“Miss Victoria, you are a lawyer by profession, are you not?”
“Yes,” she told Shane, who had begun to pace back and forth, slow and menacing, like a big cat in a cage—a cage that would never hold him, not if he really wanted out.
“I see. And that means your job is to serve the law?”
“Yes.” Where was he going with this line of questioning?
“So we are in agreement,” he said. “But what about your underwear, can you explain that?”
“E-excuse me.”
Shane came right up to the witness box. “Your bra and panties,” he said. “Are they appropriate?”
“I don’t see the relevance—”
“Your Honor,” said Shane. “Move to strip the witness.”
“Granted,” said Judge Sam.
Vicky stared blankly.
“The witness will remove her jacket and her blouse,” Judge Sam stated.
Vicky’s nipples tightened on the spot. A hot helplessness flooded her. “You can’t ask me to do that.”
“If you don’t it, you will be in contempt,” said the judge.
Shane’s gaze captured Vicky’s. She was mesmerized by his lips as he spoke.
“Show us your bra, counselor.”
With trembling fingers, she undid the buttons of her jacket. She had to squirm in her seat to slide it over her shoulders. The blouse was harder. With every move she felt the plunge of tiny knives into her skin, hot and cutting.
Her breathing went shallow. She felt an invisible chill, even as her cheeks heated. Every eye was on her, most of the women looked shocked, most of the men were licking their lips.
Shedding the cotton blouse, she exposed herself, her bosom clad in nothing but the gray bra. It was one of her favorites, pretty and comfortable, with pearl lace.
She tried not to breathe. Her every motion made her feel naked, worse than naked.
“Very nice breasts,” said Shane, inducing her to bite her lip. Did he really think they were nice? Did he want them? Did he want her?
“I’m curious, though, what do you think?”
“Me?”
“Yes.” Shane turned to smile briefly at the jury then returned his attention to her. “Do you think the bra is nice? Do you like what it does?”
“I…don’t think about it.”
Shane frowned. “I remind the witness that she is under oath.”
Vicky swallowed. “I like the bra,” she said, barely audible.
“The witness is directed to speak up,” commanded Shane, his hair deliciously slicked back and tied in a gold band. “So the jury can hear.”
“I like the bra,” she repeated, feeling the shame curl through her body like a wonderful drug. “I like what it does.”
“It arouses men.” Shane was not asking a question.
Vicky lowered her head. She could see her cleavage, the proud, twin peaks, the full globes aching to be played with, kissed and loved.
“I said you arouse men.” Shane was leaning over, inches from her face.
“Yes,” she said, her voice a hot whisper.
Unable to help herself, she leaned forward, begging a kiss, begging him to put her out of her misery.
Shane refused, instead walking back to the jury. He was standing in front of them, just one of the crowd as he asked his next question.
“Miss Victoria, will you describe your panties for us.”
Victoria suppressed a whimper. “Shane…no.”
“You can tell us or show us.”
“They are gray silk,” Vicky capitulated.
Shane nodded. “And are they moist right now?”
Vicky froze.
“Did the witness not understand the question?”
“Yes,” Vicky said.
“Yes, you understood or yes you are aroused?”
“Both.”
“And specifically what arouses you at this moment?” Shane asked, homing in like a seasoned cross-examiner.
Him, but she didn’t dare say it.
“I’m just…feeling things.”
Shane smiled. “Just feeling things. I see. Your Honor, I ask that the witness be regarded as hostile and that she be made to take off her bra.”
“By all means,” Judge Sam drawled. “Go on,” he said to Vicky with a lazy wave of his gavel.
“I would ask that the jury be allowed to masturbate, Your Honor,” Shane added.
“Good thinking,” Judge Sam concurred.
Vicky tried to rise, but the bailiff had a hand on her shoulder.
“Your bra,” repeated Shane. “Or do I have to do it for you.”
She reached behind her and unhooked the clasp. The jury was poised on the edge of their seats. The men had opened their zippers, the women were reaching down between their legs.
Everyone was watching, enjoying.
Vicky pulled the straps forward. The cups of the bra fell away. The bra ended up in her lap.
“Let the record show that the defendant’s nipples are rosy, pink and hard.”
“Duly noted,” said Judge Sam, who had his hand under his robe.
“Arch your back,” Shane told Vicky. “So everyone can see better.”
Vicky was panting. She wanted Shane touching her, pushing her down to the floor.
“Having fun?” Shane asked her.
“May I plead the fifth?”
“No, but you can play with your nipples and tell me what you would do if I ordered you to pleasure every man in this room, taking their hard cocks in your mouth.”
Vicky felt his words like a thrust between her legs, a sudden invasion by his magnificent, conquering cock. “I would refuse,” she said, trying to sound convincing.
Her nipples recoiled slightly then warmed eagerly to her touch. She tried to hold back but there was no preventing it.
Vicky moaned lightly pinching and pulling the throbbing nubs. She rubbed herself against the seat. Several jury members were groaning.
“You’d refuse?” Shane stared her down, his hands gripping the edge of the witness box. “You would run to them more likely, living out your sordid little fantasies. Proper, straitlaced Queen Victoria, writhing like a cheap stripper. How much for a lap dance, counselor? How much for you to take them deep, sucking and slurping in and out until they released themselves, their cum all nicely collected in your mouth so you can spit it out when their backs are turned.”
“I hate you,” Vicky cried, lunging at him.
He laughed as he slapped her. “Spunk. I like it.”
Judge Sam slammed down the gavel. “The witness, I mean the defendant, is hereby found guilty, sentenced to…Shane, what do you reckon we should sentence her to?”
“Let’s ask the prisoner.” Shane leered at Vicky. “What is it you want, and don’t lie to us.”
“I want your cock,” she hissed. “Are you satisfied?”
“You want to touch it?”
“Yes.”
“And play with it?”
“Yes, you big jerk.”
“What about your mouth, do you want to taste it?”
“I’m not answering any more goddamn questions,” she fumed. “Look at me, I’m a wreck. I can’t sleep, I can’t think. Can’t you just put me out of my misery?”
Shane took her hand. He helped her down from the stand and put his arms around her. She moaned as he pulled her tight, her bare breasts against the material of his suit.
“Please, Shane, take me,” she said, surrendering all vestiges of pride. “I don’t care about tomorrow or five minutes from now, I need you inside me. I need you over me, around me.”
“I need you too, sweetheart and I never left. You know that. The best part of me stayed with you. I’m a walking ghost without you.”
He bent to capture her breast, inhaling the soft, rounded flesh, sucking her nipple, gently taking, breathing, caressing. Vicky shuddered against him, fists clenched, lightly pounding his back.
“Oh yeah, do you like that, baby?” Shane asked.
He held her up then swept her into his arms.
“Request conference in chambers, Your Honor,” Shane told the judge.
“Granted, as long as we can watch.”
“Naturally.”
Vicky laughed as he tossed her onto the bed. The judge’s chamber looked just like the back room at Salty Sam’s. Everyone from the courtroom filed in and stood along the wall. “You had this planned all along, you bastard.”
Shane ripped at his clothing, yanking off the jacket and baring his chest. He was breathing hard, his muscles tense in anticipation.
“I have a lot more up my sleeve, don’t worry,” he said pulling off his pants.
“What you have that interests me is in your underwear, soldier boy.”
“Is that, right, counselor?”
Magically, he crawled on top of her, naked and ready. “You know, Miss Victoria, we’d get a lot further if you would talk less and strip more.”
“And take away your fun?”
Shane ripped off her skirt. He allowed himself a few seconds to savor the look of her in nothing but panties and then he tore those off too.
Vicky held out her arms. “Come on, baby.”
Shane lowered himself, fitting inside her with such perfection that she almost cried. It was perfect, his cock plumbing her depths, her pussy clutching at his thickness, his hard, muscular chest molding against her breasts, burning her nipples. She sighed, her breath was his.
They began to move. She didn’t know where she left off and he began. They were still in the throes of their joint orgasm, the storm clouds breaking sweet and hot around them when she heard the rude, intrusive bleeping…
—
It had been the goddamn alarm clock this morning at six. It had ruined everything, awakening her to the reality of her empty love life. No happy endings, no perfect fits, nothing.
Then the first batch of roses showed up.
“It’s obviously a mistake,” Vicky dismissed as the well-meaning Kevin stood in the doorway with the beautiful roses, two dozen at least.
“It’s got your name on them,” Kevin said. “I really don’t see how it can be a mistake.”
“Ooh, Vicky,” Kat said, popping her head in the doorway. “They are totally gorgeous. Read the card.”
“Probably from a client,” said Vicky, without much conviction. “Not that it matters. Throw it all away.”
“Vicky,” Kat cried, having opened the card anyway. “You’ll never guess who they’re from.”
Vicky glared. “Did I not say to throw it all away? For a submissive, you are pretty damn contrary, you know that?”
Kat shrugged. “I’m submissive to my man and that’s it.”
Kevin took the card. “It’s from someone named Shane. Who’s that?”
Vicky’s stomach did a hot flip. “He is someone who does not exist,” she dismissed. “Ask Chase. The man is famous for disappearing off the face of the earth.”
“Vicky, that’s not fair. Shane couldn’t tell anyone he was alive, not even Chase.”
“I know, national security, blah, blah, blah.” Actually the story had impressed the hell out of Vicky. Unfortunately, it had added to her confusion as well. Hero, heel? Which was he?
Both, apparently.
“We should put the roses in the conference room,” said Kevin.
“I agree,” said Kat.
“I don’t care what you do,” Vicky said. “Plant them in the ice box if you want.”
A half hour later the second batch arrived.
The deliveryman brought them directly to her. “Your assistant said he was afraid to come in with these,” he said, presenting her with another bouquet of bright red roses.
“Melodramatic jerk,” Vicky pronounced.
“Hey,” the deliveryman said. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“I didn’t mean you. Can you just leave them with my assistant and tell him to make more room in the ice box?”
The man gave her a look and walked out.
Vicky had just settled back down when the chocolates arrived, a sampler box the size of a hubcap.
“What the hell does he think I am,” she fumed. “A hippopotamus?”
“He must think you’re a fox,” said Kevin. “Damn, I wish I had a guy after me like this.”
“You can have him,” said Vicky, though she could not possibly imagine the terminally heterosexual Shane ever being attracted to anything other than a skirt.
Speaking of which, how many women had Shane gone through since her? Chase had tried to tell her the man wasn’t a womanizer but the more he argued the point the more convinced Vicky was.
“What if he shows up?” Kat asked.
Vicky’s knees went weak. “He wouldn’t dare. I’ll throw him out on the spot.”
If I don’t throw myself at him first.
Yes, she was in deep. It was like a fire that kept building and building. Her usually reliable dildo only made it worse. The thing was too small, too lifeless. The last time she had tried it, she had ended up throwing it across the room and rolling herself up into a ball of self-pity.
He’ll never see me cry, she vowed. Hell, he would never see her at all. “Flowers are hereby banned,” she declared. “And chocolate.”
“What about geraniums?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Vicky almost knocked the latest deliveryman over on her way out.
“You haven’t heard the song,” he called out after her. “The client paid extra for it. My boss will kill me if I don’t sing it.”
“Tell your boss I will pay him a thousand dollars to stop sending people over here. That should shut him up.”
“I’ll just find another delivery company, you know.”
Vicky gasped. Shane stood there, right in front of her. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she demanded.
His lips angled into that devastating leer. “I have a whole list of things I would like to give you, counselor, and a heart attack is not one of them.”
Vicky clenched her fists. She needed to stop this nonsense once and for all. “You, in my office,” she declared. “Now.”
Shane arched a brow. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
There was no mistaking the tone, the untoward intent.
He wanted to fuck her in her own office.
Vicky’s hand trembled on the knob as she closed the door behind them. “I need to tell you something and I am only going to say it once.”
Shane was leaning against her desk.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped. “I’m serious.”
“You think I’m not?”
He looked devastating in black jeans and boots. His biceps made a mockery of the short sleeves of his plain black T-shirt. The way he crossed his legs—insolent, supremely confident—turned hers to jelly. It was as if he had just waltzed in and…taken over.
This was her office, her career and, damn it, why did she have to have all these stupid hormones?
“I think you’re a soldier, Shane, a very good one. Stick to it and forget about trying to start a relationship.”
“I acted like a jackass,” he conceded. “I would give anything to take back what I said and I wouldn’t insult you by asking you to accept my apology.”
Vicky stood there, all the steam draining from her carefully cultivated hatred. She was terrified to think what could take its place.
“It is water under the bridge, Shane. You have no idea how over the whole experience I am.”
Except for reliving it constantly, she thought. And except for dreamily looking for signs of him in other men’s eyes, in their laughter, the way they moved.
His face gave no clue as to his real emotions. Shit, he was trying to hold all the cards. “I want to make this simple, Shane. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You couldn’t if you tried.”
Vicky wasn’t sure how to take that. She plowed ahead. “The fact is we have to work something out. We are going to see each other at family dinners and we will sit under Christmas trees and drink eggnog.”
The image was so homey and cozy Vicky wanted to cry. Why the fuck did it feel so right?
“I’ll bet you look adorable on Christmas morning,” Shane said with a rasp. “Bunny slippers, a cute little bow in your hair. Better still, you could dress up for me in a cute little elf outfit.”
“Cut it out,” she snapped. “Stay on topic.”
“You brought up Christmas, not me.”
“Well I am un-bringing it up. Let’s talk something more clinical. There are laws, Shane. I know you’re aware of them. Unwanted advances, persistent communication in the context of clear and obvious rejection, is called stalking.”
“I’m familiar with stalking, from the jungle.”
Vicky’s pulse raced. “For crying out loud, do you want me to sue you?”
“Why not? It’s not like I have anything…except you, maybe.”
“You don’t have me!” Vicky was on the verge of shouting, very uncool, totally unprofessional.
Shane didn’t flinch. “You’re tense, Vicky.”
She put her back to the door. “Don’t even start with me. I know where you’re going and the answer is no.”
“I won’t leave until it happens,” he defied.
Her mouth was dry. “I mean it, I am saying no.”
“Your body is saying yes, counselor, and I think it’s high time we listen.”
She drew a sharp breath as he took off his shirt, all those muscles, totally perfect and kissable, from his rock-hard abdomen to those prize pectorals and biceps.
His nipples were hard.
“Put…put your shirt back on.”
“How about you take yours off instead?”
He was walking toward her. She wanted to run but her legs would not oblige.
“Shane…” It came out as a plea, totally sending the wrong message.
Only inches separated them at this point. She shivered as his fingers brushed her cheek, removing the strands of hair that had fallen in front of her face.
“I can’t sleep nights, Victoria.”
“So get some pills. I’m a lawyer, not a doctor.”
“You can’t sleep either, can you?”
She was powerless as he tugged her blouse from her skirt. “I sleep just fine,” she said, leaving out the erotic dreams that left her a panting, sweat-drenched wreck morning after morning.
Exposing Victoria Page 7
