An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
48 Hours
ISBN # 1-4199-0631-3
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
48 Hours Copyright© 2006 Callista Arman
Edited by Briana St. James.
Cover art by Willo.
Electronic book Publication: May 2006
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Warning:
The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).
S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.
E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.
X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.
48 Hours
Callista Arman
Chapter One
“What about that one?” David Stein’s head nearly unscrewed from his shoulders as a blonde with store-bought boobs, size XXL, jiggled across the dance floor.
Shit, thought Patrick McIllhenny, watching David’s neck twist. Who’d have thought a junior attorney could be that limber?
“Well?” demanded David. “What do you think?”
Patrick took a swig of his imported Irish ale before answering. “No way. She’s out of your league.”
“You know her?”
“Sure. Her name’s Dee. She’s in real estate. Shows up every Friday.”
David’s owl eyes blinked with respect. “Damn. Do you know every babe in this place?”
“Pretty much.” He knew most of the men, too. All lawyers with Kellman Kenworthy & Reid, the firm where Patrick worked the computer help desk. “That’s why I started this wingman gig.”
When Patrick had first heard of the “wingman” phenomenon, he’d thought it was a joke. He just couldn’t believe people were hiring themselves out to help sex-seeking men and women find each other in bars. What kind of loser would pay money for something a good friend would do for free?
Apparently quite a few. Enough to let Patrick make a few extra bucks, anyway, since his clients were exclusively workaholic junior attorneys at KK&R. All he had to do was set aside a couple nights a week to hang out in bars with a temporary “friend”. He made first contact with available women, then eased the most likely mark into a conversation with his client, painting the socially inept attorneys with a flattering brush. Once the woman’s interest caught, Patrick faded gracefully into the shadows.
It was the easiest money he’d ever made. If there was one thing Patrick did well, it was talk—he came from a long line of gab-gifted Irishmen. Unfortunately, he’d also inherited his Irish ancestors’ round faces, blatant freckles and red hair. Which meant it was infinitely easier to find hot women for other men than to score one for himself.
“What about that brunette with the great ass?” David asked. “She hasn’t got a date.”
What was it with lawyers needing to call all the shots? “You wouldn’t enjoy fucking that one.”
David, a litigator, couldn’t resist arguing. “Sure I would.”
“You won’t.” Patrick’s mug thunked on the table. “Jesus, she’s redone her lipstick three times in the last twenty minutes. Her nails are two inches long, her bag and shoes are high-end designer and she keeps checking her reflection in the mirror over the bar.”
“So?”
“So a woman like that isn’t worth shit in bed. She won’t want to do anything that messes up her makeup.”
David scowled. “What about her friend?” he said, shouting a little over the pulsing music. “The one with the giant—”
“Look.” Patrick didn’t bother to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “You want me to find you some ass? Or should I give your money back and let you take your chances?”
David scowled and sucked his vodka and tonic.
That was more like it. Patrick leaned back, beer in hand, balancing his chair on its back legs. Tonight’s crop of females at The Top Floor was as promising as ever—the club was one of the hottest singles scenes in the city. Plenty of possibilities here, even for a five-foot-five bespectacled attorney like David. But David had a big case coming up and needed to get laid tonight. Which woman would put out on such short notice? The giggling young one? Or the older lady with the slightly panicked expression? Or maybe…
“That one.” The front legs of Patrick’s chair hit the floor. “The woman in red.”
David wrenched his neck. “Where?”
“By the DJ table. She’s been watching you.”
“She has?” David gave the woman a quick, assessing glance. “Not bad.” He turned back to Patrick. “You really think she’ll spread for me tonight?”
Patrick caught Ms. Red Dress’s eye and smiled. She smiled back, her gaze flitting to David. The fingers of one hand sifted through her hair.
Like shooting fish in a barrel. “She’ll leave with you, spread ‘em and give you a blowjob after,” Patrick said. He grinned. “If you’re the kind of guy who can get it up again that fast. Give me five minutes before you move in.”
He rose, his eyes fixed on his quarry. But before he could take a single step toward the bar, a woman’s breathless voice wove through a brief rift in the music, tickling his ear.
“Hi, David.” A pause. “Patrick.” Maddie Brindisi came into Patrick’s line of vision, a smile tugging at her red lips. Patrick’s gut clenched. His pulse started a fifty-yard dash and his mind, usually crammed full with interesting conversational gambits, blanked out completely.
“Hi, Maddie,” David piped up.
Patrick opened his mouth, but his throat was so tightly closed that nothing came out.
Holy fucking hell. Maddie Brindisi. KK&R’s brightest star. Only a few years out of law school, she’d already made partner. Maddie had a reputation as a ball-busting litigator who didn’t so much as work up a sweat when she kicked ass in the courtroom. She was smart, smooth and ambitious, and she’d been sprinting to the top of the firm since the day she was hired. Of all the women Patrick knew—and that was no small number—Maddie Brindisi was the only one who tied his silver tongue in knots.
David popped to his feet and pulled out a chair. “You here alone, Maddie?”
She shook her head. Her long, dark hair was swept up in a bun, but little curls escaped to brush her bare neck and shoulders. A silver spaghetti-strap top and silky black pants clung to her curves. Quite a switch from her usual tailored suits. With a start, Patrick realized there was no bra beneath that sparkly top. He stared at Maddie’s erect nipples a full five seconds before jerking his eyes away.
His palms dampened. Had she noticed him staring at her chest? Probably not. Patrick doubted Ma
ddie Brindisi saw him at all.
“I’m meeting Mike here,” she told David.
Of course she was. Who else would Maddie be dating but crown prince Mike Kellman IV, firstborn son of KK&R’s senior partner?
“Oh, great,” David said amiably. “You can hang with us while you wait for him. You know Patrick, right?”
Patrick swallowed. Maddie smiled up at him, head tilted, dark eyes sparkling, red lips pursed. “Of course I know Patrick. He wiped that worm off my laptop last week.” The tip of her tongue darted between her lips. “Did I ever thank you for that?”
“Yeah,” Patrick said thickly. After allowing the single word to escape, his brain cells promptly cut off again, leaving his mouth gaping open.
Shit. What was wrong with him?
Maddie touched his forearm. Just a friendly gesture—she sure as hell didn’t mean anything by it. But from the way his cock perked up, she might as well have unzipped his pants and stroked him from balls to head. Her big brown eyes reflected the light from the dance floor. With her Mediterranean coloring, she looked like an exotic gypsy.
She wasn’t classically beautiful—Patrick would be the first to concede that point. Her nose was a little too big and her chin too pointed. Her breasts were high and firm, but not huge. Her ass was the round, fill-your-hands kind. But even so, Maddie affected him strongly.
He suspected it was her intensity that drew him. He’d seen her in court—she was stunning. Brisk and efficient one moment, dramatic and mesmerizing the next. She had a poise and self-confidence he envied. She was always moving, always alive. And her lips…he loved imagining how they’d feel wrapped around his cock. They were full and pouty and at this very moment glossed a deep, wet red…
Patrick cleared his throat. Not a single intelligible sound came out. He watched helplessly as nerdy David pulled out an empty chair and invited Maddie to sit. She smiled at the junior attorney as she settled her great ass in the seat, half turning to give herself a clearer view of the entrance.
“You guys been here long?” she asked.
“About an hour,” David replied. “Is Kellman late? We didn’t see him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Maddie’s brows drew together. “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”
David sat. Patrick started to do the same, until David’s cough and nod toward the bar snapped him out of his Maddie-induced haze. He’d been about to do something. What was it?
Oh, yeah. Move in on David’s potential lay.
“Would you like a drink?” David asked Maddie. “Patrick was just going to the bar.”
“Yes,” Patrick said. “Yes, I was. That’s just where I was going.” Fuck. He’d misplaced at least fifty IQ points since Maddie showed up. “You drink wine, right? Chardonnay?” He’d never seen her drink anything else at KK&R parties.
Maddie blinked up at him. “That’s right. How did you know?”
Patrick felt a blush crawl up his neck to his face. His cheeks were probably turning the same color as his freckles. Thank God the club was dark. “Lucky guess,” he mumbled, heading for the bar.
His heartbeat slowed as he sidled up next to the woman in red. Now that he was out of Maddie’s range, he felt more normal. He flashed the mark a smile. Not a come-on leer, but the kind of grin she’d get from a little brother.
“Hi,” he said, matching his volume to the dance floor music, just low enough so she’d have to…
She leaned toward him. “Hi.”
He nodded at her glass. “My friend was wondering if you needed a refill.” He glanced at David just in time to see Kellman Four slide into the seat next to Maddie. Fuck.
“Is your friend an attorney? I hear a lot of lawyers hang out here.”
“That he is,” Patrick said.
The woman’s expression softened. “I’d love a refill.”
An hour later, David and the Woman in Red—her name was Margie—were sequestered at a corner table, continuing the conversation Patrick had started. Patrick leaned against the bar, nursing his beer as he scanned the crowd. Was it worth the effort to pursue a one-night stand of his own? After a brief hesitation, he decided against it. The benefits just didn’t seem worth the trouble.
Because the only woman he wanted was taken.
He slipped out the door. Grimly, he negotiated the Friday night city traffic, cursing under his breath when a car—the driver clearly impaired—swerved into his lane. Chased by images of Maddie and Kellman Four naked together, he arrived at his apartment in a foul mood. He flicked on one dim light and crossed to the media center. He needed to let off some steam, and he knew just how to do it. He’d watch a movie.
Lawyers in Bondage.
Patrick didn’t kid himself. This particular X-rated DVD was his favorite because the starring actress bore a striking resemblance to Maddie Brindisi. She played the role of a young defense attorney faced with the prospect of losing an important case. Desperate to win, the Maddie look-alike cut a deal with the prosecuting attorney—a night of bondage in exchange for the prosecutor’s suppression of a key witness’s testimony.
Ethical considerations aside, the film started out hot and got hotter, until Patrick wondered why his yard-sale TV didn’t heat up and explode. Leaning back into the couch, he eased his cock from his pants.
The screen showed a conference room lined with shelves of law books. The male lead snapped ankle and wrist cuffs on the naked Maddie clone, then ordered her to lie on a long, glossy table. He spread her arms and legs wide, attaching the cuffs to hooks set at the table’s corners. Patrick stroked his shaft. He’d give a lot to have Maddie naked on a KK&R conference table. He imagined his fingers on her ankles, imagined the view he’d have of her pussy as he locked her in place.
The actress lay spread-eagle and panting. Her breasts heaved, her eyelashes fluttered. The leading man leered.
“Master,” she moaned, obviously enjoying the melodrama. “Fuuuuuuck me.” The camera zoomed awkwardly, giving Patrick a shaky eyeful of glistening pink skin.
As a cinematic art form, the movie left much to be desired. But Patrick hardly cared. He pumped his cock until it hardened unbearably under his fingers. The actor slid a massive dildo into the woman’s pussy, prompting a theatrical groan from the actress. Springing onto the table, he straddled her torso, the tip of his humongous cock prodding her chin.
She opened her lips and he plunged in. She sucked him off with loud slurping sounds, her red lips forming a perfect “O” around his shaft. The camera angle shifted, giving Patrick a view from the end of the table. The actress’s breasts flopped wildly between the man’s hairy legs.
Her breasts were bigger than Maddie’s—a little too large and fleshy for Patrick’s taste, truth be told. They bounced as she jerked against her bonds, trying to take more of the man’s cock in her mouth. He teased her, backing away. The camera shifted again, catching her spine arching off the table.
Patrick stroked harder. The screen became a blur. God, how he wanted smart, sexy, ball-busting Maddie Brindisi, Esquire, tied and helpless beneath him. He wanted her arms and legs stretched and bound, her lips tight and hot on his cock.
The fantasy turned him on like nothing else. It wasn’t his first—Maddie starred as the submissive in every one of Patrick’s D/s fantasies. Sometimes she was bound, kneeling at his feet with a plug in her ass. Other times he gagged and trussed her and put her on display. Or had her pleasure another woman while he watched. He spanked her round ass when she dared disobey.
In his dreams, she loved it. She took everything he dished out. If he held back, she whimpered her protest. Depending on his mood, he either gave her what she wanted or made her beg.
The actor plunged deep into the woman’s throat, fucking her mouth as if it were her pussy. Patrick’s strokes quickened. He was close, so close…
He came in a rush of sensation, Maddie’s name on his lips. He pumped through the aftershocks, milking every last twinge of pleasure. When it was over, he lay back, gasping. G
roping for the remote, he clicked off the TV and blinked into the darkness. He was spent, washed out, wrung dry.
He lay for a long time, not moving, thinking of Maddie.
* * * * *
Maddie slammed into her apartment at three a.m., hot, horny and pissed as hell. Sex with Mike Four was duller than taking depositions, and that was saying something.
She dumped her purse and headed right for the freezer. She needed double chocolate chunk ice cream, badly. Thank God she’d bought the real stuff and not that fat-free, taste-free crap. She dug a spoon into the carton, already regretting her lack of self-control. The damn scale would register two extra pounds in the morning, she just knew it. God, she was pathetic.
Spoon sunk deep in the carton, she kicked off her heels and made a beeline for the living room. Dating Mike had seemed like a good idea at the time. He was handsome and rich, and that had to translate to confidence in bed, right? But no. Mike was a sexual fumbler, the kind of guy you had to guide to your clitoris over and over and over again, as if it was a moving target.
Maddie let a cool burst of chocolate melt on her tongue. What had she been thinking, expecting Mike Four to make her come? She should have known better. In the ten years since she’d lost her virginity in the back of Carl Hunsberger’s parents’ minivan, she’d never dated a man who blew her away.
She sank wearily onto the couch. The leather upholstery was cold and a little clammy. Success in the dating world had always eluded Maddie. In every other area, she excelled—law school had been a snap, and sports had come easily too. Her golf handicap was in the single digits, a big plus when it came to entertaining clients. And to be honest, the problem wasn’t that she didn’t attract guys. She did. She just never attracted the kind of man she craved.
She’d thought that would change once she left school for the real world. Surely, top-notch attorneys at KK&R had the confidence to be forceful in bed. And maybe they were, with lovers who couldn’t litigate rings around them in court. If there was one thing she’d learned about men, it was that they didn’t like to be upstaged by a woman.
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