Confessions of a Litigation God: A Legal Affairs Full Length Erotic Novel (19 page)

“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 blow job, 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 fuck in the shower just as I’d
planned.

Yes, Mac Dawson is
indeed, something else.

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 fuck…
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, fuck 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 fucked Mac. I continued to break rules by
continuing to fuck 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 fucking 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
fucking 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 fucking 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
fuck.

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 fuck. 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 fuck 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 fuck the consequences, fuck 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.

“Matt…
this is my roommate, Macy. Macy… this is Matt.”

Macy turns around,
running her eyes lasciviously over me, looking at my crotch extra
close, and says, “Dayum, Mac. He is H-O-T. If you ever get
tired of hitting that, let me know. I’ll take him for a test
drive.”

I know my eyes
practically bug out of my head, because while Mac has told me that
Macy is over-the-top crazy and has practically no sexual morals, I
really didn’t know what she meant. Now, I kind of see it. She’s
fucking dead serious that she would gladly fuck me if Mac gets tired.

And… because
I’m a man, of course, my thoughts automatically go to having a
three-way with her and Mac. I can’t help it. That’s what
men do, and while I entertain the thought briefly, I know there’s
no way in hell Mac would ever go for it. I’d never ask her,
because I can tell she’s never the type that would share.

Macy would.

In a heartbeat.

But not Mac.

Macy grabs the
Chinese food from my hands and says, “Nice to meet you, and
thanks for the food. I’m starving.”

Turning to Mac, I
look at her with a grin, but she’s looking at Macy’s
retreating back. “That’s Matt’s and my dinner.”

She yells back, “I’m
willing to share. Come on in and let’s eat.”

Mac turns to look at
me in apology. She takes the flowers from my hands, eyes soft and
warm, while whispering, “I’m sorry. We can make up some
plates and go eat in my bedroom if you want.”

Now, while the
prospect of eating Chinese food naked on Mac’s bed appeals to
me greatly, and it would be naked eating because we made a pact this
weekend that if we had any food in the bed, we at least had to be
naked, I simply cannot help but want to know more about this weird
creature, Macy Carrington.

“No way. I
want to get to know this roommate of yours a little bit better.”

Mac just rolls her
eyes at me, but she giggles, so I know she understands what I’m
saying. That I just find this outspoken, loose woman fascinating,
especially since they are best friends and she’s like the polar
opposite of Mac. Actually, in my pre-Mac days, Macy would have been a
perfect match for me.

We walk into the
kitchen, and Mac gets a vase to put the flowers in. I see Macy has
already taken three plates out of the cupboard and set them on the
kitchen table. We all sit down and start pulling food out of the
boxes… sweet and sour pork, cold sesame noodles, and shrimp
fried rice.

“So, Matt…
you and Mac were so loud this weekend. I told Mac you two made me
horny, just listening to you.”

I choke, and choke
hard, on the fried rice I’m trying to swallow. I take a sip of
water to wash it down, my eyes watering slightly.

“Shut up,
Macy,” Mac says sternly, although her eyes are laughing at her
roommate. “You can stop trying to shock him now.”

Macy just gives me a
goofy grin and pushes some noodles in her mouth. “But
seriously, isn’t this a little uncouth… banging your
employee.”

“Macy!”
Mac growls at her. “Enough.”

Macy laughs and
punches Mac lightly on the arm. “Okay… I’m done.”

For a while, I
forget that I’m sitting in my lover’s apartment, having a
fantastically fun conversation with two witty and beautiful women,
and I don’t think it’s crossed my mind once about all of
the dark thoughts I had earlier. In fact, this seems to feel almost…
natural, as evidenced by the way that my hand would stray over to
Mac’s knee and just rub it softly because I happened to be
thinking about her at that moment. She would smile at me, and I would
return it… because that felt natural too.

Fuck, I need a
do-over because I think otherwise, I’m pretty much doomed.

“So, Matt…
where do you live?” Macy asks.

“I live over
in Chelsea.”

“That’s
closer to your office—how come you two just don’t go
there after work? I mean, it’s not like you do anything but eat
and screw like bunnies.”

True enough. That’s
pretty much all we do, except we do talk and oh, we watch
Family
Guy
sometimes too.

Mac turns to look at
me with a smile and playfully punches me on the shoulder. “Yeah,
how come you never take me to your place?”

I grin back at her,
because we’re joking around… right? “Because I
never invite the women I’m just fu—”

I stop suddenly,
realizing that I really don’t think we are playing. I really
don’t think what I was getting ready to say is going to be
received as teasing by Mac. I look at her and my eyes apologize even
if the words don’t immediately spill out of my lips.

The look on her face
is brave, but I can tell she’s hurt. Even so, her tone of voice
is teasing… jovial. “You mean—you don’t
invite the women you’re just fucking over to your place.”

She’s hiding
the fact that I just hurt her, and that makes me feel ten times worse
because she should just be a woman and get offended. Slap me, dump
Chinese food in my lap, and kick me in the nuts.

Even though I just
spoke the truth, I didn’t have to say that. I could have lied,
and Mac would never know that deep down inside… I’m
still just a slime ball when it comes to women.