Hard Lawyer

by Liam Foster

  I’m desperate to get inside her, to feel her heat on my skin and the wetness of her sex as she comes all over my cock.

  But this can’t happen yet. Fooling around with her in my office is one thing; fucking her in her apartment is quite another. I lift her off my lap and place her down next to me on the sofa.

  “I need to be at work early tomorrow. See you at the office.”

  Kara doesn’t move or say a thing as I slip outside and back down to my car. I’ll make it up to her later. Assuming she’s still talking to me.

  Chapter Nine

  Kara

  It’s all quiet in the apartment. I’ve been listening by the door for about ten minutes now and I’ve not heard a sound.

  Samantha has a frustratingly inconsistent work schedule so I never know when she’s going to be in. All I want is to leave my bedroom, grab some breakfast, and not discuss what happened—or didn’t happen—last night. You know, the bit where I came on to Damon and he bailed on me.

  What the hell was all that about anyway? He insisted on coming back to the apartment and then he left when I offered him sex on a plate. Did I make it too easy for him? I know men like a challenge, but they also like sex. I didn’t think he’d turn it down.

  God only knows what the atmosphere at work is going to be like today. It was always going to be tough going into work after he spanked me and watched me masturbate on his desk. Now there’s the added complication of him rejecting me.

  Life was so much easier as a cleaner.

  There’s still no noise, so I open my bedroom door and step out quietly into the kitchen. Samantha’s bedroom door is empty which means unless she’s in the… oh crap.

  The bathroom door opens and Samantha comes out in skimpy cotton pajamas. She’s much prettier than me. Maybe Damon has his eyes on her now? That would explain why he bailed on me after meeting Samantha.

  “Hey sis,” she says playfully. “How was last night?”

  How does she use the bathroom without making any noise? Unless… “You were waiting for me to come out of my room, weren’t you?”

  “Don’t be so paranoid. You seem to be alone.”

  “Yes, I’m alone.”

  I pour myself a bowl of cereal to keep busy while I think up some excuses for why Damon escorted me home last night. It’s not like I know the answer to that myself. I thought he brought me home to fuck me, but apparently not.

  “Care to explain why your boss brought you home last night?”

  Not really. “I worked late and he didn’t want me taking the train. Stop trying to read things into something perfectly innocent.”

  “Uh huh. And I suppose there’s a completely innocent reason for your blouse being on inside out when you came home?”

  Oh God. How the hell did I manage to get all the way home with my blouse undone? Wait, wouldn’t I have noticed when I took it off? “I didn’t—”

  “Too late. That long pause told me all I needed to know. Come on then, how did it happen? I want all the details. You can start by describing his penis. Was it big?”

  “We didn’t have sex,” I say firmly. Totally true, if maybe a touch misleading. “We just fooled around a bit.”

  “And will you be fooling around some more?”

  “He’s my boss, Samantha.”

  “I know. That’s what makes it so hot. That and he has enough muscles to throw you around the bedroom until you get motion sickness.”

  “It won’t be happening again,” I say uncertainly. I have no idea what’s going to happen. Part of me wants to get to work as soon as possible to find out, and the other part wants to take the day off to wallow in self-pity.

  “Were you at least subtle about it? You don’t want everyone to hate you for screwing the boss, although it’s probably worth it.”

  “I’m not screwing him,” I protest. “And they already hate me.”

  “Oh. Well, you’ve nothing to lose then.”

  “Apart from my job which I’d quite like to keep given how well it pays. Speaking of which, I really need to get a move on or I’ll be late.”

  “Alright. Don’t forget we’re going to see Mom Saturday lunchtime. She’s going to want to hear all about your new job.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell her.”

  “Too late, I already have. Don’t worry, I told her it was part-time. She still thinks you’re enrolled in law school.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mom will find out eventually. Assuming she lives long enough.

  “Kara.”

  I’m relieved to hear Damon call for me. He’s had people in and out of his office all day, but the only time he called me in was to take a drinks order for him and a couple of the other attorneys. We’ve not done anything fun.

  I walk into his office with my trusty pen and notepad. He’s alone.

  “What can I do for you, Sir?” I ask.

  We agreed that I would call him ‘Sir’ when we’re alone and use ‘Damon’ when we’re around other people. The office has a first name policy and it would look a little odd for me to call him ‘Sir’ all the time.

  Damon points to the space next to him without even looking up from his computer. I walk over and stand next to him, staring down between his legs at the monster that lies between them. He’s huge. Like, ‘novelty sex toy’ huge. What would it have felt like if we’d slept together? Would I even be able to walk this morning? Maybe that’s why he didn’t fuck me last night—he didn’t want me to take a sick day.

  Damon reaches out and grabs my thigh while still scrolling down an article he’s reading. I tense up as his hand slides up my thigh until it’s under my skirt and then inches from where my panties would be if I were wearing any.

  His fingers reach up and graze gently against my slick folds. The touch barely lasts a second, but it’s enough to get my heart racing and my pussy throbbing.

  “You’re not wearing any panties,” Damon comments casually, removing his hand from between my legs and finally looking around at me.

  “You told me not to.”

  “Good girl.” Damon stands up and towers over me. He moves behind me and reaches around, running his fingers down the gap in my blouse and lightly brushing my breasts. The touch lasts barely any longer than the one on my pussy, but it’s enough to make me thankful I’m wearing a padded bra.

  He slowly moves back around to stand in front of me. He lifts my chin up with his fingers and leans down to kiss me. I’m helpless; I just stand there with my arms by my side while his tongue parts my lips and explores my mouth.

  My legs quiver as if I’ve just stood up after squatting for an hour. Then it stops. He moves his lips away and sits back down at his desk.

  “Can you stay late tonight?” he asks.

  It’s the question most secretaries dread. Not me.

  “Certainly, Sir,” I reply. “Anything for you.”

  “I’ll get us a table.”

  “A table?” I ask with a frown. “Can’t we just use your desk?”

  Damon laughs. “I meant a table at a restaurant, but I like where your head’s at.”

  “You want to go for dinner?”

  “I assume you eat food.”

  “Look at me,” I reply, motioning to my wide hips. “I eat food.”

  “Good.”

  He’s taking me to dinner. That’s definitely not what I was expecting to happen next. Awkwardness. Sexual tension. Rudeness. That’s the sort of thing that should happen when you masturbate on your boss’s desk and then he rejects you later in the evening. Dinner was not on the agenda. Until now.

  Chapter Ten

  Damon

  I initially booked a table at my usual date venue. It’s expensive in an obvious way, from the tiny portions of food to the snobby and pretentious waiters.

  Then I cancelled. I can’t take Kara to the ‘usual’ place. There’s nothing ‘usual’ about this date.

  We end up going to an expensive restaurant but one that’s a little less up its own ass. It’s
the sort of place I take clients when I need to impress them without it looking like my $800 an hour billing rate is spent on frivolous dinners.

  A maître d’ escorts us to our table and I order a bottle of my favorite red wine. Kara looks a little uncomfortable. Hardly a surprise. She’s having dinner with a man who spanked her in his office, but then rejected her advances later in the evening. She must be confused as hell. That makes two of us. What I did makes no fucking sense.

  “I owe you an explanation,” I begin.

  “No,” she replies quickly. “It’s fine. I get it.”

  “You do.”

  “Yeah. You don’t like things to get serious, so you only fuck women in your office.”

  The word ‘fuck’ doesn’t come naturally to her and she blushes after saying it. Christ, she’s so gorgeous. We should never have come here. I don’t have the patience to wait through an entire meal before feeling her wet pussy again. She’s still not wearing any panties. If I reach my hand out…

  “Would you care to taste the vintage, Sir?”

  You have no fucking idea. I turn to face the waiter who appeared out of the blue while I was lost in Kara’s gaze. “That won’t be necessary.”

  The waiter pours the wine impossibly slowly and eventually leaves.

  “Where was I?” I ask. “Oh yeah, you were accusing me of fucking loads of women in my office. I admit, I don’t like to get serious, but I don’t exactly make a habit of having sex on my desk.”

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to lie to me. I’m a big girl; I can handle it. I know you like to screw the staff.”

  “I’m not lying. Why do you think I am?”

  “You have a reputation.”

  “Ah. Yeah, for some reason I have a reputation as a player. I’ve no idea why.”

  “The handprints on my ass beg to differ.”

  “Not everyone gets that treatment,” I insist. “You’re special.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true. Look, I admit, I’ve been with a fair few women, but never at work. And I’m not seeing anyone else right now.”

  A smile flashes across her lips before she remembers to hide it. “It’s none of my business,” she replies. “We’re just having fun.”

  “It doesn’t have to be just fun.”

  The waiter comes over with impeccable timing again to take our order. I blurt out the first thing that catches my eye and Kara orders a steak salad.

  “The wine’s nice,” Kara says, once the waiter’s left. “It’s… fruity.”

  I smile. “I guess it is. The bottle describes it as full-bodied with hints of blackcurrant and chocolate, but ‘fruity’ is just as accurate.” Kara smiles and takes another sip of her wine. I’m helpless around her. Nothing about this is going to be ‘just fun.’

  “Are you any closer to closing the biotech deal?” Kara asks.

  “You’re changing the subject,” I reply. “Before the waiter came over, I said this didn’t have to be just fun. We could try something a little more serious.”

  “You don’t have to say that. I know you’re not the type to do relationships.”

  “That’s not been through choice. Ever since I closed my first deal, I’ve been obsessed with work and earning money. It’s not healthy and I want to change.”

  Kara takes another slow sip of her wine to buy herself time to think.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” she says eventually.

  Damn, I shouldn’t have let her think. Thinking about relationships is bad. You should always go off instinct.

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “Because I’m your secretary. And we barely know each other. And my mom would never approve.”

  “I bet your sister would though.”

  “My sister would encourage it for exactly those reasons.”

  I reach out and take Kara’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She’s not wrong. This is a bad idea on paper.

  “You should listen to your sister,” I say. “She seems like an intelligent girl.”

  Kara smiles, but doesn’t say anything, opting to stare across the restaurant instead.

  “How would it work?” Kara asks, still not looking at me. “We have a weird relationship.”

  She’s right. I can’t keep bossing her around all the time if we’re going to do this properly.

  “You will obey me at work,” I reply. “You’ll call me ‘sir’ when we’re alone and you’ll do what I say. If you don’t, you will be punished.”

  “There have to be limits. I’m not going to walk around the office naked during the day just because you tell me.”

  “I’ll never ask you to do that. Your body is mine. I’m not sharing you.”

  “You know what I mean. There are things I won’t do.”

  “If you ever feel uncomfortable then you just have to say.”

  “You mean a safe word?”

  “Someone’s been reading dirty books.” I meant it as a joke, but Kara’s face goes red. It’s not just law textbooks she reads. “Say ‘Bluebook’ if you want me to stop.”

  “Bluebook?”

  “It’s the best way to calm me down. I can’t stay hard when I think about doing legal citations.”

  “Okay, Bluebook it is.”

  “And how will you punish me?” Kara asks, looking up at me shyly.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  I’m seconds away from suggesting we get out of here when the waiter shows up with our food. The red steak gives me flashbacks of Kara’s freshly spanked ass. I wonder if she still has a handprint on her cheeks. If not, I can add some new ones soon enough.

  “What happens outside of work?” Kara asks between bites of her salad.

  “Outside of work?”

  “With the rules. Will you still boss me around?”

  She’s trying to sound relaxed and casual, which means she’s worried about the answer. I’ve no idea what she wants to hear. The truth seems like a good place to start.

  “Outside of work it will be normal, like this. Most of the time.”

  “Most of the time?”

  “I’m still the boss in the bedroom. You okay with that?”

  There’s a short pause and then a firm—unmistakable—nod of the head.

  I reach down to her thigh and give it a firm squeeze. “Don’t take too long with your food. I’ve got an appetite that can’t be satisfied in here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Kara

  We live in different parts of town, but it might as well be a different world.

  There’s a guard at the entrance to Damon’s building and he opens the door for us as we approach. The door to my building is always open because the latch broke years ago.

  The front door to Damon’s apartment unlocks automatically as we approach.

  “The lock is synched up to my phone,” Damon explains when he notices the confused look on my face.

  Different worlds.

  The inside of his apartment is just showing off. There’s not a lot of furniture, but what he does have is clearly expensive. He’s gone for the minimalist look. I tried that once. I had every intention of keeping the apartment clean and relatively free of clutter. Then I started law school and that plan went out the window once I bought textbooks and bookcases to keep them on.

  Damon has a flatscreen television on the wall that’s so big I have to step back to take it all in. I knew lawyers earned a lot of money, but I didn’t realize they were this rich.

  “I’ll give you the tour later,” Damon says, offering his arm for support as I pull off my heels. “There’s only one room you need to see right now.”

  Bedroom. He means the bedroom. Christ, I’m nervous. My stomach contracts and my heart races in my chest. I wasn’t nervous when I pounced on him the other night. Okay, maybe a little, but not like this. Tonight is the night and the two glasses of red wine I had over dinner aren’t enough to keep me calm.

  Come on, Kara. You’ve had sex before. It�
��s not difficult.

  Damon opens the door to his bedroom and I step inside.

  My stomach releases slightly and I breathe a sigh of relief. “It’s… normal.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “I don’t know. Whips and… things.”

  Damon smiles and nods towards a built-in closet. “That’s all in there.”

  For a second, I think he’s joking. He’s not. I open the closet and look at the collection of metal, leather and silk that looks like it could be used for actual torture in the wrong hands.

  “We can save all that for another day,” Damon says, before closing the cupboard. “For now, you need to undress. Slowly.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I unbutton my blouse and throw it to the floor, quickly followed by my bra. I’m completely vulnerable as he stares me up and down, feasting on me with his eyes. My arms keep flinching up as my brain tells my body that it’s not normal to have my breasts exposed in front of a guy I barely know.

  I’m not wearing panties again, so the skirt is the last thing to come off. I’m completely naked.

  He moves behind me; his breath on the back of my neck sending shivers down my spine. He reaches around and touches the top of my chest lightly, his fingers dancing gently over my skin as he works his way down to my breasts. They flicker over the nipples which immediately stiffen in response.

  He moves back around to my front and examines my naked body, starting at my face and working slowly down to my thighs and then back up again.

  “You’re stunning,” he says, in a tone that sounds genuine even though I know it can’t be. I know what I am, and I’m not stunning.

  Damon starts unbuttoning his shirt, but he does it painfully slowly. I’m so desperate to see what lies underneath that I want to rip the damn thing off. That would probably be against the rules.

  The shirt finally lands on the floor and I get to look at his firm, defined chest. It’s covered in a light tan and looks smooth to the touch. My eyes trail down to his stomach which has almost no fat whatsoever. I catch a glimpse of my own stomach—the comparison isn’t favorable. Why would a man with a body this perfect be interested in a woman like me?