Damaged Goods (Don't Call Me Hero Book 2) (13 page)

“In hindsight, it was probably an unwise decision to be taking on this case myself,” she remarked stiffly. “It’s too easy for me to lose my temper around that man, which didn’t help my case at all.”

“When does court reconvene?”

“9:00 a.m.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Cassidy,” she sighed, hands momentarily pausing in the sink and shoulders drooping, “you don’t have to.”

“Your argument is weak and unconvincing, Counselor. I
do
have to be there, and I
will
. End of discussion.”

For once she didn’t argue back. She chewed on her lower lip and silently nodded.

I was happy that it appeared I’d been forgiven. Now I had to make sure I showed up tomorrow. Even though I had the day off, there was always the chance that I’d be called in to work again. But I’d face that hurdle in the unlikelihood that it happened two days in a row.

I pressed against her, curling my body around her side, and tried to pull her attention away from the kitchen sink. With her still in her high heels I didn’t have to stoop or bend when I brushed her hair away so I could kiss her neck.

She stubbornly resisted my advances and continued to wash cereal bowls and coffee cups. “I’m a little busy right now,” she said irritably.

“I can see that.” I nuzzled my nose against her pulse point and my hand wandered to the small of her back. “But I was hoping I could convince you to stop.”

“Cassidy, I really need to do this,” she insisted.

“Isn’t that what dishwashers are for?”

“I don’t like to use one. They leave spots and make my crystal foggy.”

“Now you sound like a spokeswoman for a detergent company. You’ve worked all day,” I murmured into her skin. My arms tightened around her waist. “Let the robots take over.”

“You’re going to have to work for it,” she clipped. “I’m annoyed; it’s going to take a while for me to get turned on.”

“Well luckily for both of us, I’ve never shied away from a little hard work.” I punctuated my final words with a soft nibble.

I heard the hitch of her breath. “I suppose if you keep kissing my neck like that, it might not take very long after all.”

I reached under the hem of her skirt. My eyebrows lifted in surprise when my fingers met bare skin instead of nylon. “Thigh highs? How did I not notice
that
this morning?”

“I don’t know, dear. I thought as a police officer you were a trained observer,” she taunted.

My fingertips skimmed over her creamy, soft flesh. “They never taught us anything like this in the academy,” I softly laughed.

Julia made a quiet noise when my hand reached the border of her satin underwear. My fingers slipped under the elastic band. “I bet we could speed this up if we went to your bedroom,” I husked.

“But the dishes,” she continued to stubbornly resist.

My hand left Julia’s skirt and I grabbed the faucet attachment from the kitchen sink. I pulled the secondary sprayer out of its port, tugging until the hose was at its full length.

“What are you doing?”

“Julia Desjardin,” I said, lowering my voice and aiming the nozzle like it was a gun, “step away from the sink.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare,” she warned.

I grinned mischievously. “Or what?” I pointed the nozzle directly at her chest.

“Or you’ll be very sorry.”

My fingers twitched as if I was going to pull the trigger. Julia flinched and closed her eyes, expecting the worst.

Her eyelids only lifted when I started to laugh.

“Did you really think I’d spray you? You’d murder me if I got your stuff wet.”

With hands faster than I could telegraph, Julia grabbed the spray gun out of my hands and turned it on me. The short burst of warm water hit me square in the chest.

I looked down at my damp t-shirt in disbelief. “I-I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Why?” She arched an eyebrow. “Because I’m so boring and predictable?”

“No. Because you like your stuff to be tidy.”

“I can be messy when the moment strikes me.”

“How’s the moment striking you right now?” I asked.

In response, she sprayed my shirt again. Even though I was expecting it, the force of the water blast was still a surprise.

“I give up,” I laughed, holding up my hands in retreat. The front of my t-shirt was completely saturated. Even my bra was wet. “Cease fire.”

“Officer Miller,” she husked, one hand on her hip, the other still pointing the nozzle at me, “I do believe we have to get you out of those wet clothes before you catch cold.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t want to get sick,” I eagerly played along. I grabbed the bottom hem of my shirt and tugged it off. It hit the floor with a wet slapping sound.

“The bra, too, dear.”

I wasn’t one to put up a fight.

I could feel the heat of Julia’s appreciative gaze slither over my half-naked form. She slid her hands, still slick with water and dish soap, over my naked chest. Her soapy hands moved over my abdomen, between my breasts, and rounded my shoulders. She continued to stare at my body with almost awestruck wonderment.

She cupped my breasts in her soapy palms. Her touch hardened my nipples as she rolled the sensitive nubs between her nimble fingers. I grabbed onto the kitchen counter for stability when my knees buckled. A jolt of pleasure shot up my body every time she pinched my nipples between her thumb and forefinger.

With her hands otherwise occupied, I unfastened the hidden zipper on her pencil skirt and let gravity do the rest of the work. The champagne-colored underwear she wore looked even more delicious than I remembered.

Emboldened, I reached for the sprayer, which Julia had relinquished in favor of my breasts. My movements went unnoticed until I doused the front of her silk blouse with a short burst; the expensive material clung to her chest like a second skin. Her low growl told me she hadn’t expected the action, but that she wasn’t entirely upset about it. Her fingers made quick work of the buttons on her shirt, which she shrugged out so it joined mine on the floor.

I aimed a second blast of water down the center of her chest. The water saturated her flimsy bra so that her nipples were visible through the sheer material. I grabbed her chest over the soaked fabric and kneaded her supple breasts in my palms. My hands surrounded her ribcage with my fingers meeting in the center of her back. I pulled her against me and placed rapid, feverish kisses across her collarbone and between the pert flesh of her breasts. I traveled farther south and dug my fingertips into her hipbones. Her pelvis bucked forward, and I heard the quiet growl rolling around in the back of her throat.

Water had beaded on her olive-toned flesh and had begun to trickle down to her shallow bellybutton and below. I dropped to my knees and lapped up the majority of water before it could trickle elsewhere. The floor was wet from errant spray, and the knees of my jeans soaked up much of the water.

I held onto her bare thighs and kissed her over her underwear. Her hands, still damp from dishwater, tangled in my hair. “God, that feels good,” she approved as I tongued her clit through the satin undergarment.

She guided my head where she needed to feel me. I rolled my tongue over her protruding clit again and again until I felt the perceptible quiver of her legs. The material caught between us rubbed roughly against her most sensitive places.

I hooked my fingertips beneath the waistband of her delicate underwear and slid the satin garment down her hips and thighs. She stepped out of the underwear and kicked them elsewhere with her left foot. I licked my lips and stared at her swollen sex. She was glorious, and she was all mine.

Her fingers went back to my hair and she once again pulled my face into her slick heat. I squeezed the tender flesh of her inner thighs as I continued to taste her, directly from the source. I wiggled my tongue into every fold and crevice, desperate to devour all she had to offer.

The hands that held onto the back of my head tightened in my hair. I heard the hitch of breath in her throat, and the words I strove to hear tumbled from her parted lips: “Cassidy. I’m going to cum.”

I moved my tongue with increased vigor, flattening the long muscle and licking hard against her clit and slit.

“There. Right there.” She pounded the flat of her hand against my shoulder blade. Her fingers wrapped tighter in my hair until my skull ached. “Don’t stop,” she gasped. “Please, don’t stop.”

I couldn’t help doing the one thing she’d practically begged me not to do. I paused and grinned up at her. “So polite,” I observed.

Julia’s eyes narrowed. “I told you
not
to stop.”

Feeling particularly defiant, I pulled myself to my feet. My knees thanked me for the reprieve, but Julia glared at me in disbelief.

I grabbed the kitchen sprayer again.

Julia’s features squinted with curiosity. “What are you …”

I aimed first at her chest, but didn’t pull the trigger. Instead, I pointed the nozzle lower and squeezed. She gasped loudly when the blast of warm water connected with her naked sex.

“Oh, I think you liked that,” I tauntingly observed. “Ready for more?”

In response, she spread her legs farther apart, granting me better access and simultaneously challenging me for more.

I positioned the nozzle closer, and this time the concentrated spray thrummed against her clit.

“Oh my God,” she groaned.

Her noises became louder and more guttural when I separated her pussy lips with one hand and sprayed her clit a third time.

“Shit,” she uncharacteristically swore.

I ran my fingers through the tidy, short curls and sank my middle finger into her wetness.

Her eyeballs seemed to roll backwards. “Fuck me, Cassidy,” she urged.

I dropped the kitchen sprayer and curled my free arm around her waist. I pinned her between my body and the kitchen counter. My chest pressed hard against hers, slightly bending her backwards. Her fingers curled around my shoulders as she held on tight. A long, lean leg wrapped around my midsection, pulling our bodies even closer.

I withdrew my single finger and replaced it with two. She was wet, a combination of water and her arousal. I pulled my fingers nearly all the way out before guiding them back in. Her hips rolled, and she thrust back against me, meeting me stroke for stroke. I rubbed the pad of my thumb against her clit while I continued to fuck her on my fingers.

Her fingers left my shoulders to tangle in the hair at the base of my neck. “Don’t you dare stop this time,” she warned me.

“Never gonna stop,” I promised. I pressed my forehead against her breastbone and hastened my pace.

“Right there,” she moaned in my ear. “Right fucking there.”

I felt her inner muscles tighten and spasm around my fingers. “Fuck, Cassidy,” she gasped breathlessly as she came undone for a second time.

All was quiet, save my heart beating in my ears and the sound of our conjoined breathing. The leg that had been wrapped tightly around my midsection slowly loosened and lowered to the ground. I could hear a quiet squishing sound as the bottom of her foot came to rest on the floor. There was a decent layer of standing water on the kitchen floor.

“I’ll get the mop,” I offered.

“Leave it,” she husked. “I’m not done with you yet.”

+ + +

I gave myself ample time the next morning to make it to family court. Even if Mendez had tried to call me into work again, I would have ignored him. I arrived at the courtroom earlier than most everyone, Julia included. I hoped for a positive resolution. I hoped that in a few hours time Julia and I would be celebrating her victory over her father. In some small way, I believed that this would be the trial to help me get over Julia’s defense of her father in Embarrass. I hated to admit it, but a part of me was still hanging onto that betrayal. But regardless of the outcome, I would be there for her.

The back door to the courtroom opened, and I swiveled around in my aisle seat to see Julia stride into the room. She looked predictably stunning in a dark grey pantsuit that was immaculately tailored to her figure. I self-consciously touched my fingertips to my shirt collar. I had fretted about what to wear to court. The day before I’d only been concerned about making it to the courthouse on time, but since I’d had the entire morning to prepare, doubts about my wardrobe had crept up on me. In the end I’d settled on a pair of light grey dress pants that I’d been able to iron most of the major wrinkles out of and a white button-up blouse. I knew whatever I wore would look far less professional than what Julia would be showing up to court in, but I wasn’t the one who was a lawyer.

Our eyes met and her confident step faltered, but only momentarily. I hadn’t seen her that morning. After we’d mopped up the mess in her kitchen, I had gone home so she could focus on composing her closing remarks.

I expected her to stalk past me to go to her designated table at the front of the courtroom, but instead she walked directly to me. “You made it.”