Looking back over my shoulder at the closed office door, I slide my hand up just a little higher on her leg. When I turn back toward her, I lean in a little closer and squeeze her leg. “Why don’t you give me a peek of what you have under that skirt? Give me something to think about the rest of the day?”
She snickers at me and tries to bat my hand off her leg. “We’re sitting in a judge’s office, Reeve. Show some decency,” she admonishes without any real censure in her tone.
Grinning, I slide my hand up a little higher. “I have no decency where you’re concerned.”
Her hand slams onto my wrist and grips it tightly, trying to halt my momentum. “Stop it,” she growls—or is that a purr?
“Just a peek, baby,” I cajole. “Black lace, right?”
“You’re not looking,” she says primly.
I straighten my fingers out, turn my wrist slightly, and they find her bare skin just above the lace of her stockings. “If you won’t let me look, how about a touch?”
“No,” she hisses and attempts to slam her legs together. I anticipate this, though, and shove my hand all the way in between her thighs until I cup her pussy. Grinding the heel of my hand on her, I whisper, “Touch or look, baby? What’s it going to be?”
“Reeve,” she says in a moan, “Judge Henry could walk in any moment.”
“Maybe,” I say. “And that would be really awkward. So quit fighting me and give me just a look or a touch and I’ll leave you alone.”
Leary’s eyes flash hot at me with both annoyance and lust. “Fine,” she snaps. “A quick touch.”
Chuckling, I pull my hand back a tad so I can angle a finger under the elastic band that rests in the crease of her leg. Just as I get the tip of my index finger inside, I hear Judge Henry’s booming voice out in the office area. The walls must be paper-thin, because I can hear him tell Mary, “Here are my notes on the restraining order. Go ahead and type me up a rough draft and print it out double spaced.”
“Reeve,” Leary says in panic and starts to push at my hand lodged between her legs.
Mary’s voice comes through the door, “Right away, Judge Henry. But first, can I ask you a few questions about your accommodations for the judges’ conference next month? I’m having trouble booking your flights.”
Leary continues to push at my hand, but I hold it rock solid.
“Move your hand and get away from me,” she whispers harshly.
Shaking my head, I give her an evil smile, working my finger under the elastic. “I want my touch first.”
“He’ll be coming in any second now,” she protests.
“Just give in, baby,” I urge her with a grin. “Five seconds, I’m in and out and then I’ll leave you alone.”
My heartbeat is slamming so hard against my chest, I’m sure Judge Henry and Mary can hear it outside the door. But for some reason, I don’t want to give in. My need to touch Leary, to feel what’s between those silken lips, has become imperative to me.
“Fine,” she grits out, and her legs spread for me.
Fuck, yeah.
I slide my finger all the way in, swipe it through the lips of her pussy, and immediately find her practically dripping. I consider my options. A quick flutter over her clit or a bit of a deeper invasion?
Fuck . . . I want her to remember this all day while she’s sitting in her stupid partner meeting. I opt for deep invasion.
I shove my finger inside her, easily sliding home because she’s so wet. All the way up to my third knuckle and curl it upward. “Oh, baby. Fuck me . . . so damn wet.”
Leary does nothing but moan and jerk her hips. I smile big but sadly as I pull my finger out. The conversation outside the door seems to be wrapping up. Tugging the edge of her panties back in place, I remove my hand from between her legs and stand up.
Leary’s face is flushed pink, and she hastily scrambles to smooth her skirt down. When she looks up at me, I stick my finger in my mouth and suck it clean. “Mmm, baby. You are delicious.”
“Oh God,” she mutters and then adds in a complaining tone, “you are so going to fuck me good tonight to make up for that.”
Winking at her, I reach down and adjust the semi I’m sporting and stride over to the chair beside hers, sitting down and crossing my legs in gentlemanly fashion. She slides a glance at me, shooting me a look of exasperation.
Before she can turn away, I say, “Hey.”
“What?” she whispers.
“I adore you.”
She smiles at me, not with just her beautiful lips, but with every prism of color in those fantastic eyes, and then Judge Henry opens the door and walks through.
We both start to stand up, but he shoots an impatient wave at us as he starts to unzip his black robe. “No. Sit, sit. No formalities here.”
Both Leary and I say a quick hello as he removes his robe and hangs it on a hook on the back of his door. As he walks to his desk, he cuts us both a quick look and nods a greeting.
Then he does a double take at Leary. “Are you feeling all right, Miss Michaels? You look a little flushed.”
She’s as smooth as silk when she says, “Thank you for asking, Your Honor. I’m fine. Just decided to take the stairs rather than the elevator.”
“Oh, good, good,” he says absently as he sits down in his chair. Pulling his glasses from his face, he takes a moment to clean them with his tie and then puts them back on.
“Okay, so we’re here for the pretrial conference for LaPietra v. Summerland, et al., correct?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” we both answer simultaneously, but Leary reaches into her briefcase and pulls out a multipage document. Handing it over to him, she says, “Mr. Holloway and I worked out a proposed pretrial order. We’ve been able to agree on all of the issues for the jury except for a minor disagreement on the wording of the causation issue.”
Judge Henry takes the order and starts reading it. He pays careful attention to the wording issues. These will be the exact questions the jury will have on their verdict sheet when it’s time for them to deliberate.
“Before I let you argue about the wording of the causation issue, is everything else accurate on the order? Witnesses? Evidence? You both agree on all this stuff?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Leary says quickly. “Everything is on there.”
Massive guilt pours through me, because not everything. My three surprise rebuttal witnesses aren’t on there, but under the law, I don’t have to provide those. Just another reminder of the weight I’m carrying on my shoulders by keeping this secret from Leary.
Judge Henry nods and turns back to the jury issues. “Okay, Miss Michaels, tell me what the problem is with the wording here.”
For the next ten minutes, both of us argue until we turn blue in the face. Our disagreement isn’t a minor one, and it’s something we tried to work out on our own one day through e-mail correspondence. It was weird having a spirited argument with her over the law and rules of procedure. It was a good thing we did it via e-mail and from our respective offices, because she was so sassy to me, I wanted to bend her over my knee and fire her ass up. I wanted to fuck her hard and make her come all over my cock.
Of course, none of that happened.
That night, though, when she came over to my house, I told her that it turned me on, and she proceeded to pick a fight over our respective positions on tort reform. She lit into me good, didn’t hold back, and was about as disrespectful as you could get. Turned me the fuck on, and she got her spanking and a hard fucking to boot. I went to bed with a satisfied smile on my face as I pulled her into my arms.
Judge Henry finally makes a decision and actually comes up with a middle-ground compromise on the issue. I’m satisfied with it; Leary isn’t. She wanted to win and she didn’t, and I have to wonder what mood she’ll be in when we leave here, since she didn’t get exactly what she wanted.