by Lane Hart
So yeah, I'd been on top of the world sharing every second with an incredibly gorgeous woman. A woman I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love with, something I didn't think was even possible. But then we had to return to the real world where attorneys and their clients can't fuck. That brief taste of heaven was just enough to drive me insane, desperate to have it again.
"If the prosecutor asks, give a vague answer like, 'a couple a month for the past few years.' Nothing more specific," Page says, bringing me back to our trial prep.
"Got it," I reply with a wink. "So, princess, how many guys have you been with?"
"Just four," Page says to me on an exhale.
"And those four include me and the jackass senator?" I ask in surprise.
"Uh-huh."
"Wow." I laugh.
"Hey, I'm proud of the fact that I'm not a whore."
"Unlike me?" I offer.
"You're not really a whore since you don't get paid. So you're more like a manslut."
"Oh, well, thank you for that distinction, princess."
"Just trying to be accurate. So, moving on, tell me about your childhood."
"Why do you need to know about that shit?" I snap. I realize I've probably been more caustic than necessary when Page actually flinches in her seat. The topic is just not one that's up for discussion.
"The prosecutor will want to know if you got into any trouble when you were a juvenile. Any sort of sexual act or violence in your youth might be deemed relevant. I don't want any surprises."
"I can assure you that my juvie record consists only of assaults. On other boys."
"Why'd you get in fights with other boys?" she asks with a tilt of her head.
"Because they said shit that pissed me off."
"What'd they say?"
"That’s none of your fucking business!" I snarl.
"What the heck, Jax? You snap like that in the courtroom and you're going to end up behind bars!" Page exclaims, standing up from her desk and pointing to the door. "Get out of my office, and don't come back until you can go more than five minutes without being a complete jerk!"
I stand up and start for the exit, telling her over my shoulder, "Then you probably won't ever see me again!"
I know I'm more cranky than usual. It's been two weeks since I laid a finger on Page, after getting to fuck her rocking body seven ways to Sunday for five long days in Atlantic City. The withdrawals are only getting worse instead of better. There's only one other way to burn off the horniness - hit the gym and hit it hard.
After I change into a pair of shorts I go find Jude. He's always at the gym.
"Cage?" I ask, when I find him hitting a long bag.
"Hell yes," he answers, rolling his shoulders back. Other than the heavyweights, he's the only one that will go at it with me. Pussies.
Hands wrapped up, gloved and ready, Coach Briggs is all set to ref for us. Basically he just tells us what we suck at. "Alright, I want a good, clean fight. Touch gloves then on my signal."
We bump gloved fists and then it's on like Donkey Kong. My baby brother is a fast son of a bitch, so I have to swing twice as many times as I do with other guys to actually hit him. Fortunately for me, if you swing enough times you'll finally land one. Sometimes one is all it takes. Not today. Jude takes the body shot in stride. He lands a few painful leg kicks on me since he's always been better at those, but eventually I sweep his feet out from under him. Once I mount him he doesn't have anywhere to go, and since I outweigh him, that means he's left taking a face full of my fists, one right after the other. He tries to block them for a while, but when he can't hold his gloves up in front of his face any longer I call it quits.
"You're done," I tell him through the mouth guard.
"Bring it!" he responds. He always was a glutton for punishment.
"I would have called it anyways, Jude. You weren't protecting yourself worth a shit," Coach tells him. “You should've tried to get Jax off his feet from the get-go."
I stand up, leaving Jude laid out on the canvas.
"Who's next?" I yell to the other boys in the gym.
"You and Page have a fight?" Jude asks once his mouth is free of plastic.
"No."
"Yeah you did. What'd you do this time?" he asks, still flat on his back.
I yank my mouthpiece out to respond. "I may or may not have yelled at her."
"And let me guess, she didn't deserve it?"
"No, of course not. Then she kicked me out of her office. Told me not to come back until I can go five minutes without being a jerk."
"I guess you'll never see her again." He laughs.
"That's what I told her."
"How's the whole, not fucking her until after the trial thing going?" he asks.
"Absolutely awesome."
"Sounds like it."
"Not that you'd know anything about that, right? Still carrying your V-card, little bro?"
Jude finally gets to his feet, but still looks worn the fuck down with his shoulders slumped in defeat. He has to curl his gloved fingers around a hole in the cage just to keep himself upright. I've told the boy he spends way too much time in this damn gym. He needs to get a life outside of this place.
"You know, maybe if you didn't make everything about fucking, Page might tolerate you a little more."
"Actually, if I didn't make everything about fucking, the woman wouldn't have anything to do with me. Getting her all worked up is the only way she tolerates me."
"Then maybe she needs some 'working up' to get through the next few weeks with your dumb ass," Jude remarks. "That or a million dollars might be enough compensation for having to put up with you."
"We can't go out in public," I remind him.
"Oh, that's right," he says with a face-palm to his own forehead. "Because out in public is where everyone goes to fuck. Go to her place, you dipshit."
That's a hell of an idea. If I show up at her place, will she slam the door in my face or let me fuck her? She'd said not to come back to the office unless I wasn't a jerk, but she didn't mention staying away from her apartment. And if I stopped by with flowers or some shit asking her to forgive me, hopefully she'd get over being pissed off. Then I have another idea.
"There is this firefighter fantasy she told me about while we were in Atlantic City that I could play on if Jack will let me borrow one of their uniforms."
"TMI!" Jude yells, covering his ears. "Shit, now I need to go home. Bastard," he says, shoulders hunched, moping off to the locker room.
Once I put in a call to my buddy Jack, I swing by the firehouse before heading home to shower and suit up. The damn yellow jacket, pants and black rubber boots are heavy as fuck. I could wear this mess instead of weights to workout at the gym.
After I get off the elevator on Page's floor I put on the helmet and unzipped the big yellow jacket, revealing my bare chest and stomach covered only by the thick black suspenders. Taking a deep breath that she won't slam the door in my face, I knock. It feels like forever before the door finally opens. Page's mouth is wide ass open as she looks me up and down, her cheeks reaching second degree burn status.
"Jax...what the...Oh. My. God," she stutters. Finally closing her mouth, she glances over her shoulder into the apartment, then back at me. "Um, now is not a good time," she tells me softly, almost a whisper.
"There's someone else in your apartment?" I ask with barely contained rage.
"Yes-"
"What the fuck, Page? It better not be the fucking senator or so help me, God, I will go get an ax and chop off his-"
"Page? Who's at the door?" a feminine voice asks from inside, to which Page slams the door in my face.
Well damn, that hadn't turn out as I expected.
Shaking my head before hanging it in defeat, I about face to the elevator. I hear a scuffle in Page's apartment, then the door is yanked open again. When I turn around a forty-something woman is sticking her perfectly coiffed blonde head out the door. Her eyes widen when she sees me.
>
"Are you here to see Page?" she asks.
"No," Page quickly responds from the other side. "He had the wrong apartment." Her denial stings.
"But he looks familiar. Oh, I know! Are you that Jackson Malone fellow?" she asks, stepping out into the hall to reveal a cream colored, trendy skirt suit that probably cost more than my motorcycle.
"Yes, ma'am, I am," I respond.
"Kill me now," Page mutters.
The woman comes down the hall, examining me with one raised eyebrow. "Well, don't be shy. Come say hello, Mr. Malone. I'm Page's mother, Cindy Davenport."
Oh shit. I could make a run for the elevator, which I'll have to stand and wait for. I could hit the steps, or I could turn around and go back.
"Come on, dear. We haven't got all night."
Oh fuck a duck, this can't be happening.
Shoulders slumping in embarrassment I walk back to the apartment.
"Oh my," her mother says. "Aren't you a treat?"
"Mom!" Page exclaims. "Weren't you heading out?"
"But I haven't had a chance to talk to Mr. Malone. How are you, dear? Such dreadful lies causing you all this trouble."
"I'm doing pretty well, Mrs. Davenport."
"Mom, I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" Page says, gently pushing her mother down the hall, past me, and toward the elevators.
"Should I go, too?" I ask, still pissed that she didn't want me to meet her mother. Is she ashamed of me, or does she just not want anyone else to know about us for her license's sake? It's not like her own mother would report her to the Bar.
"No. You can stay. We have those cross-examination questions to practice and all," Page tells me, and the majority of my anger fades away.
"Good to see you so hard at work after hours on his case, dear," her mom says with a smile before the elevator thankfully whisks her away.
Page closes her eyes, rubbing a hand over her face and sighing.
"Bad timing?" I ask. Nothing kills arousal like mothers.
Squaring her shoulders Page seems to collect herself and her confidence when she walks towards me. She surprises the shit out of me when she actually jumps on me, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. My reflexes are quick, so I grab her ass to hold her up at the same time our lips meet, hot and hungry.
Easily carrying her tall, lean weight, I make it inside her apartment and shut the door with my foot before clothes start flying. The fireman's hat and jacket are first, then Page's shirt and bra. The rest are all below the belt and will require us separating.
"Bed?" I ask against her lips.
"Anywhere," she responds, sounding like she's ready to throw down right where we're standing.
"But I didn't even get to use the line I had ready for when you opened the door," I tell her, when I lay her down on a bed I assume is in her room.
"Doesn't matter," she says, her hands trying to figure out how to get my fireman pants off.
"So you don't want to hear about how I've got a long ladder to use to save your pussy," I ask.
"No." She laughs. "That's horrible."
"You're so hot I need to cool you down with my hose?"
"Stop talking and get naked fireman," she responds. "I'm in desperate need of your…hose, even if it has been in thousands of fire crotches."
"Hey!" I scoff, but then her hand finds its way into my pants, fisting my hard shaft. I have those heavy pants off a second later, retrieving the condom in the pocket before tossing them along with her shorts and panties out of our way.
I flip Page over like a pancake to take her from behind. After tearing the condom wrapper with my teeth I start multitasking, rolling the condom down with one hand while the other estimates her readiness. Hot damn, she's dripping wet, and she immediately starts squeezing the fuck out of my fingers. I barely touched her and she came for me.
"Damn, princess. You miss me getting you off the last few weeks?" I ask, pulling her hips back and lining my cock up to slide inside her.
"Yes," she moans.
"Then why didn't you just ask for it?" I'm sheathed all the way inside her wet heat after one deep shove.
"Oh God, Jax!"
"Is this what you needed?" I ask, my hips pumping like they can’t go fast or hard enough.
"Yes!"
"Then we're lifting...the goddamn... no fucking...sanction," I tell her, leaning down to bite her shoulder.
"Please," she almost sobs that one word.
"Please what?" I ask through clenched teeth. Sweat is already running down my face while I try to last. "You want me to fuck you...until your body shakes underneath mine?"
"Yes, God yes!"
"You going to let me fuck you all night?" I ask, my hands tightening on her hips to pound into her harder with each word. "Every. God. Damn. Night?"
"Please, Jax!"
I press my chest flush against her back to reach around underneath her. My fingertips circle her trigger point, and with one last deep shove her sexy body tenses and shakes, her moans music to my ears.
"Ahhh," I groan with the explosion of my own release. After she milks every last drop from me I pull out and flop over onto the mattress beside her. Page continues to lay limply on her stomach, face buried in the pillow. "You still alive, princess?" I ask with a poke to her ribs.
"Mmm," comes out softly when she squirms. Finally she turns her head to the side to face me, hair in her eyes, a fuck-drunk smile stretched across her face.
"You fuck me so good they can have my license," she mutters, making me laugh.
"Have you noticed that you only swear during sex?" I ask.
"Well yeah, that's the only time I'm not able to think before speaking."
"Makes sense. Guess you didn't miss that profanity class in college after all," I joke.
"Huh?"
"I was there that night Elliot showed up outside your office. I was about to come up and see you with the polygraph results."
"Oh. So you heard that?"
"Yeah. You were funny. Until you agreed to leave with him."
"Oh yeah," she says, rolling to her side to face me with a smile. "That night I was thinking about you while he was screwing me. When I came he thought it was his doing. Idiot."
"You thought about me that night?" I ask in surprise. But wait, that was before she knew I'd passed the polygraph. And she wanted me anyway?
"Uh-huh. More specifically your tongue."
"Well, now you know exactly how many licks it takes me." I laugh, pulling her to me.
"Yeah, I do," she says, and then goes quiet for a few minutes. "I think I know why you got so upset in my office earlier."
"Oh really?" I ask, hoping she's wrong.
"Your mom's name was on your birth certificate, so I did some research on the court database and online..."
Fuck.
"I don't want to talk about that shit, Page," I tell her, getting up and quickly escaping to the bathroom.
Chapter Twelve
Page
As soon as Jax closes the bathroom door, I'm up on shaky legs, grabbing his heavy fireman pants and jacket and hiding them in the wardrobe closet in my spare bedroom. If he doesn't have any clothes he can't leave.
I barely dive back into bed before he comes out with his angry mask back in place.
"What are you looking so smug about?" he asks with dark, narrowed eyes.
"Nothing. Come back to bed," I say, lifting the covers to climb underneath them. I'm soaking wet between my legs, but I don't want to leave his sight for a second to even go to the bathroom. I know he'll try to make a run for it.
"There won't be any heart to heart talks if I do," he warns.
"Okay," I agree.
As soon as he's back in bed next to me I cling to him. "You don't have to talk because I already know," I tell him. His entire body tenses and I wait for him to push me away. "It's okay, Jax."
"No, it's not fucking okay."
"What happened to her?" I ask. Yeah I read the articles, but aft
er a few weeks there wasn't anything new reported.
"Fuck if I know."
"You haven't seen her or talked to her since then?" I ask in surprise.
"Nope, and I don't want to."
"Why not?" I ask softly.
"She fucked a boy in her and my dad's bed!" he yells. He tries to push me away, but I hold onto him tightly.
"I know. It's okay, Jax."
"It is anything but o-fucking-kay."
I climb on top of him, straddling his hips, so he can't get up and leave without throwing me off. God, I hope he doesn’t actually do that. It's anyone's guess since the volcano from the first day in our office is back and brewing in his dark eyes.
"Talk to me. Please," I beg, leaning down to brush my lips over his.
He throws a big, muscular arm over his eyes, keeping me out. I'm about to give up when he finally says, "It's all my fault."
"What?" I ask, pulling back in confusion. "You were only a little boy, right?"
"I was ten."
"Then how's it your fault?"
"I caught them," he mutters quietly.
"Your mom, and the, ah..."
"Boy in her class? Yeah. They...believe me, you really don't want to hear this fucked up shit, Page!"
"Jax, you can trust me," I assure him, peeling his arm away from his face. "Attorney-client privilege," I say, combing my fingers through the front of his jet black hair, the same color as hers in the photos from the articles. "I just want to know because I care about you."
His face softens, the volcano simmering, temporarily at least. His hands start moving soothingly up and down my back before he blows out a breath in resignation.
"I went to baseball practice after school at the Y like every weekday in the spring, but that day my coach was sick, so they canceled it. I walked home like usual, just...earlier. Jude was eating cereal out of the box and watching The Lion King in the living room. He was only three-years-old."