He noticed my hardening nipples and leaned down until his mouth was level with my chest. I tensed, waiting for him to touch me with his hands or his mouth. But he didn’t. He blew softly across my left breast. I could feel it swell as blood rushed in, my body eager for more.
He leaned in to kiss me again. Instead of grabbing my hair, he placed one hand in the middle of my back, supporting me as he leaned me slightly backward. His other hand gently cupped my breast. His thumb rubbed slowly around my areola and rolled my rock-hard nipple. I could barely focus enough to kiss him back as he parted my lips with his, sucking at my bottom lip. The dual sensations sent a pulsing, throbbing sweetness all the way to my groin.
* * *
He lowered his hand on my back until it rested just above my backside. I put my arms back to support myself and he pulled my hips toward the edge of the desk, spreading my legs apart as he thrust his own body between. My skirt bunched up, exposing my legs up to the bottom of my ass. Not that there was anything to see, Asher’s own groin was pressed right up against me. I could feel the stiffness of his cock against my own sex. Instinctively, I rolled my hips up and down, rubbing up against the hardness. I felt so wet, I couldn’t believe it.
Asher must have felt it, too, because he broke off his kiss and leaned back. He put one hand under my head and pushed me back onto the desk. My breath came in ragged gasps in anticipation of what I imagined was coming.
“Now lay still, Cora. Just be still and accept it.”
I held my bottom lip between my teeth. Asher’s hands slid down, undoing the zipper on the side of my skirt. He hooked his fingers around the waistband and pulled it toward him. I lifted up my hips to help him and then I was laying there on the cold wooden desk in my panties.
Suddenly, he wasn’t there. I couldn’t feel anything. Absurdly, I imagined he had disappeared. I looked up to make sure that he was still there. Of course, he was. He was standing over me, staring. I felt so exposed, so naked, wearing only the barest triangle of sheer fabric. Apprehension fought with excitement. I felt vulnerable and secure at the same time.
“I just wanted to look at you,” he said, his voice low and husky, thick with desire. In one motion, he ran both of his hands up my legs, thumbs trailing along my inner thighs. It felt like there should be a glow between my legs for all of the heat. When his fingers came together in their path along my legs, he let his thumbs brush lightly across the front of my panties. The pleasure was so intense it felt almost painful. My back arched and my pelvis tilted forward, searching for more contact. But he had taken his hands further north, gently taking hold of my panties and pulling them down. Following the lead of his hands, I lifted my legs up straight, letting him lift my last scrap of clothing over my feet. In some corner of my mind, I thanked myself for going to regular Pilates classes.
Asher had both of my ankles in one hand, keeping my legs in the air. My feet were level with his face. A slight bit of pressure and he folded my knees, pushing my legs down, backward, and apart. I felt the cool air between my legs and felt how wet I had become. He stepped under my bent legs, resting them on his broad, muscular shoulders.
“You smell incredible,” he breathed.
His hands gripped my hips, holding me firmly in place as he pushed himself forward, my legs going straight up into the air. He planted kisses around my navel, working his way slowly down to my hip bones and then onto the upper part of my thighs. He moved like that, in ever tightening concentric circles. His mouth passed just over my sex and I could feel his hot breath like a gentle touch. I could feel the muscles inside me tighten in a spasm of anticipation. But his mouth moved on and continued its slow, inexorable path around my body.
My hips rocked back and forth on their own, trying to get closer, to make contact with his lips, his tongue. But he would not go where I wanted. He made me wait, made me want it. I reached behind me and gripped the edge of the desk. I was so full of pent up energy and desire that I thought I was going to explode. How was he so controlled? Every other guy I had ever been with would have been inside me already, pumping away, racing toward their orgasm. I had learned to accept that that was how guys were and to take care of myself. But this was different. It felt like the only thing that existed in that moment was my pleasure. And Asher was controlling that with a dexterity that I hadn’t imagined possible.
He sucked little kisses on the inside of my thighs. I could feel his hair lightly brushing me – there. I twitched involuntarily. His hands left my hips and travelled by fingertip up to my breasts. He alternated between lightly tracing his fingers around my nipples and powerfully gripping my breasts at the base. The effect was intense. I could feel my whole body vibrating. But the one place where I wanted sensation, where the impact would be the greatest, he was studiously avoiding.
When he finally landed there, it was almost painful. My nerve endings had been primed for action for so long they were hyperactive. A low groan escaped me. Was that even my voice? I had always made noises during sex, mimicking the expressions of passion I heard in porn, the exaggeratedly feminine ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’. This was different. This was a sound being pulled out of the depths of me, unbidden.
His tongue was rough, textured, as it danced around my most intimate spaces. I struggled to remain still so as not to interrupt his movements. His hands left my breasts and returned to my hips, holding me firmly in place. I opened my legs further, as wide as they could go. He got the message immediately and took one of his hands away. He moved his tongue up, circling around my clitoris. Then I felt one of his long, elegant fingers slide smoothly inside me.
He kept a steady rhythm with his tongue as he moved his finger in and out. I could feel the pressure building deep inside of me. My hips tried to buck, to move against him, but he had wrapped his remaining arm across me, pinning me to the table.
Suddenly, his finger crooked slightly and I felt a new sensation. A wave of pleasure built, dull but intense, powerful. It continued to climb, like a wave that kept rising. My breathing stopped. The wave had to break soon, but it just kept building. Then he accelerated, his tongue and his finger moving blindingly fast, and the wave broke. I convulsed. I could feel myself gripping him inside me, tightening around his finger. The orgasm came from deep, unlike any I had experienced before.
I had no idea how long it lasted, but when it was finally over I was fully out of breath and I couldn’t feel my legs.
Chapter 12 - Cora
I slept so soundly that night that I almost didn’t wake up with my alarm. I pulled on my court outfit, a conservative cut gray pantsuit, and raced downtown. I parked my car and walked the half-block to the criminal courthouse. A twelve-story structure, half of the floors were filled with holding cells. The building had an entirely separate set of staircases and hallways to transport defendants to the courtrooms. I went through security and passed through the milling crowds awaiting early morning cases, the stressed and bedraggled attorneys, the concerned family members, the disinterested and annoyed jurors. I hustled past all of them toward a bank of elevators and joined the press of people going to the upper floors. Ms. Warner was going to be arraigned on the ninth floor, the high security floor reserved for high profile and capital cases.
Another security station guarded the entrance to the hallway of courtrooms. The hall was filled with figures in suits sitting on benches, some leafing through case files. The tension in the air was palpable. Thankfully, I didn’t have any real responsibilities. I hadn’t passed the bar, so even if I wanted to, I couldn’t sit at the counsel table or speak for the client. I just got to watch. Still, though, my stomach fluttered with excitement. Not only was I going to be at my first criminal arraignment, but I was going to see Asher again. Even though it had only been a few hours since I left the office, I was eager to be in the same room with him.
He hadn’t arrived by the time I got to the hallway, but it was still a few minutes before the courtrooms opened their doors. I had checked on the monitors downstairs, so
I knew that Ms. Warner was going to be in Department 103. I found a spot and leaned against the wall, eager for the start of the action.
The doors opened and the sheriff’s deputy who served as one of the court bailiffs, stepped out into the hallway and gave a few instructions to the assembled lawyers and others. Basically ‘be quiet and don’t annoy the judge.’ I filed in and took a seat in the gallery, behind the counsel tables. There was a screened off area with a separate entrance on the side of the courtroom where the defendants were brought in from their holding cells. Asher still hadn’t arrived.
I sat in a chair that had not been updated since the nineties and listened to the whispered conversations around me. Most of the time, arraignments happened in a big cattle call in a special courtroom dedicated to the process, but for higher profile cases, they handled them here. But not everyone here was at the beginning of the trial process, some of the attorneys were preparing to argue pretrial motions. I tried to catch the specifics of what they were saying, but I couldn’t make anything out.
After a few minutes wait, the bailiff called the courtroom to order and the judge swept in. An elegant woman in her fifties, she had black hair down to her shoulders and wore thin glasses perched low on her narrow nose. She had a severe look, but smiled as she settled herself at the bench.
“Good morning, everyone. Let’s get started.”
She nodded to her clerk, who called out the first case. Asher still wasn’t there.
I started to get a bit worried. What was I supposed to do if he didn’t show up? Even if I wasn’t an attorney yet, could I just step in and say ‘not guilty’? This judge didn’t look like someone whose bad side I wanted to be on, and I didn’t want to do anything stupid that would hurt the client, or my future career. But Asher had been very insistent that I be there. Was he planning something like this all along, to throw me into the fire without warning? I couldn’t believe he would be so reckless. He was the kind of guy who seemed to have everything under control at all times. So why hadn’t he shown up?
The first couple of cases were called without our client’s name coming up. The tension built in my shoulders. I hated feeling so impotent. I pulled out my phone to text Asher, but the bailiff caught my eye and gave me a sharp shake of his head and pointed to the door. Then I realized that I didn’t have Asher’s cell number anyway. I put my phone back in my jacket and shifted in my seat.
I listened absentmindedly to the lawyers arguing a pretrial motion. I was so worried about whether Asher would show up on time that I didn’t even catch what it was about. The judge said she would consider their motions and send a ruling the next day. The lawyers gathered their files and left the counsel tables, speaking softly to one another.
The door to the courtroom opened and I whipped my head around to see who it was. He strode in confidently, taking the distance between the entrance and the counsel tables in a few long steps. He walked by without giving me even a cursory glance, without even acknowledging that I was there. He had a case file held loosely at his side and was dressed impeccably again, in a light gray suit, tan shoes, and a pale pink tie and silver tie clip. He nodded to the defense attorney whose hearing had just finished and then walked through the low swinging doors to stand in front of the judge. How did he know Ms. Warner was the next case to be called?
Sure enough, the bailiff’s voice rang out.
“Next case – People of the State of California versus Amber Warner.”
The judge pulled a file onto her desk and glanced over it for a few moments. In the meantime, a door opened at the back of the room and a woman entered the cordoned off space reserved for defendants. She was small, short, and petite. Her light brown hair fell in waves that looked better than I would have expected from someone who had slept that night in jail. My first impression was disbelief. I know you aren’t supposed to judge a book by its cover, but I couldn’t imagine this woman murdering anyone. More than anything else, she looked scared. Of course, fear could make people do violent things, but she didn’t look the violent type. Still, Asher said that he didn’t take on innocent clients; maybe she had done it.
I didn’t have any more time to ponder as the judge got things started.
“Ok, appearances?”
“Reyna Martinez for the People, your honor.”
“Asher Dean for Ms. Warner, your honor.”
The prosecutor was young, probably not more than a couple of years out of law school. I was sure she wasn’t the one who would be trying the case when it really got going. For an arraignment, you could afford to send a less experienced attorney. I imagined that would be what my first few years would be like, doing all of the appearances and jobs that the more senior attorneys didn’t want to do. But then again, the Los Angeles DA’s office was really understaffed. Like most prosecutor’s offices, the attorneys were all overworked, carrying caseloads so burdensome that if they didn’t plea out ninety percent of them, they would never be able to manage. One of the ways that attorneys who defended clients with money could bully the DA was to threaten to take up their time, to force them to actually try the case. It was a shockingly effective tactic.
The judge glanced down at the case file in front of her.
“Mr. Dean, your client is charged with first degree murder, how does she plead?”
“Not guilty, your honor.”
“What are the People requesting for bail?”
“One million dollars, your honor.”
“Your honor, my client has a young child and limited financial means. She cannot afford to be away from home for so long. She is not a flight risk and does not have the means to flee the jurisdiction. She does not even have a passport, your honor.”
“Limited financial means? How’d she afford you, then, Dean?”
“Ms. Martinez, direct your arguments to me,” the judge admonished.
“Apologies, your honor. Mr. Dean is one of the most expensive defense attorneys in the county. Are the People to believe that the defendant cannot afford bail?”
“Mr. Dean?”
“Ms. Martinez flatters me, your honor.” I could see his smile from the side. He was charming, even in the most unromantic of situations. “But my firm is providing our services to Ms. Warner at a substantially reduced rate. One million is excessive, your honor. The defense requests bail be set at one hundred thousand.”
“Your honor, this is a serious crime and the People intend to seek a sentence of life in prison. I would say the defendant has the motivation and the means to flee. The People restate our request for bail to be set at one million.”
The judge sat quietly for a few moments.
“Bail will be set at one hundred thousand. But, Mr. Dean. If anything happens, I am holding you personally responsible.”
“Of course, your honor.”
The judge banged her gavel and announced a fifteen-minute recess. The lawyers whose cases had yet to be called let out a collective hushed groan as the judge disappeared into her chambers. I watched as Asher turned to the prosecutor and said something to her. He spoke quietly, so I couldn’t hear anything. But it must have been funny, because Reyna started laughing and touched Asher on the arm. I felt a twinge of jealous anger. He hadn’t even looked at me and there he was, joking and flirting with another woman?
Reyna gathered her things off the desk and left the room. I followed her with my eyes until she was out the door. When I turned my head around again, Asher was standing in front of me.
“So, you made it. What did you think?”
“Um, you got what you wanted, that’s good.”
He looked at me oddly, as if I had said something completely bizarre.
“Sometimes, getting what you want isn’t good at all.” He broke into a smile. “Of course, in this case it is. See you back at the office.”
And then he strode out of the courtroom. I picked up my bag and followed him out the door, but by the time I got into the hallway, he was gone.
Chapter 13 - Cora
I knew he was probably uncomfortable with what happened, given that my uncle was his boss, but he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to worry much about that sort of thing. If anything, it likely would increase the fun and excitement for him. I know he didn’t actually need the job, the money from his family meant he didn’t need any job. But from everything he did and said, he enjoyed it and wouldn’t want to risk losing it. Maybe that was why he had disappeared, to give some space and make sure that things didn’t go any further than they already had.
The rest of the week passed by in a haze of mindless research and writing. The assignments that Asher left were mainly memos on weird and unrelated topics, from deep dives into the elements of insurance contracts to challenging evidence of criminal conspiracy. Nothing to do with the case I was supposed to be working on. It felt like busy work. And if he wasn’t even going to show up to talk to me about it and probably had no intention of reading any of it, I didn’t see why I should waste my time working hard on it. So, I dragged it out, read the news, played games on my phone, and otherwise clock-watched as the days ticked by.
On Friday afternoon, I was getting ready to pack up my things and head home for the weekend when Asher walked past my desk as if nothing was wrong. He waved to Rebecca and gave me a curt nod and then disappeared into his office. Part of me wanted to just ignore him, to accept that he was just another asshole who wasn’t worth my time and to go home and enjoy my weekend. But I couldn’t. There was something wrong. Whether it was instinct or insight or some kind of delusion, I was certain that something was going on. There was no way the guy that I had been with on Monday night was this cold, this unfeeling. I had to know why he was acting the way he was.
Punitive Damages Page 6
