Her entire body shivered as her orgasm consumed her and she gave a growl that seemed to rise up from her soul.
Yvette fell back against the sofa looking sated, but I wasn’t done.
Our kiss was intense, all mashed mouths and darting tongues, but it did nothing to still the craving that heated me.
Her hands gripped my hair when I moved my head between her thighs to lick her glistening slick folds.
“Dylan.” she cried out, her head lifting from the sofa as I stroked her clit with my tongue. “I can’t take anymore.”
“You can and you will.” I demanded between kisses to her clit.
I liked that sound, her unique cry of pleasure, and I wanted to hear it repeated.
“Touch yourself for me.” I commanded. I wanted to see the pleasure on her face to match her sensuous sounds.
Her fingers moved across her clit as she rocked her hips. It was like watching the making of a masterpiece.
I returned to the warm center of her core.
“Oh. Uh. Ooh.” Yvette called out repeated vowel sounds as we moved in sync. Her fingers twirling, my tongue inserting.
She pushed against my face before warm liquid covered my tongue. Her body convulsed around me before I moved away to watch the bliss that blossomed across her face.
“Dylan.” she huffed, her chest heaving.
I stood and quickly undressed relieving the pressure on my swollen cock.
Yvette watched through heavily lidded eyes and I was glad to see the lazy smile that crossed her lips.
“Damn.” she breathed as I moved my body atop of hers.
Yvette gripped my shoulders as I slowly pressed my shaft into her warm wetness. She was snug and I had to fight the overwhelming urge to bury myself in her tightness quickly and forcefully.
“It’s okay.” I whispered against her cheek as I entered her slowly. I was enjoying the softness of her.
She tensed up as I entered her warm wetness but then slowly relaxed as I seated myself deep within her.
She didn’t let go of me, and I liked it.
Warm silkiness enveloped my dick as I moved out to the brim and back in until I was able to reach her hilt.
She flicked her small pink tongue over my lips.
“Yvette.” I rasped as I felt like I was soaring through the stars with every surge into her delicious heat.
Increasing my speed, I fisted her hair and clasped her hot wet body against me in need.
Her nails dug into my back and her legs wrapped around me as I continued thrusting into her.
Buried deep inside the softness of her, I moved faster as I felt the increasing swell of pleasure signaling the start of my orgasm.
“Oh. Dylan.” She called out breathily.
My body jerked when I surged in and out of the slit of her swollen pussy.
“Yvette.” I hissed as she tightened impossibly around me.
“Come for me.” I groaned.
“Yes.” she repeated as she fucked me harder.
Her pussy pulsed around me as she threw her head back in ecstasy, her back bent into a curved bow, moaning incoherently as she came.
That was the trigger that sent me over the edge.
I gripped her ass, pumping harder, nearly welding our bodies together with the intensity of my release.
Shivers seized me and exploded throughout my body like bolts of electricity.
A low guttural growl formed in my belly and ripped ruggedly through me. I released into her, stiffened by pleasure, and held by the rapture of satisfaction that stirred through me.
I collapsed heavily against Yvette, but her heaving chest and her pounding heart made me feel an eager craving to have her again.
I lifted her limp body from the sofa. Her eyes were dreamy and a smile curved lazily across her face. She wearily raised her arms and linked them around my neck. I carried her up the stairs and placed her gently onto my bed. I collapsed beside her and wrapped her in my arms as we both succumbed to sleep.
Chapter 9
Yvette
Dylan must have pulled a cloud from the sky, wrapped it in cotton, and placed a marshmallow on it as the pillow and mattress were just that soft.
I popped up from the pillow at the clanking sound on the stairs.
“What was that?” I whispered, wrapping the sheet around my bare breasts.
Dylan stirred and pulled my body back toward his.
“If it isn’t you screaming my name, then it doesn’t matter.”
He nibbled at the flesh on my back with his teeth.
“You don’t have to make up noises to fuck me Yvette.” He growled before kissing up my side and pulling my nipple between his lips.
A clamoring erupted from downstairs.
“Stay here.” he commanded in an even tone, his body stiffened. Dylan became serious in an instant.
Bounding from the bed, he quietly slid into a pair of pajama pants, and disappeared from the room.
After Dylan had fucked away every single brain cell that I was born with, I fell into a satisfied sleep. When I first figured out that he was taking me to his home, I knew that there was the likelihood that sex would occur. The attraction between us was too strong. The way he made me feel as though I was the only woman in the world, removed all doubt that I had made the right decision.
Dylan’s home was large, so I knew that it would take him a little time to check out the noise. When it seemed like he had been gone an eternity, I wrapped the sheets around me and tip toed to the stairs.
The closer that I got to the stairs, the louder the voices became.
“Where the fuck did you disappear to yesterday?” A gruff male voice shouted.
“You will not disrespect me in my own damned house.” Dylan retorted with just as much bite. “If you value your life and want to have a conversation like grown men, then I strongly suggest that you turn around, drive way, and make an appointment.”
His voice was icy and sliced through me even though his vitriolic remarks were not directed at me. The passion and playfulness that we shared earlier seemed to belong to another person entirely.
“An appointment?” The unknown man laughed dryly. “I made you, so you make time for me when I fucking say so.”
That laugh struck a nerve, a pang of remembrance that resonated through me. I moved down the stairs, dragging the king sized sheet along with me. The voice was familiar, and I just needed to see his face to confirm it.
Dylan didn’t respond to the jab, surprisingly. He allowed the awful man to continue his tirade.
“I don’t care how much money you bring in, or how grown you think that you are, I am still your father and I will whip your ass accordingly.” The unidentified voice bellowed resoundingly.
I made my way down the stairs to see Dylan and Pete standing chest to chest with fists clenched and I gasped. When I had worked with Pete, he had been a sweet man who asked my opinions and complimented me on my work. I had never heard him that angry before. Then again, I didn’t think that he would try to screw me either.
When Pete’s eyes fell on me, Dylan turned and glared at my sheet clad body and I knew that I had made a mistake in showing myself.
“You blew off a multimillion-dollar client for that?” Pete glowered in my direction, his mouth twisted and nose scrunched as though he had stepped in something.
“Not now, Pete.” Dylan responded through gritted teeth.
“Son, if you needed a fuck, I have several professionals on speed dial that would have taken care of your needs whenever you requested.” Pete replied smugly. His anger dissipated as a teasing smirk spread over his features.
I couldn’t see Dylan’s face, but his words were as chilling as the sub-zero fridge he had in his kitchen.
“I can find my own whores.” Dylan explained to his father with a sneer.
“Obviously.” Pete added and eyed me for good measure. “But you forgot a cardinal rule about whores and homes. The two should never meet.”
I didn’t stick around to hear what Dylan said next. I couldn’t. While I was fully aware that Dylan and I were not going to be walking down the aisle together, I was totally crushed that he could be so callous about what we shared. Pretending to stand up for me would have been nice. I knew that I didn’t mean anything to him but he didn’t have to be so mean.
I had no clue where Dylan put my clothes or where the borrowed sweats that he stripped off of me had disappeared to, so I went straight for his closet.
I opened the door to his wardrobe and the sheer volume of clothes and the obsessive neatness of his wardrobe shocked me. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Dylan had been very precise about everything, including fucking me. I had thoroughly enjoyed him and his attention to detail had been a huge contributing factor. If I so much as twitched in pleasure from his movement, then he made sure to repeat it purposefully. When I was unresponsive to something he instantly switched to something that had made me moan previously.
I grabbed one his undershirts from a drawer along with a pair of his boxers and some socks as well. I then grabbed a pair of jeans from a hanger. He wouldn’t miss any of it.
I found a pair of flip flops stashed in the corner and slipped them on quickly, expecting Dylan to walk through the door at any minute. He knew that I had heard everything he and his father said about me. I had worked too hard to let their cruel opinions reduce me to the sum total of my vagina.
I opened the door to the bedroom, and took my time down the stairs. The hall was empty except for the butler.
“Good morning Miss Morrison.” he greeted, his mouth held in a firm line.
I looked around expecting at least a glimpse of Dylan, the man who had just rocked my world so thoroughly a few hours ago.
“Where is Dylan?” I asked.
“There is a car waiting for you in the front. Your clothes will be dry cleaned and returned to your residence.” he prevaricated.
“Are you serious?” I asked incredulously.
He handed me my purse with the same unflinching expression that he had worn when he had served me dinner and when I had journeyed down the stairs.
I walked through the front door, slamming it as hard as I could on the way out. The nerve of that asshole.
The chauffeur stood just as stoically as the butler and opened the door to a black town car.
Chapter 10
Dylan
My father definitely knew how to fuck up a good thing. I had Yvette naked and willing in my bed, but he had somehow found a way to make it about him and the law firm yet again. It hadn’t been enough that the law firm had affected my childhood and consumed my adulthood, but now he wanted control over my personal life too.
“Where’s Yvette?” I asked Jenkins, my butler, as I walked out of my study and into the kitchen.
Once my father left, I had needed a moment to calm down. I wanted to wring his fucking neck for calling Yvette a whore. I had women that I could call if I was looking for a quick hookup. He knew that I didn’t bring random women to my home.
I walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a cup. I hadn’t done that in a while. I rarely ventured into the kitchen and cooked even less. It felt awkward, but I continued the manual labor and waited for an answer from my staff.
Jenkins stood up and looked at me with a puzzled expression on his face. I found it strange that he hadn’t replied. Jenkins had always been very straightforward.
“Have you seen Yvette?”
I placed my cup underneath the cappuccino machine as Lucy, the house keeper, rushed over to make my coffee. I gratefully stepped out of her way.
Jenkins cleared his throat and straightened his collar at the same time the liquid from the machine frothed into my cup.
I nodded to Lucy because the drink was good and maybe just a little better because I assisted in making it.
I look at Jenkins who was still standing and looking silently in my direction.
“I had her removed.” He replied evenly, his hands situated behind his back.
The liquid abruptly caught in my throat and spurted out between my lips.
“You did what?” I questioned him.
“When you retired to your study, I returned the young woman’s belongings to her and had William drive her home in the town car.”
“You did what?” I asked in disbelief. I knew that Yvette had been upset by the heated discussion. I knew that she would be livid and further hurt at the ejection by my butler.
“I apologize Mr. Hanson.” Jenkins stated. “When you disappeared, I thought that you had dismissed her.
“Well, you thought wrong!” I told him impatiently.
I would have to find Yvette at the office and try to fix things.
I walked through the twentieth floor as though I owned it because I did. Everyone did their best to appear busy as I walked by. Usually their reaction gave me a sense of power. In that moment though, the need to confront the cause of my irritation superseded every other emotion.
My father had his ass planted on my desk conducting a phone call when I walked through my office door.
“Alright. Thanks for the notice.” He spoke into his Bluetooth phone piece. “The Jr. just walked in. Let me know if you find out any other information.”
Pete touched the device to end the call.
“Get off of my desk.” I commanded.
“Whoa, son. Calm down.” he said with a half-smile. “Is someone a little frustrated?”
His arrogance grated against me like concrete.
“I have a few ladies on speed dial that can turn that frown upside down.” He teased.
“I don’t need anything from you, except an apology.” I demanded.
His laughter rang out through the room and pissed me off even more.
“You must be on drugs.” Pete menaced. “I’m not apologizing to you.”
“The apology is not for me. You need to speak with Yvette.”
My father’s eyebrows squiggled.
“Yvette?” he questioned as if he had never known a person with such a name.
“The new associate.” I prodded. My temper flared at his pretended ignorance.
“Oh. You mean Jelly.” He snapped his fingers as though he could finally picture her.
“I thought you called her Gumdrop?”
“Yea.” he said dawning a devilish smile. “Gumdrop to her face, but Jelly when she walks away. When I see that ass …” he grunted.
“Never mind. Keep your apology.”
“Stop being so emotional.” Pete snapped. “I’ve never seen you so intense over a piece of ass.”
I swiped my hand through the air to dismiss his comment.
“Why are you here?” I spat out. This conversation and his presence, were all giving me a headache. My father was not going to cooperate so there was no reason to even discuss it. Whatever feelings or non-feelings that I have or don’t have for Yvette, I would have to deal with on my own time.
“It’s the Menory case.”
This stupid case had become more and more convoluted at every turn. It was supposed to be simple. It had been anything but simple.
“What about it?” I sighed taking a deep breath.
My father followed me over to a conference table and chairs.
“There have been some new developments.” he answered as he clasped his hands and leaned back in the chair.
“Developments like what?” I inquired, picking up a folder I had left there. Everything was always dramatic with my father. His flair and finesse dazzled juries and swayed opinions, but made it difficult as hell to get a straight answer from him.
“There are questions surrounding the validity of Sherry Hunter’s story.”
“The woman who initiated the case, Sherry? The wife of Brandon Hunter?” I threw the random folder to the table and stood. “What the fuck happened?”
I swear that I thought I saw him smirk but it was gone just as quickly.
“The one and the same.” he confirmed. “One
of the nurses kept a backup record of medication and procedures that she had provided for her patients.” he said plainly. “Her records contradict the amount of medication that was found in Brandon’s system and on the carts provided by the hospital.”
“She’s lying.”
“The supervising nurse and the medication log back up her story.” my dad confirmed.
“That doesn’t mean that there was foul play.” I insisted.
“It doesn’t mean that there wasn’t either.” he remarked. “This information is enough to cause reasonable doubt amongst the jury and topple all the cases like a set of dominoes.”
He stood as though everything had been explained, as though our conversation was over.
“So what does that mean for the case?” I asked while walking behind him toward the door.
He turned to me, his lips folded and eyes flat.
“We lose.” Pete said the two words that I never thought he would willingly ever speak. My father is a winner. He taught me to be a winner.
The first words that my father ever taught me were “never lose”. When I played little league, learned the piano, took a test, or went to college, his message was consistent: life is a competition, never lose. Standing in my office, wearing the same expression that he had worn my entire life, in the same rumbling voice that he always used, he was now telling me the opposite—we were going to lose.
I was shaken. I took a step back and looked at him.
“What do you mean, ‘we lose’? There has to be some way around this that we haven’t thought of.”
I moved over to my desk and pulled out information about the case.
“Yvette and I figured out—”
Pete cut through my words before I could even complete the sentence.
“You consulted with a first year associate about such an important case?”
Although posed as a question, his words sliced across my confidence. My father could cut away at me like no other person could, but not even he could erase his training that quickly. I don’t lose, not even to him.
Object Me: A Bad Boy Lawyer Romance Page 6