Confessions of a Litigation God: A Legal Affairs Full Length Erotic Novel

by Sawyer Bennett

  Fumbling for my own zipper, I get it down and pull out my painfully hard cock, while nudging her legs apart with my own. Desperation seizes me.

  Frantic desperation to erase the last hour of my life and drown it out with something that I can understand. Something that is comforting to me.

  Hardcore, dirty fucking.

  Matt Connover style.

  I settle my body in between Mac’s legs, and her hands come up to grip my shoulders. I use my hand to guide myself to her pussy, and I start battering my way in. She’s wet, but not as wet as she could be. She’s definitely tight, whether from tension or because I simply refuse to take the time to get her worked up.

  With three hard pushes and pulls, I work my way in to her body, knowing I should feel guilty because I haven’t even kissed her or touched her intimately other than to bite her nipple once. But the guilt doesn’t come, only the unbelievably fantastic feeling of being immersed deep inside of her.

  Mac’s breathing is harsh, and she hasn’t said a word, but she moves her hips against mine and that’s all the encouragement I need.

  I start fucking her hard, and by my fourth full stroke, I feel her flood with wetness. Raising her legs up, I put them on my shoulders and lean into her, causing her to practically fold in on herself but giving me the deepest fucking angle imaginable for me to tunnel into her.

  “Feels good,” she pants, and I would have to agree wholeheartedly with her.

  I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at Mac’s face, because I know that even though this feels amazing, she’s worried about me… about what we’re doing right this moment, and whether or not she has the ability to help me get past this anger.

  I fuck her, and fuck her, and fuck her, trying to drown out the torment that Marissa just laid upon me. With every thrust, it becomes a little more palatable.

  When Mac seizes up underneath of me and starts shaking as she climaxes, I purposely hold off my orgasm, not wanting to share that moment. I want it all for myself.

  I heave and lurch against her, slamming my way home, again and again, and when I finally think I’m distant enough away, I let go and pour all of my frustration into her body with a powerfully quiet orgasm.

  When I’m empty of every tremor and ounce of semen I can unload, I roll off Mac and lay on my back, gasping for breath. I examine my feelings, searching for the guilt and anger that had me hostage just moments ago.

  Gone. Vanished.

  I feel nothing, and that is great.

  Just what I was looking for, and apparently, it was nothing that a good rousing fuck with Mac couldn’t cure.

  Standing up, I reach down and hold my hand out to her. She doesn’t hesitate but lets me pull her up from the floor. I lead her back to my bedroom, because I think I might need a few more sessions just to make sure that shit with Marissa is purged for good.

  Chapter 30

  “That smells fantastic,” I tell Mac as I walk up behind her. Putting my hands on her hips and resting my chin on her shoulder, I watch as she stirs the pot of spaghetti sauce.

  “Why don’t you set the table? This will be done soon.”

  Turning away, I open the cupboard. “Sure. Will Macy be joining us?”

  “She’s got a date, and by date, I mean she has a one-night stand.”

  “I thought I used that service a lot, but Macy takes the cake,” I say with a laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as hollow as it feels.

  Because I just had a little zap of longing that coursed through me when Mac referenced Macy having a one-night stand. Ever since Marissa came over on Saturday and told me all that shit about how she felt… about how she was pissed at me, making me feel as if I did something wrong… well, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things.

  After I fucked Mac on my kitchen floor, then took her back to my bedroom and fucked her twice more, I left her passed out on my bed in an orgasm coma. I went into my home office and booted up my computer, went straight to my bookmarks menu and pulled up my One Night Only wish list.

  Scrolling through profile after profile, I looked at each woman presented to me with dispassion and only vague interest. Not one of them could ever compare to Mac. But that’s not why I was looking. I was looking because ever since Marissa walked out of my apartment with Gabe, I had started longing for simpler times in my life. Such as when I was a one-night stand kind of man, with no strings, no connections, and no feelings other than the euphoria that comes with busting a good nut.

  Those simpler times were simple because they were black and white. There was no guessing… no worry that some action I take today may cause me pain tomorrow. I didn’t have to look out for anyone but Gabe and myself.

  It was just… simple.

  Of course, I never did anything other than look at the ONO profiles because while I longed for the simpler times, I certainly didn’t long for anyone other than Mac. My feelings may be a hundred ways fucked right now, but the one thing that has not changed is my desire for her. I still lust after her with a vengeance. She can’t be within my proximity for ten seconds before my mind is already calculating on how to fuck her, and if I can’t fuck her, how I can at least touch her in some way.

  In fact, since Saturday, it’s like my sexual appetite for her has increased tenfold. After I closed out the ONO profile, I went back to the room, woke her up, and fucked her doggie style. Then I went down on her, made her come twice more, and by then I was hard enough for her to ride me to a blistering eruption.

  Sunday, I didn’t let her out of my bed. If I couldn’t spend time with my son, I’d spend it fucking away the pain and anger. I’d like to say Mac never complained once, but by Sunday mid-afternoon, she asked for a hiatus. She told me she was sore and needed to get home to do laundry. I had a tiny frisson of guilt course through me, but I didn’t ask her to stay. I could have. I could have asked her to stay and we could have curled on the couch and watch an old movie, but I had absolutely no desire to do that.

  What does it say about me that my only interest in Mac, at that point, was just in fucking her?

  I think it says a lot.

  Now granted, things were a little brighter on Monday at work. I had a good night’s sleep, I put Marissa out of my mind, and I was looking forward to having Gabe for the upcoming weekend. Weirdly, I didn’t mention it or discuss the potential plans with Mac. I’m not sure if she’s going to come with us or not. I’m not sure if I’m extending another invite to her, or if she just assumes there is one. It’s all messed up in my head now… what level of involvement I want her to have with Gabe… because frankly, he has enough crazy stuff between his own parents going on that I don’t want to add additional confusion onto his young shoulders.

  But outside of my hesitation on including Mac in my plans with Gabe, I actually was looking forward to a nice dinner with her tonight, some conversation, and obviously… at least an orgasm for each of us. I didn’t feel so wired with tension and think maybe the worst of my wretched feelings since the weekend have dissipated and things are returning back to normal.

  I set the two plates on the table and start to rummage for silverware in her cutlery drawer.

  “Exactly how often were you using it before you met me?” Mac asks curiously.

  For a moment, I have no clue what she’s talking about because I was so immersed in the shit storm of memories from the weekend, but then it flashed to me… she’s talking about my One Night Only dates.

  Setting the last fork down, I turn toward Mac, giving her a gentle smile. Grasping her chin, I lean in and give her a sweet kiss. “I used it a lot, Mac. But none of those one-night stands ever compared to you, and I don’t miss it in the slightest.”

  That is the fucking truth. No one has ever compared to Mac. Except, okay… maybe a tiny lie. I was missing the simplicity of it this weekend.

  Mac smiles in relief and kisses me back, hers not as sweet as mine. When my hands come up to pull her closer to me, she finally breaks away and gives me a chastising smirk. “It’s t
ime to eat.”

  “I know what I want to eat,” I leer at her while waggling my eyebrows and grabbing at her hips.

  She slaps me away with a snicker, and turns to pull the spaghetti off the stove.

  We end up having an awesome dinner. The talk is wonderful, because it’s light and non-controversial. And by non-controversial, I mean we both steer far away from any topic involving Gabe, Marissa, or the fucked-up scenario that happened this weekend.

  After dinner, Mac insists she has some work to do as we walk into the living room.

  “What could you possibly have to do? I’m your boss… therefore I say you shouldn’t be working tonight.” I tell her with a grin and try to scoot closer to her on the couch.

  She pushes me away, and grabs something out of her briefcase to wave at me. “You gave me this deposition transcript to review and summarize. It’s due tomorrow.”

  I roll my eyes. “You can have an extension. I’d rather fuck you right now.”

  “No,” she says sternly. “I’m doing my work and no special favors from the boss. You can fuck me later.”

  I turn away and grab the remote, acting miffed I’ve got to keep my hands to myself. But I’m not. Truth be told, I’m glad Mac stuck to her guns and didn’t take me up on my offer to give her an extension. Shows me she’s dedicated to the job, and that relieves me. It gives me some measure of peace that Mac understands we still have an employer-employee relationship to observe.

  I watch ESPN while Mac works. Every once in a while, I’ll sneak a glance at her. She’s diligently highlighting passages in the transcript, sometimes chewing thoughtfully on the end of the yellow pen. She’s so fucking beautiful that I’d gladly just stare at her rather than the TV any day, but it would be too weird for me to just sit here and watch her while she works, so I keep my gaze averted for the most part.

  Almost two hours later, she throws the transcript on the table and yawns big. I don’t waste a moment, practically leaping on her. “About damn time you got done. I’ve been dying to fuck you.”

  Mac giggles like a schoolgirl and wraps her arms tight around my neck, putting her mouth against mine and giving me a pornographic kiss that causes my balls to tighten and my cock to swell to epic proportions.

  “You could have had me at any time,” she informs me, and I know that as well. But I chose to let her work, knowing that the wait would make it better.

  Standing up from the couch, I easily lift her, wrapping her legs around my waist. I make it a very quick walk back to her bedroom. “I was trying to be a gentleman… but I’m not feeling so gentlemanly now. Think you can take it a little rough?”

  “I can take anything you’ve got,” she breathes out as I let her slide down the front of my body. When she brushes down against my erection, my hips jerk from the contact, and I slam my mouth down on hers, groaning in pure satisfaction when her tongue touches mine.

  Fucking heaven!

  My hands go to the hem of her shirt, and I pull it up in one fluid move. Just as it clears Mac’s head, the song Barracuda starts ringing from the phone in my back pocket.

  My entire body goes rigid with frustration and resentment.

  “Fuck,” I grit out as I pull away from Mac and grab my phone. Holding it to my ear as I connect, I growl at Marissa, “What do you want?”

  “I’ve got a chance to take Gabe to Hershey Park this weekend, so I want to switch weekends with you. You can take him to Coney Island weekend after, okay?

  My stomach knots up painfully and I grip my cellphone so hard, I’m afraid I might crush it. “Absolutely not. I won’t agree to it.”

  “I’ve already told him about it, Matt, and that he can bring a friend. He’s dying to go. Here… I’ll put him on the phone.”

  Fucking bitch! Fucking whore of a bitch!

  “Hi Daddy,” Gabe says into the phone.

  “Hey buddy,” I say, cringing by the desperate quaver in my voice. I’m so pissed at Marissa right now, I feel like breaking down and crying like a baby. Taking a deep breath so Gabe doesn’t know I’m upset, I ask, “So what do you want to do this weekend?”

  “Mommy said she would take me and Caleb to Hershey Park this weekend and they have chocolate lamps, and she said we could go if you’d switch weekends with her.”

  I close my eyes, because it pains me to know that Gabe can be bought so easily with the promise of a little chocolate. But he’s a kid… I get it, and fuck… if I was his age, I’d rather go to Hershey Park with one of my friends than Coney Island.

  “Okay, Gabe,” I tell him softly.

  “Thanks, Daddy,” he says, but he’s already gone from the line.

  “Sure… I’ll see you soon,” I say into the dead space before Marissa picks up.

  “So, I’m assuming you’ll let him go,” she says.

  “You fucking bitch,” I hiss into the phone. “Don’t ever pit him against me like that again, or I will sue you for full custody.”

  I jam the “End” button on my screen and hang up on her. My pulse is slamming and my skin itches. I have the insane need to punch my first through a wall right now.

  Mac puts her hand on my arm, causing me to jerk in surprise. “What happened?”

  There’s her face again… awash in worry, just like Saturday night, and I don’t feel like suffering her piteous stare. “Nothing. Marissa’s taking Gabe to Hershey Park this weekend.”

  “But it’s your weekend. You were going to take him to Coney Island.”

  I want to say, No shit, Dick Tracy, but I don’t.

  “Yeah… doesn’t work that way with Marissa. Not when she bribes Gabe and then puts him on the phone to tell me how much he wants to go. I can’t say no to him, and she knows it.”

  I’m vibrating with the need to lash out and although all of my anger is directed at Marissa, if I’m not careful, I’m going to hit Mac with it hard. She knows this… I can tell by the wary look in her eye. Yet she still steps into me, wrapping her arms around my waist and putting her cheek to my chest. She moves her hands in circular motions on my back, trying to soothe away my anger.

  It’s not working.

  “Can you take her to court or something to get her to stop doing this?” she asks hesitantly.

  I let a bark of a bitter laugh out, because yeah… I could take Gabe away from her in a nanosecond. At least get primary custody if I wanted.

  But it’s not what Gabe wants. He loves his mother as much as he loves me. Maybe even more so, because she’s his primary caretaker. He spends twice as much time with her and she soothes away his nightmares, helps him with homework, cooks him most of his meals. He’s a happy, well-adjusted kid and while I’m responsible for part of that… it galls me to say, so is she.

  I don’t answer Mac’s question, because… well, because… it’s none of her damn business, plus, I’m done thinking about shit that I have no control over. So, I do what I do best, pulling Mac to me and kissing her deeply. I go right past sweet and seductive, blistering her lips with the message that I plan on being sunk in her body all night long.

  I pull back briefly, just in case my kiss isn’t adequately conveying my message. “No more talking, Mac. Just fucking, okay?”

  She just nods at me and within just a few more minutes of hot kisses and bold touching, I’m pounding deep inside of her and all is right in my world again.

  ***

  I’m in my office, neck deep in preparing for a major deposition I have tomorrow, when a reminder pops up on my calendar.

  Dinner, Mac.

  Fuck, it’s almost seven PM and I got completely lost in what I was doing. I still have a few more hours of work to do, but I can pack this stuff up and do it at Mac’s after we eat dinner.

  Except… the prospect of hanging out at Mac’s tonight doesn’t hold a lot of appeal to me. She’s been pushing at me the last few days, wanting to “talk,” because she senses what I already know to be true. There is a bit of a divide between us… ever since that shit with Marissa went down last weeke
nd, capped off by her call to me on Monday night.

  I can’t help it. I’ve been moody, territorial of my time and space, and in a generally pissy mood. About the only thing that makes me feel better is when I’m pounding away between Mac’s legs, and that relief is only temporary. I’m searching desperately to find that feeling I had for Mac… that feeling of joy and need and desire born of genuine care for someone. I had that fucking feeling just moments before Marissa knocked on my door Saturday and since that time, it’s just fucking gone.

  The only thing left is my lust for her, which is endless. If I could have Mac every day to slake that lust, I’d die a happy man. But unfortunately, Mac wants more than that. Fuck, even I know that Mac deserves more than that. I’m just not sure I’m the guy to give it to her anymore. I feel like I’ve been knocked off track, and I don’t know how to get back on.

  I don’t know that I really want to get back on at this point. Simpler times desired and all.

  The icing on the cake this week was when I introduced Kylie Wynn to the firm, and then put Mac under her direct supervision. Kylie is an appellate attorney I subcontracted with on a short-term basis to help me prepare the Pearson appeal for the trial I lost. All she does is appellate work and while I’m just as qualified as she is, I have a full, ongoing litigation caseload that can’t be neglected.

  I introduced Kylie to the firm on Tuesday, and then had a meeting with her and Mac in my office. I’ve known Kylie for a few years through some mutual colleagues, and I knew she was out of work recently so she seemed perfect to help me out on this. I didn’t count on an instant dislike between her and Mac though, and that’s just one more thing on my plate to deal with.

  Kylie is beautiful, arrogant, and apparently, I’m thinking, horny. She’s not so subtle with the moves she’s making on me, even laying them down right in front of Mac. Some of the moves I’ve seen before… touching my arm and bending over so I can see her cleavage. She showed me a new one today while we were meeting in my office when she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, causing her skirt to ride high enough I could see the tops of her lace stockings and garter clips in my peripheral vision.