Fifty Days

by Taylor Shade

  Whatever.

  This little turd Matthew Hamilton is now walking around the silent room with his arms folded. God, really, who does he think he is? He’s short. His fluffy blond hair needs a serious trim. And his shirt and tie hang off him like he’s a stick figure.

  The opposite of the steely man-monster who dominated me for an hour in the back of a limo.

  Oh, God, what is wrong with me?

  Seriously.

  I’m not here to have sex with Drake Concord.

  Suddenly I remember the real reason I’m here. Yes, I’m a paralegal. Yes, I’m here to work on the Dawson briefs.

  But I’m also working for that guy Ronson.

  I just couldn’t say no to the money. All he wants is a file named Meridian. If I find it, he’ll pay me two thousand in cash for a photocopy.

  He showed me his Homeland Security ID and assured me it’s in the interest of national defense. Otherwise, I wouldn’t do it.

  But how do I know his ID was legit? Maybe he’s just digging up dirt and using me.

  No, it looked real. Besides, I could really use the two thousand dollars. Plus, I won’t get caught. Nobody ever suspects me of anything. My friend Natasha calls it an “aura of sweetness and innocence.”

  If only Natasha could have seen me with Drake Concord’s cock in my mouth.

  My God, who am I?

  This is not what I do.

  How did this happen?

  As reality sinks in, the world gets blurry. My head pounds.

  How did I let him do that to me?

  How did I put up almost no resistance?

  What was it?

  Well, maybe it was the fact that I haven’t had sex since breaking up with Brad.

  But no, it was more than that! I’ve never had sex like that before.

  With any man. Not ever.

  With Brad... even with Tim and Josh... sex was good. But just good.

  This was the first time I had a sexual encounter with a MAN.

  A real man.

  I’m still shaking thinking about it.

  “Well?” says Hamilton.

  “Huh?” I say. “Oh, I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  Apparently he had asked me a question. I knew he was speaking. Words were coming out of his mouth. I just wasn’t listening.

  Hamilton makes a sound that’s halfway between a snort and a squeal, then he folds his arms again and looks at the floor, shaking his head.

  “You know,” he says, “I don’t know why I do this anymore... why I put up with this. All I ask for is a little respect. That’s all I ask for. Miss Kenner, I seriously think we need to re-evaluate what you’re doing here. Because this is the second time today you’ve disappointed me.”

  Disappointed? What does he mean by that? Does he know? Can he know? Does he suspect?

  I look around. All the other girls are staring at me. One is shaking her head. Bitch.

  Why is he picking on me?

  “Mr. Hamilton,” I say, “I’m so sorry. I think I just ate too fast at lunch. I felt queasy there for a second. It won’t happen again. My sincere apologies.”

  He shrugs, makes another one of those snort-squeals, and then walks back to the mobile whiteboard he set up in the front of the room.

  “Let’s move on,” he says as he draws several columns. “Now let’s talk about Discovery. There are some basics I think you should consider as you go through the Dawson briefs. First, Discovery is the soul of law. It is the firm foundation of every case on which we work. It is the cornerstone of truth, the chariot that rides our case over the finish line.”

  I yawn and scratch my head, glancing at my watch. 1:02. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

  “Let me ask you a question,” he says. “What is the law? Can anyone answer this question?”

  “A huge fucking waste of time,” says a gravelly voice I’ve come to know.

  We all turn around and glance up at its source.

  A pulse pounds through my body as my eyes meet Drake Concord’s. Damn it, I just chastised myself for falling under his spell and here he is again.

  He smirks at me, that goddamned, cocky, I’m-the-best-you’ll-ever-know look sending my heart racing.

  My sexual encounter with him ended less than fifteen minutes ago, and he has me in heat again from across a crowded room.

  He turns his attention to Matthew Hamilton. As he does so, his look changes to irritation.

  “Matthew, what are you doing?”

  His voice is so deep and powerful it cuts right through the air of the room.

  “I’m going over the Discovery process for the Dawson case. Now get out of here and leave us alone.”

  “You’re not fooling anybody, Matthew.”

  “Huh?”

  “What you’re really doing is feeding your ego. You see, ladies, my partner here is trying to... what’s the right word?... compensate... for certain inadequacies. So he insists on wasting everybody’s time by giving his own version of Law 101.”

  There is a low giggle in the room. Hamilton blushes.

  “Drake, what I’m talking about is very important. I know you think you’re God’s gift to the world, but what I want to instill here is important.”

  Drake Concord folds his arms, closes his eyes, and laughs. Strength and power radiates from him even in a resting position.

  “Show of hands,” Drake says. “Who here has an undergraduate law degree?”

  Every hand in the room goes up.

  “Who here is in law school right now?”

  Five hands go up. Shit, I wish I were one of them. Why am I not one of them?

  Drake Concord’s steely stare finds me. An eyebrow raises.

  He knows he’s making me wet, doesn’t he?

  “Matthew, every person in this room is trained in basic law. All you needed to do was describe the three things they need to look for in the Dawson briefs. These smart and lovely ladies arrived here at eight-thirty. They should have started by eight-thirty-five. It is now one-oh-five in the afternoon. We’re not paying the temp agency to provide students for your own private classroom. We need briefs proofed and that’s it. You have five minutes, Matthew, to go over what to look for in the Dawson briefs, and then I want to see you in my office.”

  “Drake–,” says Matthew.

  “My office! Five minutes.”

  With that, Drake has left the room, his aura of authority leaving a vacuum behind it.

  Every girl in the room breathes a sigh. Again, the air is thick with the smell of arousal. Several of us look at each other and communicate silently. The message is clear:

  Wow.

  One look at Matthew Hamilton is enough to stem the flow, snapping us back to reality.

  The short man seethes, hands on his little hips, beady eyes squinting, gritting his teeth. A tiny little gob of spittle has formed at the corner of his mouth.

  With a sneer, he spins around and wipes the whiteboard clean.

  “The Dawson briefs,” he says. “Here’s what to look for.”

  NINE

  Drake

  I fucking hate that little nebbish Matthew. The only reason I keep him around is his billables. They’re through the roof. He is goddamned smart, which frustrates me because I want to wring his neck most of the time... especially when he gets on his high horse and starts bullshit like this.

  Back in my office, all I can think about is that delicious meal of pussy.

  I take out her ripped panties and press them into my face.

  God, she is succulent! I could eat her all day, all night, maybe all year.

  Something about it. Don’t know what it is. God knows I get enough pussy, but this one was perfect.

  A beautiful little mound, neatly trimmed with a tough little patch right above her pretty, little, round nub.

  I have a trial beginning on Thursday so I know I should be writing notes. I fire up my laptop and focus on my work.

  Every once in a while, I lick my upper lip with the tip
of my tongue. It’s still there... the pungent, acidic taste of horny girl.

  Not just any horny girl, either.

  Sloane Kenner.

  God, what a sexy name.

  I have to taste that pussy again today... ravage it with my tongue... devour her fragrant essence.

  At two-forty three, two minutes before the time I know the temps take a fifteen-minute break, I get up from my desk.

  Instead of using the elevator, I duck into a back stairwell and dash up the six floors to fifty.

  I emerge into the back of the law library, behind the rows of stacks.

  If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s moving silently... a skill I learned in V-14, among many others.

  Through the stacks, I catch a glimpse of the room. Each girl has a huge pile of papers in front of her, highlighting pages.

  It’s a fine group, I’ll admit.

  But there’s my baby. Yes, there’s my girl... sitting at the end of the second table to the left. Even as she highlights lines on legal briefs, she exudes a lethal sexuality that is part innocence, part dirty whore.

  Her blonde hair falls in long curls halfway down her back. Her dainty neck is just visible from my angle, strong, thick jutting lips that I want to suck into my mouth. Lips that have already been around my cock.

  Speak of the devil, he twitches and rises just at the very sight of her.

  Goddamn, she’s something else. I get a flash of her handcuffed and blindfolded, on her knees on my carpet in my penthouse apartment... her glistening pussy dribbling its welcome to me... her puckery, little asshole winking up at me.

  I shake my head, putting the image aside... promising myself to make it happen.

  I look at my watch. Two-forty-five exactly.

  “Fifteen minute break,” says Glen, the associate on duty.

  The girls begin to get up. Quickly, I race three rows down to the stack closest to her seat on the end.

  If I get my timing exactly right, this should work. I smile to myself. I always get my timing right. That’s why I returned alive from every mission.

  She slings her bag over her shoulder, about to follow the other girls out. All their backs are to me.

  I pounce.

  I reach out from the stacks, grabbing her waist with my left hand and placing my right hand over her mouth so she doesn’t scream.

  Then I yank her into one of the narrow spaces between the stacks of books, silently and stealthily.

  She’s trying to scream but my hand forces her mouth shut. I spin her so she’s up against a stack, my eyes looking directly into her.

  Her body relaxes when she sees it’s me.

  “Shhhhhh,” I mouth as I take my hand away from her mouth.

  Her breathing is heavy, her eyes wide. I kiss her with passion while I slide my hands down the sides of her legs, hike her skirt up, and my fingers find her moist tunnel.

  TEN

  Sloane

  Goddamn, this man is amazing. As my afternoon droned on, an endless series of the dullest briefs I’ve ever worked on piling up, all I could think of was that cock.

  That glorious cock, ejaculating its sweet goodness all over me. Oh, God, I want to experience that again. I want him to immerse himself in me. I want to be penetrated by that rock-hard beast.

  I’m glad I didn’t have any coffee at lunch. I don’t need it. I’m fired up on all cylinders, reading faster than I ever remember reading.

  It’s almost like I’m trying to get to five o’clock as soon as possible.

  Because I have to get out of here. I’m out of control.

  I don’t like being out of control... even while something inside me yearns to be out of control.

  Fuck, I’m a conflicted mess.

  One thing for sure... I’ve got to get out of this building. Drake Concord is dangerous. If he’s anywhere around, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to resist him.

  And I need to resist him!

  If I don’t, then I’ve lost my identity. This is not me. I do not have sex with random men.

  But there’s nothing random about this man. When God formed him from lava and steel, it was on purpose... a striking, forceful purpose. This is no mere mortal.

  “Fifteen minute break,” says the boy associate whose name I keep forgetting. Looks too young to be an attorney. He’s smiled nervously at me a couple of times. Normally, I’d find that charming and sweet.

  But today, I’m a disheveled heap of jelly, unable to recognize the existence of any male except for that feral wonder that I so want inside me.

  I get up, sling my bag over my shoulder, and am about to follow the other girls out of the room.

  In an instant, I’m grabbed, yanked, and spun around. I try to scream, but can’t because there’s a hand over my mouth. Then he’s staring into my eyes. Don’t know how it happened. It’s like I was ripped out of reality.

  Is this real? I ask myself as his blue laser-like irises again present themselves to my soul, an inch away from my face.

  “Shhhhhh,” he mouths and I nod.

  Damn it, I was going to escape. Wasn’t I? That was the plan... to get to five o’ clock and then get out of here.

  But he kisses me... and I surrender so happily. Part of me wanted him to seek me out again, to find me, to rip me away from dull reality... to be here, where I am now, in this private universe of ours that seems to exist outside regular time and space.

  I’m pretty sure we’re standing in one of the stacks in the law library, but I don’t care where we are. His tongue is in my mouth, my skirt is around my waist, and his hand is moving onto my tormented pussy.

  Where it belongs.

  He pulls back about an inch from my face again, stroking my folds while shooting that goddamned smirk at me.

  My hands find his back and squeeze. God, there are tight muscles back there! They move up to his shoulders, powerful with multiple ridges under his crisp expensive dress shirt.

  He slides a finger up inside me. I gasp.

  He leans his hard square chin to my ear and whispers. “Mmmmm, somebody has been thinking about me. This is a very, very, wet pussy.”

  “Uh-huh,” I say, my fingers flowing through my hair as his lips move down to my neck. His tongue darts out and presses as a second finger finds its way into me.

  Pulsing waves of pleasure crash through my body as his digits curl up and rub against my spot. He slowly strokes back and forth, driving me wild.

  His teeth nick my collar bone, then he makes one fast swoosh of a lick all the way back up to my ear.

  “You’re mine,” he growls. “Your pussy is mine. I control it. It is my toy. It cannot come without my command.”

  He strokes faster, spreading his two fingers wider, stretching my walls, making me feel the penetration. My breathing is coming in shallow pants now, a new sheen of sweat breaking out all over me.

  “I was at my desk,” he says, “but all I could think about was this sweet cunt. How much I wanted to lap it up again.”

  With that, he withdraws his fingers and his face is again down between my legs. His tongue dives into me.

  I’m about to scream but his right hand cups my mouth.

  “Shhhhhh,” he says as his face is back at my ear, the heady scent of my girl musk on his fingers over my lips.

  I nod.

  Then he’s back down there, licking and probing and lapping.

  God, so good. This man is a true “pussy whisperer.” I’ve never had oral this good. I don’t even know what he’s doing. All I know is, it’s the most amazing steady pulse of pleasure I’ve ever known.

  Then he slides a finger back in. Then two. Then starts that curling, stroking, stretching... while continuing to work his tongue.

  My fingers find the holes in the cold steel girders that hold up the stack of books upon which I’m pressed. They grip hard as I feel an orgasm build.

  God, I can’t scream. Everybody went to their break, but there might be somebody up here doing research.

 
; Will I be able to not scream?

  I grunt as his fingers move faster over my spot while he sucks the head of my clit between his lips.

  Completely in command of the situation, as always, his left hand moves up and cups my mouth.

  Good. That’s good.

  My knees wobble as he dials me up like a dimmer switch on high. In one day, he has mastered my body. Like he’s known me for a thousand years... what I like, how I respond.

  My orgasm builds, nearing the firing point. It usually takes a lot more to get me here, but five minutes into this fifteen-minute break and I’m ready to blow... the constant alternating forces of his fingers and his tongue moving in a swirling pattern of decadent ecstasy.

  “Remember,” he says, “you don’t come until I tell you to.”

  Oh, God, that may not be possible!

  He continues his relentless swirling, sending me right to the edge. I’m in near-hyperventilation as I try not to come.

  But then I realize, it’s no use. I let go.

  And I’m surprised.

  Because I don’t come. I just stay there, right on the edge of the orgasm cliff.

  Oh my God, maybe his voice really has taken control of my responses!

  I let go of trying to do anything, allowing my body to do what it wants.

  Fuck!

  He’s just keeping me there.

  I have to blow! The tension is too much!

  I growl under his clenched hand, pressing my mouth shut. My white-knuckled fingers grip the hard metal of the racks so hard that it might be cutting into me.

  I can’t tell. Nor do I care.

  All I know is I’m near exploding. Something is going to burst soon. I may just die here.

  I’m screaming into his hand now, his tongue and fingers down below increasing the pressure and speed to ridiculous levels.

  And yet I don’t come.

  He hasn’t commanded me to yet.

  Oh, God! Please! Command me to come!

  I can’t take much more of this!

  I look down at him. He’s got that devilish smirk on his face again, gazing directly up at me. His eyes are full of challenge, knowing that he has me almost completely at the edge of a nuclear detonation.

  I scream into his hand again, my eyes as wide as they can go. I’ve never ridden the edge for this long with so much intensity. I think I’m about to have a heart attack.