The Lawyer by Charlotte E Hart
Chapter Thirteen
LANDON
Dropping four files onto Tonya’s in-tray so she can get on with it when she gets back from lunch, I head back through the offices to my own. My phone rings as the lift doors open, Jackson’s name flashing. I know what it’s about, and answering it here isn’t something I’d usually do, but having spent all day Sunday tense enough about Willow and the situation at the ball, I need some relief in the way of a dance. I don’t know what I think it will do, but I’m assuming it might make me stop thinking about my PA.
A short conversation later, confirming the time and date, I end the call and transfer the five thousand he’s chasing me for. Fucking idiotic. I don’t know what I was thinking on Saturday night. Whatever it was, and however good Willow might have felt in my hands, it needs to stop before it goes any further. A kiss is one thing, but what I did was way past that, and a potential litigation I’m not prepared to get into. Not to mention our working relationship. If it hasn’t been ruined already.
I’ve barely spoken to her this morning. Not necessarily because I haven’t wanted to, but with meetings, phone calls, and constant interruptions, I’ve just not had the chance. And when I did, I wasn’t sure what it was that I wanted to say, so it's been strictly work.
She’s sitting at her desk when I finally get back to my corner of the building, a perfectly crisp suit in place covering all that skin I saw this weekend. I stop and shove my hands in my pockets, both frustrated with sensible conversations and yet knowing they’re needed. “You’re not having lunch?” I ask.
She holds up a bag of fruit, face still looking at whatever she’s typing. “Busy. I have a tyrant of a boss.” True enough.
“What’s he got you doing?”
“Trivial stuff.” She smirks to herself and keeps working, delicate hands moving swiftly across the keys. I look at them for a few seconds, remembering the way they tugged my hair. Sadly, the memory leads me down avenues that end near my fucking cock.
Sighing, I look around the room and then back at her. “Do we need to discuss the ball?”
She looks up from behind her laptop. “I don’t know, do we? The budget may need an explanation.”
The fact that I’m still imagining what’s under all those clothes, and the fact that I am just as fixated on her mouth again, proves, to me at least, that we definitely do. And not because of the fucking budget.
I huff, turn, walk. “Come into the office. Shut the door behind you.”
Striding off without waiting for an answer, I get behind my desk and put as much distance between us as possible. The moment she arrives in the space with her tablet in hand and those legs and heels on display again, any amount of fucking space becomes irrelevant.
I stiffen at the look of her approaching me, attempting to swallow down the amount of filth that wants to leave my mouth. “Sit down, Willow.”
“Alright.” It doesn’t help in the slightest because the moment she crosses her legs, the hemline rises up and exposes more of her legs.
“Look, it shouldn’t have happened and—”
“Of course, it shouldn’t.”
My brow rises. “You agree?”
“It was one night, Landon. A drunken one at that. I think we can forgive ourselves and move on without the need to rehash it.” Right.
The fact that I’m being so easily dismissed pisses me off.
“I mean, you’re attractive," she continues. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be hung up on what happened between us. It was a party. We were supposed to have fun, and we did.”
She smirks to herself and keeps those eyes of hers firmly locked with mine before opening her mouth again. “And I’m perfectly capable of appreciating the view from now on without any touching involved. As long as you are. Is that going to be a problem for you?”
Dismissed and now questioned?
I open my mouth.
“It’s the heels, isn’t it?” she says, cutting me off before I get a chance to speak. “Too much?” Yes. “They’re not going to change.” Of course, they’re not. I don’t want them to either. “You may get to dictate to everyone else in your life, but you can’t tell me what to wear just because you can’t control yourself. I’ve already checked my contract, and there’s nothing about shoes in the dress code.”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t control myself.”
“Well, if you can, why are we having this conversation?”
“Because I felt it was pertinent to have it.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“We’re both grown-ups, Landon. Any fantasies, or desires, we might have can be controlled, yes?” Unlikely at the moment with the way she keeps coming back at me so succinctly. I'm about ready to bend her over something and teach her some manners. “And if you think I’d put my career and reputation at risk because of a fling, you’re very much mistaken.”
“A fling?”
“Yes. Were you thinking it was something else?”
“No, but—”
“Actually, what we did didn’t even count as a fling. More like a lesson in stress relief, at least for me. Not really that memorable at all.” She gets up, running her hands down her skirt to straighten it out in such a way that suggests anything but professional. “Thank you, by the way. For the … relief. You walked away before there was any time for pleasantries. Or anything more.” She chuckles and begins to turn, making me look directly at an arse I haven’t yet slapped.
“Are you suggesting I’m not capable of more?”
Her head swings back, eyes focused on mine. “You’re the one saying it won’t happen again. Or have I got that wrong?”
We stare, both of us knowing exactly what’s about to happen if I don’t, as she says, control my desires. It seems I don’t feel much like controlling them at all, as proved by me getting up and rounding my desk. “Lock the door.”
“Mr Broderick, I believe that would be a policy infringement.”
“Alright. You choose then. Lock it, or leave. The offer of investigating my capabilities won’t be on the table any longer than this room if you choose the latter.”
What was overconfidence, and possible impudence, quietens on her face as she takes in both options. Enough so that she seems to falter for a moment, her mouth open and wavering. “Playing with me usually spikes my interest rather than reverses it, Willow, as I’m sure you’ve worked out, which leads me to believe that you’re as interested in fucking as I am. Make a choice.”
“That's a rather forward statement.” Her voice is less sure now I’ve put the offer out there for her.
“I’ll be a damn sight more forward if you lock that door.”
She looks me over from the eight-foot gap between us, her tongue running over her lips. “What will you do?”
I chuckle and take a step closer, pulling the jacket from my shoulders to sling it on a chair. “My patience for conversation is running low, Willow. Lock it, or leave.”
Her feet begin backing up after a few more seconds thought, her hand reaching for the door. I still don’t know if she’s going to lock it or leave until I watch her fingers grab the lock and twist. My own hands go straight to my tie and yank it, neck stretching around.
“Just so we’re clear. This is fucking. Nothing else,” I mutter, looking at her legs. “Don’t, for one minute, think it can be anything other than that.”
She narrows her stare at me, her fingers going to the buttons on her jacket to pop them open. “You assume I’d want anything else.” Fine. That works for me.
I watch as she loses the jacket completely and tosses it at mine on the chair. “Oh look, our jackets are fucking before we are.”
Not for much longer.
“Take the skirt off.”
“No.”
I’m moving to her body before she has another chance to make any decisions at all, my hands pushing her so she’s against the very door she’s just locked. Fuck, she smells good, and the feel of her up against me brings all the memories back from the weekend.
Heavy perfume assaults my senses this close up, as does the feel of the skirt as I ruck it up over her arse. Add in her desperate mouth on mine, and then the feel of her hands grabbing at anything she can reach, and I’m rampant to quench this thirst.
My head drops down to her chest, one hand pushing her breast up until I can get a mouthful of it through the dark blue shirt. She groans at the weight of me on her, her head tipping back as I bite in a little.
“Jesus, Landon,” she says, grabbing hold of my shoulders and panting. “Get on with it.”
She gets another fucking bite for that, as both my hands lift her off the damn floor so I can get her to the desk. Her hands skitter backwards the second she lands on it, pushing all the folders and files off the side to make room. For once, I couldn’t give a fuck about the mess, and instead, I ratchet my belt buckle, as desperate to get inside her as she is for me to be there.
Wild hands keep grabbing at me, both of them full of strength and ardour. I’m so fucking lost in the moment I barely notice my fingers sinking inside her as she moans loudly. My other palm covers her mouth instantly, hard eyes trying to tell her to keep it down. She doesn’t, but at least it’s muffled, as she reaches into my trousers and grabs hold of me.
Fuck.
My palm slips away from her mouth, lips going to hers instead so I can groan into it. Christ that feels good, as does the way her fingers move up and down it. I back off and pant with her, watching as she looks at my cock in her hand. The sight of that is damn near enough for me to explode, and certainly is as she starts undoing buttons on her shirt.
She’s pulled forward before the pressure gets too much for me, legs pushed wider so I can get my body between them. It isn’t until the actual moment when I’m about to drive into her that I realise we haven’t even discussed protection.
“Are you covered?”
Her legs wrap around my back, yanking me forward to her. “Yes.”
I’m forging in to the hilt before she knows it, watching the way her eyes widen and her body shunts backwards. My fingers grab on tighter to hold her still, one hand going to her leg to keep it where I want it. She moans again as I lower to her mouth, her lips desperate on mine.
“Fuck, that’s good,” she says, pulling on my back. “Again.” I pull out and fuck back in again, more force involved this time. Her hands let go of me instantly, both of them going above her head so I can use her any way I choose. “Harder. More.”
Her head tips back as I bring her right to the edge of the desk, back arching. All I can see is the stretch of her neck, the swell of her breasts under a black bra. My fingers go straight to it to move that out of the way, and I get on with sucking something I’ve been denied for too fucking long.
Another moan leaves her the second I do, and my hips kick up a gear at the sound of it. “Keep it fucking quiet,” I snap, ramming in.
She doesn’t, and I end up muffling her mouth again as I keep slamming into her. I don’t fucking want to. I want it loud and out in the air. I want noise and scrambling hands, groans and screams. The thought makes me pull her off the desk, flipping her until she’s bent over it and I can hold her mouth easier.
“Didn’t think you’d be a noisy one,” I snarl, biting at her neck. She nods in my hand, mewls and whimpers, as I get my hand between her legs and sink it inside her. Three fingers strum at all the parts of her I’m finding, then run up to her clit. “Take these fucking panties off.”
She moves and starts pushing them down her thighs, her arse shuffling about near my cock. I’m damn close to ramming myself in there when she grabs hold of my cock and inches backwards, moaning for me again.
My own hand slaps her backside so hard she yelps into my fingers, still covering her mouth.
“Fuck,” she spits.
“My office. My rules. I say when you get this, not you.”
I bend her downwards until she’s over the desk again, eyes looking at the reddening of her arse cheek. “Are you going to keep quiet?” She shakes her head, lacking language skills now my hand’s back inside her. The only thing I get are those fucking sounds in the air I’m desperate for. Moans and groans come hard and heavy as I keep working her pussy. I end up reaching for my jacket and shoving it under her mouth. “Bite down on it.”
Her teeth instantly sink in, and I pull my hand out and drive my cock back in.
Both her hands go to the other edge of the desk, fingers whitening as I keep driving in.
“Fuck, you feel good,” I mutter, slamming in again.
I pull her back on me, one hand creeping around her hips so I can feel myself moving in and out of her. The power of my own hips ends up crushing my forearm between her and the desk, and I don’t give one fuck about it. She’s all I can feel, all I can sense, as the cum starts to build in me because of her.
Christ knows how long it goes on for. It’s just a haze of fucking and sound and sensation, all of it charged and as filthy as I can make it here. She’s turned again at some point, my grasp pulling her close enough that I end up holding her against a wall and fucking her against it.
Her lips attack me, the sweet taste of her tongue mingling with mine. I can feel her fingers at my neck, her legs wrapped tight around my back.
“More. Fuck yes, more,” she cries into my mouth as she shudders in my hold. “Oh god, yes. I’m coming.” The moans grow so loud I end up smothering her mouth again and moving her back to the desk. The moment her arse hits it, and the angle changes, it’s all I can do to hold off for a few more drives inwards.
My mouth goes to hers again instantly, not only to contain her sounds, but my own too.
“Fuck,” growls out of me as I unload into her. “Fuck.” It's all I’ve got to say. Never in my life have I felt that much come out of me. I swallow, loosen my hands on her body, and pant as it keeps coming through me. “Jesus, fucking Christ.”
She moans and clamps around me, milking anything that I’ve got left. My legs are shaking, body tense and aggravated. I lean up, hands planted by her head, and watch as she squirms around my cock and rides out her own orgasm. “Fucking beautiful,” I murmur, unable to keep my eyes off her half-covered breasts and stomach.
Her legs pull on my back, both her hands coming up to grab me down to her. We’re kissing again before I know it, until, eventually, it’s just our foreheads resting on each other’s in silence.
“I can’t believe you slapped my arse,” she says, panting.
My head rears up slowly, a dirty smile loose on my face. “You’re damn lucky you didn’t get more of it.”
“I didn’t deserve it.”
I pull out of her, kissing her stomach and leg on the way, and set about straightening myself up. “Yes. You did. Being provocative deserves all kinds of filth.”
My hand goes to hers, fingers pulling her up until she’s sitting there, with her legs still open, giving me yet more reasons to feel challenged. I smile and fall back into my chair, eyes trained on her tousled form. I’ve never seen anything more fucking stunning on my desk in my life.
Wide, sultry lips half smiling at me.
Dazed eyes.
Breasts exposed.
Lean, toned legs.
"You should get cleaned up,” I murmur, still staring at her. Not that I want her to. I could sit here for hours and take this in. Fuck work. Fuck life other than this, actually.
“Mmm.” She grins and runs a hand down to her pussy, finger sliding through my cum until she takes it to her mouth and sucks. “I guess I should. If you're finished with me, Sir.”
Her legs snap closed the second she’s said it, and she drops her heels back down to the floor and gets up. Her bra gets put back in place, shirt buttons done up, and she’s back in her jacket in no time. In fact, I almost feel fucking dismissed as she walks towards the door with barely a glance back at me.
Not a feeling I’m ecstatic about in the slightest.
“Willow?” She stops her fingers before turning the lock completely. “That will happen again as often as I see fit. Be prepared for it.” She doesn’t turn, nor does she give me any hint if she’s agreeable to it or not. She simply walks out, leaving me unsure what the fuck just happened and who's in control of anything going forward.