20. Hannah
Chapter twenty
Hannah
A fter I drop the kids off at school the next day, I take myself to the mall and invest in a few dresses. It's easy to let the intrusive thoughts tell me how ugly, old, and fat I am, but I remind those bitches that the three sexiest men on the East Coast want me. And more than that, I love myself. I'd forgotten that over the years. That I'm someone worthy of love, even if my outward appearance isn't skinny and 20 years old anymore. I'm a loyal friend, a hard worker, and a good mom.
I used to wear sundresses all the time during the summer whenever I wasn't riding. I just loved how feminine they made me feel. Even now, in the Fall, I love wearing thick long-sleeved dresses with leggings. So I buy myself a few. And change into one in the car to show off for Matty. I hope he likes it.
I'm damn near giggling as I park in an underground car park in the city a block from the club. Matty's standing at the door waiting for me.
The way he lazily drags his gaze up and down my figure lights a fire inside of me. I give in to the girlish desire and give a little twirl.
"Do you like?"
"Is this new Hannah?"
"This is, old Hannah meets new Hannah. Old Hannah style with new Hannah body."
He wraps an arm around my shoulder before giving me a quick kiss on my hair. "Then I love it."
He leads me inside and to the elevator. The space feels different in the daytime, almost as if it's still a bank and haunted by the memory of patrons.
It makes me even giddier, this feeling like we're trespassing something we're not supposed to be. Except, logically I know they own the building.
I wrap my arm around his as the elevator door closes and we ride it up to the top floor. DC has height restrictions on its building so the fourth floor is also the top floor.
We hit the fourth floor, chatting away comfortably before he leads me to his office. It's down a hallway, behind another dance floor and bar. It's not large, but it houses several filing cabinets, a large mahogany desk with a laptop, and chairs.
The glass wall shows the bustling DC streets, full of people walking, biking, and e-biking to and from work, each person their own life, their own struggles, their own stories.
Matty picks up a manilla folder from his desk and presents it to me before leaning back on it and crossing his legs at the ankle.
"Most of this is boilerplate verbiage, but I'll want to discuss some specific requests like alimony and visitation/custody agreements."
I take the folder from him and open it up. There are about fifty pages of legalese in here and I don't know what any of it means.
"Okay, where should we start?"
Matty leans forward before turning around again and patting his desk.
"I always do my best work over lunch. Hop on up."
I wrinkle my brow, not quite understanding what he means .
"Are you not into white-collar boys? Just Rico and Santiago? I can be hard like them, too. I can be anything you want me to be." He says earnestly, a small frown marring his handsome face.
I shake my head with a laugh. "Matthew," he beams. "You are perfect just the way you are. I just don't understand what me sitting on your desk, lunch, and these papers have anything to do with each other."
"I'm going to eat you for lunch, and then we can discuss the terms of your divorce."
I laugh so loudly, that I snort. I slap my hand across my nose in surprise. I've never done anything so publicly before. I've never had someone so forward in what they want. I can count on one hand how many times I've received head, and most of them were yesterday, at Matty's boss's command.
I blush red.
"Oh. Is Rico's come still leaking out of you?"
I wrinkle my nose. "No!" I shout. At least I didn't think so anymore. I've never been railed like that before, though, so there's no telling.
Matty smiles before patting the desk again. "Right then. Hop on up."
Choices - I remind myself.
Do I want my handsome lawyer and sometimes stalker to eat me out this morning? Yes. The. Fuck. I. Do.
I sheepishly stand up, lay the papers down on my chair, and hop up on Matty's desk, trying to maintain eye contact like I'm some sort of seductress.
The heat in his eyes tells me it's working.
He kneels on the hardwood in front of me and my eyes widen. He'll tear his suit! It'll get dirty! Or...I don't know, but men in suits don't kneel in them.
But Matty only has eyes for me. He raises my skirt. I shimmy my butt a little on the desk so he can get it above my hips, before he does the reverse with my leggings. My ballet slippers go with the leggings.
He leaves my panties on, though, and a part of me starts to wonder if I didn't read the room wrong?
Matty spins around, an excited grin on his face, before he reaches into a mini-fridge I hadn't noticed and pulls out a bottle of champagne.
"Aren't you supposed to celebrate after a divorce is finalized?" I tease.
"Today we're celebrating the incredibly intelligent decision you made to leave that piece of shit husband - who from now one we're calling POSH," I laugh, remember his nickname for his cousin. "And the arguably more intelligent decision you've made to let me have at this pussy. Finally ."
I can't help but laugh. He wrestles with the cork for a moment before it finally pops, spray and bubbles pouring over the side.
I look around us. "No glasses?"
The grin Matty shoots me is so sinful it should be illegal.
"Don't need them, Pretty Girl. Lay back, feet up on the desk."
I take a deep breath in and out, but do as I'm told.
"I've been dreaming of this day since 8th grade," Matty mumbles under his breath before freezing bubbles hit my warm, wet clit.
The breath is stolen from my lungs in an instant, and I go to slam my knees together when Matty roughly grabs one of my knees and shoves it to the side, burying his face between my legs.
He laps up the champagne over my panties like a fucking ice cream cone.
"Holy fuck," I whisper. I've never experienced something like this before. The shock from warm to cold to warm, the slide of the wet fabric of my panties against my swollen clit, the fact that we're doing this, in front of an open window where anyone in the next buildings can see.
Something about the overwhelming sensations, the fact that my divorce lawyer is eating out my champagne-soaked pussy to an audience shuts off the logical part of my brain and I melt into the desk.
Only to jump up again when Matty pours another helping of cold, bubbly champagne over me.
Another luxurious lick and a quick nip to my clit and I'm sure I'm close.
"So we can backdate the separation a year. In the state of Virginia, if you have children you are supposed to be separated for a year before divorce."
I shoot my head up and look at him incredulously. "Are you seriously lawyering with your head between my legs?!" I scream at him.
"Multi-tasking, baby," he replies with a wink.
Holy fuck .
More cold bubbles, and more warm licks and sucks. My hands fly to the back of his head, threading through his thick hair. Fuck, I'm close.
"Division of assets?"
"Ass-whats?" I ask, my lust-drunk brain unable to process words.
"Assets," he says without missing a beat, as if he's not completely mind-fucking me into orgasm.
"I..." I start, trying to play his game, but what the fuck is English?
He pauses, lifts his head, and waits for me to finish my statement. What was I saying? Assets. Things are assets. Right!
"I want the house. I don't want to have to move the kids, or change schools." I pant out, slamming my head back against the desk.
"Very good." More champagne, more licks, but fuck I need more! He's too far from me, my panties are too much of a barrier.
I'm spun up, desperate for him, fevered. I reach down myself to take off my panties.
"Child support and spousal support is easy enough to calculate since we know his income and he's at fault." Matty laughs to himself. "Not that you need it."
I think that's a strange thing to say, but all I can concentrate on is him putting something inside of me. This absolute fucking lunatic has been edging me while discussing child support!
I practically rip my panties off of my body and push his face away from my pussy.
"I swear to fucking God, Matthew, if you don't put something in me right now..." I growl. I sound fucking possessed.
This fucker simply puts the champagne bottle on the floor next to him, pierces me with two thick fingers, and sucks the life out of my clit.
I'm a breath away from coming, so I grip his hair again, screaming my encouragement. My back arches, my toes curl...
"What about custody agreement? We can arrange any flavor of custody for your kids...Sole, shared, whatever you want, pretty girl."
Oh.
Fuck.
I've lost my orgasm now. Matty seems to sense it and he leans back so he can look me in the face.
I know my face has fallen. I don't want to lose half of my time with my kids. And honestly, I don't think Alan knows how to be a parent. Or has any interest in being a dad. He certainly hasn't shown any. He was excited when we announced our pregnancies and births, but Viv was barely an hour old before he was back with his mistress.
He likes the social leverage of children - as long as they're attractive and well-behaved.
I don't want him in their lives, but at the same time, he's their father. For better or worse. Can I really play God and decide how much and what kind of interaction they have with their own father?
"Can..." my voice cracks. "Can we do something like...supervised visitation? So like...someone can always be there to interfere if he's an asshole to them...but not cut off full custody?" My chest shivers with repressed emotion. I can't imagine all three kids with Alan and Kathleen, over at her apartment. Or maybe he'll buy a house for them? I can't imagine Kathleen wants to take care of my three kids. She's twenty three for Christ's sake. And I know Alan doesn't know what stuffy Viv needs to sleep, or that Jack's scared of clowns. And the idea of the shitty things and slurs he would say to them when I wasn't there to intervene sends a visceral shiver through my bones.
Matty must sense the emotional turmoil I'm going through. I'm spread out on his desk, half-naked, in the middle of the day, for all of DC to see, but I've never felt more exposed, laying out the emotional toll this divorce is having on me with my lawyer.
Matty leans over me, hands on either side of my head, caging me in so that it's only him and me.
"Pretty girl. We can have whatever flavor of visitation you want. You're in control here. What do you want?"
Rico's words from yesterday echo in my ear and reverberate in my head. Take back control. Okay, yes. I'm divorcing my shitty husband, and getting that toxic shit out of me and my kids' lives. I'll offer him surpervized visitation - either me or my parents - but no custody. If he really wants to be a part of their life and shows me he can be trusted with them, we can revisit custody. But as of right now, I don't trust him with our kids' well-being.
I lock Matty's eyes, bite my lip, and nod.
He shoves three fingers inside me and curls them to hit my g-stop with such fucking precision I'm at 95% again.
"Good girl," he growls into my ear. I ride his hand, shamelessly chasing my release. He leans down and bites the shit out of one of my nipples and I fall completely apart on top of his desk, screaming, clawing, arching.
He gently pumps his fingers in and out of me while I climax and come back down again. I collapse against his desk, fucking jelly.
I'm faintly aware of him going to an attached bathroom and washing up. I'm even more vaguely aware of him sitting in his leather office chair and writing some notes on the papers. I'm sure I'm an inconvenience and in his way, but fuck if I can't find it in me to care.
Suddenly, papers appear in my face. "This is a contract between you and the company for the book club cut of the club." He says, pen pointing at a line that I think he wants me to sign?
Was this his plan? Make me come-drunk so I agree to anything?
"I'll have to have my lawyer look it over," I comment, smirking.
He slaps my still bare ass in punishment. "Smartass." He mumbles.
My senses are coming back to me. And while that head and orgasm were amazing, something's still hitting my red flag radar.
I lean up on my elbows and peer over my shoulder at him.
"Wait. What did you mean 'not that you need it'? I'm broke as hell if I don't have my husband or the club's money."
Matty winces before looking up at me from under his lashes, giving me a guilty look.
"Matthew." I scold. I've got that mom-voice down pat.
He shakes his head before leaning back and fiddling with the filing cabinet.
"I can't lie to you. And you would have found out anyway." He mutters to himself, before handing me a new folder.
But this one's a bank-statement for a Navy Federal Credit Union account. With millions of dollars in it. Except, you need to be a veteran or a family member of a veteran to open an account with them. And who the fuck has millions. Except...my name is listed at the top.
I sit up suddenly, my brain trying to make sense of everything.
"Matty, why is there a bank account, under my name, that I never opened, that has more than TEN MILLION DOLLARS in it?"
He winces.
"Is ten not enough? We actually debated it..." he looks sheepish and chastised.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and breathe deeply. "Let me get this straight. You committed identity fraud to open a Navy Fed account in my name, and wired ten MILLION dollars to it?"
He looks at me lamely, like he's not sure what he's supposed to say.
"But you'll also get everything from the lady's nights!"
Sweet summer child.
"I can't just accept your money!"
"Why not? It's not real."
"What do you mean it's not real?"
"I mean, the government prints money when it wants to, so can we."
I pause for a minute. This is the same argument I used with Rico the first night. He's not wrong. But someone accepting a hand out feels wrong.
Matty softens. "Look, baby girl, we just wanted you and the kids to be provided for for the rest of ya'll's lives. If ten's not enough to get that done, just let us know."
I shake my head. I physically cannot wrap my brain around what is happening now. But fuck, could I really reject their money when all they're trying to do is take care of me and the kids. They're right, of course. In their line of work, they could be killed or arrested and spend the rest of their lives in jail. We're not married, so legally I'd have no right to access any of their funds.
All they want to do is take care of me and my kids. My heart clenches painfully.
Matty's face falls. "I'm sorry I told you. Santiago warned us you wouldn't be okay with such a large gift." My sweet, empathetic, caring Matty looks goddamn crestfallen. Even after he's given me the best gift and orgasm of my life.
I bring my hand to the side of his face. "Don't be sorry. I'm glad I know...I just...I might just leave it there? For the kids? And live off of what I earn from book club? That feels less icky to me."
"Of course, baby girl. It's your money."
I shake my head in disbelief.
I'm a millionaire.