Justice (Counsel #2)

by Shenda Paul

  My breath catches in my throat as I watch Angelique with her face upturned to the water. Her hair sweeps the curve of her behind and droplets cling to her incredibly long lashes like dewdrops on the petals of a flower. Her graceful neck is extended, back arched, and her breasts jut out provocatively.

  I turn her to face me and lick the water off her lips, and then explore the heat of her mouth, stifling a groan as my erection brushes against her soft, wet skin. We’re breathless and panting when, finally, we draw apart. Tamping down my raging need, I reach for the shampoo and, pouring the liquid into the palm of my hand, urge her to turn once more.

  Angelique emits a sigh of pleasure as I gently massage her scalp. I repeat the process, reveling in the simple act of caring for her. After applying conditioner from scalp to tip, I turn her to rinse off under the spray. She leans her head back, and unable to resist, I lap at the water at the hollow of her throat.

  "Adam…" she moans when I lower my head to take a rosy nipple into my mouth while gently rolling the other between finger and thumb. She lets out a soft moan that has my cock twitching in earnest. I turn off the jets, reach for a towel and toss it onto the floor. Grasping the body wash, I sink to my knees before resting her foot on my thigh to massage it with a soapy hand. I wash her calves before turning my attention to her other foot.

  The sight of her, the feel of her, drive me wild with want, but I choose to ignore my need as I turn her around and, soaping my hands, gently massage her thighs and the curve of her delectable rear. I knead her cheeks before cupping her sex from behind to stroke her clitoris.

  "Adam…" She breathes my name, her voice filled with want.

  "Soon, "I promise, laying a kiss on the dimples at the base of her spine. I rise to my feet, move her hair over her shoulder and wash her back and massage her shoulders before turning her to look into her beautiful face. I kiss her deeply, groaning at the sweet torture as my erection rubs against her satiny, wet skin. Angelique reaches down to touch me, but I stop her.

  "I don't want to come yet," I say, my voice low and hoarse. She raises her hands to cup my face. "I love you," she tells me.

  "And I love you," I return, moving her hair and allowing it to fall down her back once more. Tipping more body wash into my hand, I massage her neck and shoulders before moving my hands to cup her breasts. Our eyes remain locked as I rhythmically knead them.

  Angelique’s lids flutter closed, and she bites her bottom lip as I gently tug, extending her nipples between forefinger and thumb. "Look at me," I demand, wanting to savor her every response.

  "Please…" she whispers, eyes begging and dark with need.

  "I know, Darling, I want you too." I sink to my knees, my hands still stroking her breasts as I lick and suck at her belly button. Water rains down on us as I lower my head to her naked mound.

  "Oh!" she whimpers when I slowly run my tongue through her folds.

  "So beautiful..." I murmur against her fluttering flesh before moving back to fill my palms with soap and run my hands down her abdomen, hips and then the length of her legs. By touch, I ask her to spread her legs and wash her sweet lips tenderly before turning her to rinse off.

  I spread several towels on the spacious marble bench before urging Angelique to sit. Kneeling, I gently tug her forward, raising first one, and then the other leg, over my shoulders.

  "It's just us," I reassure her when she nervously whispers my name. I run my hands up her legs slowly, placing soft kisses all the way to the juncture of her thigh. She gasps as I nibble at her tender flesh. I insert first one then a second finger and watch as, with a soft moan, her eyes flutter closed. I take my time pleasuring her with my mouth while steadily increasing the pace of my hand.

  Angelique cries my name, her body tensing as she climaxes. I continue to swirl my tongue over her fluttering sex until she relaxes and then stills. Lowering her legs, I wrap my arms around her waist to lay my cheek against her rapidly beating heart. When her breathing slows, I swing her legs up onto the bench. She curls onto her side, smiling languidly as she reaches for me, but I gently remove her hands.

  "I'm going to wash," I tell her, and when she pouts those luscious lips in protest, I kiss her deeply before moving to stand under the running water. I leave my painful erection till last, hissing as I grasp myself with a soapy hand.

  The sound of Angelique’s tiny gasp makes me look up; her eyes are wide, her expression one of lustful wonderment. I hadn't meant for this to happen, but her reaction spurs me on. "Is this all right?" I ask, my voice almost unrecognizable with want.

  "I've never watched a man do that," she says, her eyes raking my body to look up at me before returning to my hand. "You're beautiful, Adam." She rises, comes to kneel before me, and cups my scrotum.

  "Fuck!" I gasp as a tidal wave of pleasure rips through me.

  "Show me," Angelique says, placing her small hand over mine. I nearly draw blood biting down on my lip at the sight of her mouth this close to my cock. But I push my lust aside and drop to my knees to cup her beautiful face. "Not like this."

  "Don't you want me to?" she asks, her voice laced with hurt and rejection.

  "God, yes, but not on your knees, Darling." She stares at me for a long moment as understanding dawns. Her gaze sweeps the shower.

  "Lie on the bench," she instructs, and I comply instantly. She places soft kisses on my mouth and then sucks sensuously on my tongue, making me groan with delight. She nips and licks her way down my body, driving me mad with want, and when her hot, wet mouth finally wraps around me, I practically jackknife off the bench.

  Angelique starts hesitantly, and remembering her confession about not liking or being good at this act, I rest on an elbow to stroke her cheek, letting her know how much I appreciate her gesture of love. Honeyed eyes meet mine. The love and trust reflected back at me, coupled with the sight of her full lips wrapped around me, nearly brings me undone. I shut my eyes and breathe deeply.

  "Look at me," she demands, repeating my earlier request. I do; I watch her loving me, pleasuring me; my sounds and the odd expletive, increasing in volume and frequency as I struggle to let her have control when all I want to do is thrust wildly.

  "Angelique…" I warn and try to move her back as the heat in my groin builds to a raging inferno. She captures my hand, squeezing gently before releasing it to wrap her hand around me once more and draws me deeper into her sweet mouth. I come and come, my body stiffening like a board, suspended in acute pleasure, before slumping back bonelessly onto the bench.

  I manage, after long moments, to pull Angelique’s body up over mine and capture her mouth in a searing kiss. "I love you," I tell her, my voice cracking with emotion as I wrap her in my arms.

  .

  .

  I silence the alarm before it can wake Angelique, then turn and gently move the hair back from her face to kiss her mouth. She mumbles my name sleepily as I reluctantly slip out of bed. Making sure not to disturb her, I move into the dressing room to retrieve a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before navigating the dark room once more to grab my phone. I breathe in the pleasant aroma of coffee that greets me on entering the kitchen and mentally pat myself on the back for setting up the machine the night before. Then, as I enjoy my first cup and allow it to wake me fully, I contemplate the delights of having Angelique live with me.

  I ordered food last night when we eventually made our way downstairs, and we enjoyed a relaxed meal. Angelique asked what would happen to Quandt and was relieved when I explained the legal process and the penalties he faces. She enquired about my day, and I related everything, including details of the press conference. She insisted that we watch the ten o'clock news. I didn't want her to hear the offensive questions I'd been asked and tried, but failed, to dissuade her.

  Tears slid down Angelique’s cheeks as she watched, and when I turned off the television, she flung her arms around me with a broken sob, thanking me and telling me how much
she loved me. We went to bed soon after. I used the guest bathroom, allowing Angelique the privacy of the master. I was sitting on the bedroom sofa when she entered wearing a long, silky nightgown in the palest pink. I practically choked when she turned to switch off the bathroom light. What appeared modest from the front, proved to be pure sin when viewed from behind. The back was cut low, very low, providing a tantalizing glimpse of the swell of her naked behind through crisscrossed ribbons that ended in a bow, just begging to be undone.

  I watched, spellbound, as she moved across the room and then stood between my legs. I ran my hands over the gentle swell of her hips, reveling in the way the fabric allowed them to glide over the contours of her body. She straddled me, the garment riding up on her thighs as she teased me with her nakedness. Only the thin layer of my sleep pants separated me from her moist warmth as our hips found a synchronized rhythm our bodies seemed instinctively to know.

  I stood with her in my arms and carried her to our bed. She made to remove her gown, but I stilled her hands. I removed my pants and sat against the headboard, then pulled her across to straddle me, thankful that we’d taken the safety measures to dispense with the need for condoms.

  "Like this," I said and moaned as she writhed over me before, placing her open palms on my naked chest, she raised herself to sink slowly down on me. I fought to keep my eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment of the erotic sight of her beautiful body pleasuring me. She moved back, and with her back arched in an almost perfect arc, and her silky hair caressing my legs, she increased her pace.

  "Touch yourself," I said, and she moved her hands to rhythmically tug at her breasts. She closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure. I shut mine too, for mere seconds—the sound of her, the sight of her lost in passion for me and with me, nearly bringing me undone. Then, only moments later, I succumbed and grasped her hips, helping to raise and lower her until we both came; Angelique with an audible gasp and me with a shuddering groan.

  I mentally chastise myself for my renewed lust, pour a second mug of coffee before making my way to my office where I fire up my laptop. It's just gone four-ten when I start on my closing argument for Joseph’s trial.

  At six-thirty, feeling satisfied that I'm ready, I send a quick text to Jodi, informing her that I'll be in the office by eight-thirty before making my way upstairs. Angelique instinctively turns to me as I quietly re-enter our bed. I don't succumb to sleep; I occupy my mind with plans for our future instead; plans I've already set in motion.

  .

  .

  "Listen to reason." Jodi glowers.

  "I understand what you're saying, but no!"

  "You're mule-headed, do you know that?" She leans across my desk to better make her point.

  "And you're not?" It's a weak response, I know, but I've exhausted all rational argument, and she knows it.

  "If you allow yourself to think about this, you'd agree. You'd tell me or anyone else the same thing if the roles were reversed!"

  "Don't make me hurt you, Thorne," she threatens at my derisive snort, and despite my irritation, I laugh out loud.

  "What? You think I couldn't?" She allows herself a tiny smile, the first since we started butting heads about this.

  What's frustrating the hell out of me is that she's right. I shouldn't prosecute Dieter Quandt, and I highly doubt that Bristly would grant his approval once he learns of Angelique’s involvement. Prosecuting Justin and Joseph had been under entirely different circumstances. I hadn't been in contact with Justin for years, our friendship had been practically non-existent when I was appointed to his case, and I hadn't remembered my association with Joseph then. Additionally, both the DA and I were confident that I’d maintain objectivity.

  I'm in love with and in a relationship with Angelique. My need to protect her is instinctive, almost feral in its nature, I've come to realize. There's little chance of remaining objective, but just because I know doesn't mean the situation doesn't piss me off. Since discovering what he'd done, I've dreamed of personally making Quandt pay. Unable to give in to the compulsion to beat him to a pulp, I’d consoled myself with the thought of extracting revenge in court. I knew even then that it would be impossible, but I allowed myself to dream.

  The reminder that both Samuel and Jon have hurt him physically when I haven’t still burns me up. Those issues aside, there’s the media to consider; they’d have a field day, especially after the scrutiny my relationship with Angelique has already attracted.

  "Let me think about it," I tell Jodi.

  "If you don't want me to prosecute, I'll understand, but you…"

  "Jodi, if I can't do it, there's no one I’d trust more," I interject. "I just need to deal with my frustration; I wanted to be the one to make him pay, that’s all.

  "Let's just get Joseph Cordi’s trial over and done with," I tell her with a resigned smile.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Back in court, Judge West asks Travis Jones whether Defense has any further witnesses to call, and, given yesterday’s events, I’m not at all surprised when he says they don't.

  I can only conclude that he and Bryce have decided that their remaining witnesses are unreliable. He presents signed statements from ten charities and welfare organizations that detail Joseph’s substantial grants and donations instead. It's a telling indictment, in my view, that not one of the beneficiaries of Joseph’s largesse has appeared to testify on his behalf.

  "Defense rests, Your Honor," Jones then announces.

  This ending to Joseph’s trial, which, for me, has been and will probably remain the most personally significant, feels anticlimactic. I expected and was prepared for—hell; I wanted a fight to the bitter end. I wanted the battle to avenge Eleanor and Angelique to be hard fought and won.

  Instead, I feel somewhat cheated; in fact, if it were any other case, I’d almost feel sorry for Jones and Bryce. Mounting a defense in the face of the overwhelming evidence against Joseph had been challenging enough without the added burden of unreliable witnesses. And I find it ironic that the Cordi brothers, who’d eluded arrest for decades, were, in the end, brought down by their unbridled arrogance. An exaggerated belief in their superior intelligence and invincibility led them to document and store every aspect of their crimes as if they were trophies of some great victory. Without that evidence, our case would have been much harder to prove.

  Judge West’s voice calling for closing arguments ends my musing. Jones, somber-faced, takes to his feet once more and thanks the court and the jury for their time.

  "Joseph Cordi was raised in a family where, sadly, criminal activity was a part of daily life, where the place for wives and daughters was in the home, and engaging the services of prostitutes was commonplace. These facts cannot be disputed, and the influence of an authoritarian father and grandfather on a young, impressionable mind cannot be dismissed either, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury.

  "But since the death of his father, my client has worked assiduously to rehabilitate himself. He's strived to compensate for the criminal conduct of his forebears; he has taken every step to ensure that his children have the foundations to become upstanding members of society and that history is not repeated. Mr. Cordi has worked hard to be a responsible and caring citizen and has contributed significantly to charitable organizations.

  "Families involved in criminal activity, such as the one my client was born into, engender rivalry and make enemies. The documents that the Commonwealth has presented to this court, the only evidence other than the testimonies of convicted criminals that directly links my client to the sale of drugs, are forgeries—forgeries sent to him and his brothers in a blackmail attempt intended to incriminate them. My client held onto those documents in the hope of identifying those responsible and that he would, then, have something tangible to present to authorities.

  "Despite assertions made by the Commonwealth, questions remain about the testimonies of the men claiming to h
ave worked for my client. Mr. Moretti testified that he received his orders from Mr. Cordi; but you must remember, Ladies and Gentlemen, that he also claimed to be his own boss. He did so on more than one occasion and in the presence of witnesses.

  "We maintain that he worked for himself or someone other than Mr. Cordi. After all, no one other than Mr. Barnes, another convicted criminal and former henchman of Mr. Moretti’s, has allegedly seen him in the company of my client.

  "Mr. O’Flaherty and Ms. Bonacci’s motives are also questionable. Mr. O’Flaherty faces the serious charge of child enticement—he would say and do anything in the hope of reducing his sentence.

  "And why would Ms. Bonacci, who claims to have known about my client’s alleged criminal activities for nearly a decade, choose to speak out against him now? Why, if she honestly believed the information contained in the documents she stole to be true, did she not reveal them before?

  "The answer is simple. She only recently discovered that my client had a second mistress. She wanted to punish him for what she viewed as a betrayal. That is why she chose to speak out, and that is why we should doubt the veracity of her testimony.

  "We trust that you, Ladies and Gentlemen, will question the source of the evidence seized from my client’s home and that you will also question the motivation behind and the weaknesses in the testimonies of some of the Commonwealth’s witnesses.

  "Based on the doubt that must inevitably arise from that debate, my client should be acquitted of the charges brought against him."

  He thanks the court before resuming his seat.

  "Your Honor, Counsels, Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, the Commonwealth also thanks you for your time," I begin when invited to argue the government’s case.