Triple Jeopardy (Lawyers Behaving Badly Book 2)

by Cleo Peitsche

  Her fingers had gone numb, which made it difficult to dig through the folders. Trent hadn’t been pretending. She must have fucked something up, and fucked up bad.

  “How many times have I told you to be careful?” Mrs. Donahue said from beside her. “I tried to calm him down while you were gone.” She shoved her hand into the pile and pulled out the folder Maisie was looking for.

  “Thanks,” Maisie said. “It has to be a mix-up—”

  “There’s no mix-up.”

  Maisie had expected to see pleasure in Mrs. Donahue’s eyes, but she actually seemed disappointed. Like she’d secretly been rooting for Maisie to succeed.

  The coldness in Maisie’s hands spread.

  If Trent was about to fire her…

  “You’d better go,” Mrs. Donahue said. “He hates to be kept waiting and was furious that you weren’t here.”

  4

  Maisie’s stomach pitched and heaved as she walked down the hallway to Trent’s office. Even the gleaming sun streaming in through the skylights didn’t soothe her.

  The case Trent was asking about wasn’t a big one. Maisie had followed the checklist of instructions precisely.

  If she’d screwed something up, it had to have been minor, something easily fixed long before it could harm the client.

  Knowing all that didn’t do a damned thing to stop the sweat that was beading on her upper lip. She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth.

  “Go right in.” Gladys opened her drawer and pulled out her purse. “I’m heading off to an early lunch.”

  Maisie nodded. The assistants had to stagger their lunches. Maisie wasn’t part of the rotation, not completely, because she hadn’t been there long enough to handle that much on her own.

  Gladys didn’t seem particularly nervous. Maisie dared to hope…

  But as she walked into Trent’s office, that hope evaporated.

  He was standing at his desk, his suit jacket unbuttoned. Under different circumstances, Maisie would have been mentally undressing him. Trent’s body was pure, masculine power, and he worked it like a magician.

  His expression was serious. “Get the door,” he said.

  Limbs heavy as lead, Maisie closed the door. She felt very pale, very woozy.

  When she turned, Trent was next to her. He pulled the folder out of her hand and tossed it to the side.

  Maisie tracked its progress and saw it land intact on the floor, not far from the seating area of his office.

  “Where the hell were you?” Trent growled. Strong jaw, angular cheekbones and full lips—she tried to ignore how hot he was.

  She swallowed hard. “On an errand for Raphael.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Maisie’s eyes jerked to his. He looked so furious that she was actually afraid of him. Not that he’d hurt her, but that he might…

  Reject her.

  Tell her that because she’d screwed up, there wouldn’t be any more stolen minutes in his office, under his desk, across his lap.

  And dear god, she loved squirming on his lap while he spanked her ass. Especially when he yanked her panties high on her hips to better access the skin of her buttocks. She loved his impatience, his demanding nature.

  She choked down a breath, then blinked up at him. “Mrs. Donahue overheard me on the phone with you and thought I was making a personal call.” She laughed nervously. “Which, of course, it was. So she sent me to the clock repair shop.”

  “You were gone forty minutes,” Trent said. “Didn’t it cross your mind to tell me that you weren’t coming?”

  “I—”

  “It’s not about you. It’s about the consequences of your actions. Regardless of what we do behind closed doors, I’m your superior, and I’m a busy man. Very busy. I waited for you, Maisie. Thinking you were freshening up. Thinking you had the good sense to understand how valuable my time is.”

  Maisie struggled to keep breathing.

  “Imagine my surprise when Mrs. Donahue informed me that you’d left the building fifteen minutes prior.”

  The intensity in his dark eyes was killing her.

  “So, you knew where I was,” Maisie pointed out reasonably. It occurred to her belatedly that splitting hairs probably wasn’t the right move.

  “On your knees.”

  Ok, so maybe it hadn’t been so wrong after all. “Yes, sir.”

  Her body folded gracefully. She never wore stockings; the one day she’d tried, they’d ended up looking like she’d lost her balance in a rose garden. Her bosses liked her on her knees, liked to make her crawl and grovel and beg.

  Trent walked to his imposing desk and pulled a length of white rope from one of the drawers. It wasn’t like any rope she’d ever seen before; instead of having rough fibers, the surface appeared smooth and silky.

  A roar of apprehension and arousal dulled her senses.

  Trent made a noose and slipped it over her head. He tightened it, and the sensual coil stroked the skin of her throat.

  She looked up at him and licked her lips to keep from smiling.

  “By all rights, you should be spending the rest of the day in here, with me, learning proper behavior.” He gave the leash a little tug. “Let’s go for a walk.” He stepped away, and she followed.

  She could smell the polish of his shoes as she crawled along the floor beside him.

  They made a tour of his office—sofa and coffee table, discarded folder, bookcase, credenza, desk, more bookcases—before ending back where they’d started.

  He leaned down and smacked her ass hard enough to make her scoot forward. Instant rug burn. The rope around her neck kept her close, though.

  “When I stop walking, you’re to sit. Just like a trained pet. Sit. Eyes down. Hands on your thighs, palms up. Like that. Spread your thighs.”

  Not easy because of her tight skirt, but Maisie did her best. She’d gotten very wet, and with her knees apart, she was worried she might dribble through her panties and down her thighs.

  “Again.” He gave the rope a little jerk, and Maisie pitched forward to crawl beside him.

  Trent stopped fairly often, and when he did, she sat up, spread her legs, and positioned her hands as instructed. It was turning her on, and not just the obedience to him. Every time she spread her legs, she wanted him inside her. It was only natural.

  When he paused near the window, she dared a glance over at him and couldn’t help noticing the tenting in her boss’s pants.

  Business suits didn’t do men any favors; the fabric was too thin to disguise an erection. Trent’s cock was far larger than average and noticeable when aroused.

  Exceptionally noticeable. She could even see the outline where the bulbous head joined to the thick shaft. The clenching of her pussy was so strong, she felt like she’d already been penetrated. How good his cock would feel rubbing along her slit, nudging her open, sliding inside.

  Crawling around on the floor beside him while he was wearing the refined suit, his erection battling to get free, was dirty in all the best ways.

  Maybe he would pull down her skirt and fuck her from behind, right there, on all fours. She wanted to feel his cock pounding away inside her.

  After the morning she’d had, she needed it.

  Instead, he led her to his chair and tugged, and she climbed up onto the seat.

  He then made her get onto his desk. He stood behind the chair to keep it from sliding away as she gracelessly climbed up.

  Eventually she got herself into position on all fours. Now he was immobile, standing behind her.

  Maisie was breathing hard. From exertion. From arousal. With each heave of her breasts, the silken rope swung lightly.

  Taking up the slack, Trent walked around to the other side of his desk and positioned himself in front of her.

  The fabric of his pants twitched slightly. Maisie whimpered.

  With a low-pitched sigh of anticipation, Trent jerked down on the leash, forcing Maisie onto her elbows, her ass still in the air. He unzipped hi
s pants, reached inside, and pulled out his majestic cock.

  It was fully hard, the skin over the blunt head taut and gleaming.

  The faint musk of him reached Maisie’s nose, and she inhaled.

  “Open,” he ordered, punctuating the command with a little jerk on the leash.

  Maisie tipped forward and accepted the swollen head into her mouth. The circumference filled the O of her mouth nicely, passing over her lips with a wet, popping sound.

  Trent dropped the leash, then circled her neck with his large hands. The knot of rope pressed into the hollow at the base of her throat, making her cough.

  The leash had been merely a tool, an extension of his will, but the control of his hands was absolute… They covered her neck, from her jaw to the collar of her silky blouse.

  He could easily crush her if he wanted. So much power.

  Maisie’s toes curled, or at least as much as they could given the restrictive confines of her black stilettos.

  Trent forced her head lower on his shaft, and she gamely accepted every pulsing inch, her tongue licking over his pole, her body welcoming him.

  Since starting at LB&B, Maisie’s gag reflex had mostly disappeared, but Trent challenged that now by fucking her face hard. Her body began to curl forward in a desperate act of self-preservation.

  “No,” he grunted. “Don’t fight me.”

  Maisie’s fingers scrabbled out. She found the edge of the desk and gripped it hard even as she forced her mouth and neck to relax.

  Trent swung his hips faster, expertly plying his thick tool.

  The desk was too solid to move—even with all three of the men pounding away at her, the desks had never so much as jiggled. But Maisie wasn’t nearly as strong, and she fell off balance, her upper body tipping forward.

  If Trent stepped away, she would fall. But he wouldn’t. Even though he was in a dominant mood, he wouldn’t hurt her.

  And if he did go too far, well, she had her safe word, and her safe gesture. She’d never needed to use either so far, and expected she never would.

  He pulled out. His shaft was coated from her mouth and throat, and it glistened alluringly.

  Slowly, he released her neck, and Maisie choked down fresh air.

  “You don’t deserve my come today,” Trent said huskily.

  But then he flipped her onto her back, so fast she barely knew what was happening. She stared at him upside down. The man was gorgeous from any angle.

  His impatient hands jerked her skirt down to her knees. Her panties followed. He pushed at her legs, forcing them down flat against the desk, then dragged her toward him until her head was hanging over the side.

  It wasn’t comfortable, but it would be bearable.

  Trent’s cock bobbed as he stepped closer and bent over her body. Her tongue stretched out, straining toward his broad shaft.

  She reached up, intending to guide him into her waiting mouth, but he flicked her pussy, and she gasped and tried to jerk her knees together.

  Trent’s large hand was in the way, keeping her thighs apart and her pussy accessible. “Never close your legs to me,” he growled, and flicked her pussy again.

  Agonizing bliss shot through her, drawing the muscles of her body taut as an archer’s bow.

  Moaning, she tried again to grab him, and she was rewarded with a flick against her poor little clit. Her pussy was spasming now, the muscles tense and clenching tighter, trying to squeeze around a cock that sadly wasn’t there.

  Finally Trent reached down and directed his cock to her mouth. She eagerly swallowed him up.

  His lips grazed the inside of her thigh. “I shouldn’t have had to wait forty minutes for this,” he growled. The angry edge was gone from his voice, but that didn’t stop him from flicking her pussy again, then covering her quivering sex with his mouth.

  Maisie moaned and felt Trent’s cock pulse once in her throat. She’d expected he would eat her pussy greedily, but instead he slowly traced his tongue along the seam of her slit.

  She cried out, the sound muffled by Trent’s swollen girth. He began to rock his hips shallowly, thrusting into her, never leaving her mouth.

  As his tongue flicked over her folds, he pressed fully into her, burying his cock completely. The movement brought his pants against her nose, cutting off her air supply.

  Somehow, she kept her throat relaxed. When she could, she inhaled. For him, she could endure anything and would do so happily.

  But when he began to tease her clit, licking and backing off, over and over, her endurance began to waver.

  Her frustrated whimpers made him laugh, which she felt as puffs of warm breath against her pussy and damp thighs. Irritation made her clench her fists helplessly. She was so horny and needed sex—pounding, violent sex.

  This was nothing but a tease.

  Or maybe it was Trent taking what he wanted while denying her what she craved. Such a cruel thing to do…

  But she was a masochist, and her bosses were sadists. It had never been discussed and didn’t need to be. Maisie hadn’t fully realized it the first time they fucked her.

  But she sure as hell understood it now. They enjoyed degrading and using her, making her grovel.

  She loved it more than they did. She knew because if their interest had even come close to matching hers, she would have been theirs around the clock. They would have taken her home nights and weekends, keeping her naked for them, making her crawl around under the dining room table to suck them off during leisurely Saturday morning breakfasts.

  Never mind that they couldn’t possibly live together. Not three wealthy bachelors in their early thirties.

  Trent shoved two fingers into her pussy, and Maisie almost shot through the ceiling.

  He began stroking her G-spot while his tongue got down to business. She orgasmed hard, her body squeezing his fingers, trying to milk them. But there was nothing for her pussy to suck out.

  Her mouth, on the other hand, could.

  Could, and did.

  Trent shot his load straight down her throat, then made her come again. Even though she barely had control over her limbs, she tried to keep her mouth gentle on his spent cock, knowing that if she overstimulated him, he’d take her orgasms away.

  She must have controlled herself passably well, because he gave her another one. And another.

  By the time he straightened up, Maisie was weak, drifting on a cloud of bliss.

  Trent adjusted her so that her head was again supported, and he checked that the noose wasn’t too tight around her neck.

  Propping his arms on the desk, he growled, “Fuck, I needed that.” His face was lightly flushed, and his conservative tie dangled. “It’s been a hell of a morning.”

  She smiled up at him. He was hot as sin, especially now, with his hair messy and slightly damp. “Sorry to hear that,” she said. “I needed it, too.”

  “Yeah, I could tell.” He pushed away from the desk.

  Maisie would have gotten up, but she was happy just where she was, on her back, looking up at the white ceiling.

  “How could you tell?” she asked. Her voice sounded like something in a dream, coming from far away.

  “You’re not hard to read. You were tense.”

  Turning her head to look at him, she said, “That’s because I thought you were going to fire me.”

  “Good.” He grinned. “You’ll never make me wait again, will you?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “I’m sorry about that. I was planning to come down, but then Mrs. Donahue sent me on the errand.” Maisie chewed on her lower lip. “I guess I figured my coming down was still hypothetical. But even if I’d known you were definitely expecting me, I don’t know what I could have told her.”

  “Mrs. Donahue scares you?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Maisie nodded. Trent grinned. “Don’t let her. She’s our last line of defense against mistakes. Nothing gets past her. But she’s a good woman. She has a good heart.”

  Maisie f
ailed at repressing a shudder.

  “You don’t know her. She’s trained a lot of employees. Not everyone works out, and her philosophy is that it’s better to cull the weak as soon as possible.”

  Maisie thought about the woman Ethan had saved. “And once I’m a permanent employee? Then will she go easier on me?”

  “No,” Trent said with a laugh. “Probably not. But she’ll make you a better worker. More of LB&B’s assistants and paralegals go on to law school than any other firm in the city, and that’s thanks to Mrs. Donahue. Now, if you feel you’re being harassed, that’s something else entirely.”

  “No,” Maisie said. She wondered if Trent knew about Mrs. Donahue’s drinking. On the other hand, how could he not? “No, she’s not bullying me. She just lacks people skills, I guess.”

  “She gets attached,” Trent said, “but she doesn’t want to. Things haven’t been easy for her.”

  He stretched out his hands, and Maisie grabbed on and allowed him to help her down from the desk.

  She started to remove the rope from around her neck, but he said, “No.”

  Maisie lowered her arm. “You can’t want me to walk around like this.”

  He laughed. “Absolutely, I do want that. But I don’t think your coworkers would enjoy it as much as I would.” Winding the leash around his hand, he brought her closer, then captured her mouth in a scorching kiss, his tongue licking between her lips just as he’d done to her pussy not five minutes earlier.

  Oh, Trent knew how to set her on fire, and soon her hips were rocking toward him. Only when she was moaning desperately did he push her away.

  Tease, she thought, but she knew better than to say it aloud.

  “The thing is,” he said as he loosened the noose, “only a dominant is allowed to unbind a submissive.”

  “Oh.”

  The rope dangled like a scarf. Grabbing one end, he slowly pulled it down. The silky length glided across her blouse and caressed her nipples. She felt them hardening inside her bra.

  “You did well with the leash, Maisie. You didn’t panic. You trust me absolutely. It’s a turn-on, you know.”

  She smiled.

  “Now, go clean up,” he murmured, then kissed her again, setting the office to spinning around them.