Текст книги "Shut In"
Автор книги: Cee Smith
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 7 страниц)
Chapter Seven
I should have been second-guessing everything that had happened leading up to the point where I found myself back in his arms, but I just couldn’t. I clung to his warmth like the dying days of summer, relishing the weight of his body pressed against mine. So much for the rules, I thought with a chuckle.
“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were intentionally trying to bruise my ego. What’s so funny this time?”
Joel rolled away from my back, his arm wrapping around my stomach to pull me with him. He pulled until we were both lying on our sides, face to face. The presence of his hand caressing my side was an unexpected yet welcome comfort.
“I don’t know. This. You. Me. Our circumstances.” I waved my hand around the room, pointing at nothing in particular, especially considering the fact that we couldn’t see in the darkness of the room.
“You’re telling me this isn’t how you’d ordinarily spend a Monday morning?”
I scoffed as I dredged up thoughts of the last six months. It didn’t really matter the day; every one of them was the same—working my way toward that Junior Partner position at Henderson & Fitz. In a city where the majority of people found lawyers from billboards or cheesy TV commercials, vowing to get them out of their DUIs or reimburse them for some vehicular accident, Henderson & Fitz was one of most respectable firms that didn’t have to resort to those embarrassing ads. I felt proud when I told people where I worked; it was only my position that left me wanting. Being the youngest and least experienced person at my firm didn’t give me any advantages over the many other lawyers in town that were all vying for the same position I was. That was why I worked diligently, from sun up to sun down on most days, just to show my dedication to not only the job but also the company.
“Sadly enough, I’d probably be working or thinking about work. I’d have the TV on though to make myself feel normal.”
His hand lifted to my face, trailing across my cheekbone before denting my bottom lip around the tip of his finger.
“What do you do?”
“I’m an associate at Henderson & Fitz.”
“Oh, so you’re a big-shot lawyer. I’m impressed. Although, I’ve got to say, you seem too sweet to be a lawyer.”
“Maybe I’ve only shown you my good side.”
He grabbed my chin angling my face, swiveling my head left and right, up and down, inspecting every pore before he let his hand fall from my face, relocating to my hip once more.
“Nope, you look sweet from every angle. So, I take it club-hopping isn’t your thing.”
“Definitely not. I was there for moral support.”
“Your foray out into the world wasn’t all bad. After all, look what you brought home.” His hand brushed down his body, modeling off the specimen of a man that lay next to me, looking like a nude model ready to be drawn. His skin was soft, and I could see the smattering of hair leading from his chest down the center of his abs to the wisps of hair landscaped to accentuate his cock. I couldn’t help but take in the sight of his glorious body. Joel was that decadent piece of chocolate that you continuously passed up because you felt he was only to be brought out for special occasions, but the truth was you never wanted decadent because how could you go back to Hershey’s once you’ve had the world’s finest chocolate?
“Keep giving me those eyes and I’ll have you on your back again.”
I bit my lip, thinking of all the ways he could have me.
“Now you’re just asking for it,” he said as he dived into me, pinning me on my back and nuzzling my neck. My hands sunk in his hair, holding him closer to me while his hands plundered my body, stealing my breath with every touch.
***
All of that talk about my job reminded me of the case that could bring me one step closer to my goal of becoming Junior Partner. Something about this case kept niggling at me. Something I couldn’t put my finger on, but it was the first thought to pop into my head that morning, followed immediately by the delicious ache of the previous night’s and early morning’s romps.
Sitting at my desk, I tried recalling the details again. Ms. Farrows claimed that following her breakup with Mr. Trevaunt, she went by his house on the 15th to retrieve some of her personal belongings. She claimed the altercation happened over some items that were gifted to her.
“When I went to leave, he pulled me back by my arms, threw me into the door, and tried to wrestle the items from my hand. He slammed my face into the floor while he yelled at me. I must have blacked out because I don’t remember how I got all of the other bruises, but when I came to, he was no longer in the room, and I escaped his house with the things that were still scattered around the floor.”
The defendant read like a self-entitled rich kid—a dime a dozen in a place like Vegas, where everyone who had money thought they were somebody. He probably thought girls like Ms. Farrows were disposable—things to be tossed aside like yesterday’s pastries.
I hadn’t seen Ms. Farrows, but I remembered her bio. I imagined her to be another ordinary Midwestern girl who was probably a little too innocent for a place like Vegas, but like me, came here to see a change of pace.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen a case like this, and it wouldn’t be the last. Our law firm had a laundry list of clients looking to sue some big shot that got a little rough. Typically the girl would be bought off and everything would be swept under the rug before it ever went public. In fact, the only reason why this had become such a big deal was because of the defendant.
The defendant’s father, Edward Trevaunt, was one of the wealthiest men in the city, let alone the state, and it was only a couple weeks prior to the incident that the tabloids had been relaying news of his death—even going so far as doing a full day of coverage of his funeral. I didn’t remember seeing the son on any of the news clips I’d seen, but they kept talking about how devastated he was. Maybe it was all just too much for him, and he lashed out at the first person he could—Ms. Farrows.
It was EJ Trevaunt’s absence after his altercation with Ms. Farrows that made this all a news spectacle. PR representatives from his father’s company were continuously telling the news that they didn’t speak on the family’s personal matters, but word was, even his company was operating with a stand-in for EJ.
“Knock Knock,” Joel said at the entrance of my office, with a mug in each hand and a smile that pulled me from the downward spiral of EJ’s life.
“I thought you could use some fuel seeing as how you didn’t get much sleep.” He winked with a cheeky smile and strolled into the room, with a mug outstretched for me to take. I grinned, taking the mug in hand and sipping to hide the smile I couldn’t seem to wipe from my face. I felt like a teenage girl with a crush on the captain of the football team and he just now noticed me. The alcohol from last night had burned off, but left behind the truth of what I’d spent days denying—there was genuine chemistry between Joel and me. He had a magnetic pull that drew me in from the very first moment I saw him, and the more time I spent with him, the more I forgot why I was keeping my distance.
We both took sips from our mugs, our eyes glued to each other’s over the rims of our cups. While I had plenty of work to catch up on, I didn’t mind the welcome distraction of seeing Joel barefoot and shirtless. His arms flexed and the muscles of his chest rippled as if a chill passed over him. He set his mug down and leaned over my desk to show his interest in what I was working on.
“Whatcha got there?” he asked, nudging his head in the direction of the files scattered to my right. I closed my laptop, extinguishing all of the light so his prying eyes wouldn’t be able to see anything revealing.
“Just a case I’m helping out with.”
“I get it. So you’ll have an advantage when you go back to work…unless everyone you work with is just as work obsessed as you.”
He got comfortable, sitting on the edge of my desk.
“It’s not really my case, but I try to offer insight where I can. You know, everyone likes a team player.” I shrugged my shoulders, trying to feign like my whole work existence didn’t revolve around this philosophy.
“Anything exciting?” He tipped his chin up, acknowledging the folders again.
It wasn’t in my nature to share anything with anyone. Seeing as how my only friends in Vegas also worked at the firm with me, they were as much in the know as I was, hence why it wasn’t really necessary to share. My family’s inquisitiveness about my work began and ended with “how was your day.” It was actually kind of nice that Joel was genuinely interested in what I was working on. I didn’t really know what to expect after our night of passion—if things would go back to how they were with a comfortable wall erected around us to encourage us to keep our distance. Besides, disposable lovers didn’t need to know the details of the other’s life. It only confused and complicated things, and right now things were definitely getting murky between us.
I hesitated on how much of my job to reveal before responding, “Um, our client is suing her ex for damages. You know, the usual.”
“Interesting. So what specifically are you working on?”
“I’m just doing research at this point. I’m reviewing the details so if this happens to go to court, we’re prepared for any curveballs. Reviewing prior cases to present examples to the court, you know that kind of thing.”
“And what do you think?”
“About what?”
“The curveballs? Are you prepared?”
“I’m still working some things out. Going over timelines and whatnot.” I didn’t want to say too much. Already, he had surprised me by his engaging conversation over my job. I stared at the folder close to me, willing it to unfurl some detail I’d missed. No matter how long I stayed sitting at this desk, reading over the same reports, something wasn’t right. It was an itch I couldn’t scratch.
“Thanks for the coffee by the way,” I said, picking the mug back up for another sip. Hot liquid rushed to my lips and spread across my tongue. The sweetness of the soy milk masked the bitterness of the coffee—just the way I liked it. I didn’t see him make coffee for himself yesterday, and now I wondered what filled his mug. Was he drinking coffee, too? Was it black? Creamer only? Or did he take it with a bit of sugar? I mentally chastised myself for caring. My intrigue of this man was not lost on me.
“I have my moments,” he said with a tilt of his shoulders. The casual shrug only seemed to define the bulge of his shoulders and arms as thick as my thighs—arms that I remembered flipping me on the bed last night like I was a coin to be tossed. Right now, I wanted those arms to pick me up from my chair and lay me out across the desk. I wanted to feel the heat of his body pressed into mine, juxtaposed with the coolness of the glass tabletop. The warring temperatures already had my body heightened to a level of awareness I’d never felt before. How could this man make me turn on myself that quickly? Was I stupid to think I would be the one woman capable of resisting this specimen of a man with his tempting smile and obvious comfortability in his own skin? Not that men express insecurities in the same way women do, but I had to admit, Joel was unusually confident even for someone of the opposite sex. Maybe that was the appeal though—his raw sex appeal was almost comical.
The moment felt charged while Joel’s eyes peered into me as if to unwrap all of my layers, to strip me down to my most basic urges, down to my quivering core that ached for him to incinerate my skin like hot coals on a fire. A similar need burned in him, too. Every vein in his body seemed to tighten and pulse as if the blood racing through his veins could barely be contained by the vessels inside him. I swear I could see his heart racing through the sprinkling of hair matting his chest.
“Fuck,” he snarled before whisking our mugs off the desk. I can’t remember who reached for whom first, but our hands and arms interloped as we moved to strip each other of what little clothing we dressed in that morning. Every scrap was ripped from my skin, each stripped layer awakening a newfound freedom in me. The way Joel looked at me with eyes as large as golf balls and nostrils flaring like a charging bull, I forgot all about the woman who looked back at me from the mirror every day. There were a million things I could say about that girl, most of them self-deprecating, but something about the desire filling the room—so full, our bodies could combust from the pressure—made me forget all about that girl and her insecurities.
“You should be forbidden to wear clothes for the rest of the storm, so then when I want to fuck you all I have to do is twist your little body to my heart’s content and sink in balls deep. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being my little fuck toy for the indefinite future?”
“Joel.”
“Mmmm, say it again.” Lifting me up onto the desk by a firm grip on my ass, Joel attacked my mouth with caffeine kisses—all crushing lips and forceful tongue. I swallowed the growl escaping his mouth. His breath was warm and the taste of sweetened coffee still lingered on his tongue, mingling with the taste still residing in my own mouth. I let his body overcome mine as we both fell back onto the top of the desk. The tips of my toes barely reached the ground, but I was caged beneath him, safe from rolling off the edge of the desk.
He came up for air—gasping and panting like a man drowning in need.
“Joel. Please.” I didn’t want to drag this out—not like last night. The hunger was too visceral, too sharp, lancing through me with every rush of breath or touch of his hands. With a sobered mind and an ache realized, I no longer wanted playful touches and kisses that spiked my temperature. I was already peaked, primed, and ready to go. I wanted quick, dirty, and raw. Those distant memories of the first night lingered on the outskirts of my mind, and I knew that what I wanted now was only a fraction of what I had that night. A pure, unadulterated, unapologetic fuck that would make my vibrator pale in comparison. Every time I opened my nightstand for relief I wanted to remember this moment, where fevered skin and heated breath eclipsing crisp morning air was a true fantasy realized.
He laved my skin like a man possessed. A hand moved between my legs, not to get me off, but to coat himself in my sticky essence. He then dragged his hand up past my navel to my breast where he squeezed and licked and nibbled. The cold glass sharpened at my back as the heat of my body skyrocketed.
“You have such a pretty pussy, but you know what would make it look even better?”
I rocked my head back and forth, more from the need arcing through my body that I couldn’t contain, but answering his question nonetheless. I had no idea what he had in store this time, but if it was anything like the night before, I was in for quite a ride. His arms lifted, uncaging me. With uncertain eyes, I watched him standing between my legs, looking down my body like I was a buffet of dessert and he was deciding where to start first.
“You’d look better with my tongue between these lips. Wouldn’t you say?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, but I was sure the moan that dislodged from my throat was answer enough for what I thought of his suggestion. Joel wasted no time dropping to his knees. He was almost as wide as the edge of the desk and looked like if he wanted to he could lift this table with me still on it. Just as that thought swirled through my mind, Joel grabbed my legs and slid me down the table, prepping me like my ob/gyn ready to give me an exam. I slid my butt down to the edge of the desk and before I could settle into my new position Joel’s mouth was already planted between my legs.
Warm lips and a soft tongue spread me open and seared my core. My thighs clenched the sides of his head, but his tongue only sank deeper. Watching Joel with eyes closed as if savoring a delectable morsel while eating me voraciously was quite a sight, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to last long if my eyes stayed glued to this powerful man brought to his knees by the taste of me.
Joel’s tongue eased up into soft licks before he pulled back enough for his words to come out clear and crisp, yet still close enough to feel his voice penetrate my body, “I swear I only wanted a little taste, but shit I can’t get enough of you. You’re fucking addicting, Blaire.”
“Don’t stop. I’m close.”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to. You’re going to come all over my tongue, and I’m going to drink down every drop and then fuck you with the taste of you still on my tongue. Then you’re going to come all over my cock right here on your desk, aren’t you, Blaire?”
“Uh huh.”
He proved to be a man of his word as he closed the gap between his mouth and my cleft. The combination of soft and hard licks coupled with the way he sucked my clit between his lips made the fire licking through my body detonate in an explosion that would make C-4 look like a sparkler. My breath was still burning in my lungs when he shot up to his feet and hammered into me in one quick thrust forward. My back slid across the glass, but his arms gripped my legs, pulling me back into his pivoting hips.
“You’re turning me into a greedy man, Blaire.”
“Take it all. Take everything.” My back rose from the glass as I offered up every part of myself to be tortured and taken in the most rapturous way I’d ever been taken. The way Joel worshipped my body solidified the storm of emotions that had broiled within me only the previous night. It was like he was laying claim to my soul with every stroke of his cock within my depths—taking little pieces of me with him every time he pulled out, only to thrust back in and take a little bit more.
“Do you feel that?” he asked when he went especially deep, slowing down the tempo of his thrusts and positioning our bodies so my pelvis was pushed up, and he was hovering over me with every downward stroke. That feeling he was talking about? That was the feeling of his piercing dragging against the inside of my walls so slowly it felt like one of those vibrators that twirled in circles while thrusting in and out. As if I hadn’t already been privy to the delicious assault of his piercing rubbing against my clit and brushing through my folds every time he slid into me.
“Yessss,” I hissed.
I felt a surge of power in my legs, almost locking his body within the force of my trembling legs. The electricity crackled and tightened along my spine until I shot up with the force of an orgasm that overtook my body. I was victim to the feeling that slammed through me.
“Joel,” I clutched his back, pulling him closer into me while I lost control of my body, now at the mercy of his relentless pounding. Locking my teeth into the muscle of his shoulder, I muffled every gasp and moan, coalescing them into a sound that was unlike anything I’d ever heard escape my lips.
“Fuck, your pussy is so tight. It takes a pounding beautifully.” I could barely hear his words as I lost control of all cognitive abilities.
The muscle of his shoulder flexed beneath my teeth to the point that I felt like I was biting into rock. Just then, his arms wrapped around my back, cradling me close like a child who fell asleep on her parent’s shoulder. I was just as numb to the movement. He turned us so his butt was just barely pressed against the edge of the desk and I was sitting atop his legs with my arms and legs still clutching his backside.
I thought our previous position was as deep as gravity and Joel’s cock could sink within me, but in this position I slid down him like a stripper on a pole, sinking far and deep until our bodies looked fused. Where there was once “me” and “him,” now there was only “us.”
“Yes, Blaire. Fuck me just like that.”
“Like this?” I asked with a second wind of energy that I used to rock my hips and tilt my body so our pelvises smacked together every time I took him deeper. It seemed I fucked the words right out of him because for once he was at a loss for a response. He merely nodded his head in frantic movements. I could see the tension building in his face. The way his eyebrows tightened to create a frown line above the bridge of his nose. His jaw tensed and if our breathing weren’t so labored, I’m sure I would have been able to hear the grinding of his teeth. Making a man as cocky as Joel lose control was a high in and of itself. It was a power I’d never held and was eager to wield.
“You’re close to coming, aren’t you, Joel?” I whispered in his ear, morphing the air that escaped my mouth into calm breaths disguising how much work fucking Joel actually was—the best, most beautiful work I’d ever done.
“Yes. God yes,” he said as his eyes rolled back. “I’m going to fucking blow so hard in your cunt, you’ll be able to taste my come on your tongue.”
“Not yet though.” I squeezed down hard around his shaft and began lifting and dropping my hips in a rhythm that surprised even me. He held my hips, his fingers sinking into my skin making shallow pits around his digits.
“I can’t. Fuck, Blaire. I’m coming.” I expected him to sound panicked, at a loss for breath, completely lost of thought with the way he gripped me, pulling me down into his next thrust. Instead, he sounded like a man lost to something beyond his capabilities. His voice was resigned in defeat. He lost himself between my thighs, in my desperate hands, and in the crux of my neck where he sighed out his release.
We stayed pressed up against each other, the warmth of his body encompassing mine as I stayed molded around him.
“That was…Jesus, Blaire, you’re trying to kill me.”
“That good, eh?”
“Good is an understatement,” he said with widened eyes. The green of his eyes looked clearer, more opulent as his blown-out irises receded.
“I say we take this party to the shower. What do you say?” By the gleam in his eye I could tell we were going to be getting a whole lot dirtier before we got clean. A grin was plastered on my face the whole way to the bathroom.
***
I cooked dinner that night. Well, I pretty much reheated food on the gas stove seeing as how we had a doomsday fridge filled with meals that would last at least another 4 days before the ice in the freezer would melt completely. Setting the last bit of shredded chicken atop the rice, I let Joel know dinner was ready. He carried both of our plates to the table while I finished cleaning up. It was all very domestic, me cleaning while Joel set the table—something I would have never expected from the man who picked me up from a bar less than a week ago. For the first time, I wondered what Joel was really like outside of my four walls. While I’d been trying to keep my distance, my body was learning everything I needed to know about the man who seemed to be a modern-day MacGyver.
“So, mystery man, tell me more about you,” I said as I passed into the dining room. His eyes swiveled to me, and I couldn’t tell who was caught off guard more, me by the way my question seemed to surprise him, or him that I would even ask to find out more about the stranger in my home.
“I’m sorry, did I startle you?” I took a seat across from him and averted my eyes from what looked to be a flash of discomfort flitting across his face.
“No, I don’t scare that easily. There’s not much to know.” He shrugged his shoulders and picked up his fork as if his response would pacify me and that would be the end of that.
“Come on,” I said with a playfully pleading tone. “I told you things about me. It’s only fair that I know something about you.”
“Is this the date portion of our sentence here?” He tried to smile through his joke, but the corners of his lips were pulled uncomfortably taut like a corset.
“You’re evading.”
“Whoa. Badgering the witness.” Both of his hands lifted in the air in surrender.
“You’re not on the stand.”
“Could have fooled me. Don’t you like it better with a bit of mystery to it all? Are you so sure you really want to get to know me?”
It was a question I had asked myself when I woke up only days ago to a half-naked man standing in my living room with a PSA alerting us to the fact that our one-night stand would be lasting a little longer than planned. Him reminding me of my original worries brought it all back to the forefront of my mind. But then again, I couldn’t really go back to how things were, not after the previous night.
He stared into the plate before turning his eyes to me. A thousand words could be found in that look, but it was what I couldn’t see that left me unnerved. How could a man so jovial, who read me as though I were an open book, hide behind the words that fell so easily from his lips? Wasn’t it always the easy-going ones who seemed to have the darkest secrets? Or maybe they were just better at hiding behind their carefree nature? Is that what Joel was doing? What secrets was he keeping?
“All right,” he said with measured words, weighing every word before speaking.
“I’m 27; born in California, raised in Vegas; both of my parents have passed and I’m an only child. I run my own business.” He ran through the laundry list of things about him, but none of them really said anything about who he was. I just listened to him speak about himself like reading the list of ingredients from a can of soup. Silence hung like a thick fog rolling into the valley that had wormed its way between us, but Joel didn’t let it linger too long before he was once again flashing that dazzling smile and renewing the glimmer in his eyes that transmitted devious thoughts into my head.
“Oh, and I like to fuck.” The words were said so casually, I knew he was trying to get a rise out me, of what variety I wasn’t sure, but a rise he did get. I felt my face flush and my thighs tighten; my core lapped up the words like I’d spent endless days drudging through the desert. Wasn’t it Freud who said, “A joke is a truth wrapped in a smile”? I didn’t doubt Joel’s words. It was very obvious he liked to fuck. He wore sex appeal like a CEO wears a well-fitted suit.
“Is that a hobby or a job of yours?”
“I guess it depends on who’s asking. I am talking to a lawyer, after all. I don’t think this conversation falls under the Attorney-Client privilege, does it?”
“Cute.”
“At least I’m house-trained.”
“That remains to be seen.”
We fell into a comfortable conversation, but with every piece of information he revealed, it felt like I was a miner digging for coal only to come back with dusty hands and nothing to show for all the work I’d put in. Somehow, the conversation turned full circle until we were back to discussing me. I should have been annoyed by his avoidance, but it was also quite endearing that he seemed so interested in me and what I did for a living. Something told me it wasn’t very often that Joel sat down to actually learn something about the women he slept with.
When our plates dwindled down to a few grains of rice, and the sound of our forks scratching the plate seemed to be the loudest sound filling the house, Joel picked up our plates and turned into the kitchen while I retired to the couch.
“It’s late. Let’s tuck my pretty bird into bed.”
“I’m not sleepy,” I said while stretching my legs out across the couch. His large hand digging into the arch of my heel gave new meaning to “fisting.” I nearly purred with the tension that broke beneath the strength of his touch.
“Who said anything about sleeping?” His hands skipped across my body like a stone skimming a lake, before he had my body up and over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold—my head cushioned by his firm butt and my hair slapping against the back of his legs. The rooms passed by in a blur of darkness as Joel whisked me into the bedroom—the one place where he didn’t seem to hold back.
