Derision: A Novel (14 page)

I
was prepared
for today to be difficult—but I damn sure planned to be in better control than this. I palm the bunched up lump of Alexis’s underwear in my pocket, waiting for the throb in my cock to subside.

If I was a paranoid man, I’d think Gannet or one of the others placed her here on purpose. She’s more than a distraction, more than a temptation; she’s my certifiable weakness. The chink in my armor.

I push the intercom button and get Julia. “Tell Gannet it’s urgent.”

“Right away, sir.”

So my stonewall attack failed with Alexis. It never was a strong opening for me, especially against someone who knows how to maneuver around it. And she does. Quite effectively. A dumb smile tilts my mouth as I remember that little wink; how she got exactly what she wanted from me.

Who’s the fucking Dominant in our relationship
?

Was worth a try, though, to maintain some sense of control, to try to keep her from creeping under my skin.

Unfortunately, she’s already there.

My best moves won’t work on her. I can’t play her like a piece. I’m convinced it will backfire every time, resulting in confusion for her and blue balls for me. Both of us being punished. This time, it may be easier, if not less complicated, to lay it all out. I’ve never been tempted to do that with anyone—yet with Alexis, I fear I don’t have a choice.

She’s going to fucking break me.

My office door swings open and Gannet enters with a furrowed brow. “I don’t like being
summoned
like one of your whores.”

“We have a problem,” I say, waving my hand toward the couch, making sure he understands it’s not a request.

He only refuses for a second, his dark eyes trained on me with a hard glare. “What’s the problem?” he says, taking a seat.

“Bates.” It’s explanation enough.

He exhales audibly. “What, has he advanced to murder?”

Just the mention of that twinges my insides. “Not yet.”
Not yet
is not a
no
. It’s not a denial that Bates could ever be capable of such a thing. It’s an admission that I am now questioning whether or not my client is guilty, and the fact that it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibilities he could very well advance there.

More seriously now, Gannet says, “How long do we have?”

I shrug. “This victim’s case is being prosecuted by the ACA. Some green lawyer right out of grad school,” I say. “But she’s just the frontrunner. She has a lot of backing to get Bates locked away.”

Giving him the details, I go over each aspect of the new dilemma we’re up against. “The ACA is trying to sideline me with some claim the metadata of Bates’ computer was hacked, faked. An expert witness would be ideal, to show just how difficult it would be for Malcolm to pull something like that off.”

H
e nods slowly
, digesting this information. “All right. And we can bury her in paperwork. Enter all of Bates’ online posts and comments to the fetish site into evidence. She’ll be weeding through the filth for weeks. Should give us some time.” He grins.

I rub the back of my neck, tense. “All right. For now. But we need our investigator to dig up what all she has. Here’s the report.” I toss a folder at him, and he slaps it out of the air.

His forehead creases as he looks over the victim’s statement. “You think the metadata angle is a diversion?”

“Yes,” I say, turning toward my laptop. “She wants us focused on that so we don’t get a whiff of whatever she really has.” And she was quite smug in the meeting. “Get Wells and Mason on the investigator angle. We can handle the experts.”

He glances up from the report. “We?”

Normally, I’d put Gannet working his own angle. He’s good. He doesn’t need my total supervision. But trust with a client like Bates is difficult. Not only is he my top client, he’s also my neediest. I’m becoming spread too thin, however. There’s no way to keep my client out of prison while keeping an eye on all of the partners.

It comes down to pawns. Who am I willing to sacrifice, and who do I trust the least?

At one time, my named partner was the only person I trusted. Not implicitly…but I trusted him enough to share a practice with him. In my world, that’s vast.

Change is inevitable, though. No matter how I fight the tide, demanding consistency of routine, people are creatures of change. They’re greedy and deceitful, and the powerful always desire to obtain more of what they love the most: power.

“You have an issue cocounseling this case?” I ask.

Gannet shrugs. “Just like old times, huh?”

I nod at that. “Minus the shitty bourbon,” I say. “I guess so.”

I really hope my partner isn’t trying to screw me. I’d hate to have to end this partnership—which isn’t a simple business transaction. For a partnership like ours, the end result would be many broken bones and lots of pain.

* * *

“
D
id
they swab for DNA at the police station?” Gannet asks, not looking up from the mountain of paperwork he’s been leafing through for hours.

I drain the last of my bourbon, which is not shitty in the least, before I push the tumbler away. “No.” I then turn toward him, curious. “Why do you ask?”

He sits forward, rolling his shoulders. He’s long since discarded his suit jacket and tie, the both of us working past closing. I sent Alexis a text to have Jefferson drive her home, but the mouthy little vixen told me no.
No
. She’s intent on working late with Julia on the case, and despite my best efforts, I’m more than tempted to kick Gannet out and punish her for this newfound defiant streak.

But I enabled her, didn’t I? The moment I gave in this morning and let her jerk me around like her puppet, she gripped those strings tight. I have to remedy this soon. Especially since the whole day, I’ve struggled to think of anything other than her strutting around the floor without panties.

“There’s a mention of it in one of the uniform’s reports,” Gannet says, drawing my attention back on the case. “An Officer Myer. He stated the DNA found at the victim’s residence would be tested against the alleged.” He shakes his head, weary. “What DNA?”

“Son of a bitch.” I rifle through the ACA’s documents, seeking the medical report.

“Maybe it’s a hack report,” Gannet says, standing and grabbing his jacket. “Some rookie cop getting the facts mixed up. It’s happened too many times.”

It’s possible, and even likely… “Still, that bitch might be playing your card, trying to bury something.” I tweak the report from the stack and read it over. “The victim said she ‘thought’ she scratched her attacker.” I rub my index finger and thumb over my eyes, clearing away the eyestrain. “There’s no other mention from the examining doctor who issued the rape kit on collecting blood or epithelial cells. No record of any DNA on file.”

“Then the dumbass rookie got it wrong.” He starts toward the door, pausing. “I’ll put Sol on it. Have him question the cop and the doctor. He can investigate the doctor, too, just to dig up anything from his past we can throw at him, make him look incompetent. I mean, if we need to go there.”

I nod, knowing our in-house investigator is that good. He can find almost anything a person is trying to hide. When someone hides something, tries to bury it, they actually make it more obvious. Leaving a trail right to their secrets.

“As for me,” Gannet says. “I’m done for the night.”

“Fine. But for now, don’t repeat the DNA to Wells or Mason,” I say, garnering a confused look from him. “Not yet. I want to investigate it personally first.”

He throws his jacket over one shoulder. “Your call.”

Once he’s gone, I pick up the officer’s report and jot down his badge number, then head back to my desk, ready to put in a call to Officer Myer when I’m stopped in my tracks.

Alexis is leaning against the doorjamb, her shirt unbuttoned midway, revealing her sexy cleavage. Her hair is loose, tumbling in soft waves over her shoulders. The sight of her, standing there so alluring, catches my breath.

I clear my throat as I sit in the chair behind my desk. “Come here.”

She obeys instantly, shutting the door and strolling toward me without reservation. I’ve created a monster. The thought makes me smile, and I clasp her hips as she stops before me. I lift her onto my lap, letting her straddle my thighs.

Her hands slip along my chest. I groan at the feel of her heat; her cunt sliding over the hard ridge of my cock. “Did you get anywhere?” she asks, rocking her hips just the slightest, making every thought of Bates and the case float right out of my head.

“Right now,” I say, roaming my hand over the swell of her breasts, excited to find she’s already discarded her bra, “I couldn’t give a fuck about the case.”

Her fingers knead my shoulders, strumming the tension out of my tight muscles. And I allow her. She didn’t ask permission, she should be flung over the desk and fucked for being such a distracting tease, but I’m more than curious to relax under her needs for the moment—let her set the pace.

Simply, I’m a man hell-bent on pleasing this woman who has successfully slain my will. But only for the moment.

“I want to please you,” she says, arching her back as I open her shirt.

I secure my hand along her lower back, bringing her closer as I cup her breast and take her pert nipple into my mouth. Swirling my tongue over her pebbled peak, sensually caressing down to her ass, I fist her skirt and drag it up.

“Take me out,” I say against her.

She eases her hips up and snakes a hand down along my chest toward my buckle. The feel of her fingers working the belt, then unzipping me, the soft, exploring touch grazing my cock as she takes ahold of me, about drives me out of my mind.

I leash the wild yearning to spear her soaked pussy and, instead, let her settle me at her entrance. My fingers dig at her skin, the anticipation pulsing through my body and pricking every erogenous zone along the way to the throbbing tip of my cock.

I see it in her eyes; she knows what she’s doing to me, and she loves it.

“Careful, temptress,” I say, splaying my fingers over her ass. “The harder you work me up, the harder I’m going to have to fuck you.”

As she slips me between her lips, slicking my cock with her wetness, I guide her hips in a rocking motion that is so erotic and torturous, I hiss out a curse.

“What if I’m doing it on purpose?” Her head tilts back as the tip of my cock hits her clit. “So you’ll fuck me as hard as you can?”

Fucking hell. I give her ass a light slap, making her hips buck. “You better put me inside that sweet pussy before I decide to take my frustrations out on your defiant little ass.”

My words do the trick; she’s even wetter as she slides down over my shaft, her tight pussy stroking me to the hilt. I push the back of my head against the chair as she braces her palms on my chest, lifting up and rocking back down.

“Do whatever you want, Alexis. I want to watch you fuck me,” I encourage her, fascinated by the way her features strain, so hot and beautiful at once, as she takes me deeper.

Not losing her rhythm, she removes my tie, then slowly unbuttons my dress shirt. She lowers her chest to mine, her tits seeking friction as she grinds on top of me. I give her what she needs, pulling her ass harder to me as I raise my hips to meet her.

Her hands seek my hair, and I allow her to find purchase there, reveling in her loss of inhibition. She rides me slowly, tender and affectionate, and it’s like sweet, beautiful torture. The way she coaxes my body to submit to her needs.

All she has to do is plead my name once, the sound of it so desperate, and I obey. She’s ready for me to take control—to give her what she truly needs to reach that shattering orgasm.

With a groan, I push her shirt off her shoulders and drag it down her arms. “Put your arms behind your back,” I command.

Her body is lit, vibrating like a cord strung too tightly, begging to be strummed into ecstasy. I yank her shirt down around her wrists and secure it in a fitted knot, then grab the middle and force her hands upward, arcing her chest.

“Beg me to fuck your cunt.” I place my hand along her pelvis, my thumb locating her clit. I work the bundle of nerves as I drive into her, my hips bucking out of the chair.

She barely gets her plea out around her heavy pants and gasps, each vigorous thrust taking her closer to the edge. I watch her come, the pure bliss of her orgasm rippling through her as she tightens around my cock.

I sit forward and capture her nipple between my teeth, delivering a sharp nip before I clutch her hips. “You’re not getting off that easy.” I wrap my arm around her back and lift her against me as I stand.

Clearing away my laptop and folders with a hard swipe of my forearm, I lay her on my desk. “Arch your back,” I say, pushing my pants down and stepping one foot out.

Her labored breathing looks sexy as hell as she does, bowing her body into a sensual position to keep her bound wrists behind her back, her pussy seated right at the edge of my desk.

Hooking my arms under her knees, I ram into her tight center. Her moan verges on a scream, sending a thrill racing through me, my muscles taut as I hammer her pussy, my mercy long gone.