Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
After the bang of the gavel, Judge Sullivan left for his chambers, the air of propriety leaving with him. Turning to face my client, I reached out and grabbed his hand in a firm handshake.
“You’re a free man, Robbie.” I patted his shoulder with my other hand before stepping back to gather my files. “Welcome back to the land of bachelorhood.”
His divorce case had been particularly brutal. His now ex-wife, Clarissa, had been digging her six-inch heels in over petty shit. The house with the white picket fence. Alimony payments for the next five years. A custody agreement inclusive of child support for their damn dog.
Not only had I successfully outmaneuvered the bitch’s legal team, but I made sure that she ended up owing Rob a hefty sum for legal fees incurred and for his half of her feet pic business. Technically, a custom orthotics company, but same difference.
My client’s mother hugged him over the dividing banister between the gallery seating and the plaintiff’s table. Her tears of joy streamed down her face like he had just narrowly escaped the death penalty.
The plump elderly woman looked at me with watery eyes over Robbie’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Mr. Nightvale. Thank you for taking care of my boy,” she said, her heavily Slavic-accented words thick with emotion.
The man was fucking forty-six years old, but once a mama’s boy, always a mama’s boy.
Nodding in brief acknowledgment of her gratitude, I offered up a polite smile. “My pleasure, ma’am. I just did my part to uphold the letter of the law to ensure your son was treated fairly during this unfortunate situation.”
All professionalism. Pretty words that cloaked the disdain I had for the institution of marriage. Hell, it even masked how I felt about love in general. It was a useless feeling that made fools of everybody.
Truthfully, Rob had escaped a particularly grave situation by the hair of his balls.
That vile woman he had married would have ended up being his ultimate demise.
Clarissa would have given him a stroke with her insistent nagging.
If death by nagging hadn’t been the culprit, she eventually would have ripped his beating heart out in the most disgusting manner and shit-stomped it into a sewage drain.
I did this man the biggest favor of his life by making sure he didn’t leave here still under her conniving and well-manicured thumb.
After ordering my paralegal to pack up the rest of the boxes of files evidencing this trainwreck, I fished my phone from my pocket and began swiping through missed messages.
Leaving the courtroom in search of better cell service, I nearly collided with a leggy blonde who was all bones and no curves.
Grunting, I held my hands to brace us both as I looked up from my phone’s email.
“Mrs. Hershford,” I greeted her bluntly. “Although, now that this legal spat is over, I suppose it’s Miss…?” My words trailed off in question of what name would go with her title now that ties had been severed from Robbie.
The silence stretched long and tense between us. Then, with a calculating look in her brown eyes that betrayed how full of shit she was, a smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth.
“Clarissa. The last name doesn’t matter anymore,” she replied. No sense of remorse or grief in her tone. Good. I didn’t do emotional disasters. Figuratively.
But physically? Different story.
Five minutes later, I found myself in the courthouse’s men’s room, pinning her to the wall next to the automatic hand dryer.
My hands roughly yanked up whatever pretentious designer dress she had on while hers tugged at my tie. Fucking pantyhose must have been made of damn Kevlar as I attempted to rip right through them.
One yank. One tug. Ten curses. Then, finally, the material gave way.
Growling in victory, my mouth attacked her throat, despite how the taste of her perfume dabbed on her skin churned my stomach. It reminded me of Pia.
Little beggar was hungry for more than her ex-husband’s pension as my hand found the slick folds of her pussy.
“Please, Eryx,” she whined in my ear.
Stroking my fingers through her arousal, she keened and whimpered. Each sound was needier than the last.
And they just pissed me off. At this rate, my cock was going to lose interest before the main event.
With a grunt, I shifted tactics.
In just a few jerky motions, the clink of my belt coming undone joined our heavy breaths.
Clarissa was already on the hunt for my dick, clumsily pushing the fabric of my underwear out of the way. Her hand overeagerly grabbed me, fingers curling around my steely girth almost too tightly.
Groaning, I clutched underneath her thigh and lifted it to anchor on the outside of my hip. The blunt pads of my fingers dug into her flesh. Let her bear my bruises as a badge of honor of her first post-divorce fuck.
“Off,” I snarled as I shoved her hand off my cock. Immediately afterward, I sank into the heat of her cunt.
She shrilly cried out, taking every inch of my hard length deep into her soaked pussy. Walls clenched around me, drawing me deep inside her.
Her hands grasped my shoulders for stability as she squirmed against the bathroom wall. She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut off any coherent words when I withdrew and slammed my dick back into her.
Each thrust was fueled by frantic energy. Needed to find my release. Needed to satisfy this ache inside me, an ember that never quite felt stoked.
Pinning her there, I braced a hand on the wall next to her head while I kept her spread open for me. My hips worked her sweet cunt into a frenzy.
Fuck, I was getting closer. Yet her damn moans were as grating as the way she tapped the pen against her notepad inside the courtroom.
“Shut.” Thrust. “Up.” Thrust.
I yanked the silk scarf from around her neck, wrapping it around my hand until it drew tight around her throat.
Not enough to be facing attempted murder charges, but enough that I didn’t have to fucking listen to the noises she made.
It was like trying to get off to a dying elephant that was choking on a kazoo.
Taking the loose ends of the scarf, I rumpled them up and shoved the fabric into her mouth as a makeshift gag. Let that pretty red lipstick leave a stain on her fashion accessory, while I aimed for my cum to leave a stain on her insides.
The stifled noises were now nothing but a light hum of a distraction.
Much better.
She was on the edge of unraveling for me, her body fluttering around my throbbing cock. Clarissa better hope that she finishes before I do.
My fingertips pressed into the unforgiving bathroom wall as my head bowed forward, a low groan escaping me.
Almost… there…
The familiar sensation of a sharp zap of lightning down my spine straight into my dick drew my balls up tightly. Slamming into Clarissa one last time, my hips jerked against hers as my cum spurted out in steady splashes against her insides.
Immediate relief of the pressure that had been building was like a weight lifted off me. A desire acquired and sated.
The sigh of a man who had found calm in the chaos escaped from deep inside my chest.
I pulled out as I released my hold on her thigh. Giving her space as much as giving it to myself, I stepped back and didn’t bother to tuck my spent cock into my boxer briefs.
Despite the lingering tremors in my limbs from the exertion, I collected myself. Anything that may have resembled emotion got buried beneath a shroud of professionalism.
As for the blonde I had just fucked until she almost came, she slumped back against the wall. With trembling fingers, she pulled her scarf from her mouth, leaving it slightly agape as she stared. Her eyes were wide with something that could be either construed as indignation or confusion.
In either case, I didn’t give a fuck.
Reaching out for the scarf, I murmured politely, “Excuse me.” My hands unwrapped the delicate fabric from around her neck and used it to wipe the remnants of her body from my cock.
She watched with something akin to abject horror, especially when I laid the ruined material across her hand, which was frozen in the space in front of her mouth.
Leaving my hand on my freshly wiped dick, I angled myself to stand in front of the nearby urinal. Tipping my head back, I took the most glorious post-fuck piss.
Clarissa’s strangled gasp and sputtering echoed in the small space.
“Fuck, you have no idea how much I needed that,” I said with a hint of gratitude for her participation in it. I tucked my hardware safely away.
Pants zipped back up, shirt tucked in, belt buckled, and my tie secured in place. Each action was executed with precision and ease.
Moving past her to the sink to wash up, I checked my collar in the mirror to make sure that there were no dreadful lipstick stains on it.
By the time I made it to the door of the restroom, Clarissa was finally tugging at her clothes with urgency to return to the pristine doll she projected herself as.
With my hand on the door, I paused to leave her with more than my cum dripping down her thighs. “Your first payment to my client is due on the first of the month. Don’t be late.”
Out the door I went, leaving the former Mrs. Hershford in a state of discord. The very thing I was known for amongst the gods themselves.