Reasonable Doubt (1-3)

by Whitney Gracia Williams

  “You have to believe that I’m sorry…I never thought that this would happen.”

  “Take however much time you need on the Brownstein account.” He disregarded my apology and released his hold on my necklace. “You have until the end of next week. And from now on, you can just set my coffee on my bookcase. I don’t need you coming anywhere near my desk.”

  “Andrew—”

  “We are definitely not on a first name basis. Do not ever call me that.”

  “Just let me explain…”

  “There’s nothing to explain. You lied to me and you no longer exist. Get out. Now.”

  I felt tears welling in my eyes. “I was serious about you being my only friend…Friends are supposed to give each other a chance to make things right. Just let me tell you why I had to lie to you…”

  “I don’t deal with liars. Ever. And seeing that that’s exactly what you are, I don’t care why you felt the need to deceive me. Get out of my office, stay out of my sight as much as possible, and do your damn job.”

  I stood up and looked into his eyes, pleading for him to simply hear me out, to let me explain, but he turned away from me. Then he picked up his phone.

  “Jessica?” he said. “Could you help Miss Everhart find her way out of my office? And could you please have the janitor check my floors for fucking superglue?”

  I stood underneath the scalding hot streams of my shower, crying. Right after I’d left Andrew’s office, I’d told HR that I wasn’t feeling well and needed to leave for the rest of the day.

  I’d driven straight for the dance hall—locking myself into a private room and dancing until I couldn’t feel my feet anymore. I knew I must’ve looked crazy to my classmates, sobbing in between every twirl, but I didn’t care; I needed to clear my mind of all thoughts of Andrew, Thoreau, and Alyssa.

  As the water continued to lash against my skin, I shut my eyes and murmured, “How long has he known?” I thought about the past couple weeks, how “Thoreau” had been less talkative than normal, how he’d ignored me, and then it hit me.

  My interview…

  I still remembered it because seeing Andrew in person made me realize that no picture could ever accurately capture how sexy he really looked, and I’d blushed the second his eyes met mine. He didn’t seem to act any differently throughout the questioning, but then I remembered that random phone call…

  I wasn’t sure why I was just remembering it now, but while Mr. Bach and Mr. Greenwood had simply laughed that intrusive phone call away, Andrew had stared at me. As if he was in complete and utter shock. And at the end of the interview, when I’d reached for his hand, his gaze wasn’t intrigued anymore, it was heated.

  Wiping away my tears, I turned off the water and stepped out. I wrapped myself in a towel and did what I always did when I felt sad: ordered a sandwich and made myself a couple of stiff martinis.

  Just as I was downing the first one, there was a knock on my door. I noticed the pink Barbie keys on the counter—courtesy of my forgetful and “never here” roommate and knew it was her.

  She always leaves something…

  “Would it kill you to double check for these before you—” I stopped when I opened the door.

  It was Andrew, and the look on his face was one of pure anger. He wasn’t dressed in a suit anymore, just a simple, thin white T-shirt that slightly clung to his chiseled abs and a pair of faded blue jeans.

  I tried to slam the door in his face, but he held it open and forced himself inside my apartment. I started to step backwards and he matched me step for step, backing me against my living room wall.

  “We need to talk.” His voice was flat, emotionless.

  “No, we don’t. You said plenty earlier.” I looked down at the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ll be resigning in the morning. Please leave.”

  He tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes. “You’re not quitting.”

  “Watch me.” I swallowed. “I want you to leave…”

  “I would believe that, but you say things you don’t mean all the time.”

  The tension between us was damn near palpable, and I could feel my blood heating every second he stood there staring at me. I tried to move away, but he gripped my hips.

  “You told me you were a lawyer, Aubrey…” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “You told me you were twenty seven years old.”

  “I never said I was twenty seven. You assumed.”

  “It was on your fucking profile!” He pushed my back against the wall. “You never thought to correct me whenever I said I was only five years older than you…I’m ten years older than you.”

  “I didn’t think I would ever meet you in person,” I barely managed to say as he pressed his chest against mine.

  “That excuses your lies?”

  “I said I was sorry, and it was clearly a huge mistake to ever befriend you. You didn’t even give me a chance to completely explain.”

  “Do you not understand how fucked up this situation is?”

  “No…” I murmured as our lips touched.

  “I’ve been looking forward to fucking the woman who teased me every night for nearly six months,” he whispered, sliding his fingers underneath my towel. “I wanted her to ride me.” He trailed his hand up my thigh and rubbed his thumb against my clit. “On my cock and my mouth. And I wanted to teach her how to taste me…Don’t you think this woman fucked all of that up?”

  I shook my head in response; I couldn’t handle the way he was looking at me.

  “You said you weren’t my type when I asked what you looked like.” He pulled away from my mouth, but he kept his thumb against my clit. “But you clearly are. Why did you lie about something as simple as that?””

  “You didn’t tell me what you looked like, so—”

  “Stop deflecting.” He hissed, and took a step back. “Tell me the reasoning. I’ve already figured out your reasoning for the other bullshit lies. By the way, no self-respecting lawyer would ever let another lawyer do their work for them.”

  “Only a self-absorbed asshole who wants to seem deeper than he really is would call himself Thoreau.”

  “Good to finally see the version of you that I remember.” He took another step back and crossed his arms. “Answer my question.”

  “Fuck you.” I scoffed. “I told you I was sorry, begged you to listen to me, and now when you feel like talking, you think you can barge into my apartment and make me?”

  “I haven’t made you do anything.” He smirked. “Yet.”

  Silence.

  He leaned against the wall, waiting for me to speak, but I couldn’t get a word out.

  Look away from him…Look away from him…

  As if he knew the power his gaze was having on me, he grinned and picked up one of my makeshift martinis.

  Lifting one of the cherries from the liquor, he placed it against his lips. “Do you plan on standing there all night and looking at me, or are you going to answer my question?”

  “No,” I said, finally looking away from him. “After the way you treated me in your office today, I don’t owe you a goddamn thing. You can stand there all night for all I care.” I walked towards my room. “There’s even a sandwich delivery coming if you decide to—”

  My breath caught in my throat as he grabbed me from behind and pulled me against his chest. He quickly spun me around so we were face to face, and then he ripped my towel from around my body, letting it fall to the floor.

  The cherry he’d picked up was in his mouth, and he was pressing it on my lips—silently commanding me to open up and eat it.

  I stuck out my tongue to take it, but before sliding it to me, he whispered, “Don’t chew…I want to see how capable you are of swallowing.”

  My gasping did all the swallowing for me.

  “Good girl,” he said, loosening his grip around my waist. “Now, step back and hold the wall.”

  “What?”

  He pushed me against the wall before I could take anothe
r breath, grabbing my hands and lifting them above my head. “Hold the wall…”

  I nodded, pressing my hands against the cool surface.

  With a ‘don’t-fuck-with-me’ look on his face, he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, and spoke softly, “I’ll make you regret it if you let go.”

  “Yes…”

  “That wasn’t a question.” The look on his face softened, and I was sure he could hear the loud beating in my chest.

  I shut my eyes as he ran his hands up and down my sides.

  I could feel his cock hardening through his pants as he lowered his kisses to my breasts and swirled his tongue around my nipples.

  His mouth trailed down my stomach, and his hands caressed every inch of me as he made his way down.

  “Thoreau…” I gasped as his tongue skimmed the inside of my thighs.

  “My name is Andrew.” He got down on his knees. “We’re done playing that game.” He trapped my legs with his hands and pressed his mouth against my pussy. Licking me gently, he massaged my clit with his thumb.

  I tried not to moan too loudly, tried to keep it all in, but each time he swirled his tongue, my mouth let another sound escape.

  “You’re so fucking wet…” He groaned. “So fucking wet…” He slipped two thick fingers inside of me, pushing them as far as they could go.

  My eyes fluttered open as he added a third finger, as he whispered, “So tight…”

  “Ahhh…Andrew…” I gave up trying to be quiet.

  “Yes?” He slowly pulled his fingers out of me and looked up, waiting for me to say something, but I couldn’t focus when he looked at me liked that.

  With no lead-in kisses whatsoever, he buried his head in my pussy and fucking devoured me.

  “Ohhh…” I cried out in indescribable pleasure. “Ohhh godddd, Andrewww….Waitttt…Slow down…”

  He ignored me, plunging his tongue deeper and deeper.

  I couldn’t help but let go of the wall. I dropped my hands to his head, grabbing fistfuls of his hair to keep my balance. The harder I pulled his hair, the more his tongue lashed against me with no mercy.

  Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door, but Andrew didn’t bother stopping. Instead, he lifted my right leg up and draped it over his shoulder. He grasped my thigh so I couldn’t move, and then he slid his tongue into me a little deeper—licking every corner of my walls.

  On the verge of coming, I grabbed his shoulders as my pussy throbbed against his mouth. But he stopped abruptly.

  He moved my leg and kissed his way back up my body, stopping when he reached my breasts. He palmed them with one hand and roughly twisted my nipples.

  “I told you not to let go of that wall,” he said, looking down at me as he unzipped his pants.

  I stared back into his eyes, nearly breathless.

  “I did tell you that, didn’t I?” He clasped my hand and pressed it against his chest, slowly moving it lower and lower.

  When my hand finally reached his dick, I looked down in utter shock. He was huge, massively thick, and my jaw was hanging wide open.

  “You don’t like it?” He tilted my chin up and smirked.

  I was utterly speechless, but I couldn’t deny how horny I felt right now. Remembering what he’d said on the phone, I lowered my head to taste him, but he stopped me.

  “Not tonight.” He pulled a condom out of his pocket, and kept his eyes on me as he put it on.

  Leading me to the couch, he sat down and pulled me into his lap.

  I leaned forward to kiss his lips, but he quickly repositioned me so I was facing away from him. Then he teased me with the head of his cock—rubbing it against my slit. Again and again.

  “Remember how you said you wanted to ride me until I came inside of you?” he whispered into my ear. “How you wanted to grind on me until I begged you to stop?”

  “Yes…” I moaned.

  He pushed me down by my shoulders and sank me onto his cock, burying himself to the hilt inch by inch. The further I slipped onto him, the more he groaned. The more he said my name.

  When he was completely inside of me, he held me still and pressed his lips against the back of my neck, letting me adjust to his length.

  The feel of him was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was intense, powerful, addictive.

  “Ride me, Aubrey…” He pushed me forward. “Fucking ride me…”

  I took a deep breath and rocked against him, slowly stretching my insides further and further. I could barely maintain a rhythm; the fullness of him was almost too much, and he was rubbing my clit with his thumb—driving me insane.

  “You feel so fucking good right now…” He yanked me back by my hair. “Don’t fucking stop.”

  I held onto his legs to steady myself, slightly lifting my body up and down. I tried to finally establish a tempo, to finally take control.

  “Andrewww…” I couldn’t handle his cock anymore. “I’m…I’m about to cum…”

  “No.” He gripped my hips harder than ever. “Not yet.”

  He suddenly stood up, with me still impaled on his cock, and bent me over. “Grab that table and don’t let go.”

  My fingers clutched the edge of the coffee table and he pounded into me again and again, smacking my ass each time I cried out.

  “I told you I was going to own your pussy,” he whispered harshly. “Don’t cum until I tell you to fucking cum…” His cock was throbbing inside of me, and my muscles were clenching with his every stroke.

  “Fuck….Fuckkkk!” My legs were starting to give out as an intense pressure built inside of me, as he fucked me relentlessly. “Andrewwwww…”

  “Don’t let go.” He warned, but I couldn’t help it.

  My orgasm took ahold of me in a rush and I collapsed, falling forward. Before I could land face first onto the coffee table, he pulled me back and continued pounding into me until he reached his own release.

  I shut my eyes and leaned back against him, panting heavily as we both tried to catch our breath. Several minutes later, Andrew gently lifted my hips and pulled out of me.

  He stood up, and I watched him as he walked into the kitchen and threw the condom away. He picked my fallen towel up from the floor and walked back over to me.

  I made no move to get up, but I re-wrapped the towel around myself.

  “Is there anything you didn’t lie to me about?” His voice was a whisper.

  “Yes…”

  “And what would that be?”

  “I did miss you…”

  He raised his eyebrow, keeping the rest of his face stoic. Expressionless. He started to buckle his pants, not taking his eyes off mine.

  I was hoping that he would say something, anything, but he didn’t.

  He smoothed his shirt with his hands and walked to the door. All of a sudden, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Then he walked over to me and lightly kissed my lips—brushing his thumb against my cheek.

  I wanted to speak, to ask what he was thinking, but he pulled away and left.

  This time he was gone.

  Recess (n.):

  Temporary withdrawal or cessation from the usual work or activity.

  Andrew

  I’d broken a lot of rules in my life, but sleeping with an intern was probably one of the worst ones. There was no precedent for this, and that terrified me.

  The second I left Aubrey’s apartment, I did what I normally did after fucking someone I met online: I went home, showered, poured a glass of my favorite scotch, and pulled out my laptop—preparing to search for the next.

  Except this time, I didn’t want to search for a next. I wanted to fuck Aubrey, again and again. I wanted to hear her scream a little louder, feel her body wrapped against mine, and see her face as I buried myself deep inside of her.

  Damn…

  I couldn’t believe this. I could count on one hand the number of women I’d thought about after I left a hotel, and it wasn’t because any of them were memorable in a good way. And the ones that
were good¸ were just “good”—never amazing, like Aubrey.

  A part of me felt bad for leaving her right after we finished, for not saying a word, but I had to leave.

  I didn’t do pillow talk conversations after sex. Ever.

  Even though I was more than tempted to drive back over there right now and claim her again, I had to make myself accept a very harsh fact: I was never going to sleep with her again. It was against my rules.

  “Where is my coffee, Jessica?” I called her desk. “Why hasn’t Miss Everhart brought it to me yet? Is she late today?”

  “No, sir.” She sounded confused. “It’s only seven thirty…”

  I looked at the clock on my wall and sighed before ending the call. I was on edge for some reason, and I didn’t like it.

  I’d failed to get any sleep the night before and I’d purposely ignored Aubrey’s midnight text. It’d read, “Can’t sleep…Can we talk about what just happened between us?”

  The answer was no.

  Our conversations were long over. There was nothing more we had to discuss.

  We talked. We fucked. That was the end of us.

  I pulled up the Dating-Match website, determined to get her out of my mind. All I needed to do was find someone else, and she would become a drop in the sea of other endless women—a fleeting memory that I would halfway remember whenever I saw her gorgeous face.

  There were hundreds of new women on the site now, but very few of them caught my eye. The ones that did seemed too good to be true, so I didn’t bother clicking on their full profiles.

  Just as I was reading about a math professor, a cup of coffee was set on my desk.

  “Good morning,” Aubrey whispered.

  I didn’t answer. I continued to scroll through online profiles; she’d get the point eventually.

  She sighed. “Andrew—”

  “It’s Mr. Hamilton.” I looked up, immediately wishing that I hadn’t. She looked even more stunning today than she did yesterday. She was wearing the same grey dress she’d worn to her interview, and it was tighter today than it was on that day. Her hair was falling in soft curls that fell past her shoulders, and her blue eyes were bright, hopeful.