by Lainey Davis
Mr. Huge, Dark, and Handsome bites my nipple and I scream. And then he grins this devilish, crooked smile as he slides another finger inside my body. My breath catches and my heart is racing as the pad of his thumb finds some secret rhythm against my clit I didn't know I needed. I'm getting so wet while he touches me. I can feel his hand getting slick with my wanting, and I feel my bones melting away, my legs shaking as something bursts inside me. As I stare deep into his grey eyes, he makes something explode. Something I've never felt before this moment. Something so fucking good that I can't control the sounds escaping my mouth. "Holy shit," I yell.
Who the fuck is this guy and how does he know what to do with my body? This bar trip feels like the best decision I've made in years.
He growls and nips at my neck. “That’s gorgeous, sweetheart. You’re so fucking sexy, coming on my hand.” My hips buck against his hand and waves of pleasure rip through my body. I am shameless, rolling my pelvis against him, desperate for more friction, more of everything. He has reached inside me and pulled this orgasm from somewhere deep, yanked it out of me while staring into my eyes. And I know once will never be enough. Except it has to be. This is just a one-time thing to help me forget.
My chest heaves as I gasp for breath. He lets go of my wrists and my arms sink to my sides. I don't notice him unzipping his pants, but from somewhere in my consciousness I hear him rip open a foil packet. He leans close to my ear, whispering, "Are you ready for the next one? Cuz that was just the beginning."
When I open my eyes and look down, I laugh out loud--a single, snorting huff of incredulity. Surely the massive piece of granite in his hand isn't real? "There's no way that fucking thing will fit inside me," I breathe.
His wolfish smile returns and he strokes his giant dick while he massages my thigh with his other hand. "I'm pretty excited to give it a try, babe." He nudges my legs wider and I keep my eyes locked on his as I feel the tip of him pressing against my entrance. I hold my breath as he starts to work his way inside. I'm surprised to realize how much I am looking forward to this. Whatever the hell just happened with his hand, I know his cock is going to bring a new level of heat. He slides inside me slowly, letting my body adjust to his size. And I feel so full, like he's invading every spare inch inside me.
He smiles as he inches deeper and I exhale, feeling myself stretch to accommodate him. "Look down," he says, and I do. I look between our bodies, past the bunched up material of my dress, to see myself fully seated against him, my body pressed against the dark hair of his crotch. And then he starts to move.
Suddenly everything my teammates ever giggled about makes sense. He's got his rock-hard arms wrapped around me, holding me tight against his massive chest while he fucks me, and I'm enveloped in the smell of him, the warm feel of him. Everything smells like pine and mint and tequila. God, I want to see what he has under his suit. I fist his shirt as the pleasure starts to build. My head falls back, and he nips at my throat with his straight, white teeth. My body craves what he is doing, and more. "More," I whisper, and he looks at me with those grey eyes. "Harder," I say, not knowing how I know that's what I need. But he complies, fucking me so that my hips slam against the wall, my ass bouncing from the tile. When I look over his shoulder into the mirror, it's just as he said it would be. I see his hips pistoning into my body and I see my face transformed by pleasure.
And then he slides a hand between our bodies, rubbing his giant thumb knuckle so gently against my needy bud, and I rocket over the top again. I hear myself screaming as my hips thrash against him. I pound my fists against his chest, forgetting myself, and then I bury my face into his neck. I start to suck on his earlobe, run my fingers through his tousled hair, feeling the sweat build along his neck as he works my body. "Yes," he grunts, moving faster and faster. "Fuck, that's so good. Holy fuck, baby." And then he stills as I feel his cock throbbing inside me.
I'm slick with sweat and weak from the exertion of the most intense orgasms I've ever experienced. I heave against the wall, feeling like I just raced a regatta. I slide over a bit, seeking the cool tile behind my back. "That was--"
He kisses me then, a different sort of kiss. Long and deep, sensual. Personal. "That was incredible," he says, and winks.
He walks over to the trash to throw out the condom and starts washing his hands. I stare at him in the mirror above the sink, marveling at his half-hard dick. "I can't believe that thing fit inside me," I say, adjusting my skirt.
He grins and hands me a paper towel. "You know, I never do get tired of hearing that." I wash my hands and dab cool water on my neck, smoothing out my hair while he tucks himself back in. I'm not sure what comes next, because I fulfilled my mission here, but it wasn't at all what I expected. He reaches for my hand, his thumb gently stroking my wrist. The thumb he just used to get me off. "So can I get your name at least? Maybe your number?"
I sigh, letting out a long breath. Shit. "Sorry,” I say, pulling back my hand. “That's not how this works." And, before I can change my mind, I open the door and march out of the bathroom, out of the club, into a cab toward home.
Six
JUNIPER
The next morning I feel sore, but I don't mind. It's the kind of slight ache that makes me smile, remembering how good it felt with that guy in the bathroom. So now I know what passion feels like. Passion for a person, anyway. I've always felt a similar thrill from my sport. Ok, not quite similar. Sure, winning feels good. Whatever the hell that was last night? That felt like lightning struck and jolted me awake. I don't ever want to go back to sex the way it used to be.
But I do miss the water. It's been days since I last rowed! I feel off kilter without the water. I need to visit my scull at the boathouse, make sure she made the trip safely. I drag my sore body out of bed, get dressed, and walk the few short blocks to the boathouse for my first row in my new city.
My boat looks just beautiful, and I'm relieved to see she made the trip just fine. I carry her down to the dock, checking her out, re-assembling my oar locks, when the women's team heads down the ramp carrying their 8-seater propped on their shoulders. Once their boat's in the water, I introduce myself.
One thing I love about rowing is that the community is so friendly. There's not a bit of awkwardness as they welcome me to Pittsburgh. I even meet their coach, Derrick, and find out the details about practices for the women's team. Before they shove off, they invite me to go out for breakfast with them after practice, and so I spend an hour anticipating the easy conversation among like-minded new friends.
My oars dip into the brown water of the channel between the island and the north bank of the river, and I head up against the current. Once I set an easy pace, my mind drifts back to last night. What the hell was that, I wonder again. If that's how sex is supposed to feel, I decide I'm really angry with myself for settling with Zack for so long. Four fucking years, I grunt, digging in with my thighs and rowing faster as I think about him.
How could I not know? How could I be so focused on my career, so in tune with my surroundings on the water, but not know the man who said he loved me was playing me for a fool? I reach the dam on the river much faster than I anticipated. I pull toward the side and catch my breath. I see the women's team boat working on their race start technique. Every oar is in perfect unison. All their legs move together. Hell, I know even their breath is connected. They are a unit, a team. They help each other. That's what I need to focus on. Work and rowing. Everything else just winds up a disappointment.
The team meets at a diner nearby after their practice. Derrick claps me on the back and asks about rowing in Boston. He winks and asks me what the men looked like on my team there, and I relax all the more. I'm definitely not in the mood to think about dating anyone, especially after what happened last night, so knowing the male coach doesn't play for that team takes some of the pressure off.
When the table asks me if I've met anyone here, I can't control my blush, but it does feel good to say I had a good time at a club la
st night. I leave the diner with all their cell numbers, plans to go for a run over my lunch break later this week, and 9 new friends pestering me for more info about my tryst.
"It was just a bar hookup, guys," I say, downing the rest of my cranberry juice.
Tina, the coxswain, laughs. "Well, you'll have to come out with us next weekend and help me find a bar hookup who makes me blush like that."
~~~~
Monday morning I meet Ben for coffee before heading into my new office. The area around our building is all cobblestone streets and plate glass buildings. There's a cute little sitting area in the middle of the square, where I'm surprised to see Ben sitting at a two-top with a flat white for me. He grins. "My sister told me your drink." I sink into the chair feeling very welcome in this new city and, for the thousandth time, grateful that I have the rowing community to support me in so many ways. "Lisa told me I'm supposed to say they're useless without you, and you'd better return her call or she's going to come hit you over the head with an oar."
That's Lisa. I make a mental note to call her after work today, tell her about my new job once I get a sense of the place.
“Thank you so much for everything, truly,” I tell him. “I’m so glad to finally meet you in real life and not just on FaceTime with your sister! Your whole family really saved my ass.”
Ben waves his hand at my thanks. "So," he says, "You ready for what's up there?"
I shake my head. "No! I have no fucking clue what to expect, actually. Tell me everything." Ben describes Stag Law, how in just four years it grew into a multimillion dollar firm under Tim Stag's calculated direction.
"The man is serious as hell, but it's actually a great place to work." The company represents the players unions for the professional football, baseball, and hockey teams in Pittsburgh, and so the majority of the work relates to contract negotiations, but there's a fair bit of injury work, termination disputes, and, as Ben explains, a lot of the athletes struggle to keep it in their pants. "We do a lot of paternity-custody cases…and then some defense work if they're caught with hookers and blow."
I'm not quite sure how I fit into this high-stakes, masculine world, but Ben explains that Tim really wants to build diversity on his staff. "That starts with you, I guess."
"Wait. I'm the only female attorney? I don't want to be here just to be the diversity."
He shrugs. "Like I said, the business is only four years old. Most of us have only been on staff for two years. I do know Tim was way interested in your resume and talked about you at the staff meeting after your interview. I think you're the only athlete as well. I mean, the rest of us work out. When we have time. But you are involved in team sports. Tim mentioned that your perspective would be really invaluable."
I nod and finish my drink. We walk upstairs and I'm introduced to the executive assistant, Donna. Ben tells me she is the one who really steers the ship. He whispers, "Donna knows everything about everything that happens here. Tim is totally fucked without her." Noted: suck up to Donna, I think as I shake her hand and give her my best smile.
"Juniper, you let me know if you need help with anything while you're getting settled," she says, squeezing my arm. I like her. I can tell her offer is genuine.
We walk into the corner office, a huge space with 2 walls of windows and a massive desk. Seated behind it is Tim Stag, looking impeccable and handsome in a tailored suit. He smiles to greet us, but I notice his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. There's something familiar about him, but I can't place it. I decide I must just be recognizing him from my video chat interview. "Juniper Jones," he says, pumping my hand. "We meet at last. I hope Ben was filling you in about Stag Law?"
"I only told her the bad stuff," Ben jokes. Ugh. Male posturing.
We all laugh and at a nod from Tim, Ben ducks off to his own office.
Tim goes through his whole spiel again, even asking me about rowing because he seems really interested in this athletic perspective I bring to his team. "I've never had someone negotiate for time off versus increased salary," he says, and I smile.
"I take rowing as seriously as I take my work, Mr. Stag. I'm fast and efficient at both, but I need a lot of Fridays off to travel to competitive regattas."
"As you know, most of our clients are professional athletes," he says, and I nod. "One reason I was eager to hire someone with a team sport background is because I need my employees to understand our clients, but not get starstruck. You're going to be brushing shoulders with a lot of famous men, Ms. Jones. I take it you can keep your wits about you?"
This makes me laugh, since I don't really follow sports much outside of rowing. I practically grew up on the water. My dad was an Olympic rower and coached my team in high school. There was no room at the Jones household for drooling over football stars. "I promise to treat our clients like I would anyone else with a strict training regimen," I say. "I'd rather ask them about their anaerobic workouts than their prowess on the field."
Tim seems really pleased with this information and leans to grab a file. "Come on," he says, "Let me show you to your office and tell you about your first client." He walks me into an office a few doors down from his own. We're on the top two floors of one of the skyscrapers downtown, and from my window I have a great view of the confluence of the rivers. I feel a warm sense of anticipation, looking forward to mornings spent out there, days spent in here.
I run my fingers along the polished wood desk. A brand new laptop and extra monitor are angled away from the glare of the window. I vaguely pay attention as Tim tells me someone from IT will be in to get me set up with email and the company wifi.
I hang my bag on a hook and look at him, expectantly.
"May I sit, Juniper? Should I call you Juniper? We mostly do first names here, including clients, but stick with formal titles when pro executives are in…"
"Please sit," I say, sinking into my own leather desk chair, "And absolutely, call me Juniper." I adjust the levers on the side of the seat to accommodate my height and find that it hugs my body perfectly. I'm going to really love it here.
“I’m assigning you to my brother Ty, who plays for the Pittsburgh Fury as of this weekend,” he says, and I feel my jaw drop.
“Your brother will be my first client? Tim, are you sure that--”
He cuts me off. "I want to review the details of my brother's contract negotiations before he comes in to meet you in a bit. I would ordinarily handle this sort of case myself, but it's a conflict of interest. Him being my brother and all." I nod, and Tim tells me about Ty's transfer from Vancouver. The only thing unusual about the contract is that the Pittsburgh team, the Fury, are in Stanley Cup playoffs and Ty will immediately begin practices. We still need to work out the details of his playoff bonus.
"This seems relatively straightforward," I say to my boss, and I furrow my brow, still trying to place why he seems so familiar to me. “What’s with the emphasis on morality and sportsmanship?” Tim coughs.
His face shifts, as he explains that his brother is a hot head who gets himself in trouble for fighting on the ice, and partying off the ice. Great I think. A cocky, impulsive asshole. Apparently this guy was on timeout in the minor leagues for a while and is getting his shot at redemption because a Fury player tore his ACL right before playoffs.
Tim's phone beeps several times and he stands. "I'll leave you to look it over, and I'll meet you in the conference room in an hour. Ty will be there along with his agent to look over paperwork." I nod as he backs out of the office, taking a call.
When I make my way to the conference room, I feel totally familiar with Tyrion Stag's Pittsburgh Fury contract. Shoulders back, confident, I push open the door ready to impress, and I freeze in my tracks. The blood drains from my face and I have to clutch the doorknob to steady myself. Sitting at the table with my new boss is him. The man from the nightclub. The guy I fucked last weekend is my client and, worse, my boss's brother.
Seven
TY
"There she i
s!" My brother stands and walks toward the door and I look up. Holy shit, it's her! The woman from the nightclub, the broad with the hot thighs and the strong need to angry fuck. What are the fucking chances that she works here with my brother? That she's my new fucking lawyer?
This is going to be fun. I can tell.
She looks like she's seen a ghost. Yeah, she's rattled to see me here. Tim puts an arm lightly on her shoulder and ushers her into the conference room. That grinds my gears a little. I don't want my brother touching this woman. "Juniper Jones, this is my brother, Ty Stag."
She stands stiffly beside him but doesn't speak, and I can tell he's annoyed. He thinks she's starstruck because I'm famous, but I knew she had no idea who I was the other night. Nah. She's spooked because she fucked her client and she has no idea what happens next.
"Juniper, huh?" I stand and walk over to her, sliding my hand into hers for a shake. Her arm twitches when my hand makes contact with her skin. "My brother says you're new to Pittsburgh, too."
She nods and sits. I can see her trying to gather her wits. She looks at me, sort of desperately, and clears her throat. I just give her my best smile until she stammers, "Yes, things worked out quite nicely. Your brother hired me just as I was looking to make a change." And then she just stares at me uncomfortably until Matty clears his throat.
“Ok, well, now that we’re all here, Juniper, Tim said you’ve reviewed the contract. Again, that’s really pretty straightforward, but while we have the team together I wanted to talk about our agency’s plan to help bolster Ty’s image.”
She starts chugging a glass of water while Tim glares at her. God, I love making my stiff-ass brother uncomfortable almost as much as I like seeing this woman squirm. I lean back in my chair with my hands clasped behind my head. Because I can. I’m paying these people to put up with shit like this.