Confessions of a Litigation God: A Legal Affairs Full Length Erotic Novel

by Sawyer Bennett

  So they either become quivering balls of nervous tension that fly apart at the slightest bit of provocation, or they walk around pretending to sport big, brass balls underneath their skirts.

  Not Mac though. She’s thoughtful in her words, playing into the male ego without overtly utilizing her feminine charms. Every fucking word out of her mouth is professional and brilliant, and even though those men are checking her out as a woman, they admire her professionally.

  Except for Brian who is too drunk to do anything but ogle her.

  Bastard.

  And speaking of her professional and brilliant mouth, I’d love to have it wrapped around my cock again.

  Shaking my head, I take another sip of my whiskey. I have got to stop thinking about her like that. They say the average man thinks about sex at least every seven seconds. I think that’s an exaggeration, but damn if I don’t think about McKayla at least that often. May not have sex involved, but I think about her way too much.

  When dinner is over, we all head to the bar for a “nightcap”. I don’t particularly want one, and these boors are starting to get on my nerves. McKayla, however, gladly accepts and heads to the bar for another glass of wine. I stand there, with only my second whiskey of the night I’ve been nursing, and talk to one of my colleagues, David Mills. He’s an older attorney from Los Angeles and we’ve had several cases together in the past. Out of the entire group, he’s about the only one I can really stand, and that’s only because he’s old enough that his ego has mellowed somewhat.

  “You did a really fine job today,” David says and clinks his glass against mine. “I’m thinking that this case won’t even make it to the courtroom.”

  I nod absently at him, because my attention right now is focused on Brian approaching Mac at the bar. I tense up when I see him stumble into her, knocking a big wave of her wine out of her glass and onto her lap. She’s pissed but remains calm, blotting the liquid with a napkin. She says something to him and, by the look on her face, it’s not very nice. By the drunk look on his, I can tell he doesn’t understand that she’s pissed.

  “What do you think about asking for a voluntary mediation among the parties?” David asks me, and I slide a glance toward him… my face rather blank because, while I heard him, while I understood him, my mind is focused more on Brian putting drunk moves on Mac.

  “Yeah… maybe,” I say before turning my attention back to the bar.

  They exchange some more words, and his gaze is practically glued to her breasts. She says something that causes his gaze to finally lift to her eyes, and he replies with something that pisses her off. My neck starts aching with the tension I’m holding, and I hand my glass to David. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

  I start walking toward Mac because I don’t like what’s going down. I’m not five feet from her when she stands up from her seat and tries to push past Brian. Fury rages through me when I see him reach out and actually grab her breast. Fury at him for touching her and fury at myself that I’m not there yet to stop him.

  Mac knocks his hand away, and he reaches back for her. I’m two feet from her when I see her cock her arm back, intent on hitting him.

  But then I’m there and I have him by the shoulder, slinging him away from Mac with such force, he crashes into an empty table, slides over the top of it, and tumbles to the floor on the opposite side. I don’t even wait for him to make contact with the floor before I’m following his trajectory. When I round the table, he’s lying on his back, blinking up at me in confusion. The other lawyers in the group all just stand around, looking at us with shock over my violent explosion, because they probably weren’t aware of what Brian had just been doing.

  I pull him up by the lapels of his jacket and haul him in close to my face. My voice is filled with rage when I say, “It will do me no good to beat your ass or tell you how reprehensible your conduct is, because you won’t remember it in the morning. Rest assured… I’ll be by your hotel room first thing in the morning, and then I’ll decide which part of me you’ll get.”

  Brian blinks at me continually, having no clue what he did or what I’m saying because he’s too shit-faced.

  Disgusted, I push him away from me and he goes stumbling backward. Luckily, two of the lawyers in our group catch him to hold him upright. I don’t spare him another glance but turn to leave the bar.

  Stalking past Mac, I don’t even look at her. I just growl, “Let’s go.”

  In the elevator, I am fuming. My heart is thundering, my skin is itching, and my breathing is shallow. I wanted to punch Brian so badly, but common sense prevailed. Looking down at my hands, I notice they have a slight shake going on so I shove them in my pockets and lean back against the wall and close my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Mac says softly.

  My eyes snap open in surprise and pin her in place. “For what?”

  “I don’t know,” she says in a small voice. “I thought you were pissed at me.”

  “Mac… you have nothing to be sorry for. That pig was drunk and inappropriate with you. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

  “Well, that’s a little overboard,” she says with a laugh. “I’m sure he got the message how very wrong it was.”

  “No,” I snap, my voice icy. “He didn’t get the message. But he will tomorrow morning when I pay him a visit.”

  “What will you do?”

  “He’s off the case. I’m sending him packing.”

  “What?” she practically yells. “You can’t do that. He was just drunk.”

  No, he was way more than drunk. He fucking touched what was mine.

  I push away from the wall and, in one large stride, I’m standing nose to nose with her, vibrating with jealous rage. “He had his fucking hands on your breast, Mac.”

  “So what if he was touching me?” she whispers as she looks up at me, her eyes soft and knowing.

  She knows.

  She knows that I’m fucking jealous as hell, and I don’t give a shit.

  Placing one hand on the wall by her head and leaning down so my lips are just a breath away from hers, I tell her, “Because it should be my hands that are on your body… only mine.”

  Mac lets out a wistful sigh, and it makes my stomach clench hard. She wants me, the way I want her, and I doubt she’d try to talk sense in to me tonight if I make a move.

  And right now, coming off rage and jealousy coursing through my body over a woman that I want but shouldn’t have, I don’t know that I have the ability to say no to her. Of course, I’m not the type to wait for her to offer. I’m the type that will just take, and I think that’s exactly what I’ll do.

  At least for tonight.

  The elevator door chimes, and we stare at each other just a moment more. When the doors slide open, I grab her hand and lead her out. I walk down the hall, my strides long, and she’s at a half jog to keep up with me as I lead her to her room. When we get there, I merely grab her purse out of her hands and dig around inside until I find the room key. Mac doesn’t say a word, but I can hear her breathing unevenly.

  I slide the keycard in and push the door open. Grabbing Mac by the elbow, I push her inside.

  Propel her past the bathroom.

  Push her into the middle of the room and throw her purse to the floor.

  When she turns to look at me, I know my eyes reflect the same exact thing I see in hers.

  Starvation.

  No more than a few seconds pass, not a word is spoken.

  Then we launch ourselves at each other.

  My hands dive into that glorious hair, and my mouth comes down hard on hers. I kiss her so deeply that I may have hit a tonsil.

  When I pull back, I grumble against her lips, “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m doing this again.”

  Chapter 8

  We kiss so hard that we’ll remember it twenty years from now. Like two ravenous fools and the only sustenance resides in the other person’s mouth. It’s rough, teeth clashing, biting, nipping, but we don
’t stop.

  No way are we going to stop.

  Mac’s hands, which had previously been clasped behind my neck, unlatch and snake down to my chest. I can feel the heat of her skin through my shirt, and as I suck hard on her lower lip, she flexes her fingertips into my pecs and I feel the sting of nails.

  She emits a rumbling sound of need, and her hands go to the edges of my shirt. Gripping tightly, she yanks hard, trying to rip my shirt down the middle in a passionate display of wantonness. Unfortunately, the buttons hold strong and her hands go flying outward, clutching desperately at nothing but the air around us.

  Poor Mac.

  She has such a flummoxed look on her face, standing there with her arms wide and her fingers flexing open and closed, that I can’t help it. I bend over and start laughing, with my eyes squeezed shut. I keep them shut because if I look at her, standing there with her empty hands out to her side and that confused look on her face, I might fucking wet my pants.

  Okay, I’m going to look at her and yup… she’s totally fucking bewildered, and I laugh even harder, having to prop a hand on the dresser so I don’t fall over. “That was probably the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” I wheeze.

  Her eyes narrow and her lips flatten into a grim line. “Is your shirt like made of steel or something?”

  I blink at her, letting what she said sink in, and then I start laughing all over again… hysterically. I can’t stop, and it feels fucking awesome. For someone that doesn’t laugh… like hardly ever, it feels liberating.

  Cleansing.

  Dare I say, healing?

  Gasping for air, I look back up at her and she’s pissed. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she’s tapping her foot on the carpet.

  I try to put on a straight face, chuckle a few more times, maybe snort once, and then hold my hands out in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry… but that was funny.”

  I then give her my most charming grin. The one I know will bring out my dimples, which I’ve been told women are powerless to resist. She glares at me, doesn’t seem to respect the dimples, and walks away. When she reaches the door, she opens it and says, “Yeah, not so much for me. I’m sort of not in the mood now.”

  God, she’s adorable and my cock leaps in agreement. Smirking at her, I cross my own arms over my chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I told you I’m not in the mood,” she says and stomps her foot.

  I shoot her a look that says, You’re a total liar, and then I sit down on the edge of her bed. Hands to belt buckle, I start to undo it, and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

  “Yes, you are,” I tell her, because I know damn well she wants this as much as I do. “Now get over here. I’d kill for you to take me in your mouth right now.”

  Giving a humongous sigh, Mac closes the door and walks back toward me. “What are we doing, Matt?”

  She sounds tired of this game.

  Poor Mac.

  That’s why I’m not playing it any more. Pulling my belt out of the loops, I throw it on the floor. Reaching for the button on my pants, I pop it open and stare at her hard. “I’d say you’re getting ready to give me a blow job, and then I’m going to make you come more times than you’ll be able to remember tomorrow.”

  I don’t miss the soft gust of air that passes over her lips or the way her eyes flick down to the erection pushing painfully against my zipper. Her eyes are filled with longing but also with doubt. When she looks back at me, I can tell I may have misjudged her a bit. She might not actually want this.

  I tilt my head at her in question, silently asking her to tell me what’s wrong.

  Clasping her hands in front of her, which I’ve come to recognize as a nervous sign, she says, “I thought we both agreed this was wrong. Besides, you got your jollies off again at One Night Only this weekend and…”

  She pauses, seeming to rethink what she was getting ready to say.

  But I know what she was going to say. She doesn’t need to utter a single word. She was going to tell me that because I slept with someone else through One Night Only, this night is not going to happen between us. She’s pulling the monogamy card out on me, and it causes my eyes to narrow at her.

  Mac can see by the look on my face that I don’t like where this is going and she takes a small step backward, sticking her chin up in defiance. “And besides,” she continues, “I slept with someone else, too, this weekend. Remember… most amazing weekend ever.”

  Her gaze lowers, and she stares at the carpet with sad eyes.

  Yeah, this is getting out of hand.

  I don’t like my sex habits being questioned, but it’s not going to do us any good with this lie hanging between us. No matter what happens from here on out, whether she takes me back to her bed or not, I can’t have her believing that I was with someone else. Doesn’t matter if I feel I fully have the right to have slept with half of Manhattan and still try to fuck her, I just don’t want her feeling like she is like all of my other fucks. For some reason, that I prefer not to analyze at this moment, it’s important to me that she knows she’s more.

  Standing from the bed, I walk over to Mac and lift her face with my finger under her chin. When I have her full attention, I tell her, “I lied. I wasn’t with anyone this weekend. And you lied for that matter, too. You didn’t sleep with anyone else.”

  She jerks away from me, acting affronted by my proclamation. “What makes you think I lied?”

  Smiling at her determined efforts to thwart my confession, I pull her into my arms and wrap my arms tight around her. I kiss her softly, tenderly, so she knows this isn’t about lust.

  It’s about truth.

  “I know you lied for the same reason I did. We don’t want to admit this attraction, yet both of us are obsessed by it. You can’t get me out of your mind, just as I can’t get you out of mine. I’m tired of fighting it, and I’m tired of jerking off when I’d rather be sunk deep inside of you. So I’m not fighting it anymore.”

  She gives me a stuttering breath and a half smile. I lean down and kiss her again, just a light breeze of my lips across hers. She melts further into me, and I can feel her heart beating hard against my chest. I do nothing but hold her, letting her decide what she wants to do. I hope to God she decides to let me have her, but if she doesn’t, I’ll grudgingly respect that. Just as long as she understands I haven’t been with anyone but her since we’ve met.

  Mac pushes out of my arms and I drop them to my side, watching her warily. We stare at each other, and I can’t see anything in her eyes that will tell me what’s going on in that brilliant brain of hers. Just as I’m suspecting she might be showing me the door, she surprises me instead and drops to her knees. Peeking up at me under lashes so thick it’s hard to see the green in her eyes, she slowly unzips my pants and reaches a hand inside, grasping onto my aching dick.

  Oh, God that feels so amazing… so fucking right.

  It’s her hand that feels so right.

  I go absolutely still, knowing that my deepest fantasy tonight is getting ready to come true. I draw a deep breath in and hold it, waiting. She lifts her chin so I can see her eyes more clearly, and what I see scares me. She’s quietly confident, knowing that she has a bit of power over me right now. Because let’s face it… most men would do anything for the prospect of getting a great blow job.

  I need her to know that’s not me, though. That no matter what she does to me… what I do to her… none of that translates into anything more than just good sex.

  Reaching out with my fingers, I lightly stroke them on her cheek. “This is just sex, McKayla… nothing more.”

  She doesn’t lower her gaze, just stares at me with the same confidence. I didn’t knock her down a peg at all. I think I may have just become a challenge to her.

  She squeezes me gently, and air comes wheezing out of my lungs. Her eyes drop and she leans forward, running her tongue from the base of my cock to the tip, causing a violent shudder to rip up my spine. She looks back
up at me and says, “As long as it’s nothing less.”

  Christ, I’m done for.

  My fingertips leave her cheek and push into her hair, wrapping around the back of her head. I pull her forward… urging her to wrap her lips around me.

  “Fair enough,” I growl at her, and even though she’s thrown the gloves down, I’m not going to engage in a battle with her. It will be my way, or the highway… eventually… after she sucks me off.

  ***

  My eyes open up, and I raise my head for a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table. Six AM on the dot. My internal clock never fails me, no matter how little sleep I get the night before.

  Returning my head to the pillow, I lean forward and push my nose into the pile of silky, black hair in front of me. It smells like spring flowers or some shit like that. Definitely good.

  I’m lying on my right side, pressed up against a soft, beautiful woman. I’m spooning her.

  I don’t fucking do spooning.

  I don’t do sleepovers.

  I haven’t slept with a woman all night since my ex-demon-wife killed all of my desires for true intimacy.

  Yet, here I am… here I stayed, and fuck… I still have no desire to leave even after I remind myself this isn’t truly who I am.

  I should get up and get some coffee… some breakfast. Depositions start back up at nine AM.

  But I don’t move, and yeah… I press in a little closer to Mac.

  Last night was incredible. Rather, beyond incredible.

  Mac embodies the ultimate fantasy woman for me. She gave me a blow job last night that was so good, had me coming so hard, that I lost feeling in my legs and collapsed back on the bed. All I really remember is mumbling, I think rather incoherently, but in my mind, I knew what I was saying.

  “Mac… Mac… Mac…”

  She crawled up beside me, I swear licking her lips, and laid her head on my chest until I recovered. Which only took a few minutes, then I was on her, returning the favor and one-upping her on the orgasm count.