Reaching For Emeralds

by Lacee Hightower

  “I care for you, Layla. A great deal.” After a long minute of hesitation, I lifted the squid whip. “On the bed. Arms out to your sides.” I leaned over as she obeyed me, running my palm across her delicate butt cheeks and lowering it through the tight crease, gently rimming the edge of her puckered hole. “One day, I’ll take this, too,” I uttered, feeling her tense up as the very tip of my finger inched inside.

  Watching her scramble made my cock even heavier with need, the tension ricocheting from her body only intensifying how much I wanted her. I gently kissed both sides of her beautiful rounded ass. “No moving or I’ll tie you up.”

  Another nod, her eyes sealed shut when I lowered the beaded whip to the right side of her butt cheek. She only whimpered, her eyes instantly opening back up while her body remained still. I smacked the same side again using just a little more force, but not to the point of true pain.

  “Umm … Ow,” she cried, licking her lips as her eyes locked on mine, smoldering with sweet emerald-colored lust.

  “Good girl, sweetheart.”

  She whimpered a sigh in her sexy, voluptuous voice.

  I raised my wrist, bringing another blow against her stinging flesh, my fingers tight around the base. She quivered, taking small short breaths and nervously licking her lips as she hoisted her hips upward.

  Jesus, was she asking for more? I rubbed her delicate skin knowing her ass had to be on fire, easing her back down before popping her for the last time. Her skin was a beautiful bright pink. Just perfect. So damn beautiful. And she’d had enough. I dropped the whip, inhaling her female scent that was rich and sweet.

  Everything about her was fucking hot. She drove me absolutely crazy.

  “Now, I fuck you, Layla,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Fast and hard. Until you’re limp with fatigue.”

  I smoothed a hand over the pink skin of her ass, running my fingers through the folds of her wet sex and turned her over, widening her thighs. I lowered into her gently giving her time to accommodate to the burn on her ass.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered against her ear.

  “Perfectly,” she answered softly.

  I hardened my grip on each side of her hips, easing all the way out and pushing right back in, bumping hard against the edge of her cervix. She cried out, trembling. I stopped, not knowing if I’d hurt her or if she liked the sensation.

  “Hurt? Or the opposite?”

  What the fuck? I don’t ask if they’re okay.

  “That just felt … different.”

  I slid out and right back in, deep, hard, with every bit of power I had.

  She buried her fingers deep into the skin of my ass as I took her hard, just like the first time. My hands firmly gripping her hips, I shifted upward, careful to brush her clit with each thrust, my body strength moving her further against the headboard with every push.

  Her muscles were tightening. I quickened my rhythm as she met me one on one. Surrendering. Submitting, Giving me the control I desperately needed.

  In what I hoped to be the best orgasm of her life, I felt the strange sensation of … her finger slipping into my ass.

  Holy fucking hell!

  That was one thing I’d never experimented with. Seconds from losing my damn mind, the feeling was amazing. As much as I was beginning to think I had this girl figured out, she did something over the top to blow my mind even more.

  “Layla… Jesus.”

  I slammed inside her, pulverizing her mouth with mine as I buried myself inside her balls deep, the length of her finger sliding in and out of me, driving me fucking insane. I was so turned on and hard, I hoped I didn’t hurt her as I thrust inside her brutally again and again, listening to her small whimpers grow each time I brushed against her G-spot.

  Completely oblivious to how this started an hour ago, the point I was adamant to get across was gone. I was uttering her name over and over, disoriented in the onset of the strongest damn orgasm of my life as I exploded inside her. Seconds later she was following me, breaking into her own heavy climax.

  We were both immobile, unable to move an inch, as our breathing slowed down to a normal human pace. I rolled off her and pulled her against my chest.

  “Are you okay, baby?” I’d asked her that question repeatedly, surprising myself each time the words left my mouth, but I’d just been so fucking scared when she didn’t show up or answer my calls. Fear like that wasn’t something I’d ever get used to.

  I fucking detested the feeling.

  “Jackson,” she pushed her lips against my lower jaw, moving down and over my neck with light sensual kisses. “I’m absolutely perfect. And I’m sorry if I scared you.” I stared into her amazing green eyes. “Or maybe I’m not all that sorry,” she whispered. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced, and I’m so thankful I got to do it with you.”

  Jesus holy fuck. I could barely breathe. I’d had sex dozens and quite possibly hundreds of times. Satisfying fucks with beautiful women. But this was altogether different. I wasn’t just giving a woman my cock. I was giving her my heart.

  I was in love with this woman.

  I pulled her face against mine, breathing in her scent. “Baby, that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced either. You are so perfect for me.” She trailed small kisses over my jaw, staring into my eyes.

  “I’ll always protect you, Layla. I give you my word. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

  Her gaze held mine as my feelings strengthened even more.

  “Hurt me? What does that mean?”

  “It means,” I said without a stitch of hesitation, “that I love you. I’m so damn in love with you, that I can’t function knowing you’re not by my side.” I lifted her hand to my lips after the most important words I’d ever spoken, but needed speaking, slipped from my mouth. “Now close those beautiful green emeralds and sleep beside me, sweetheart.”

  “I love you, too, Jackson.”

  “You belong with me, sweetheart,” I said with a slow lingering kiss. “Beside me, naked, in my bed every night.”

  In an instant, she was asleep. I let my own eyes close as I thought of everything this meant. And where we went from here.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jackson

  Early to work, I’d brought la Madeleine croissants, specifically for my paralegal. Renee was the best the profession had to offer. Not only was she efficient in helping prepare motions, pleadings, briefs, and trials, but she also did simple things I’d never once asked of her, such as what she was doing right now—bringing me a strong cup of coffee. The little things meant everything. She deserved every penny she earned and probably needed a raise if all truth be known. She handed me the Venti size cup, sitting down on the corner of a chair across from me.

  “You read my mind, Jackson.” She pinched off a corner of buttery pastry and popped it in her mouth.

  “Seems you read mine as well, and I appreciate the hell out of you.” I lifted the cup, taking a long drink of dark roast.

  “Yep. And you very well should. I waited exactly seventeen minutes at the Starbucks drive-through to keep you from suffering through the weak-ass brew we have in the kitchen. What’s up with that foul-tasting coffee anyway? It tastes like something died in it.”

  I leaned back in my chair, in total agreement about the coffee.

  “Or worse,” I countered.

  “Hey, on another note,” she added, “I dug up some pretty interesting info on Martinez Trucking. Seems this isn’t their first rodeo with overloaded trucks or overworked drivers.”

  “Not really a surprise,” I said. “Get that information to Seth when you get a chance.”

  “Already have.” She smiled and headed to the door.

  “I’m never allowing you to work anywhere else but here. You realize that, don’t you?” I smiled, the crick in my neck sending shooting spasms down the middle of my back. Layla had slept on my shoulder, unmoving all night. I didn’t have the heart, or want, to turn her over o
r shift my own body, lying and staring at the woman that meant everything to me. She slept peacefully, breathing like a sweet angel, only sighing and licking her beautiful lips every so often.

  For me, sleep didn’t come easily. It generally didn’t.

  “Yep. I know that, too. And I wouldn’t consider leaving you,” she said, her smile beaming as she began easing my office door shut. “Oh. Unless you leave and Seth is named District Attorney. Then I haul ass behind you.” She grinned. I knew damn well he’d slept with her more than once. Probably right across his desk. As long as they could keep things professional, I didn’t give a shit what they did.

  I picked up my phone, giving Layla a quick call.

  “Hi,” she whispered, her voice sounding muted like she had a hand over the receiver.

  “Hi yourself, beautiful. How’s my girl’s morning been so far?”

  “Boring,” she whispered.

  “Hmm. Maybe that’s something we need to discuss.” I was waiting for the right time to tell her I’d found the perfect spot for a bakery.

  “Can you hang on a second? I need to answer the phone.” She laid her cell phone down as I listened to her answering with a curt ‘First National Bank’, gazing out my office window and watching a couple make out. The man’s hand was running across the scantily dressed woman’s ass, another reminder of how Layla had handled mine last night.

  “Sorry about that,” she whispered.

  “Can you get away for lunch today?” I asked, shifting my thickening dick as I tried forgetting about the whole ass experience.

  “Sure,” she said. “My lunch hour is twelve-thirty to one-thirty.”

  “Perfect. See you then, sweetheart.”

  I stared down at a stack of mail I needed to deal with, seeing the upcoming invitation to the yearly Festival & Gala for Helping Hands, a local charity organization. I needed to RSVP, hoping Layla wouldn’t mind attending.

  “Why in hell am I sorting mail?” I mouthed.

  Mostly bullshit junk mail that I paid a damn receptionist to sort through, I bit my tongue not to pick up the phone and order her to either get her shit together and do her job or get the fuck out. Why the hell was it so damn hard to find a good receptionist? Two weeks ago, I thought this one was a keeper.

  Tense as fuck, it was already ten minutes after twelve. I gathered my jacket to go pick up Layla.

  “Mr. Shipman?”

  Jesus!

  “Yes, Carla.”

  “I hate to ask, but I need tomorrow off if that’s possible. My parents are coming in town.” With a sigh, I nodded, no time to get into it with what was apparently another half-wit employee. For fuck’s sake, what did I need to do to get competent help?

  ****

  Layla was dressed in a knee-length, form-fitting pencil skirt with an equally tight light pink, button-down blouse with black ankle-strap sandals covering her feet.

  “You look absolutely beautiful today, sweetheart,” I told her as I gave the waitress our drink order. Thoughts of taking her across my office desk when she had on that tight skirt entered my mind. I’d purposely rested my hand on her ass when I picked her up from the bank, knowing that William was watching our every move.

  “Thanks,” she said shyly. “Last night was a really good night, Jackson.” I immediately thought of her finger in my ass again, my dick stirring.

  “Yes, it was.”

  If she only knew she’d given me the orgasm of my life.

  Bringing out our tall glasses of sparkling water with lime, I ordered two quinoa salads with grilled chicken, the thought of asking her if that was okay completely skipping my mind. “Quinoa?” She scrunched up her nose like a ten-year old. “I’m not sure I like that. Is it good? Or just healthy?”

  “Both,” I answered shortly. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  “You’re acting funny today, Jackson. Is everything okay?” I ran my hands through my hair out of pure fatigue more than anything. Long hours of worrying about my sister and her family, along with just watching Layla sleep, as amazing as the sex had been, the night had been trying, to say the least.

  “Do you ever really relax, Jackson?” Hell, no I didn’t ever completely relax. “I know you’re busy, but do you ever just chill? Order greasy pizza and drink cheap beer in front of the television?” She chewed on her lip, waiting for me to answer, finally grinning. Thoughts of my sister once asking me that same question reminded me exactly how different I’d become since Hartley moved to Dallas almost five years ago.

  “My God, sweetheart.” I leaned across the table wishing I could reach her mouth to kiss her soft lips. “You are so beautiful. I need you naked against my body. I wish we could get out of here and go home so I could relax deep inside your sweet pussy.”

  “Jackson,” she whimpered, both of us silent for a few beats. “I love you.”

  “Slide your hand up your thigh, sweetheart.”

  “Jackson,” she whispered, her eyes wide as her lip slipped between her teeth.

  “Why do you think I asked for a corner table?” I winked, feeling amused. “Do it, baby. Slide your hand up your silky thigh and rub your clit.”

  My cock was already hard and uncomfortable, rubbing my zipper. I wanted nothing more than to take her to the bathroom and plunge inside her tight sex, but this would have to suffice. Her cheeks were beautifully pink as she bashfully focused on my lips. I could tell she was touching herself by the bright glow to her eyes.

  “Feel good, baby?” She nodded with a quiet sigh.

  “Now slip that nicely lubed finger inside your tight little pussy.” I smiled, her eyes still concentrating on my lips.

  “Add another finger, Layla.”

  “Umm,” she whimpered, her eyes fluttering. “Jackson…”

  “I’m right here, baby. It’s just you and me. Imagine those fingers being mine, plunging deep, then easing out just a little to brush your sweet clit, then sliding right back in deep. Deeper, Lay. Make yourself come for me. Let me see your eyes.”

  “Jackson, I can’t.”

  “Oh, but you can, sweetheart. You will. Do it for me,” I whispered. “Do it for us. Imagine me loving you. Curling my finger just right to hit your favorite spot. Rub that clit, Layla. Let me see you come on your fingers.”

  Her lip was between her teeth, her body tensing and coming to a standstill as she bit down harder. I knew that look. And it was beautiful.

  She smiled, her cheeks shaded, her tension easing up. She was the most beautiful creation I’d ever seen in my life.

  “Now that you’re properly relaxed, you know what I think?”

  “Hmm?” she asked, reaching for her water.

  “I think I need to introduce you to my idea of a good time. Show you one of my favorite relaxation techniques.” Her eyes arched in question.

  “Define relax, Jackson. I thought I already knew your favorite way,” she teased.

  I smiled, thickening behind my zipper. “Touche, sweetheart. Maybe I should have worded that phrase my second way to relax.” Another breathtaking smile, the busty, young waitress brought over our salads, leaning over just enough to blatantly give me a view of her overly-large cleavage. At one time, I may have acted on that.

  “She so wants you, Jackson.” Layla eyed the curvy blonde as she walked away.

  “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart,” I winked. “Maybe it’s you she wanted. Perhaps she smelled your wet panties. I certainly do. Now … try the salad.”

  Bringing what was a baby-sized bite to her lips, she looked at me red-cheeked, chewing, and finally giving me a thumbs-up. When I’d expected a critical remark regarding my healthy lunch choice, her immature gesture brought a smile to my face. It was cute. And entirely Layla.

  “It’s actually edible,” she laughed, drinking water from a straw. “Now, tell me about your second idea of a good time.” She gave me a typical sweet smile, forking up another piece of chicken.

  “Not happening, sweetheart. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

/>   Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jackson

  My day was spent working with a Defense attorney on a large accidental death case to select a jury. My staff had already investigated all the prospects for any potential bias or other reasons that could keep them from rendering impartial verdicts. Now we were weeding out the few we thought were the weakest choices.

  The case involved an 18-wheeler driver falling asleep at the wheel and running up on a mini-van carrying a family of four, in which a twelve-year-old boy was killed. Cases like these were difficult as hell. The truck driver had no criminal or civil record. A family man, he was simply trying to earn a living. Overworked like most in his profession, his log showed he’d been on the road for over thirty-hours without real sleep. Sad as hell, an innocent child had lost his life while a greedy trucking company raked in millions at the expense of a hard-working man providing for his family. Now, a young father’s life was fucked, soon to be facing a five to ten-year conviction.

  At 4:30 PM, getting home an hour later than I’d planned, I changed into jeans and fired off a quick text.

  Headed your way, beautiful. Ready for some relaxation?

  Her response was immediate.

  So ready. Just wish I knew where you were taking me and what to wear.

  The past flickering in my mind, I grabbed the tickets and headed out the door, thankful for the somewhat cool weather. Baseball games could be brutal as hell to get through in the unpredictable hot Texas climate. Deep in thought, for a quick minute I regretted not pursuing a career in the sport I loved.

  Great close-up views from the premium Home Plate VIP seats at Globe Life Park for a Rangers game, a little over an hour later, I leaned over giving Layla a kiss, her soft sigh making my blood surge to all the wrong places. Beautiful and damn hot in skin tight jeans, it wasn’t simply a physical thing that had my chest pounding. It was something deeper. Just being with her. Together.

  Not only did we have wider and more comfortable seats in this section, we also had full access to the Cuervo Club, though I didn’t really see us headed there. If my suspicions were right and the game turned into a massacre, we’d probably be leaving early. Either way, I fucking loved the sport.