
“Hi. I’m Victoria, Mr. Goldstein’s assistant. He asked me to show you to your office and brief you on the cases you’ll be assisting with.” Her pearl-white smile spread across her face and I nodded, anxious to get started.
I followed her to the back room until we reached a tiny cubicle. Computer, desk, chair, phone. Office? Maybe not, but I didn’t complain. She handed me a couple of files that I needed to review before lunch and gave me my login information for my email.
“If you need anything, I’m right down the hall. Mr. Goldstein had a last-minute change to his schedule, so you’ll have to join him at a deposition today during lunch. Make sure you’ve studied the cases in the files.” She turned on her heel and walked toward the long white hallway.
I put my stuff away and set up my email before I pulled the first file from the pile of manila folders. The first five seemed pretty simple and self-explanatory. I took a few notes so I could do some research when I got home.
The last file was thicker than the others. The tab on the folder read: Natasha Venturini v. Drew Seymour. I took my time memorizing every detail of this file.
Professor Goldstein, or Mr. Goldstein, as Victoria had called him, always insisted on having a detailed brief sheet. It was attached to the inner sleeve where anyone could read it and know what was current with the case. I skimmed through the note.
Mrs. Venturini is suing Mr. Seymour in a civil lawsuit for unfair and deceptive business practices and slander. Mr. Seymour is a mortgage broker at Allied Mortgage Associates. Mrs. Venturini had contracted Mr. Seymour as a mortgage broker for a purchase on a condominium in Bali. Mrs. Venturini claims that Mr. Seymour added additional funds to her loan application without her knowledge so that she would qualify to purchase a bigger property. Mrs. Venturini has lost her job as a financial advisor due to Mr. Seymour’s actions and is suing for lost income, treble damages, and attorney’s fees.
I looked at the note again.
Really? This is what someone wrote about the case? A professional?
There was no background on Venturini or Seymour, just a plain explanation of the case. Frustrated at the terrible excuse for a brief, I quickly searched through Google for Drew Seymour. With a few clicks I found his personal Facebook page. I searched his wall and found statuses, photos, and places he was tagged in. I also found a couple of group pictures at these locations, which featured him with various beautiful women on his arm. I made note of all the places and people mentioned before turning my attention to the file again.
In a deposition taken at PH Esquire, Natasha Venturini testified that she had no
idea Seymour had added funds to her application. Drew Seymour, on the other hand, testified that Venturini had provided the information to him. Now I had to find a way to prove his guilt.
Around noon, Professor Goldstein approached my desk. “Miss Wolf, how is everything going?”
I smiled at my professor, who had been a great help to me over the past few years of law school. “Great, Professor Goldstein. I’m really excited to be here and to help any way I can.”
“Good. We need a fresh pair of eyes, especially on the Venturini case. But please call me Howard when you’re here. I’m sorry that you have to follow me to a deposition on your first day.”
I grabbed my purse from the drawer, locked my computer, and joined Howard. “I’m happy to be a part of it. No need to apologize.”
We made our way down to the street where a town car was waiting. The ride over to PH Esquire was a short one as the office buildings were only a few blocks away from one another.
Howard held the elevator door for me as we entered the office. It screamed hotshot lawyer. Almost everything was white—the couches, the furniture, the walls. The abstract décor incorporated different shades of blues, grays, and reds. The legal associates’ offices were located along the wall, and each office was separated by floor-to-ceiling glass. There were no cubicles that I could see. The receptionist and waiting areas were joined together, with flat screens playing CNN and MSNBC on opposite walls.
“Good afternoon. He’s expecting us,” Howard said to the beautiful brunette receptionist.
“Yes, he is. The conference room is at the end of this hallway. He will be with you shortly.”
Howard and I took the long walk down the hallway, and I couldn’t help the butterflies I felt in my stomach. This was the first real case I’d be hands-on with. We walked into the massive conference room. The back wall that faced Central Park was glass from floor to ceiling, and Manhattan was only thirty stories below. I took a seat next to Howard, my back facing the door so we looked out at the skyline.
Consensual Page 3
