Confessions of a Litigation God: A Legal Affairs Full Length Erotic Novel (9 page)

And every guy, with
the exception of me, is wondering.

I already know.

One guy in
particular, Brian Summers from Houston, has been out-drinking
everyone at the table and is openly leering across it at her. She
knows it… caught him on more than one occasion, and he has
enough alcohol in him that he doesn’t even know he should be
embarrassed. But Mac is handling all of it like a pro. I’ve
seen many women lawyers carry around a big chip on their shoulders
because they don’t know how to compete in, what has
traditionally been, a man’s world.

So they either
become quivering balls of nervous tension that fly apart at the
slightest bit of provocation, or they walk around pretending to sport
big, brass balls underneath their skirts.

Not Mac though.
She’s thoughtful in her words, playing into the male ego
without overtly utilizing her feminine charms. Every fucking word out
of her mouth is professional and brilliant, and even though those men
are checking her out as a woman, they admire her professionally.

Except for Brian who
is too drunk to do anything but ogle her.

Bastard.

And speaking of her
professional and brilliant mouth, I’d love to have it wrapped
around my cock again.

Shaking my head, I
take another sip of my whiskey. I have got to stop thinking about her
like that. They say the average man thinks about sex at least every
seven seconds. I think that’s an exaggeration, but damn if I
don’t think about McKayla at least that often. May not have sex
involved, but I think about her way too much.

When dinner is over,
we all head to the bar for a “nightcap”. I don’t
particularly want one, and these boors are starting to get on my
nerves. McKayla, however, gladly accepts and heads to the bar for
another glass of wine. I stand there, with only my second whiskey of
the night I’ve been nursing, and talk to one of my colleagues,
David Mills. He’s an older attorney from Los Angeles and we’ve
had several cases together in the past. Out of the entire group, he’s
about the only one I can really stand, and that’s only because
he’s old enough that his ego has mellowed somewhat.

“You did a
really fine job today,” David says and clinks his glass against
mine. “I’m thinking that this case won’t even make
it to the courtroom.”

I nod absently at
him, because my attention right now is focused on Brian approaching
Mac at the bar. I tense up when I see him stumble into her, knocking
a big wave of her wine out of her glass and onto her lap. She’s
pissed but remains calm, blotting the liquid with a napkin. She says
something to him and, by the look on her face, it’s not very
nice. By the drunk look on his, I can tell he doesn’t
understand that she’s pissed.

“What do you
think about asking for a voluntary mediation among the parties?”
David asks me, and I slide a glance toward him… my face rather
blank because, while I heard him, while I understood him, my mind is
focused more on Brian putting drunk moves on Mac.

“Yeah…
maybe,” I say before turning my attention back to the bar.

They exchange some
more words, and his gaze is practically glued to her breasts. She
says something that causes his gaze to finally lift to her eyes, and
he replies with something that pisses her off. My neck starts aching
with the tension I’m holding, and I hand my glass to David. “If
you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

I start walking
toward Mac because I don’t like what’s going down. I’m
not five feet from her when she stands up from her seat and tries to
push past Brian. Fury rages through me when I see him reach out and
actually grab her breast. Fury at him for touching her and fury at
myself that I’m not there yet to stop him.

Mac knocks his hand
away, and he reaches back for her. I’m two feet from her when I
see her cock her arm back, intent on hitting him.

But then I’m
there and I have him by the shoulder, slinging him away from Mac with
such force, he crashes into an empty table, slides over the top of
it, and tumbles to the floor on the opposite side. I don’t even
wait for him to make contact with the floor before I’m
following his trajectory. When I round the table, he’s lying on
his back, blinking up at me in confusion. The other lawyers in the
group all just stand around, looking at us with shock over my violent
explosion, because they probably weren’t aware of what Brian
had just been doing.

I pull him up by the
lapels of his jacket and haul him in close to my face. My voice is
filled with rage when I say, “It will do me no good to beat
your ass or tell you how reprehensible your conduct is, because you
won’t remember it in the morning. Rest assured… I’ll
be by your hotel room first thing in the morning, and then I’ll
decide which part of me you’ll get.”

Brian blinks at me
continually, having no clue what he did or what I’m saying
because he’s too shit-faced.

Disgusted, I push
him away from me and he goes stumbling backward. Luckily, two of the
lawyers in our group catch him to hold him upright. I don’t
spare him another glance but turn to leave the bar.

Stalking past Mac, I
don’t even look at her. I just growl, “Let’s go.”

In the elevator, I
am fuming. My heart is thundering, my skin is itching, and my
breathing is shallow. I wanted to punch Brian so badly, but common
sense prevailed. Looking down at my hands, I notice they have a
slight shake going on so I shove them in my pockets and lean back
against the wall and close my eyes.

“I’m
sorry,” Mac says softly.

My eyes snap open in
surprise and pin her in place. “For what?”

“I don’t
know,” she says in a small voice. “I thought you were
pissed at me.”

“Mac…
you have nothing to be sorry for. That pig was drunk and
inappropriate with you. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

“Well, that’s
a little overboard,” she says with a laugh. “I’m
sure he got the message how very wrong it was.”

“No,” I
snap, my voice icy. “He didn’t get the message. But he
will tomorrow morning when I pay him a visit.”

“What will you
do?”

“He’s
off the case. I’m sending him packing.”

“What?”
she practically yells. “You can’t do that. He was just
drunk.”

No, he was way
more than drunk. He fucking touched what was mine.

I push away from the
wall and, in one large stride, I’m standing nose to nose with
her, vibrating with jealous rage. “He had his fucking hands on
your breast, Mac.”

“So what if he
was touching me?” she whispers as she looks up at me, her eyes
soft and knowing.

She knows.

She knows that I’m
fucking jealous as hell, and I don’t give a shit.

Placing one hand on
the wall by her head and leaning down so my lips are just a breath
away from hers, I tell her, “Because it should be my hands that
are on your body… only mine.”

Mac lets out a
wistful sigh, and it makes my stomach clench hard. She wants me, the
way I want her, and I doubt she’d try to talk sense in to me
tonight if I make a move.

And right now,
coming off rage and jealousy coursing through my body over a woman
that I want but shouldn’t have, I don’t know that I have
the ability to say no to her. Of course, I’m not the type to
wait for her to offer. I’m the type that will just take, and I
think that’s exactly what I’ll do.

At least for
tonight.

The elevator door
chimes, and we stare at each other just a moment more. When the doors
slide open, I grab her hand and lead her out. I walk down the hall,
my strides long, and she’s at a half jog to keep up with me as
I lead her to her room. When we get there, I merely grab her purse
out of her hands and dig around inside until I find the room key. Mac
doesn’t say a word, but I can hear her breathing unevenly.

I slide the keycard
in and push the door open. Grabbing Mac by the elbow, I push her
inside.

Propel her past the
bathroom.

Push her into the
middle of the room and throw her purse to the floor.

When she turns to
look at me, I know my eyes reflect the same exact thing I see in
hers.

Starvation.

No more than a few
seconds pass, not a word is spoken.

Then we launch
ourselves at each other.

My hands dive into
that glorious hair, and my mouth comes down hard on hers. I kiss her
so deeply that I may have hit a tonsil.

When I pull back, I
grumble against her lips, “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m
doing this again.”

We kiss so hard that
we’ll remember it twenty years from now. Like two ravenous
fools and the only sustenance resides in the other person’s
mouth. It’s rough, teeth clashing, biting, nipping, but we
don’t stop.

No way are we going
to stop.

Mac’s hands,
which had previously been clasped behind my neck, unlatch and snake
down to my chest. I can feel the heat of her skin through my shirt,
and as I suck hard on her lower lip, she flexes her fingertips into
my pecs and I feel the sting of nails.

She emits a rumbling
sound of need, and her hands go to the edges of my shirt. Gripping
tightly, she yanks hard, trying to rip my shirt down the middle in a
passionate display of wantonness. Unfortunately, the buttons hold
strong and her hands go flying outward, clutching desperately at
nothing but the air around us.

Poor Mac.

She has such a
flummoxed look on her face, standing there with her arms wide and her
fingers flexing open and closed, that I can’t help it. I bend
over and start laughing, with my eyes squeezed shut. I keep them shut
because if I look at her, standing there with her empty hands out to
her side and that confused look on her face, I might fucking wet my
pants.

Okay, I’m
going to look at her and yup… she’s totally fucking
bewildered, and I laugh even harder, having to prop a hand on the
dresser so I don’t fall over. “That was probably the
funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” I wheeze.

Her eyes narrow and
her lips flatten into a grim line. “Is your shirt like made of
steel or something?”

I blink at her,
letting what she said sink in, and then I start laughing all over
again… hysterically. I can’t stop, and it feels fucking
awesome. For someone that doesn’t laugh… like hardly
ever, it feels liberating.

Cleansing.

Dare I say, healing?

Gasping for air, I
look back up at her and she’s pissed. Her arms are crossed over
her chest, and she’s tapping her foot on the carpet.

I try to put on a
straight face, chuckle a few more times, maybe snort once, and then
hold my hands out in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry…
but that was funny.”

I then give her my
most charming grin. The one I know will bring out my dimples, which
I’ve been told women are powerless to resist. She glares at me,
doesn’t seem to respect the dimples, and walks away. When she
reaches the door, she opens it and says, “Yeah, not so much for
me. I’m sort of not in the mood now.”

God, she’s
adorable and my cock leaps in agreement. Smirking at her, I cross my
own arms over my chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I told you
I’m not in the mood,” she says and stomps her foot.

I shoot her a look
that says,
You’re a total liar,
and then I sit down on
the edge of her bed. Hands to belt buckle, I start to undo it, and
her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Yes, you
are,” I tell her, because I know damn well she wants this as
much as I do. “Now get over here. I’d kill for you to
take me in your mouth right now.”

Giving a humongous
sigh, Mac closes the door and walks back toward me. “What are
we doing, Matt?”

She sounds tired of
this game.

Poor Mac.

That’s why I’m
not playing it any more. Pulling my belt out of the loops, I throw it
on the floor. Reaching for the button on my pants, I pop it open and
stare at her hard. “I’d say you’re getting ready to
give me a blow job, and then I’m going to make you come more
times than you’ll be able to remember tomorrow.”

I don’t miss
the soft gust of air that passes over her lips or the way her eyes
flick down to the erection pushing painfully against my zipper. Her
eyes are filled with longing but also with doubt. When she looks back
at me, I can tell I may have misjudged her a bit. She might not
actually want this.

I tilt my head at
her in question, silently asking her to tell me what’s wrong.

Clasping her hands
in front of her, which I’ve come to recognize as a nervous
sign, she says, “I thought we both agreed this was wrong.
Besides, you got your jollies off again at
One Night Only
this
weekend and…”

She pauses, seeming
to rethink what she was getting ready to say.

But I know what she
was going to say. She doesn’t need to utter a single word. She
was going to tell me that because I slept with someone else through
One Night Only
, this night is not going to happen between us.
She’s pulling the monogamy card out on me, and it causes my
eyes to narrow at her.

Mac can see by the
look on my face that I don’t like where this is going and she
takes a small step backward, sticking her chin up in defiance. “And
besides,” she continues, “I slept with someone else, too,
this weekend. Remember… most amazing weekend ever.”

Her gaze lowers, and
she stares at the carpet with sad eyes.

Yeah, this is
getting out of hand.

I don’t like
my sex habits being questioned, but it’s not going to do us any
good with this lie hanging between us. No matter what happens from
here on out, whether she takes me back to her bed or not, I can’t
have her believing that I was with someone else. Doesn’t matter
if I feel I fully have the right to have slept with half of Manhattan
and still try to fuck her, I just don’t want her feeling like
she is like all of my other fucks. For some reason, that I prefer not
to analyze at this moment, it’s important to me that she knows
she’s more.