Confessions of a Litigation God: A Legal Affairs Full Length Erotic Novel, Page 2

  Giving her a few kisses, nips, and licks across her stomach and breasts, I manage to hook both of my elbows behind the backs of her knees as I move my way north. It raises her hips off the bed and gives me the perfect angle to sink into her. She’s wet and ready, but who wouldn’t be after what I just did to her?

  With an easy push of my hips, her body eagerly accepts my cock. She mewls like a starving kitten when I start thrusting inside of her.

  I take my time. She’s tied up, not going anywhere, and she’s flush off a fantastic orgasm. She knows how good I can make her feel, so she’s along for the ride. I alternate fast, slow, hard, soft… you name it—I give it to her. I mean, it’s basic missionary position, but the way I have her legs and hips raised, I know I’m hitting her at her deepest point, and her increased moaning confirms it.

  We haven’t even kissed yet, and I wonder if she wants to. I could take it or leave it, frankly. Too intimate sometimes, which gives me the heebie-jeebies, but I’ll do it if the woman wants it. Let’s face it… I’ll do practically anything a woman wants me to.

  As I continue to fuck her, Marie stares out the window at the building across the way, with a glazed and rapturous look on her face. She’s wondering if we’re being watched, not that anyone could see a lot of detail without some binoculars or a telescope, but I suppose it’s possible.

  I look down at her… scarves binding her hands, my arms pinning her legs in place, at my mercy while I pound away inside of her body

  Fuck, that’s hot, and I can feel my orgasm start to bubble.

  Then it boils.

  Then it fucking erupts.

  I place my face in the pillow that’s supporting Marie’s head, lost in a haze of lust and bliss, shouting hoarsely into it as I spurt into her.

  As soon as the last shudder works its way from my spine out through my dick, I pull out of her and roll to the side. That was a workout, and I’m breathing heavily. So is she, not because she did anything, but because her heart rate is through the roof.

  Glancing over at her, I ask, “Did you come a second time?” I had gotten so overwhelmed in lust that I didn’t even think to wait for her.

  She nods her head, eyes still glazed but with a satisfied smile on her face.

  I turn and look back at the ceiling. “Good. That’s good.”

  My breathing finally calms and I roll off the bed, untying one of Marie’s hands. I walk back around, stopping at the end to pick up my clothes. Marie just watches me, her chest and those glorious tits I all but ignored still heaving.

  When I put on my t-shirt and zip up my jeans, because I dressed über casual tonight, I finally untie her other hand. She rolls onto her side, tucking her hand under her face, and watches me put on my socks and shoes.

  When I’m done, I walk back over to her and lean down, placing a light kiss on her forehead. She sighs and closes her eyes, never saying a word to me. I turn for the door, already looking forward to drinking a beer and watching Sports Center when I get home.

  Marie hadn’t said a word during that entire fuck session.

  It makes me smile because it’s just the way I like it.

  I tell myself that over and over again, as I walk out of the hotel.

  It was just the way I like it.

  Just the way I like it.

  I keep repeating it, ignoring the gnawing emptiness at the center of my chest… the painful squeeze of some unrealized longing. I choose to believe I may be having a heart attack rather than think the unthinkable… that maybe something is truly missing.

  Ridiculous really.

  Yup… fuck ‘em and leave ‘em. That’s the stuff that dreams are made of.

  Chapter 2

  I stare at the deposition transcript in front of me, read the same line for probably the third time, and it’s just not sinking in. Glancing at my watch, I see it’s almost four o’clock.

  I’m distracted and feeling off center. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve been feeling that way a lot lately. It’s like the flavor has gone out of everything. My food doesn’t taste as good, my courtroom victories aren’t as sweet and fuck, I hate to even admit it… a woman’s clit on my tongue hasn’t had that much allure either.

  I think that’s because I’ve been having too much of it.

  Right?

  That could be the reason, although, even as I think that fucking idiotic sentiment, my rational side is rolling its eyeballs. No man can ever have enough sex. That’s the truth.

  Pushing the transcript aside, I pull up my internet browser and navigate my way to ONO’s secure server. I type in my logon and password, heading straight into my “wish list”. This is where I tag all the profiles of women that I have a passing interest in fucking. I’ve not been availing myself of it lately and, in fact, I’ve not had a “date” in six days. Almost an entire week of jerking off in the shower, which, honestly, has been producing about the same pleasure as I got with the lovely Marie just six days ago.

  Sighing, I flip through the profiles, all the faces blurring together. That’s all you get at first… just a head shot of the woman. They are all spectacularly gorgeous, varied in hair color, ethnicity, size, and shape. I love women and find many things about a woman to be beautiful, but nothing I’m seeing right now is causing the remotest of pulsing in my pants.

  I head back out to the home page and put in new search criteria.

  Vanilla, Light Kink, Female, Age 21-45 and hit “Enter”.

  Over a thousand profiles populate the screen, each with a thumbnail of their headshot showing up for perusal. I sort the list according to Membership Activation Date, newest on top.

  Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling.

  I halt on one picture that stands out. It’s fairly new… Number 3498… joined just a few weeks ago.

  I click on the link and look at the larger photo that comes up before I read her stats.

  She’s stunning… no doubt. Raven-black hair, crystal-green eyes, high cheekbones, perfectly straight and delicately narrow nose. Her lips are full, soft looking, and would only look better wrapped around my cock. She looks like a fucking runway model, and I stare at her for a while.

  Her overall beauty, though, is not what’s really catching my attention. I look back at her eyes and once you get past the shock of seeing such lovely, pale green popping next to that black hair, I feel a thrill run through me when I realize what really is attracting me is the intelligence I see.

  She stares directly at the camera and while she’s giving a sexy, sultry smile, her eyes are sharp and alert. Almost calculating.

  It’s fucking hot, and my dick is definitely twitching in interest.

  But as sometimes happens, right in the midst of a good hard-on, something comes along and kills it deader than a doornail.

  That would be my phone ringing Heart’s Barracuda, which means my ex-wife, Marissa, is calling me.

  I contemplate not answering it for just about two seconds, but then push that right out of my mind. Chances are she’s calling to bust my balls, demand money, or some other devious way to make me suffer. But on the off chance it’s something serious about our seven-year-old son, Gabe, I can’t take the chance of missing her call.

  “What do you need?” I ask tiredly into the phone as soon as I connect it.

  “You could at least answer politely,” she snaps, and I know this is going to be one of those conversations where I’d rather have my nuts castrated than listen to another moment of her vitriol.

  I don’t respond though, because she’s aiming for a fight and if I do, it will fuel the flames. I find it completely ironic, a little bit sad, and a whole lot unfair that she was the one that cheated on me, and yet she’s the one that gets to act all offended when our marriage crumbled. My mom once told me it was her guilt causing her to act that way, but I can’t believe that for a moment. The only thing Marissa was guilt stricken about was that she got caught and it ruined her swank lifestyle when I kicked her to the curb.

  After several second
s of silence, she sighs. “I need some money.”

  “No,” I tell her, because this isn’t the first time she’s asked. The bitch tried to sneak in a boob job after telling me she needed the money to send Gabe to an expensive summer camp last year.

  “It’s for Gabe,” she whines.

  “Nice try,” I tell her firmly, glancing back at the photo of Number 3498 on my computer screen. Those intelligent eyes seem to be boring into me, seeing deep inside to the tribulations I suffer under Marissa’s antipathy.

  “I want to take him on a trip,” she says quickly. “An educational trip.”

  Okay, this may have some merit. I take Gabe a lot of places because I want him to be educated and well traveled. “Where?”

  She pauses, silently hemming and hawing, and my suspicion that she’s going to play me goes on full-scale alert.

  “Where?” I ask again, this time with anger saturating my voice.

  “The Galapagos Islands,” she blurts out.

  “You got to be fucking kidding me?” I snarl at her.

  “No, I’m not fucking kidding you,” she snarls back. “They have a lot of wildlife there for him to see… these huge tortoises.”

  True enough. But everyone that has ever heard of the Galapagos knows they’re famous for those monstrous beasts.

  “And let me guess… you’re not going alone?”

  “Well, no. I would take Anthony with me. It’s not safe for Gabe and me to travel halfway around the world on our own.”

  Of course she would. Anthony was her new, twenty-year-old boyfriend that I had the extreme displeasure of meeting last weekend when I dropped Gabe off. He was laying on her couch in a pair of boxer shorts with a beer in one hand and the remote control in the other. Marissa smirked at me when she saw me narrow my eyes at him. She’s just vain enough to think I’m jealous, but I was pissed a half-naked jackass was in her home when I was dropping my son off.

  “What the fuck?” I had leaned in and hissed at her. “Get your fucking boyfriend dressed.”

  She blinked at me innocently and shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t sure what time you’d be by.”

  Fucking bitch. I dropped Gabe off every Sunday evening I had him at seven PM. She knew exactly when I’d be there.

  Focusing once more on Number 3498’s beautiful eyes staring calmly at me from the computer screen, I take a deep breath and let it out.

  “One last guess,” I say with sarcasm. “You have a luxury resort probably already picked out.”

  She misses the sarcasm. “Why, yes I do. Would you like me to send you the link so you could see it?”

  I blow up. “No I don’t want to fucking see it. I’m not paying for you and your fuck toy to go on a vacation.”

  “It’s an educational trip,” she huffs into the phone, and I don’t even have it in me to argue. I press the “end” button on my phone, and blissful silence soothes me.

  She calls back, of course, but I ignore it. I’m assured that Gabe is fine, and this was just another extortion call from her that I quickly shut down.

  Shutting my phone off, I turn back to my computer and read Number 3498’s stats. ONO lets you be as anonymous or open as you want. Number 3498’s profile is skimpy, but then, so is mine. It just says she’s originally from Nashville, has graduate education, and is only interested in vanilla.

  Which works for me. I can take or leave the kink.

  I look at her just a moment more, and fuck yeah… her eyes are captivating me. I’m going for it.

  I click on the button that says “Send a Message” and type, Tomorrow, 7PM, Sullivan’s on Upper East Side. Wear red and wait at the bar for me? ~ Mike

  I don’t even hesitate before I hit “Send”. I’m not the type that wants to enter into any frivolous discussion to see if we’re compatible. She’s hot—I want to fuck her—end of story. She either does or she doesn’t and if she doesn’t, my wish list is stocked full of other women.

  Picking the deposition transcript up from my desk, I get back to work, telling myself that I’m not allowed to leave until I finish reading it. But I still can’t concentrate for shit, because now I’m suddenly anxious to get a reply from Number 3498. I keep glancing at my computer screen, waiting and waiting.

  I play this stupid game… read a few lines of testimony, look to the computer. I keep on playing it over the next hour, and just as I’m about to give up and log out of ONO’s website, a message pops up in my inbox.

  From her.

  I can’t believe how fucking giddy I feel… how my heart is racing.

  I click on the message and open it up.

  It has just two words.

  Yes. ~ Stella

  Nope. Can’t help it. I pull my arm back in a fist pump of victory, and then push back from my desk, my chair rolling a good three feet back until it bumps into the plate-glass window that overlooks Manhattan. Raising both arms up, I savor the feeling of this win.

  I just know… something different is going to happen with this woman tomorrow, and I’ll be out of my rut for good.

  My phone rings, and my moment of sweet victory is over. I see it’s Lorraine Cummings calling, and I answer it with a sigh. She’s an attorney that has a decent caseload—mostly business law—but she sucks donkey dick when it comes to her own business practices and she’s getting ready to go under. I made an offer to buy her firm out, and I assume she has an answer for me.

  “Hello, Lorraine. Have an answer for me?”

  “I do,” she says breathlessly. “Would you like to get together for dinner to discuss it?”

  “It’s either a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer,” I tell her, not unkindly, but not offering any room to argue.

  “Of course,” she says hastily. “I mean… yes, the answer is yes.”

  “Good. Then I’ll see you and your associate attorney… What did you say her name was?”

  “McKayla Dawson.”

  “That’s right. See you both on Monday… eight AM sharp. And don’t be late.”

  “We won’t be, and I just wanted to take this opportunity—”

  “I’m sorry, Lorraine… I have a meeting getting ready to start and can’t chat. See you on Monday.”

  I disconnect, not feeling an ounce of remorse over the abrupt way I ended the conversation. Lorraine Cummings is a pain in the ass, but she’s going to be my pain in the ass starting Monday. In exchange for buying her cases at a discounted price, I’ve agreed to take her on as an employee, along with her associate attorney.

  She approached Bill and me a few weeks ago with an offer to sell her firm, which included a nice asset load of several business litigation cases and one, potentially big, personal injury case. That case was a little shaky, and she didn’t know the exact details other than a brain injury was involved, but that was enough to perk my ears up. The only caveat was the case would only come with her associate attorney… this McKayla Dawson she just mentioned. Frankly, I had forgotten about that, but I wasn’t worried. I had plenty of work to do and could keep her busy, and it would be a small price to pay to latch on to a brain injury case. Worst-case scenario, I could keep her on here at the firm until the case was concluded, and then cut her loose. I’d give her a nice bonus, though, if the case settled well.

  We made a fair offer to buy Lorraine out, and she said she wanted to think about it for a few days. She wasn’t fooling me… she wasn’t thinking about it at all. She had decided to accept it the minute I threw the number at her, but she wanted me to think she had other options. She wanted to try and negotiate.

  Thus the reason she suggested dinner tonight. She wanted to make a counter offer, plus she wanted to flirt some more with me to see if I’d take the bait.

  The answer to dinner was an unequivocal “no”. She either accepted my offer or didn’t, and I wasn’t going to miss a minute of sleep if she didn’t. I also wasn’t going to be overly excited if she did. It was just a way to continue growing my empire.

  Just business.


  It was also a “no” because I didn’t have it in me to suffer her breathy sighs and the way she would lick her lips when talking to me. She comes on way too obvious, and yet really doesn’t have the guts to make a move on me. I mean, if she would just walk up, palm my dick, and massage me to life, I probably wouldn’t say no.

  Who would? She’s pretty hot, a little bit older, but attractive all the same.

  But no… she doesn’t have the metaphorical balls to do it, and I like my women a little more strong in their base urges. I like a woman who goes after what she wants.

  Like Number 3498. Her simple “yes” was the one answer I got tonight that has me smiling.

  It’s a lecherous one, but I’m smiling all the same.

  Tomorrow cannot get here fast enough.

  Chapter 3

  I hit Sullivan’s at six PM, a full hour before Stella is due to arrive. I wanted to have a drink, relax, and think about what I could do to her this evening. I also wanted to watch her walk in.

  I can tell a lot by the way a woman walks. The way she holds her head, her shoulders. Does she look around the room or at the floor? Do her arms swing naturally or does she hold them stiff at her sides?

  Body language. I’ve been reading it for years on jurors, and I do it with people all the time. You can’t trust half of what comes out of people’s lips anyway, so I rely a lot on evaluating their movements to get the full story.

  I order a Jameson neat and sip at it while checking out the patrons. There’s a dark-haired woman at the bar that makes eye contact with me. For a moment, I think it might be Stella, because of her bold gaze, but I immediately realize she’s not wearing red and it doesn’t look like there’s much else upstairs to compete with it. I don’t see the intelligence in those eyes that originally caught my attention and immediately know it’s not Stella. I don’t return the woman’s look and brush my gaze past her, making sure I don’t make eye contact with her again.