Confessions of a Litigation God by Sawyer Bennett
Page 21
“Okay,” she says as she rolls out of bed. I watch her pad over to her dresser and reach inside. She pulls out a little pair of those boy-shorts underwear and slips them on. Then she pulls out a tiny, tiny t-shirt that covers most of her stomach but not quite all of it. A thin patch of soft skin peeks out. Her br**sts pull the material tight, and her ni**les are poking hard at it.
I’ve seen Mac looking all kinds of gorgeous in all kinds of beautiful clothing. But right now… with her hair all messed up and her lips swollen from sucking my cock, in those underwear that don’t reveal much but the curve of her ass and that little t-shirt… well, I don’t think she’s ever looked more lovely.
She actually hurts to look at, because deep down… I know this probably is not meant to be for the long run. I stare at her though, memorizing the details, so I can have this in my bank of memories to take with me when this is simply no more.
“What do you feel like eating?” she asks genially. “I’ve got stuff to make sandwiches. ”
“That’s good,” I say as I roll out of bed and pull on my underwear. I only have my tuxedo, and I’m not about to put that on until I have to make the walk of shame out of her apartment. I can’t believe I literally spent the entire weekend na**d with Mac. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before… gone that long without clothes.
Nice and liberating. I think it’s something we should do again.
Soon.
I follow Mac out to her kitchen. It’s been a wonder we haven’t run into her roommate all weekend. I’ve heard her… I think, stumbling in around three AM on Saturday morning, but for the most part, I stayed in Mac’s room. She has her own bathroom and she made runs out into the kitchen for food, so I had everything I needed.
Since I’m only in my underwear, I hope the elusive Macy doesn’t decide to visit with us. But I’m also not shy so that won’t bother me probably as much as it would bother her… or Mac.
Mac hands me a bottled water from the fridge and I lean against the kitchen island, watching her bend over to pull out sandwich materials from the fridge. The move makes those boy shorts ride up her ass just a little. Lust surges through me, although I don’t act on it. It would be so simple to walk up behind her, pull her underwear down, and nail her.
She wouldn’t say no.
But I don’t, rather enjoying the feelings coursing through me, and telling myself that I will f**k her one more time before I leave… maybe in the shower. I tell myself that the anticipation will make it better.
“Where do you see me going in your firm?” Mac asks as she stands up with her arms full and turns to the kitchen island.
I’m so stunned by her question, that I’m absolutely blanking on anything to say. We’ve never talked about her employment outside of my firm, and while it’s not taboo or prohibited, I’m not sure how it makes me feel. This gets into some weird, blurred lines because it’s not exactly appropriate that I’m banging my employee. And while I know that Mac would never, not in a million years, ever expect me to treat her differently because of our sexual relationship, it still makes me a bit uncomfortable.
Because I don’t answer right away, she looks up at me in concern. “Did I just ask something wrong?”
I try for some levity to break the tension. “Depends… are you sleeping with me to get a promotion?”
Mac throws a piece of Swiss cheese at me and she’s so fast, I can’t even defend. It hits my right cheek before flopping to the counter.
“Be serious,” she admonishes.
“I am,” I tell her, my voice serious as requested. “You know, this isn’t exactly kosher what we’re doing. ”
She blinks at me in surprise, and it confirms what I originally thought about Mac. It never even crossed her mind to exchange sexual favors for advancement at work. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t asking it like that. ”
“I know you weren’t,” I assure her.
I watch her for a moment as she builds our sandwiches up, waiting for her next move. Waiting to see if she’ll push forward, despite my admonishment that we are walking a slippery slope.
Putting a sandwich on a plate and sliding it over to me she says, “It’s just… I’ve watched what you do, the way you fight for your clients. You make it seem so effortless—”
“It’s not effortless—” I interrupt.
“I know. It’s pure talent,” she says adamantly, and my eyebrows rise over the compliment. “I’m just wondering if I have the same talent… abilities. To maybe do what you do one day?”
Mac Dawson, the lawyer, is a lot of things. Brilliant, assured, hard working. The list could go on and on.
But right now, I’m hearing a distinct lack of confidence in her voice, and that is so “un-Mac-like”.
The man in me… the one that just came down her throat twenty minutes ago, wants to take her in my arms and murmur words of praise and assurance to her.
The lawyer in me has to take a slightly different approach.
“Mac… you are young and have miles to go. But everything I’ve seen so far tells me you have a hell of a career ahead of you. ” In fact, everything I’ve seen so far tells me she’s going to be an amazing litigator, but I don’t go quite that far in my compliments. I don’t want her head getting too big.
“Really?” she asks, looking so very young and so very hopeful.
“Really,” I tell her with a reassuring smile.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re not just saying that because I give good head?”
I can’t help the laugh that bursts out. Eyes crinkled with amusement, I tell her, “You give the best head ever, but that’s not why I’m telling you that. ”
“Okay,” she says, acting relieved, but in truth, she wasn’t ever worried. Then she narrows her eyes again… teasing me. “You’re not just saying I give the best head ever so I’ll give you another bl*w j*b, are you?”
I take a bite of my sandwich and smirk at her while chewing. When I swallow, I say, “You’re something else, McKayla Dawson. ”
She gives me a saucy grin of agreement and starts eating her lunch.
When we’re done, I drag her back to the bedroom where I return the oral favor she bestowed on me, and then we f**k in the shower just as I’d planned.
Yes, Mac Dawson is indeed, something else.
Chapter 16
Sometimes I wish that we could have do-overs in life. I wish we could go back, with the vision of hindsight, pick those parts in our lives where we chose the wrong path, and then just say, “I want a do-over” and then some celestial clerk above who keeps records, would look in his ledger book, and if you had not asked before, he’d give you one.
Yeah… I think I’d like a do-over.
Most people would think that my do-over would be to not have ever met or married Marissa, but they’d be wrong. Without having met and married that bitch, I’d never have Gabe and he’s worth marrying a hundred Marissa’s and being cheated on a hundred times.
No, my do-over would be that I wish I had never met McKayla Dawson.
Ouch… I know that would hurt her a lot if she knew I was thinking that, but f**k… my life was all kinds of simple before she came into it. I had a vision… a plan… an agenda. My priorities were solid. First, be the best possible dad I could be to Gabe. Second, be the best possible lawyer I could be for my clients. Third, f**k my way through Manhattan and enjoy the single life until the day I died.
Mac has screwed number three up royally.
Now, I’m in this weird place with her. We have the most phenomenally compatible sexual chemistry. We are explosive, incendiary, unquenchable.
I will never find another woman in the sack like her.
Never.
But I broke a major rule the second time I f**ked Mac. I continued to break rules by continuing to f**k her. Now, I can’t walk away from it. She’s in my blood, and frankly… I don’t want to give it up.
/> We are bordering on some dangerous territory. Her feelings are involved, as evidenced by this weekend when she asked me about my own. She wants more… I can tell, and eventually, this will not be enough for her.
And this is why I would like a do-over with her… right now… right this very moment.
Because I think, when that moment comes, and she demands more of me, I’m going to f**king get hurt no matter which way I go. If I give her what she wants, I’ll be opening myself up to further pain because nothing this good lasts forever. If I give her up and walk away, I’ll be hurt when I lose her.
I’m in a f**king no-win situation with her, unless Mac miraculously man’s up and decides to leave her gooey, womanly feelings out of this equation, and that’s not going to happen.
And a do-over isn’t going to happen either because there’s no celestial clerk above keeping track of this shit, so I quit wistfully thinking it could happen one day.
Mac and I have settled into this sort of cool routine this week. At work, we are business as usual. The casual observer would never know that I know every nook and cranny of her body. Licked it too, for that matter. When we work on cases together, we are working.
Sure… we may look at each other and yeah, there are some flames leaping out of our eyes, but I doubt anyone notices that. One time… when I was handing a document to Mac, I intentionally slid my pinky finger over the back of her hand, just because I was dying to touch her. Her eyes got a bit glazed and her breath hitched, and I f**king wanted to gloat over it.
But I didn’t.
At the end of the work day, I’ll casually walk around, saying goodbye to those still working. That includes stopping by Mac’s office where, once I determine no one is around, I walk into her office and ask her what she wants for dinner. She tells me, and then, within an hour, I’m at her apartment with food.
We eat, and then we f**k.
Sometimes for hours.
Then I go home, and we do it all over again the next day.
Now see… if it could stay this way, it would be perfect. Sure, I’m committing to some type of monogamy, but like I said before, that’s not a hardship with Mac. And there are really no feelings involved. We eat, we do simple talk, and we f**k. It’s like the perfect equation.
I knock on Mac’s apartment door and wait for her to answer. I know that what I hold in my hand could give her the wrong impression and threaten to increase the volume of her gooey feelings. But f**k it… I couldn’t help myself.
Where’s she’s concerned, I just can’t help myself.
The door opens, and there she is.
Yes, impossibly looking more beautiful than when I saw her at work an hour and a half ago. The sex will be better tonight too.
Mark my words.
It just always gets better.
Mac smiles at me in welcome, her eyes then dropping to the bag of Chinese food I hold in one hand and the bouquet of fresh flowers I picked up at a vendor down the street. Her jaw then sort of drops open as her gaze travels slowly back up to mine.
In that look, I see so many things that really, really make me want that do-over again. Because by bringing her flowers, I’m quietly telling her that maybe I could offer more to her. Which is so not the message I want to give her. I want her to know that this is just sex. Sex is all it is.
And yet… when I walked by that vendor, and I saw that bouquet of big sunflowers and something the vendor said was Queen Anne’s Lace, I knew Mac had to have them. I said f**k the consequences, f**k the danger I’m putting both of our hearts in, and I bought the motherfuckers.
I start to hand them to Mac when I hear, “Yum! Chinese! And I’m starving. Oh hey, nice flowers. ”
Turning to my left, I see a tall woman with her golden-blonde hair pulled back in a chic chignon, tailored, cream-colored slacks, pale blue silk blouse, and high heel shoes that I’m betting cost more than most people make in a week. She’s wearing a thick, gold choker at her neck and three-carat diamonds in her ears. Based on the money alone dripping off her, I’m guessing this is Mac’s roommate and socialite heiress, Macy Carrington.
“Okay,” she says as she rolls out of bed. I watch her pad over to her dresser and reach inside. She pulls out a little pair of those boy-shorts underwear and slips them on. Then she pulls out a tiny, tiny t-shirt that covers most of her stomach but not quite all of it. A thin patch of soft skin peeks out. Her br**sts pull the material tight, and her ni**les are poking hard at it.
I’ve seen Mac looking all kinds of gorgeous in all kinds of beautiful clothing. But right now… with her hair all messed up and her lips swollen from sucking my cock, in those underwear that don’t reveal much but the curve of her ass and that little t-shirt… well, I don’t think she’s ever looked more lovely.
She actually hurts to look at, because deep down… I know this probably is not meant to be for the long run. I stare at her though, memorizing the details, so I can have this in my bank of memories to take with me when this is simply no more.
“What do you feel like eating?” she asks genially. “I’ve got stuff to make sandwiches. ”
“That’s good,” I say as I roll out of bed and pull on my underwear. I only have my tuxedo, and I’m not about to put that on until I have to make the walk of shame out of her apartment. I can’t believe I literally spent the entire weekend na**d with Mac. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before… gone that long without clothes.
Nice and liberating. I think it’s something we should do again.
Soon.
I follow Mac out to her kitchen. It’s been a wonder we haven’t run into her roommate all weekend. I’ve heard her… I think, stumbling in around three AM on Saturday morning, but for the most part, I stayed in Mac’s room. She has her own bathroom and she made runs out into the kitchen for food, so I had everything I needed.
Since I’m only in my underwear, I hope the elusive Macy doesn’t decide to visit with us. But I’m also not shy so that won’t bother me probably as much as it would bother her… or Mac.
Mac hands me a bottled water from the fridge and I lean against the kitchen island, watching her bend over to pull out sandwich materials from the fridge. The move makes those boy shorts ride up her ass just a little. Lust surges through me, although I don’t act on it. It would be so simple to walk up behind her, pull her underwear down, and nail her.
She wouldn’t say no.
But I don’t, rather enjoying the feelings coursing through me, and telling myself that I will f**k her one more time before I leave… maybe in the shower. I tell myself that the anticipation will make it better.
“Where do you see me going in your firm?” Mac asks as she stands up with her arms full and turns to the kitchen island.
I’m so stunned by her question, that I’m absolutely blanking on anything to say. We’ve never talked about her employment outside of my firm, and while it’s not taboo or prohibited, I’m not sure how it makes me feel. This gets into some weird, blurred lines because it’s not exactly appropriate that I’m banging my employee. And while I know that Mac would never, not in a million years, ever expect me to treat her differently because of our sexual relationship, it still makes me a bit uncomfortable.
Because I don’t answer right away, she looks up at me in concern. “Did I just ask something wrong?”
I try for some levity to break the tension. “Depends… are you sleeping with me to get a promotion?”
Mac throws a piece of Swiss cheese at me and she’s so fast, I can’t even defend. It hits my right cheek before flopping to the counter.
“Be serious,” she admonishes.
“I am,” I tell her, my voice serious as requested. “You know, this isn’t exactly kosher what we’re doing. ”
She blinks at me in surprise, and it confirms what I originally thought about Mac. It never even crossed her mind to exchange sexual favors for advancement at work. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t asking it like that. ”
“I know you weren’t,” I assure her.
I watch her for a moment as she builds our sandwiches up, waiting for her next move. Waiting to see if she’ll push forward, despite my admonishment that we are walking a slippery slope.
Putting a sandwich on a plate and sliding it over to me she says, “It’s just… I’ve watched what you do, the way you fight for your clients. You make it seem so effortless—”
“It’s not effortless—” I interrupt.
“I know. It’s pure talent,” she says adamantly, and my eyebrows rise over the compliment. “I’m just wondering if I have the same talent… abilities. To maybe do what you do one day?”
Mac Dawson, the lawyer, is a lot of things. Brilliant, assured, hard working. The list could go on and on.
But right now, I’m hearing a distinct lack of confidence in her voice, and that is so “un-Mac-like”.
The man in me… the one that just came down her throat twenty minutes ago, wants to take her in my arms and murmur words of praise and assurance to her.
The lawyer in me has to take a slightly different approach.
“Mac… you are young and have miles to go. But everything I’ve seen so far tells me you have a hell of a career ahead of you. ” In fact, everything I’ve seen so far tells me she’s going to be an amazing litigator, but I don’t go quite that far in my compliments. I don’t want her head getting too big.
“Really?” she asks, looking so very young and so very hopeful.
“Really,” I tell her with a reassuring smile.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re not just saying that because I give good head?”
I can’t help the laugh that bursts out. Eyes crinkled with amusement, I tell her, “You give the best head ever, but that’s not why I’m telling you that. ”
“Okay,” she says, acting relieved, but in truth, she wasn’t ever worried. Then she narrows her eyes again… teasing me. “You’re not just saying I give the best head ever so I’ll give you another bl*w j*b, are you?”
I take a bite of my sandwich and smirk at her while chewing. When I swallow, I say, “You’re something else, McKayla Dawson. ”
She gives me a saucy grin of agreement and starts eating her lunch.
When we’re done, I drag her back to the bedroom where I return the oral favor she bestowed on me, and then we f**k in the shower just as I’d planned.
Yes, Mac Dawson is indeed, something else.
Chapter 16
Sometimes I wish that we could have do-overs in life. I wish we could go back, with the vision of hindsight, pick those parts in our lives where we chose the wrong path, and then just say, “I want a do-over” and then some celestial clerk above who keeps records, would look in his ledger book, and if you had not asked before, he’d give you one.
Yeah… I think I’d like a do-over.
Most people would think that my do-over would be to not have ever met or married Marissa, but they’d be wrong. Without having met and married that bitch, I’d never have Gabe and he’s worth marrying a hundred Marissa’s and being cheated on a hundred times.
No, my do-over would be that I wish I had never met McKayla Dawson.
Ouch… I know that would hurt her a lot if she knew I was thinking that, but f**k… my life was all kinds of simple before she came into it. I had a vision… a plan… an agenda. My priorities were solid. First, be the best possible dad I could be to Gabe. Second, be the best possible lawyer I could be for my clients. Third, f**k my way through Manhattan and enjoy the single life until the day I died.
Mac has screwed number three up royally.
Now, I’m in this weird place with her. We have the most phenomenally compatible sexual chemistry. We are explosive, incendiary, unquenchable.
I will never find another woman in the sack like her.
Never.
But I broke a major rule the second time I f**ked Mac. I continued to break rules by continuing to f**k her. Now, I can’t walk away from it. She’s in my blood, and frankly… I don’t want to give it up.
And this is why I would like a do-over with her… right now… right this very moment.
Because I think, when that moment comes, and she demands more of me, I’m going to f**king get hurt no matter which way I go. If I give her what she wants, I’ll be opening myself up to further pain because nothing this good lasts forever. If I give her up and walk away, I’ll be hurt when I lose her.
I’m in a f**king no-win situation with her, unless Mac miraculously man’s up and decides to leave her gooey, womanly feelings out of this equation, and that’s not going to happen.
And a do-over isn’t going to happen either because there’s no celestial clerk above keeping track of this shit, so I quit wistfully thinking it could happen one day.
Mac and I have settled into this sort of cool routine this week. At work, we are business as usual. The casual observer would never know that I know every nook and cranny of her body. Licked it too, for that matter. When we work on cases together, we are working.
Sure… we may look at each other and yeah, there are some flames leaping out of our eyes, but I doubt anyone notices that. One time… when I was handing a document to Mac, I intentionally slid my pinky finger over the back of her hand, just because I was dying to touch her. Her eyes got a bit glazed and her breath hitched, and I f**king wanted to gloat over it.
But I didn’t.
At the end of the work day, I’ll casually walk around, saying goodbye to those still working. That includes stopping by Mac’s office where, once I determine no one is around, I walk into her office and ask her what she wants for dinner. She tells me, and then, within an hour, I’m at her apartment with food.
We eat, and then we f**k.
Sometimes for hours.
Then I go home, and we do it all over again the next day.
Now see… if it could stay this way, it would be perfect. Sure, I’m committing to some type of monogamy, but like I said before, that’s not a hardship with Mac. And there are really no feelings involved. We eat, we do simple talk, and we f**k. It’s like the perfect equation.
I knock on Mac’s apartment door and wait for her to answer. I know that what I hold in my hand could give her the wrong impression and threaten to increase the volume of her gooey feelings. But f**k it… I couldn’t help myself.
Where’s she’s concerned, I just can’t help myself.
The door opens, and there she is.
Yes, impossibly looking more beautiful than when I saw her at work an hour and a half ago. The sex will be better tonight too.
Mark my words.
It just always gets better.
Mac smiles at me in welcome, her eyes then dropping to the bag of Chinese food I hold in one hand and the bouquet of fresh flowers I picked up at a vendor down the street. Her jaw then sort of drops open as her gaze travels slowly back up to mine.
In that look, I see so many things that really, really make me want that do-over again. Because by bringing her flowers, I’m quietly telling her that maybe I could offer more to her. Which is so not the message I want to give her. I want her to know that this is just sex. Sex is all it is.
And yet… when I walked by that vendor, and I saw that bouquet of big sunflowers and something the vendor said was Queen Anne’s Lace, I knew Mac had to have them. I said f**k the consequences, f**k the danger I’m putting both of our hearts in, and I bought the motherfuckers.
I start to hand them to Mac when I hear, “Yum! Chinese! And I’m starving. Oh hey, nice flowers. ”
Turning to my left, I see a tall woman with her golden-blonde hair pulled back in a chic chignon, tailored, cream-colored slacks, pale blue silk blouse, and high heel shoes that I’m betting cost more than most people make in a week. She’s wearing a thick, gold choker at her neck and three-carat diamonds in her ears. Based on the money alone dripping off her, I’m guessing this is Mac’s roommate and socialite heiress, Macy Carrington.