by Trisha Wolfe
I take my time as I finish cuffing her wrist, and then her ankles, making sure I touch and linger at every inch of her body on my way down. I have no intention of bringing her to her breaking point tonight. This—this is all for her pleasure.
As my hand roams up her leg, eliciting a shiver, she gasps in a deep breath when I bite the seam of her panties and then shred them away from her body.
My hand is there in an instant to feel her become wet. She drenches my fingers as I hiss out a curse, my control already long gone. I suck her into my mouth, hard and needy, my teeth nipping her clit as I tongue her hot pussy.
I reach up and grip the lacy top of her corset, tug it down until her breasts spring free, then I’m kneading one, plucking her nipple to make her tighten against my mouth.
“Fuck me,” she breathes out. “Now, Chase. I have to have you inside me.”
The fierce need to concede to her spoken demand barrels through me. I plunge a finger inside her tight center, giving her the penetration she needs, as I lower my zipper. “Say it again,” I order.
“Fuck me…right now. Take me—”
I’ve barely gotten her ankles free of the cuffs before I’m hauling her leg over my shoulder, my pants just lowered enough for my dick to seek her entrance, my control ripped away. “Do you love what I do to you? Love how I make you feel?”
Her eyes penetrate mine, the sultry swell of her breasts as she heaves making it painful to withhold—but I do; I ease the tip of my cock between her soaked lips, stretching out the anticipation. Hers and mine.
“I’m in love with everything you do – everything about you,” she says. “I’m in love with you, Master.”
My hands latch around her hips and I haul her against me, driving in deep as I press my lips to hers. Her cry is swallowed by my hungry kiss, my need to devour her overbearing.
I break away just far enough. “Tell the man you love him.” I capture her gaze, make her look into my eyes.
She doesn’t waver. “Chase, I love you.”
“Fucking hell,” I say under my breath as I sink inside her, deep, claiming, taking her mouth once again. I’m lost there, inside her kiss, inside her—unwilling to let her go. “My love for you is all I am.”
The truest part of me admits defeat. I’m hers. It’s the greatest loss I’ve ever experienced. And as she shatters around me, pulling me farther within her soul, her body, it’s sweet mercy that releases me within her.
17
True Colors
Alexis
There can only be one pivotal moment that alters your world. Only one—that’s what I’ve believed ever since my life shifted so tragically once before. And yet I’ve been proven wrong, inclined to trust that with Chase, I’m never going to stop experiencing them.
How many times can I be awoken, remade? Transformed by his touch?
I catch myself staring off into space, Julia nudging me to bring me back down. “Alexis, do you want me to handle the paralegal research?”
Giving my head a stern shake, I say, “Uh, no…” I glance down at my files, trying to sort through the same documents I’ve been organizing for the past hour. “I can delegate the work…I just need to weed through it first.”
Julia’s smile captures my attention. “It’s the best feeling, isn’t it?” she says.
I glance her way, unable to hide my own telling smile. “What?”
She rolls her heavily kohl-rimmed eyes. “Oh, please. Save it for the paralegals and interns. You’re not fooling me. You’re in love.”
I’m taken aback, shocked at having Julia—the scary lioness I’ve tiptoed around for a year—talk so openly with me. It’s not a matter of trust; I realize in this circumstance, she’s the only person I have to confide in; it’s the issue of being able to confide at all. For me.
Even when my mother was alive, it was difficult for me to talk candidly, wary of opening myself up to let others in. The way I view things…the way I see the world…it’s just too tiring. I feel awkward just thinking of trying to explain it.
“It’s okay, Alexis,” she says, laying her hand over mine. “I’m not going to judge you.”
My forehead creases. “I’m not ashamed,” I say, suddenly defensive, and she laughs.
“You’re so flustered. It’s obvious. Just do me a favor.” She turns my way so that she’s facing me. “We’re colleagues, and technically, I’m your superior – but within the regulations of this firm, we’re equals. Although your being Mister Larkin’s sub places you above me on that measure.”
I shake my head. “I don’t see it that way, Julia.”
Her smile is sincere. “I know. But you are, Alexis. And the deeper you go into this world, the more you’re going to become a part of your Master. Just remember to reserve a place for yourself. For your own feelings and thoughts.” She eyes me closely. “Sometimes, you’ll need a little of that freedom of separation.”
I tilt my head, really looking at Julia. I guess I assumed she belonged to one of the other partners, but I never actually asked. “Sounds like you know from experience.”
A sly smile tilts her red lips. “I do, but not in the way you think. I’m a Domme, Alexis.”
“Oh,” I say, even more confused. “Then how do you take orders from Chase?”
The tinkling laugh she releases fills my office. “With great precaution. Mister Larkin knew that another submissive wasn’t the best choice to oversee the partners’ subs. Only another Dominant would work. So here I am. And that’s why I know you need to carve out a place for yourself. I always tell all my subs to do so, for their mental health.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Just how many do you have?”
She flips her binder closed. “More than enough.” With a tick of her chin, she motions toward the door. “You should probably go address your team now. Come on. I have faith in you.”
What world is this where Julia the Domme is becoming someone—possibly the only someone—I consider a friend? I smile to myself as I collect the files, feeling more at place within the walls of Lark and Gannet than I ever thought possible.
That feeling dissipates a little as I enter the cubicle area, the room where I spent so many months trying to blend into the scenery. Working on a case solo has always been my strength. I’m focused and dedicated, and I get more work done without the distractions from others.
However, if we’re to truly test what we are capable of, we have to embrace what scares us. For most, standing in front of an office full of paralegals and interns is a minor inconvenience. For me, it’s the thing nightmares are spawned from.
The glass walls actually pulse in my vision. The gray carpet bevels beneath my feet, threatening to trip me with every step. Julia clears her throat, her wide eyes directed toward me, presenting me to the full office.
Shit.
I breathe slowly, aware of the perspiration breaking over my face. “Mister Larkin and the partners have requested that our team research the victim statements,” I begin, not clearly hearing each word; as I’m too focused on the echo of my voice.
I pause just long enough to recall the stress Chase was under the night before, how he paced the penthouse. I’m not just here for him as his sub—a belonging or a fuck toy; though I’m quite happy to always be the one to bring him satisfaction—I’m also his partner, in a sense. In that way, I want to help him. “We’re under a time constraint,” I add, my voice bolder, louder. “We have two days to discover if there’s any crossover among victim statements. Anything that can tie the client to each offense, or point to another suspect.”
Chelsea, who now occupies my old desk, speaks up. “I thought the case is being focused on the DNA discovery.” She smirks at me. “Did you not get the memo?”
That fucking smirk of hers, it sets my teeth. And I’m surprised to find that I’m not wilting under her open challenge. Rather, before today, I’d probably smile nervously and agree, questioning my strategy.
That’s not happening. “The partners have
that handled. You’re not privileged to every aspect of this case, Chelsea.” I walk steadily toward her and drop a stack of copied testimonies on her desk. “If you feel your assignment is too much for you, let me know. I can transfer you to another case.”
Eyebrows hiked to her badly dyed hairline, she manages to say, “Yes…I mean, no, ma’am – I’m fine working this one.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your cooperation.” I turn and head back toward the front of the office, where Julia and I pass out the rest of the copies, giving instructions on what needs to be focused on and highlighted, all relevant and pertinent information brought to our attention.
When I reach the section near Chelsea, I hunker near her ear to whisper, just for her: “By the way, I’m neither a lesbian nor do I have an STD, but otherwise, that’s none of your business. I do happen to have a fucking hot as hell boyfriend who’s going to fuck me senseless real soon.” I pat her shoulder before I move on. “Just thought I’d clear that up.”
We’re hurtling toward the end of the day, and I haven’t even worked my way through the final victim’s statement from the first case. I glance at the time on my phone: 4:50
Instead of isolating myself in my office, I decided to work alongside the paralegals at the main table in the office area. It saves time, in case they need anything addressed right away, but it also feels right.
I don’t want my first official week as their supervisor to be spent locked away in my office, drawing some proverbial line between them and me. It works well for Julia—she has the intimidation down—but I’m not Julia. I have to find my own rhythm in managing my team.
Two of the women opposite me glance at their phones, then up at me. “All right,” I say, accepting defeat. “We’ll pick up here in the morning. We still have another day.” I start stacking the files. “Oh, and thank you all for the diligent work today.”
Smiles and nods, and some goodbyes, and as the team heads toward their desks to leave for the day, a sense of accomplishment washes over me. Not for the case, but for the way I handled my first real test. The case is a different matter.
“Miss Wilde?”
I look up to see Sophie. “You can still call me Alexis.” I smile.
Nodding, she sits at the seat next to mine. “Alexis, I wanted to ask you something before I left. Is that okay? Or should I wait till tomorrow?”
“Oh, no – that’s fine. I mean, yeah, what do you have?”
She pushes a coil of her dark hair behind her ear and slides a document toward me. “All the victims stated they were taken to the same bar by Doctor Bates—” she points to the highlighted bar in question “—right before he dropped them off at their homes.”
I raise my eyebrows, prompting her on. “Yes, that’s right. The bartender confirmed their statements.”
“But later, when the attacks occurred, they’re certain it was Doctor Bates. Why?”
I shake my head, the long day wearing on my mental capability. I pull my notes from my binder. “The attacks happened within fifteen minutes of the time the victims arrived home,” I say. “Okay, here. They all corroborate that they recognized his cologne and the sound of his voice.”
She widens her eyes. “But couldn’t that be circumstantial? Or even a coincidence? How about someone at the bar, who knows Doctor Bates, like the bartender—”
“I see where you’re going, and it’s not a bad theory,” I say, turning to face her. “But Chase – I mean, Mister Larkin already interviewed the bartender. He was seen at the bar at the time of all the attacks.”
She sighs. “There goes that angle.”
I smile at her. “You’re not reaching, Sophie. Giving the jury another suspect is a strong case. Only in this particular case, we don’t have the bar as a common denominator to connect this victim. She was never taken to that bar, or even on a date—” I stop short, looking down at my notes.
“What is it?” she asks.
“The common denominator,” I repeat, finding what I’m seeking. “It’s not the bar that links this victim to the others, it’s what they stated—the manner in which they were attacked. Their attacker forced them to perform sexual scenarios which had only been discussed on the dark fetish website. So not the cologne, or his voice, or the other similarities.” I look up, lost in my thoughts. “The site.”
Sophie digs a paper out of her folder. “Was the metadata ever conclusive either way?”
She’s thinking the same thing as me. “I don’t know, but that doesn’t matter, not if it can be suggested Bates’ account to that site was hacked.” I glance at her. “Worth a try to see what the partners think.”
Her smile twists. “Gotta love the digital age. Anyone, anywhere can become a suspect. It’s actually scary.”
I nod, agreeing more than she realizes. It’s an angle for doubt, sure—but it’s also a very real possibility. It’s not completely implausible that he’s innocent, and that there is another suspect out there. Someone who’s been watching him closely, linked to the same dark fetish website.
“Thanks, Sophie,” I say, standing and gathering my binders. “That was an excellent brainstorm.”
I head toward my office, my attention on my phone as I type out a text to Chase. He’ll probably have a reason to combat our theory based on different ways the prosecution could counter, but I just feel strongly about it—like it has to be investigated.
My shoulder knocks into someone, and I hear a, “Sorry, ma’am,” which draws my full attention. I look up into the eyes of the blonde from The Firm—the one in the alcove that night.
She bows her head, apologizing again as she walks away. I stare after her, about to tell her she doesn’t have to call me ma’am…when Wells appears before me. I take a step back.
Silently, he places his finger beneath his chin and raises it, a sign for me to lift my head. And then he leaves.
The vibration of my phone awakens me from my thoughts and I shake my head.
Chase: Meeting with the partners. Have Jefferson take you to my place
I smile at that, then start toward my office, passing the other partners as they advance to Chase's office with my head held a little higher. I’ve been dreading seeing the partners since that night, but it was a useless fear. I belong to Chase. They can’t touch me.
18
Vitiate
Chase
If this were a chess match, the game would be called on account of a draw. As I’ve proven before, however, there are no draws among the partners. A decision is always made.
It’s simple logic: leave no room for debate.
And even though I welcome a healthy debate…that’s not what transpired in the meeting this afternoon. No, that could be more easily compared to a bloodbath, each partner throwing his weight around, fists raised, staking their claim on my client.
A bunch of dominant pricks flexing their muscles. Greedy little fucks.
Gannet is pushing to terminate representation while Mason demands to continue our efforts. Wells and I, oddly enough, are the only ones undecided. And truthfully, I feel as if Wells really couldn’t give a damn either way. He’s been preoccupied the entire length of this new development. He’s likely to side with my vote—when I come to a clear decision.
Once I have, it will be time to reevaluate the partnership. Suddenly an all-male practice headed up by The Firm’s elite players doesn’t seem like the most beneficial practice anymore.
As much as I loathe change, I’m getting used to the idea.
Alexis enters the living room, stealing my thoughts. Welcomingly. “Come here.”
She sets the bourbon on the table and then slips beside me on the couch. “I thought you might need a break from your brooding.”
A smile twitches at my mouth as I slide my hand up her thigh. “If it means tasting that sassy mouth, you thought right.” I toy with her panties, slipping a finger along the seam to feel her, as I lean in to capture her mouth.
Getting lost in Alexis is effortless. If I�
�m not careful, I could lose sight of everything else around us. That’s the one thing I can’t allow to happen. It’s my responsibility to make sure her world isn’t affected by mine.
I utter a curse, pulling her tighter to me once more before making myself release her. “Work first, then pleasure,” I say, separating us so I can think clearly. I stand and grab the bourbon. “I have to make a decision by tomorrow on whether or not I’m going to continue representing Bates.”
The confused draw of her eyebrows is clear as she rises beside me. She picks up one of the files I have scattered over the table. “Why would you not?” she asks. “Did the ACA announce another finding?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“It’s not because of me, is it?”
Alexis alone is reason enough to never represent another alleged rapist, but honestly, I’m no saint. Never will be. “This is about my own ethics,” I say, and her features relax. “I don’t defend people who I believe are guilty. It might sound heroic, but really, it’s just smart law. The partners are feeling the heat from the DNA discovery. Simply put, they’re not so much ethical as they are greedy. They don’t like losing cases.”
Alexis moves back toward the couch. “You truly believe he’s guilty.”
With a furrowed brow, I sink a hand into my pocket. “I have some doubt. But it’s not enough.”
“It’s not about the truth or justice, it’s about what you can prove,” she says as she sits on the couch and crosses her legs. Her deep eyes search me. “Julia once said that’s what you believe.”
I force out a heavy breath. “The law is black and white, Alexis. I’m not.” And that’s the most awakening revelation I’ve come to understand. “The law doesn’t change; people do. I do my best to work within the gray overlies.” Without taking a sip, I set the bourbon down and walk toward her, closing the distance between us. “I have to trust my instinct.”