Balancing the Scales

by Laura Carter

  “Why did it cause arguments?”

  She sighs and continues to focus on my stomach. “Just the commute, I guess.”

  A wave of protectiveness comes over me, almost instinctively, and I have no idea why. “Tell me about your family.”

  “There’s not much to tell. My two half-brothers are brick layers. One of my stepsisters is a hairdresser. The other is a stay-at-home mum. Do you want a top up?”

  She stands, but I grab her by the hips, toppling her forward so she’s hovering over me, her hands on my shoulders. Finally, her mood seems to lift. I tuck her hair behind her ears. “I want something, but it’s not wine.”

  “Is that right?” She flashes me a coy smile and I’m grateful she’s come back to me.

  I want to keep that smile this time. I yank her down so she’s straddling my hips. “That’s right.”

  As if her confidence has grown tenfold in a matter of seconds, she sits up and eye-fucks me as she slowly unbuttons her shirt.

  “Touch yourself,” I tell her as I push the shirt over her shoulders, leaving her naked on my lap.

  I can feel her hesitance, but she licks her fingertips and puts them between her legs. I reach up and squeeze her breasts as she starts to rock against her own hand.

  “I wish you could see how stunning you look like this.”

  She starts to moan, her hips deliberately gyrating. My dick stiffens just watching her get herself off. I unbutton my jeans, now commando beneath the denim, and raise my ass, taking my jeans down enough to free my cock. Her eyes fall to my erection, and she watches me wrap my fist around it.

  Her breaths become shallower as she keeps pushing her fingers inside herself, the whole time focused on me working my shaft.

  I watch her for as long as I can before desire is raging inside me. “Kneel up,” I tell her, so I can take off my jeans. I take another condom from my wallet and slide it on, this time enjoying the feel of my hands moving over my sensitive tip. “Now slide down onto me.”

  She spreads her legs wider, and I guide her forward. We swallow each other’s groans as she slides, excruciatingly slowly, down my cock. “Fuck, that’s deep.” My words are hoarse and drenched in sex.

  “Drew,” she whispers before dropping her mouth to mine.

  I hold her hips and move her in a rhythm that builds us both but not too quickly. This is too good a feeling to end. “Reach back and take hold of me.”

  She does. Putting pressure on the true base of my erection.

  “Use your other hand to play with yourself. That’s it. Just like that.”

  She’s working us both as I’m buried deep inside her and we’re both rising to the brink. I thought she was going to be timid, but she’s loving every second of this. And I want it to be the best she’s ever had. Christ, I want her to keep coming back for more.

  I suck the tip of my finger and slip my hand behind her. I roll the wetness around her rear, letting her get used to the idea, then I tease my finger inside her. Her head drops back. Her torso arches. I have to fight to keep her in rhythm as her hips attempt to writhe uncontrollably. I shift so I can reach up and take her nipple in my mouth. I want to assault her from all angles. The tip is as rock hard as my cock, and I moan as I turn my tongue around the point.

  “You’re so responsive, Becky. God, what you’re doing to me.”

  With my words, she increases the pressure at the base of my dick. I pump harder up into her, both of us now struggling to keep a steady rhythm.

  “Drew, I need to come. Please.”

  “You don’t have to ask me, baby. I’m right here with you.”

  Whether it’s my words, or the fact she can let go, she whimpers. Then her pussy starts gripping my cock, and she pushes her weight down, grinding harder against me.

  “Jesus, Becky. Keep going. Just like that. Keep fucking me.”

  She comes so hard I feel it through the latex. Hot and sexy as hell. I tighten my hold on her hips and pound up into her, each move on a guttural sound. Another fierce orgasm tears through every limb of my body.

  When we’re both sated, she falls forward onto my chest, her heart hammering against mine. “That was…”

  “For me too.”

  After a while she whispers, “Will you stay tonight?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I don’t know how long we stay like this—her folded in my arms, her heart beating with mine—all I know is there’s only one thing tomorrow can bring. More.

  I feel her stir against me. I have no idea what time it is, but the bedroom is still in darkness. I tighten my hold around her waist and nudge her back into me. Her skin is smooth against mine. She fits into me perfectly. I run my fingertips up her thigh and wait for her response. When she rolls her hips back into me, I press my lips to her neck, her shoulders. I bring my hand to stroke her pussy, and she moves her leg across mine, opening for me. She places her hand over mine and guides me exactly where she wants me to be. That control. That she can show me what she wants. It’s such a turn on.

  When she’s wet and ready, I reach a hand to the bedside table and grab my last faithful friend. I slip on the rubber, then push inside her, growling as I do. She grinds back into me, taking more. She can have it. She can have it all.

  She builds quickly as I work her clit and drive as deep into her as I can in this position until she comes.

  I flip her onto her stomach. She lifts her hips to me and grips my thighs, encouraging me deep. I drive into her, my hands roaming the curve of her back, her ass. She’s slim, but damn it, she’s all woman.

  I come quickly and ferociously, her name grating through my teeth as she takes everything I have, again. I collapse on her back, then roll us over, still inside her, holding her to me.

  She drifts back to sleep.

  Chapter 15

  Drew

  I shift onto my side and wake when my arm wraps around nothing but mattress. I force my eyes open to the brightness of Becky’s white bedroom walls. I look around for a clock but, seeing nothing, I flop onto my back and stare at the ceiling, replaying last night. I won’t lie. I love sex. Damn, sometimes I think I live for money and sex. But last night was something else. I know Becky hasn’t been with a lot of men, yet the things she made me feel, physically and emotionally… God, it was the best night I’ve ever had with a woman.

  I listen for her and hear nothing, so I pad into the bathroom across the hallway. I take a leak and still don’t hear her. As I head toward the kitchen my foot slides across a piece of paper on the wood flooring. I bend to pick up the note:

  I HAD TO GO

  A yard in front is another piece of paper, torn from the same sheet:

  TO WORK

  Another as I enter the kitchen.

  HELP YOURSELF

  Then one on the kitchen counter.

  TO COFFEE

  I follow the arrow to the refrigerator. Tucked under a magnet is another torn message:

  AND BREAKFAST

  She went to work. Of course she had to go to work, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling a little bereft.

  This has never happened.

  I stand in the kitchen with a handful of notes, looking for another. Something that will tell me what she’s thinking this morning. Did she have the best sex she’s ever had?

  Nothing.

  Zip.

  Jack.

  Just closed Becky who doesn’t tell me what is really going on in her mind.

  Usually, I’m the one leaving women in my apartment and telling them to help themselves to coffee. This is new. And I have a small taste of how shitty I make women feel.

  I notice the filter machine is already full and still turned on to keep the coffee warm. She at least thought to make me coffee.

  I hunt around the cupboards for a mug. Only now do I catch sight of the
clock on the wall above the stove.

  “Fucking fuck!”

  I run back to the bedroom and throw on my clothes.

  I’m hopping out of the apartment, trying to put on my boots and get my arms into my jacket at the same time. A total waste of energy and time. I eventually stop and do both in the stairwell.

  “It’s ten fucking a.m., Becky!” I curse at the roof.

  I reach for my cell as I run down the stairs, forgetting that I was in such a rush to get here last night that I left it charging. Damn it, I can’t even go straight to the office.

  I climb into a cab, only to sit in Manhattan’s infuriating traffic—row upon row of yellow cabs and pedestrians running between them.

  “Fuck!”

  I need to get a message to Sarah and tell her to cancel anything I have on my calendar this morning. Without my phone I don’t even have a clue what that might be.

  It’s nearly eleven by the time I get to my apartment. Half the working day is done. When I reach the penthouse, I head straight for my phone.

  The thing is off the charts with messages, emails and missed calls.

  I hit dial for Sarah. “Sarah, it’s me.”

  “Drew, thank God. Where are you?”

  “Becky didn’t put an alarm on. She just…argh, never mind.”

  “Whoa! Hold up. You slept with Becky?”

  “Sarah, not now. I need to shower and get to the office. Send the car for me.”

  “Dre—”

  I have half a mind to call Becky and scream at her for leaving me in bed without an alarm. How damned irresponsible could she be?

  Deciding against wasting yet more of my working day, I shower, shave, pull on a suit, and thank the lord when my driver is waiting down on the street.

  * * * *

  As I round the corner toward my office I’m accosted by the associate whose screw-up made me late for the ferry on Friday night. Comparatively, that was a small timing issue, but he’s an associate, and I shouldn’t be caused to be late because he’s shit. I still him with a glare that tells him exactly where he can shove his apology this morning.

  “Nicky, Drew doesn’t have time for this today, okay.” Sarah ushers him away with a patronizing brush of her hand, then falls into stride with me. “You have a problem.”

  “You know, some days, Sarah, could you open with something else?”

  “Okay.” She leans toward my ear. “How about this… You slept with Becky?”

  I stop on the spot and take the cardboard coffee cup she’s holding. “Is this for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thanks.” We move again, this time with my first caffeine hit of the morning seeping into my bloodstream. Small mercies.

  “We really do have a problem, though.”

  We move into my office and she closes the door behind her, which means we really do have a problem and it isn’t just Sarah being melodramatic. “Give it to me.”

  “Jerome Yearwood.”

  I open my laptop and scan the papers that people have scattered around my desk. “What about him?”

  “Charles Wickman is trying to bring a case against him for fraud.”

  I slam the pile of papers in my hand down on the desk. “Fraud over what?”

  “Haven’t you seen any of your emails?”

  “No, I… Just tell me, please.”

  “Well, the big problem is that Wickman went to Jerome and threatened to freeze his assets until the case is over, which obviously poses problems for Jerome’s clubs and hotels. But the biggest problem is that Jerome is launching his new rooftop bar this weekend.”

  “Wickman went directly to Jerome? That son of a bitch.”

  “That’s not the worst part. Jerome said he couldn’t reach you this weekend, and he’s worried about being served today, so he’s gone to Felman Richardson to represent him.”

  “He’s done what? Felman Richardson? That firm is a sack of shit.”

  “We know that, but to Jerome, they answered their phone when you didn’t.”

  I drain my coffee and crush the cup in my hand before nailing it into my waste basket. “One fucking night.” I knew I couldn’t have both.

  “I take it you’re referring to Becky?”

  “Not now, all right. Get me Jerome on the phone.”

  “Please?”

  “Sarah, don’t push me this morning. Please.”

  As she stomps out of the room, Marty stomps in. I hold up a hand before he speaks. “I know. I’m fixing it. Jerome won’t leave us. Charles Wickman will get what’s coming to him.”

  “Where the hell have you been, Drew? You were completely off the grid. Jerome is a lot of money to us.”

  “I’ll fix it, Marty.”

  “Make sure you do. Of all the times to start messing up, Drew, three weeks before the partnership vote is not it.”

  I stand and ball my fists at my sides. Damn you, Becky. “I know. I’ll make it right.”

  Sarah pops her head around the side of the door. “Drew, Jerome is on the line.”

  “Put him through.” I pick up the receiver to a barrage of abuse from Jerome. “Jerome, listen, it’s not okay that I wasn’t there for you this weekend. It’s never happened in the six years I’ve been your attorney, and it won’t happen again.” More abuse. I clench my free fist, digging my nails into my skin to stop myself from retaliating. Taking shit is not something I’m good at. Groveling is something I’m even worse at. All because I took a goddamn weekend off to impress some girl who I didn’t even wake up with this morning. “Jerome, I’m hearing every single word. You’re right. Like I said, it won’t happen again but trust me, you don’t want to go with Felman Richardson. You know that, and I know that. So let me hang up and fix this for you. Your club will be opening this weekend as planned. I’ll be there on Friday night, drinking your most expensive champagne, and we’ll toast at Charles Wickman’s expense.”

  “I’m not one for second chances, Drew. I needed you this weekend, and you let me down.”

  I clench my teeth. If the man makes me forfeit any more of my dignity, he can go to hell. “I know, Jerome. I’ll fix this for you.”

  “You’ve got an hour to tell me this is over.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  I hang up and put my hand on the first thing I find—a paperweight. I launch the thing at the wall of my office. Why didn’t she put on an alarm, goddamn it?

  “All this for nothing.” The words grate through my teeth.

  “Hey, are you okay?” I regard Sarah, standing on the threshold of my office.

  “I’m fine. I need to pay Charles Wickman a visit.”

  She plants her hands on the hips of her white dress. “I think you need to calm down before you go anywhere.”

  “I’ll calm down on the drive.”

  “I’ll say one thing; then I’ll move out of your way. Charles Wickman is a class A dick, but whatever is going on with you and Becky isn’t his fault.”

  “This has nothing to do with her.” It has everything to do with her.

  * * * *

  Agatha, the receptionist in the SEC building, rises from behind her old rosewood desk, taking off her glasses as she does. “Now listen here, Drew Harrington. I don’t come to your place of work and barge into your office. I’ve told you to make an appointment to see Charles.”

  “Agatha, I like you, I do, but right now, you can either buzz me through or I’ll smash the damn door down.”

  As I’m contemplating whether I’m angry enough to do just that, Charles Wickman steps out of the door to the side of the desk.

  “Your office, now.” I storm toward him, leaving him no other option. As soon as he follows me into his small box of an office, I ram him up against the door, slamming it shut in the process.

  I grip the collar of his s
hirt and watch as fear fills his eyes. “I am so fucking fed up with your bullshit, Charles.”

  “Take your hands off me before I have you locked up.”

  I release my grip but not before ramming him back into the door again. “What kind of shit are you trying to pull with Jerome? I’ve read the file. You’ve got nothing on him. This is about me beating you in court two weeks ago. You’ve gone after me, not him, and you know it.”

  “No, I have reason to believe there may have been fraudulent activity within—”

  “Bullshit. It’s some bogus tip from one of his competitors. He’s a big client of mine, and that’s why you followed up. Let me tell you something, Charles. You go to one of my clients again and you threaten to freeze his assets when you know you have no goddamn case to do so, and I won’t be the one getting locked up.”

  I cross the room, moving away from the dickwad to stop me from punching him in the face.

  “If you think you have something on Jerome, you bring it to me, his attorney.”

  His lips curl and I swear I’m going to smack the smug bastard. “From what I hear, you’re no longer his attorney. Felman Richardson, isn’t it?”

  “See, you’ve got that wrong too, Charles. Just like you get everything wrong. I am his attorney. You know why? Because I’m the best goddamn attorney he could have, and he knows it. So, I’ll say it again. If you take issue with one of my clients, you come to me. And until you’ve got something concrete, you back the fuck off Jerome.”