DEFENSE (3 page)

“And you want me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Galiema replied. “You’re a good lawyer, Katie. Plus, you’ve not taken on a media fodder case yet, so there’ll be no preconceptions about your competence, no film reel to look back through, you know? So, think you can handle your first high-profile case?”

I felt a swell of pride. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

This sounded like it was going to be the defining moment of my career so far. Every lawyer wanted to win a high-profile case—it led to publicity, making a name for yourself, the possibility of becoming a partner or starting your own firm off the back of it.

“I’m on my way,” I said, grabbing my keys and purse. “What’s the case?”

“He’s some basketball player for the Washington Wizards. I can’t remember his name. He’s a Brit. Just been charged with murder.” I listened to the sound of her clicking her fingers as the name suddenly came to her. “Harrison Wrexler! That’s it. Heard of him?”

My heart felt like it stopped beating. Harrison Wrexler? Was I really about to come face to face with the man I’d been staring at on a TV screen as I orgasmed?

“Yeah, I’ve heard of him,” I said almost hypnotically.

Heard of him, fantasized about him...

“Then I’m sure you’ll know about how much of a self-entitled jerk he is,” Galiema’s harsh voice said, cutting through my thoughts. “Fast sports cars, wrecking hotels, binging on prostitutes, the whole shebang. God, I hate representing these rich boys. But they pay the bills, you know? So how long will you be?”

My head was spinning as I listened to Galiema speak. It took me a second to realize she’d asked me a question that needed an answer.

“I’m calling a taxi now,” I said, snapping back to attention. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Galiema ended the call abruptly, and I dropped my phone. I stared at it a moment, bemused, then stood, my heart racing.

“Where are you going?” Tim said, looking up at me with accusatory eyes.

“A case has just come in. A huge one.” I couldn’t hide the excitement in my voice.

“Your best friend’s just been raped,” Tim said bluntly.

His words brought me crashing back down to earth. Jessica…I knew I shouldn’t leave her, but at the same time this was work—my career. Work had to come first, didn’t it?

“I’m on call,” I replied with a strained voice. “I can’t say no. It’s my job.”

I didn’t add the fact that I didn’t
want
to say no, that the thought of representing Harrison Wrexler was making my veins crackle with electricity.

Tim shook his head with disappointment. “Whatever. I’ll take care of her. You carry on putting your priorities in the wrong order.”

He stood and headed towards Jessica’s room, leaving me standing in the living room feeling shell-shocked. But no matter what strange emotions were coursing through me, the one thing my mind kept returning to was Harrison Wrexler’s smoldering glare and the orgasm that had pulsed through me as I’d looked into his eyes.

I left the apartment and headed out into a drizzly evening, my heart fluttering with the anticipation of coming face to face with Harrison Wrexler.

Harrison

I lay back against the pillow, watching her undress. Her skin was the color of caramel, and the lamplight made the soft downy hair on her arms look like flecks of gold. 

“What’s your name again?” I said.

She gave me a look before rolling down her pantyhose. “Shantelle. I told you like a thousand times.”

I shrugged. “I’m not rich because of my amazing memory, you know.”

I could tell by the look in her eyes that she thought I was an arrogant prick, but she was still going to fuck me, just so she could tell her friends the next morning that she’d spent the night with Harrison Wrexler, the famous sports star. She probably didn’t even know what sport I played, or what team I played for. She probably only knew
my
name because she’d Googled me. She was shallow, and the thought made me feel empty. But I was going to fuck her, too, just to feel something, which made me just as bad as her.

“Come here,” I said, patting the bed.

She was wearing just her bra and underwear, having already discarded her slinky dress and shoes. The sight of her body made me practically salivate. She was tall and slim with curves in all the right places. She was exactly the sort of girl a guy like me was supposed to want to be with—the trophy girlfriend everyone expected to see on my arm. But it had been a long time since I’d shared my life—or my bed—with a woman.

She was in a lacy black bra and matching knickers, an unpractical sort that looked like they were designed more for show than comfort. It was almost like she knew she was getting laid tonight, like she’d set out to achieve it. I suppose a girl as attractive as her never found it hard to meet a willing sex buddy. She probably assumed a guy like me didn’t find it hard, either. Little did she know.

She tottered over to the bed. She was drunk, possibly even too drunk. I thought about ending it right there and then, a little anxious that this could be a setup, that she might claim rape and go to all the newspapers, eventually getting me to pay her off to keep it out of court.

“Do I…” I mumbled. “Are you consenting to have sex with me?”

She burst out laughing, throwing back her shiny mane of hair.

“Is that what you Brits say before every fuck?” she said, her eyes flashing.

“No, it’s just…”

I let my voice trail away, feeling stupid, like an idiot.

Shantelle came over to the bed. “Yes, I’m consenting to have sex with you.” She began crawling from the foot of the bed upwards, over my body. Warmth radiated from her skin, and I felt my erection growing harder at the sight of her, at the way her breasts sat in her bra, so soft, so inviting. I wanted to touch them, to lick her nipples, taste her skin. I wondered how she liked to be fucked...hard or soft.

“Come here,” she growled, ripping the bed covers back to reveal my nakedness and bulging cock.

Hard,
I thought. She was going for theatrics. Not always my cup of tea, but after five months in the wilderness, I wasn’t going to complain. I could make myself enjoy a fast fuck, especially with a stranger, though my preference was slow, lingering and long, lasting hours, lasting all night, hour after hour of titillating bliss until my body couldn’t take any more...

“Aren’t you a big boy?” Shantelle said, pressing her groin right against me.

I gasped and placed my hands lightly on her hips.

“You can squeeze harder, you know,” she said, moving my hands down to her ass.

It felt great, warm and fleshy. I kneaded it like dough.

“Yeah, baby,” she said, moaning way more than necessary and throwing her head back.

“Don’t,” I said.

She looked down, frowned. “Don’t what?”

“Pretend,” I said. “I’m not your baby.”

She gave a nonchalant shrug. “Would you prefer it if I called you sir?” She bit her lip seductively. “Or my lord?” She leaned down, her mouth just inches from mine. “What about
daddy
?
”

“Jesus,” I said, pushing her up slightly. “Definitely not that.”

She rolled her eyes. I was boring her. She hadn’t been expecting me to be so square. When she’d first clocked eyes on me in the bar, I was a famous, drunk sports hunk, and she’d probably made all kinds of assumptions about me. Just like the media did. She probably expected me to take her back for a drug-fuelled orgy, or, at the very least, expected me to be more up for some kinky shit. I wasn’t about to tell her why nothing made me smile anymore—not sex, not alcohol, not scoring a three-pointer off the halfway line. Shantelle the Stranger wasn’t getting any more of me than I was willing to give.

That said, I didn’t want her going back to her mates and telling them I was the worst fuck of her life. At the very least I wanted her to leave satisfied. And that would mean giving in to whatever demands she made of me.

I reared up, shoving her off me and rolling on top. She seemed to like that, letting out a noise somewhere between a squeal and a shriek. She was going to be a noisy one, no doubt about it. I was just going to have to try to enjoy the ride.

I fumbled with her bra hook, struggling to find the catch. It was an act I’d once gotten down to a T, and no longer being able to do it made me lose my patience. I ripped it off. Shantelle gasped with arousal, her eyes widening and the pupils turning into black pools of desire.

“You’d better pay for that, prick,” she said, grinning.

Oh, it was like that, was it? She wanted to feel like I was using her. She got off on being at the whim and mercy of a powerful guy. Fine. I could play that game.

I reached out and grabbed my wallet from the table. I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and dangled it in front of her. She went to take it, but I moved it out the way.

“Once you’ve earned it,” I said.

Her legs tightened around me in response, thrilled and aroused by my loutish behavior. I wanted to get inside her head more than I did her cunt, work out what the hell made her tick. Why did it get her off, feeling like she was being bought, feeling like sex was some kind of exchange? But no, Shantelle wasn’t the sort of woman who wanted to be psychoanalyzed. She just wanted a hard fuck and the ability to gloat the next day, and I was going to give it to her.

I grabbed a condom and rolled it along my cock.

“No foreplay?” she said.

“You think you deserve it?” I sneered.

She gasped and murmured, “God, you’re a fucking dickhead.”

I shoved her hands down against the pillow. “And you’re a fucking whore.”

I entered her, hard, all the way. She was wet, so wet and ready. I was pleased that I’d gotten her to such a state of arousal, but being inside of someone again was making me feel strange. It didn’t feel like being inside of Catherine. Her gasps and moans didn’t sound like Catherine’s, either.

“Yes, baby, fuck me hard,” she cried.

“Shhh,” I said, knowing that if I closed my eyes I could pretend it was my wife I was fucking and not some girl I’d found in a bar.

“Don’t tell me to be quiet,” Shantelle said.

“If you want me to fuck you hard,” I warned, “you need to shut up.”

She grinned and pressed her lips together. I rewarded her by plunging my cock as far into her as I could. I fucked her hard, just like she wanted. I’d never fucked Catherine like this, like she didn’t mean anything to me at all, but part of me was giving way to the pleasure. A little bit of me was starting to enjoy the way my bed rocked with the power of each of my thrusts, and the way her body inched up the mattress until her head was right up against the headboard, bent at an uncomfortable angle. I knew that if I wanted to I could keep fucking her even if it meant her head smacking against the hardwood, but I had to draw the line there, though just the thought made a sensation of power course through me.

I inched down the mattress, dragging Shantelle down with me. She sat up and wrapped her legs around my waist, angling me deeper inside of her. I moaned with pleasure, relieved at last to find myself letting go of all my pent-up emotion. I grabbed her ass hard with my fingers, kneading it in the way she’d enjoyed before.

“Use your nails,” she gasped in my ear.

So I did. I scratched her body, up and down her sexy back, knowing I was leaving marks on her beautiful, unblemished skin, knowing she wanted me to, enjoying the knowledge that I was hurting her just a little bit.

We turned around, and I pulled her up into my lap, flopping back against the bed. Time for her to do the work.

She began to bounce, fast, making her neat little boobs jiggle all over the place. Her hair was sticking to the sweat on her neck and forehead. It was starting to curl at the edges. Her skin was turning pinker. She was panting hard, like she was running a marathon.

I was gripped by a sudden anxiety. I grabbed her by the shoulders, make her stop mid-bounce.

“How old are you?” I demanded.

She laughed then grinned mischievously. “How old do you want me to be?”

“Stop fucking around,” I barked, and this time I wasn’t acting. My fear was real, and she could feel it; and just like before, she loved it.

“I’m twenty-one,” she said, throwing me that deadpan look of hers. “Wanna see some ID?”

“No,” I replied, realizing how much of a lunatic I was sounding.

I was paranoid. Of course I was; I had good reason to be. But I wanted to put that aside just for one hour, just so I could enjoy the company of a gorgeous woman without acting like a freak. I’d been getting there before. I was letting myself unwind, letting myself enjoy using this girl for my own pleasure. I could do it again.

“Want to tie me up?” Shantelle said.

She must have thought I wasn’t enjoying myself. True, I wasn’t exactly screaming like her, but I was, from a physical perspective, having a thoroughly good time. It was just my brain that wouldn’t disengage.

“Do you like to be tied up?” I said.

“I love it,” she gasped, as though the mere thought was going to tip her into a climax.

“Okay then,” I said. “I guess we could…try a little bondage.”

I wrenched the laces from my trainers and wrapped them around her wrists.

“Tighter,” she said. “I like it tight.”

I wrenched them together and she gasped, the noise somewhere between pleasure and pain.

“Now do whatever you want to me,” she said seductively.

I gazed at her naked body, at her bound hands. She was completely at my mercy. If I could just relax and let it go, if I could just accept that nothing bad was going to happen, then maybe, just maybe, I would be able to climax tonight.

I flipped Shantelle over so she was lying facedown, her arms stretched above her. Her hair was splayed across the sheets, reminding me of the woman I wished I was fucking but wasn’t.

I pulled Shantelle gently by the hips so I could get a better angle, then entered her from behind, hard, fast, all the way up to the hilt. She cried out and tipped her head back, making the dark mane of hair tumble down her shoulders. I groaned, the power from being the one in control going to my head.

“Harder,” she demanded, and I did as she commanded.

The bed groaned, its creaks and protests matched by Shantelle’s growls and cries. I couldn’t help but feel like we were animals, two beasts in the wild, with me as the alpha male and her at my mercy. We certainly sounded like animals. And I was moving like a creature without conscience, like my emotions had been disconnected and all I could do was feel.

The harder I thrust into Shantelle, the more the bed rocked, and soon the tables on either side were rocking, too, spilling their contents onto the floor. A wine glass smashed, sending shards across the wooden floor. Something about the destruction seemed even more arousing to me. The power—to bring pleasure, cause pain—was all mine.

I looked at Shantelle’s mane of black hair and without even thinking, reached out and twisted my fingers into it, yanking back her head. She moaned as though delirious with pleasure. I ran the fingers of my spare hand down her bare neck, wrapping them around her throat.

“Yes…” she groaned.

I was riding her so fast now, and the pleasure was so immense, that my body was moving on instinct. All I wanted was to come inside of her.

I squeezed my fingers around her neck, and in that moment I felt the muscles inside her vagina begin to pulsate as she was gripped by an orgasm. I rode the wave of her pulsation, listening to the incredible sounds she was making as I thrust in time to them. As they began to slow, I let go of her neck and hair, and she flopped forward on the bed.

“That was insane,” she murmured.

“Can I finish?” I said into her ear.

“After that orgasm, you can do anything you want to me….”

I picked up the pace again, my body knowing immediately what to do. This wasn’t like sex I’d ever had before. There was no emotion, just pleasure. I pushed myself in and out of her, grunting with each thrust. I gritted my teeth and plunged in as far I could go, my hands tight on her hips. Finally my orgasm exploded out of me.