by Piper Stone
Are you hungering for me? Are your panties wet, longing for a hard whipping?
Dear God, not now. Her thoughts drifted and for some reason she could feel the slip of material from her panties in the crack of her ass. She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and sat down, as nervous as she’d ever been. Nonchalantly she scanned every inch of the courtroom again. No Craze.
A few seconds later she breathed out, more determined than ever. If Craze was texting her, then the information from Miranda was most likely dead wrong. She would crush the opposition. This case was a slam-dunk. The churning red flag of worry remained. Stop. You can do this. She plastered on a coy smile as Gregory entered the space.
“Are you ready for my team to eat you alive?” Gregory stood in front of her, his look condescending.
“You know? I realize you want me to stoop to your level, but I don’t need to. You’re a little boy with a small dick and you’re trying to prove yourself. Too bad I don’t give a shit.”
The words hung in the air. If anyone heard them or not, she quite frankly didn’t give a shit. The man was a useless slug. Team. If Gregory’s team member was Craze, she would know she’d been played. Her little voice continued nagging, creating serious doubt. Recusing herself was perhaps the least of her worries. She drifted to their almost open conversation. Craze had been digging, even mentioned he thought she was an attorney. Fuck me. She hated being used.
He leaned over, crowding her personal space. “Trust me, sunshine. You’re going to need my help once the truth is out in the open. Then, you’re going to come crawling to me on your knees.”
Before she had a chance to slap him in the face or even better, kick him in the nuts, she saw Gregory’s acknowledgment of the second attorney. Unable to see his face, she closed her eyes and prayed. Shit. She was flushed and enraged. Not the best way to start a courtroom proceeding. Her hands were shaking as adrenaline kicked in. No, she hadn’t been simply a man’s toy. No fucking way.
She knew his name, had heard about his shark reputation. Ryland Simpson sounded very much like Craze. Dear God, please no.
“Ms. Parker.”
The sound, his sound was in a vacuum, the voice low and husky. Just like Craze’s. No. No. This can’t be happening. Everything was echoing, her pulse racing. Gulping, she turned around—and breathed a sigh of relief. The man standing in front of her was definitely not Craze. Shorter by almost a foot, his voice certainly didn’t match his stature. “Mr. Simpson?”
“Indeed. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t let my rather tenacious partner frighten you. This case will be handled fair and square.” Ryland’s eyes were cold, calculating.
And I’ve heard nothing about you. “You as well. I look forward to working with you.” They shook hands and she muffled a sigh as he walked in front to his desk. Thank you. Thank you. A smile crested her face. The team effort would be interesting. The two men no doubt had something clandestine up their sleeve. Still, neither had anything to do with the man in her life. Now she could get down to business.
Craze stood in front of the mirror in his office, studying his face. He was clean-shaven. Far too clean shaven in his mind. He longed to be on the bike with Joelle, finding the perfect location for an outdoor beating. He could see her tied to a tree, her lovely body glowing in the sunlight. His cock stiffened as he thought about whipping her, starting with her feet and legs, her stomach and breasts. He exhaled and gave himself a harsh look. “You’re a sick man.” At this point he didn’t care. He needed her as much as she needed him.
Right now, he had a job to do, one he hadn’t been looking forward to. This was perhaps the most defining moment of his career working with the law. He was confident in his decision regarding running. He knew what he was required to do, even if it meant facing his past as well as his indiscretions. He would remain neutral then see where the chips fell. First the battle in the courtroom, then the war.
Groaning, he adjusted his tie, folding down the collar of his pressed white shirt. Grabbing his coat, he thought about the day ahead. This was going to push him to the limits. He had zero tolerance for men like Martin. None. He only prayed to some God the prosecutor had a solid case. Selecting a qualified jury could potentially take days.
As he slipped into the jacket, he heard a knock on the door. “Come.”
“Looking spiffy, my man. You could almost pass.”
“Funny Mark. Is everything set?”
“Yeah. I know I shouldn’t make a judgment call, but I have to tell you, the prosecutor has done an excellent job of putting everything together. The woman had the balls to convince the Showalter family to turn on the ass. From what I’ve heard the stories are going to put Mr. Martin away for a long time.”
“Sounds like a woman I need to employ,” he breathed.
“Or fuck,” Mark chided.
Craze snarled. “You know my tight constraints about mixing business with pleasure.”
“Uh-huh, they keep your dick in need of stroking.” He winked then shook his head. “Rough crowd.”
“Everything else ready?” He chuckled thinking about a woman besting a man like Walter Martin.
“The pool of jurors isn’t entirely what I’d call prime, but I’m certain a solid group will be selected.”
“Martha?” He adjusted his cuffs and buttoned his jacket. Gray wasn’t his color.
“Huh?” Mark asked absently.
Craze shot him a look. “The name of the prosecutor.”
“Oh. Joelle? Yes, she’s really gone all out on this. I honestly don’t have any idea how the defense is going to counter the evidence she’s gathered,” Mark mused. “The guy is guilty as sin. Unfortunately, there are two snakes on the defense team so the day should be full of firecrackers.”
His blood chilled. “I’m sorry, Joelle?”
“Joelle Parker. Remember? I told you about the bitchin’ prosecutor? Not bad on the eyes either. Tall leggy blond.” Mark grinned. “Hey, kinda your type too. Might want to think about stepping outside of your comfort zone, bursting past those strangling rules. Or is dating a sexy attorney really off the docket? Far cry better than dating a Governor’s wife. Sorry, boss. I’ll shut my mouth.”
As Mark laughed, Craze glared at Mark in the mirror, ignoring his comment about Anastasia. His blood was chilled, his heart thumping against his chest. “You said her name was Martha. Martha Parker.” He could hear the over pronunciation in his stilted voice.
“Yes, but she goes by Joelle. What’s the big deal?” Mark narrowed his eyes. “Hold on. Do you know her?”
“No. I was just curious about the name change.” He fiddled with his tie again in an effort to regain his composure. There was no way this was the same girl. None. What if this is? What if this is the woman you sodomized, fucked, used and whipped? The thought left him sweating, beads trickling down the back of his neck.
“Hmmm. Well, you have five minutes.”
Craze swallowed hard. “I know. I’ll be there. I just want to go over my notes.”
“I think you’re in lust with thoughts about the leggy blond, the one with green eyes, a perfect hourglass figure. Mmm. I could go for a sinful tryst right about now.”
“Mark! Let me have a few minutes.”
Mark exhaled as he raised a single eyebrow, tapping his heels together. “Certainly, sir.”
When the door closed he clenched his fists. His Joelle, the woman he couldn’t get out of his mind, had refused to see him over the last few days, saying work had interfered. What if… He pushed the thought aside. He had a job to do and whether or not she was the attorney shouldn’t matter in the least.
He snagged his judicial robe, tossing on the ugly piece, and grabbed his files. After a quick look at his watch he walked out the door and toward the courtroom, hesitating before he made his entrance. Craze closed his eyes when he turned the handle.
“All rise for the Honorable Judge Randolph Mitchell.”
Craze heard the
rustle of the crowd as he advanced, refusing to look at the attorneys seated in front of the bench. Only after he settled in did he open his eyes. Oh fuck. His entire career flashed in front of his eyes. Thoughts about their last time together, the way he’d flogged her until she cried, remained burning in the back of his mind. While he registered the lovely woman, one dressed for the kill, in his mind, he couldn’t remember anything else but the time they’d shared together. Her naked body. Her willingness to accept his dark side. The way her face was illuminated in the dim lighting of his playroom.
Crack!
The memory made his skin electrified, his cock harden. She was his. She belonged to him. She was his alone and… Get control. This isn’t your Joelle. No, she was wearing her mask today.
Joelle, his Joelle, the woman he’d told he would own was seated in front of him, barely twenty feet away. He could tell by the shocked look on her face how she felt, the mixed emotions, as well as her heated desire. There was no mistaking what she wanted, her need.
Joelle maintained her composure as she stood, placing her fists on top of the wooden table. Her mouth was pinched, yet her eyes flitted back and forth.
For a few seconds, there was no one else in the room.
I will have you. I will fuck you. I will use you.
Craze sucked in his breath and could swear he was able to detect her perfume, the spicy mix that had driven him crazy. As they locked eyes he knew. This was going to be a difficult case, let alone few days. Now, he had two decisions to make. “Be seated.”
Joelle couldn’t make it out of the courtroom fast enough. Her mind was reeling, her body shaking all over, and there was no way she was going to be able to continue the case. How could she? She was not only fucking the Judge, but also submitting to him in every dark and vile manner. Everyone had to know they were screwing. They just had to know.
She gulped air and struggled through the crowd of reporters, the men and women who’d nearly camped out at the courtroom doors, hungry to gawk at a man falling from grace. At this point she needed solace, time alone. Keeping her head down, she forged her way through the scores of people and down a flight of stairs, finding the women’s bathroom within a few seconds. She looked over her shoulder and exhaled. Not a soul had seen where she went. Thank God, for small miracles.
The door slammed against the section of chipped tile and she grimaced as she stumbled toward the sink. Dropping her briefcase and purse, the hard thud made her jump. As she gripped the edge she let out a breathy groan. “Oh my God. Oh my fucking God.” How had she managed to keep cool under nearly seven hours of scrutiny, even finalizing a jury in one day? She couldn’t remember half of the comments, or the names of anyone. She hadn’t been able to think about anything but his face, his burning eyes, his dominating look and the way he commanded a room.
Her hand shaking, she fumbled for a full minute before she was able to turn on the faucet, splashing water in her face. The cool liquid did little to calm her nerves. Her pussy was wet, her nipples hard and her skin prickling. Playing with fire would result in flaming out. This was the worst situation to be in. She’d have to recuse herself, but what in the hell could she use as an excuse? Feigning an illness might work. Right. As if she could contract malaria overnight.
Joelle concentrated on controlling her breathing, allowing her heart rate to ease back into some sort of normalcy. A full five minutes later she tilted her head, studying her reflection. She could almost pass for a knowledgeable attorney instead of a hungry, wanton submissive. A smile firmly plastered on her face, she smoothed back the loose strands of hair into her tightly woven bun and walked toward the door.
The second she walked outside, Gregory was there, standing in front of her, a leer on his face.
“Too hot to handle today?” Gregory asked. He laughed and placed his hand on the wall, crossing his legs at his feet. The stance was meant to seem casual, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“What the hell do you want?” she snapped, unable to handle any additional bullshit.
“It’s not what I want, sweet Joelle, it’s about what you need to hear.”
She pushed past him, determined to get away from the slimy asshole.
Gregory grabbed her wrist, pulling her close. “You don’t want to have me as your enemy. I’ve already told you that.”
Rearing back, Joelle stopped herself from slapping him only because there were several people in the hallway. She lowered her voice and smiled. “What. Do. You. Want?”
“I’m giving you a friendly warning. You need to stay away from Judge Mitchell.”
“Why the hell is that?”
“Because things are going to become extremely uncomfortable for him.” Gregory winked.
“What in the hell does that mean?” Joelle hissed and jerked her arm out of his hand. “Tell me.”
Gregory looked from left to right before lowering his head. “His aspirations for Congress are going to go away, but he won’t go down without a scandal. I don’t think you want to be in the center of the mess. Do you?”
She shook her head, trying to put the pieces together. “I’m not playing this game. If you have a warning, with real evidence, show me. Otherwise, get the fuck away from me. Clear enough for you?”
“You’re such a bitch. You want evidence? I’ll show you.” He grumbled as he pulled out an envelope, then a picture from inside. “Here. Take a good look.”
Joelle kept her eyes on his for a full minute. She wasn’t going to allow the pig to see her sweat. When she finally looked down, she blinked and bit back a strangled moan. The picture was not completely in focus and certainly could have been doctored, but the man was Craze and the woman recognizable, but from where? “Okay. What is this?”
“Notice the way he’s touching her. Very intimate. Rumor is they practice BDSM together. I’ve been told there are some scathing pictures. Take a good look at her face.” Gregory was far too happy, his smile broadening.
She looked again, pulling the photograph close to her face. “Is that the Governor’s wife?”
“Ding. Ding. Ding. You win the prize.”
“What are you planning on doing with this?” She gripped the photo, determined to rip the damning piece into bits.
“Tsk. Tsk. I’m not planning on doing anything. This was given to me by a wonderful reporter friend of mine. I asked him to dig up any dirt on my competition.”
“What competition? He’s a judge. You’re…” The words trailed off. Joelle thought about everything she knew. “You’re both running for Congress.”
“You’re such an intelligent girl,” Gregory cooed. “Would you like to have drinks and discuss how famous I’m going to be?”
What she realized is that if Mr. Martin wasn’t prosecuted and made good on his promise of running for Congress he would be competition for Gregory, was this something Gregory knew about? If so, why defend him? Her head ached as her mind reeled. “Over my dead body. Now get the hell out of my way.”
“Aren’t you curious as to why I’m warning you to keep out of the mess?”
She sucked in her breath, calming her nerves. “Okay. Why?”
He pulled another photograph from the envelope. “Because my reporter friend also discovered someone else in Judge Mitchell’s life.”
Joelle didn’t budge, scream, moan, or even threaten his life. She maintained her composure as she was forced to look at the very clear picture of her on the back of the Harley. There was also no mistaking the man driving. “No wonder you threatened me. Are you asking me to drop this case?”
Gregory laughed. “Now, why would I do that? I care about you. That’s all. I want you to have a good shot at winning this case.” His eyes twinkled as he slid the picture back into the envelope and shoved it back into his coat pocket.
She blinked as she thought about the words. Yes, Gregory did know Mr. Martin wanted to run for Congress after he was found innocent. The asshole could kill off two opponents with one horrible scheme. He wanted
her to win and would sabotage the case if necessary.
And she’d backed right into every damning aspect.
Craze was angry, frustrated and had no idea what he was going to do with the case. To have the prosecutor as his submissive would look even worse than the rest of the wretched mess he was already in. What in the hell was he supposed to do?
He wrung his hands and tore off his robe. Right now, the only thing he wanted to think about was talking to Joelle. He had to see her, explain. He hadn’t exactly lied and neither had she, but the ramifications could destroy them both. They’d figure out a plan together. They could work through this.
He rolled his eyes and grabbed his things. He remembered what she drove and was determined to find her either in the hallways or before she was able to drive away, quite possibly out of his life. Taking the back stairs, he managed to avoid the various reporters, who would no doubt have continued to grill him about his candidacy. This wasn’t the time or the place.
After racing outside, he peered over the parking lot, panting as he searched for her car. There were too many people milling about, getting ready to leave for the day. He rushed into the foray, moving up and down the aisles. The moment he spotted what he believed to be her BMW, he noticed Joelle heading in the same direction, her head down. He moved quickly toward her, keeping his eyes on her as she zigzagged through the lines of vehicles.
Joelle dropped her briefcase and fumbled with her purse.
“Dear God.” He rounded the last group of cars and stopped just behind her. “Joelle.”
She froze, her shoulders tense. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to talk to you. You must know that.”
“What I know is that this couldn’t be any worse than it is. You’ve derailed this case and quite possibly my career,” Joelle said, her tone clipped.
“Joelle, I had no idea you were an attorney. I guessed, but what are the odds?” Craze knew the words sounded lame.
Shaking her head, Joelle yanked out her keys. “Yeah. What are those odds? I just happen to be prosecuting a case in which one of the people considering running for Congress is on trial. If I win, poof, one of your competition is gone. I’m easy enough to look up. You had to know who was on this case from minute one. Imagine my surprise in finding out. All the hard work. All the hours spent on this case. You used me. I’m such a fucking fool.”