Chapter 15 #2
“I haven’t signed anything yet, so technically I’m not a client,” she retorts, placing the box on my desk before pulling herself up to sit on the edge of my desk, her body angled towards me.
She locks her moss-green eyes on mine and unbelievably remains silent, though the intensity of her gaze screams for my attention.
Against my better judgement, I give it to her, and she takes full advantage of my moment of weakness, making a show of slowly parting her legs to expose the creamy skin of her inner thigh and a flash of red lace under her micro-mini before dragging her right leg and crossing it over her left.
Her skirt is so short it remains hiked high, an indecent amount of skin on show.
Flashes of her swathed in my T-shirt and sleeping soundly, hair fanned out around her, choose this moment to resurface.
I clench my jaw in a bid to tamp down the surge of energy to another part of me begging to spring to life. Again.
“Besides, I’m sure with all your lawyer-ly wisdom, you’d be able to find a loophole,” she states nonchalantly, like she didn’t just try to Basic Instinct me.
“You’re absolutely right. You haven’t signed anything, and I’ve got a good sense to refuse you.”
She hums. “On what grounds?”
“Indecent behavior.”
She throws her head back and laughs before fixing her eyes back on me and taking aim.
“Indecent behavior, huh? Hmmm. Let me ask you, would you call sneaking off to screw your secret fuck buddy while your friends drink in her bar indecent?”
I don’t answer, instead moving closer to the door, but I don’t dare take my eyes off her. She’s edging into dangerous territory, one where I give her the version of me she thinks she wants.
She huffs a laugh, like she thinks she’s got me, and it only spurs her on.
“Or perhaps fucking your hand in the shower while I was in your house? Would you consider that indecent.”
BOOM!
I kick the door shut with the flick of my foot and stalk towards her, wordlessly unbuttoning my shirt as I go.
Her eyes flare, and she pulls her plump bottom lip between her teeth, wriggling her ass back on the desk.
I’m not sure if it’s because she’s trying to find friction or if she thinks that will keep me from getting to her.
The room feels like it grew three times smaller.
I shouldn’t be adding gasoline to the lit match, but it appears that shock therapy is the only way to shut this woman up.
When I reach her, she looks up at me in challenge but doesn’t utter a word.
“You want me to show you indecent before we make this client-attorney agreement final and formalized?”
“Do. Your. Fucking. Worst,” she bites back.
The mixed bag of emotions rioting inside me since her arrival finally spills over.
Irritation, affection, lust, sexual frustration, indignation, and concern for her fate spur me on to make what I know is probably one of the biggest fucking mistakes of my life.
She underestimated how my need for control can force me to spin out of control too.
There’s no stopping this runaway train now that it’s in motion.
I need to show her we play by my rules or we don’t play at all.
I make quick work of undoing the gold buttons that run down the front of her knit top and drop it on the floor.
She’s wearing a thin, red lace bra that barely contains her full, round tits.
I’ve never considered myself a boob man, but there’s no denying hers are stellar and begging to be used and fucked.
Not the point of this exercise, I remind myself as I crowd her, forcing her to lean back on her hands, which only accentuates her assets and puts her pebbled nipples visible through the sheer fabric on full display.
My cock thickens at the feel of her peaked bud grazing my skin.
“First, if you want to take a leaf out of Sharon Stone’s book, do it properly,” I demand as I run my hand up her inner thigh and roughly uncross her legs, spreading her wide and letting my fingers lightly rest over the apex of her thighs.
Even through the fabric of her skirt, I can feel the heat radiating from the spot I knew would be throbbing for me.
I squeeze my hand around her thigh, fully aware of the contrast between her silky skin and my calloused palm.
She looks at where we’re connected, the quickened rise and fall of her chest a sign my plan is working just like I intended.
I press my steel-hard erection into the side of her thigh and she gasps, her eyes falling closed. With my other hand, I lift her chin to bring her eyes back to mine.
“Open your eyes. I need your full attention when I outline my next point.”
She obeys wordlessly, her heavy breathing the only sound coming from her.
“I might make a good girl out of you yet,” I murmur.
She opens her mouth to break the quiet spell, but I speak over her, cutting her off. Like a complete asshole. The one I’m trying to prove to her that I am to stomp out any notions she might have of my having a soft side.
“Secondly. If I want to fuck my hand in my shower, in my home, you as the visitor should have the decency to respect my privacy. In fact, in New York, the act of voyeurism or being a “peeping Tom” is a Class E felony, which can result in heavy fines, imprisonment, or in the case of someone like yourself who does not have citizenship, deportation.” I finish my legal spiel with a pointed look.
“So, Chiara, if we took this case before the courts, it would be you who would be found guilty of being indecent.”
She huffs out an annoyed laugh. “Raf, are you seriously giving me a lesson in law while rubbing your cock against my leg?” she sasses as she runs her nail down my torso. “Wouldn’t you prefer to put me on my knees and show me how to be a good girl for you?”
I let her get as far as the top of my pants, but when she goes to unbutton them, I bat her hand away.
“Access denied.”
I never had any intention of letting her get anywhere near my cock. I just wanted to tease her with the knowledge of how good I could make her feel if I chose to fuck her face, hand, or pussy.