Hardass (Bad Bitch) (6 page)

I lifted my eyes to his. He reached over and hit a key that made my screen go back to my desktop. A photo of Terrell and me at a particularly booze-filled pub crawl filled the screen, both of us smiling goofily and raising our glasses. Why did I think that was a good desktop background? I shook my head.

The corners of his mouth quirked a bit as he put his hand back on my arm. “You’re shaking.” He ran a hand through his hair, his dark blue eyes searching mine.

Her face flashed across my mind, and I fought the tears away. His eyes on me, his scent, his five o’clock shadow—all of it was comforting, which made the tears an even greater possibility. Funny how when you have someone to cry on, the tears are more willing to a show up and make a scene.

“Shit. Come here.” His words were gruff, but he pulled me into his arms with a gentleness that shocked me more than if he’d hit me.

I rested my cheek against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath his dress shirt. His tie was gone, and his top buttons were open. I stood there in his arms, letting him hold me as tears rolled down my face. I didn’t sob, no dramatics. I just cried silent tears for the woman in the photo.

Mr. Granade rubbed a hand down my back as my breath hitched.

“It’s okay. I know, Caroline. It’s okay.” He spoke into my hair since, without my shoes, I was a foot shorter than him.

“It’s just so horrible, is all.” As if that explained me turning into a blubbering mess.

“I know. I shouldn’t have let you look through those without me here. It’s late. You’re tired. I just didn’t think. That was my mistake.” The low rumble of his voice against my ear was soothing, just like his hand at my back.

I would definitely give myself a stern talking-to later about my crybaby antics. But for now, I just wanted to stay in his arms. After a few more moments, I got myself under control and wiped my eyes. He stepped back, though he kept his hands on my arms.

“Better?”

“Yes, better.” Thank God for waterproof mascara or I would have ruined his shirt. “Thank you.”

I looked at him and resolved to suck it up. I put my shoulders back just a little and lifted my chin. My simple movements caused something to change as he watched me, his lids lowering the slightest bit. The air was different, charged somehow. The concern in his face shifted until his wolfish gaze was back. My breath caught in my throat, but not because of fear. It was pure desire that roared to life inside me, heating my skin. I bit my bottom lip. His gaze followed the movement and then his mouth was on mine.

I closed my eyes, unable to process what was happening. His hands were at my back clutching me to him as his lips owned mine. I moaned into his mouth and raised on my tiptoes to get even closer. He tasted like whisky and mint. He tilted his head to the side and slanted over me, his tongue licking me and seeking entrance. I gave it to him, opening and letting him plunder my mouth, my tongue stroking his.

My breath left my body and everything in me was focused on the connection between us. My nerve endings were exploding, chill bumps radiating down my arms. He pulled me closer and lifted me so I was sitting on the desk. I wrapped my arms around him as he fisted my hair and pulled my head back. He wedged his hips between my legs, my skirt stretching to its limit as I spread for him. He was possessing me, his body mastering mine. I’d wanted this, wanted him, but it was only then I realized it was more than just a want. I was starved for him.

He ran his hand down my back to my ass and pulled me toward him. My skirt rode up my thighs as my legs opened wider. I was perched on the edge of the desk, his hard length pushing up against my sweet spot as he groaned. I was already so hot, so wet for him that I was certain he could feel it through his slacks.

He gripped my hair tighter and moved down to my neck, his five o’clock shadow sending chills through me as he fastened his lips to my throat. I couldn’t stop the hooker moan that rose from me. All I could think of was him, his lips, his cock between my legs. There was nothing else. . . until he palmed my breast through my blouse.

My hips bucked against him as he squeezed me hard, almost to the point of pain, before easing off and brushing his thumb over my stiff nipple.

“Fuck,” he said against my neck and ground his cock into me.

The pressure on my clit sent little explosions of pleasure detonating through me. He moved down to my breasts and yanked my hair harder, forcing me to arch into him. He fastened on my nipple through my shirt, sucking the hard bud into his mouth as he squeezed my ass with his other hand.

When he clenched my nipple between his teeth, I gripped the edge of my desk so hard I thought I might crack a nail. I wouldn’t have cared. I was at his mercy, and there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

“I have to stop.” His voice was a rasp, sex in every note. Instead of following through with his words, he ran a hand up my thigh, pushing my skirt up onto my hips.

“Jesus Christ. You aren’t wearing panties.”

When his thumb grazed over my bare flesh, I squirmed and let out a desperate sound on a pant. He released my hair and sank to his knees.

“You aren’t wearing panties.” Disbelief and lust mixed as he repeated himself. I could feel his breath on me, warming my already-hot flesh.

“Please.” It was the only word I could muster. I was desperate for his mouth on me.

“Please, Caroline?” He hesitated, his warm exhale making me desperate for his touch. “I should stop. I should.”

“Please.” I curled my fingers, my nails digging into the papers on top of the desk.

“I couldn’t stop even if I tried.” He ran his tongue up my slit, and my hips nearly jolted off the desk. He smiled up at me, his devilish dimples on full display. “You taste just as good as I imagined.”

“Oh my God.” I dropped my head back and braced myself with my hands behind me on the desk.

“Look at me, Caroline. I want you to look at me the entire time I’m eating your sweet pussy. Understand?”

I could have come just from his words, the tenor of his voice, the deep blue of his eyes as I returned his gaze. He ducked his head down, though he kept his eyes on me, and open-mouth-kissed my clit. I moaned as he put his palms against my thighs and pushed them wider. His tongue was wicked, licking and swirling around my clit to the point my hips were rocking against him, fucking his face.

He groaned into my skin, and I thought I was going to come from the vibration. But he backed away. I wanted to drag his head back to me. He smoothed one hand up my inner thigh, and then I felt the pressure of his fingers.

“Mr. Granade,” I gasped as he finger-fucked me.

Then he went back to work with his tongue, and I was awash in a sea of pleasure. He sucked my clit and moved his fingers in and out at a hellish pace. My hips acted of their own accord, pushing his fingers deeper with each stroke as he fastened his mouth to my sensitive spot.

My hips began to seize and my pussy clenched. I moaned to the ceiling as I came, my walls compressing around his fingers as a hard, thumping orgasm claimed all my senses. I was nothing but nerve endings, centered around what his mouth and fingers were doing.

I came back down, and he gave me a few more licks before pulling his fingers from me and standing.

“Open.” His eyes were alight as he brought his fingers to my mouth.

I did as he said and opened my mouth for him, licking and sucking my own taste from his fingers until they were clean.

He closed his eyes for a second, as if overcome, and then yanked my skirt back down my thighs.

“I trust you realize this never happened, Ms. Montreat.” He stepped back, giving me an excellent view of his substantial, rock-hard cock. My mouth watered.

“Never happened. That’s right.” I nodded in agreement, but inside I was panicking. Would he try to fire me for this? Would he want me off the case?

“When I say it never happened, I mean it, Ms. Montreat. Everything will be back to normal tomorrow, and this will never happen again.”

“Yes.”
But what if I want it to happen again?

His mussed hair made it seem as if
he’d just ridden me like a rented mule when, in fact, he’d been generous and given me the best orgasm of my life. “I’ll walk you out. It’s late.”

I would have protested that I could take care of myself, but the memory of the woman in the water crept back into my mind, and I grabbed my bag.

We rode the elevator in silence, each in our own corner despite what we’d just shared. He walked me to my car and reached to open the door for me, but stopped. Again. “Good night, Ms. Montreat. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay. ’Night.” I got into my car and cranked it up. He followed me out of the deck, but we turned opposite ways once on the street.

My thoughts were a tornado of shock and post-orgasm endorphins. What was he thinking? I knew what I was thinking. I’d finally gotten a taste of what I wanted. But Mr. Granade? I smirked. He was probably panicking his hardass off. Fine by me.

I couldn’t wait to test his theory of “this will never happen again.” Game on.

Washington

The water rushed over me, and I leaned my forehead against the cool shower tile. What had I been thinking? I hadn’t, and that was the problem. I’d just mouth-fucked an associate, and in the office, no less.

I’d returned home in a blur the night before, Caroline’s taste still on my lips as I stroked myself off. I’d closed my eyes and felt her blond locks in my hands, her pussy squeezing me tight, and I came in moments. A hard orgasm that had me panting and bracing myself against my sink.

My cock had hardened again at just the thought of her, the memory of her bare pussy, her shuddering breaths, her strangled cries as she came.
Fuck.
I bounced my head against the tile and tried to will my erection away. It didn’t work. I couldn’t go to work like this. I had to be with her all day, going over evidence and planning our next steps.

I gripped myself and gave a few hard pumps, my eyes closed, her big brown eyes staring up at me as her pink lips took every inch. I was already at the edge, but then her soft whimpers played in my mind and I was lost, my seed spurting out in hot jets and flowing down the drain right along with my self-control.

I soaped up and finished my shower, trying to refocus my energies on the case instead of thinking about how much more fulfilled my cock would be if it really had been buried deep in Caroline’s mouth. I batted those thoughts away and shaved, cutting myself far more than usual as my thoughts wandered.

She would be well within her rights to complain to human resources about me, though I knew she wouldn’t.

I had fucked up royally. I just needed to make sure it didn’t happen again.

The entire way to work I reiterated to myself that she was an associate—off-limits. I parked in the deck and gave myself a hard stare in the rearview mirror.
Get it together, Wash.
At least it was Friday, so I could take a breather over the weekend and get my head on straight.

I rode the elevator alone and got the first cup of coffee as the office slowly woke up for the day. Caroline’s office was thankfully dark, but just looking at her desk made my cock twitch back to life. I hurried down the hall, coffee sloshing over the side of my Palmer & Granade cup.

Shirley wasn’t in yet, so I closed the door to my office and began going through the e-mails that piled up to be an insurmountable task. Trial settings, arraignments, conflict checks, new clients—it was a never-ending cascade of information. At least it took my mind off Caroline, off the previous night.

I worked until what was left of my coffee was long since cold. It was already eleven, and I hadn’t accomplished much more than dictating a few letters, drafting a quick evidentiary pleading, and cleaning out my in-box. I was about to get a coffee refill when there was a knock on my door.

“Come in.”

Caroline eased inside, her brown eyes meeting mine with easy confidence. She wore an emerald green dress with a belt below her breasts, accentuating them perfectly. She had to be doing this to me on purpose, had to be. But my dick didn’t care one way or another; it was just happy to see her.

I kept my seat and waved her inside. She went to close the door.

“No. Leave it open.” I didn’t trust myself to be alone with her in a closed room, especially not when her dress was so short and she wore the most amazing high-heeled boots.
Definitely not going to be able to get up for a while
.

“I have the evidence memo you wanted.” She handed me a stapled packet of about twenty pages, each item neatly identified and tagged just as I’d asked. She was acting like she usually did, nothing in her demeanor changed despite what we’d done the night before.

“You looked at the pictures?” I asked as she sat, her skirt riding higher up her smooth thighs.

She looked down to her hands and then back up at me. “Yes. I had some help. Terrell and I went through them together.”

“Terrell?” I put my elbows on my desk. “You two are friends, right?”

Did I just sound like a jealous teenager? Yes, yes I did.

She smiled, her dark pink lips opening to show me her even, white teeth. “Yes, we live together.”

Holy shit, she was living with someone?
“Oh, I had no idea.” I sat back, my chest suddenly constricted, as if my shirt were too tight.

Her smile widened. She was gorgeous, the sun lighting her blond waves and kissing her skin. Of
course
she was with someone.

“Not like that, Mr. Granade. We’re just friends. Terrell is allergic to vaginas.”

I almost choked on my own spit. “Allergic to—”

“We’ve been roommates since law school.” She crossed her legs at the knee.

Gay, her roommate was gay. I was far too happy about that simple fact. I looked down at the paperwork she’d handed me so as to avoid getting myself in any deeper. She was like some sort of gravitational force that I needed to fight, even if it killed me.

I skimmed the first few pages, flipping through the rundown of the various police reports. A few things caught my eye.

“Did you read the interview of Tyler Graves?”

She leaned forward. “Yes, flip to the next page. That’s where it gets good. He claimed that he’d hung out with a couple of the victims, but said that Rowan was their primary customer, not him. He also claimed he’d seen Rowan beat one of the victims mercilessly only a few weeks before she was killed.”

“Which one?”

“Sotero, the one found on the upper branch of the Old Pearl tangled in some trees. They found her when the water fell after the drought a couple of summers ago. Autopsy report says she’d been there at least a month.”

I dropped the page and looked up at her again, her gaze intense. “And why is that important, Ms. Montreat?”

“Because Rowan told us he’d never even
met
Sotero.”

“Exactly. Someone’s lying.”

“So which one do you think it is?” She clasped her hands around her knee.

“What did I tell you about the importance of guilt or innocence, Ms. Montreat?”

She leaned back. “That it doesn’t matter.”

“That is correct. And it doesn’t, not for our purposes. Go ahead and pull last known whereabouts for Mr. Graves. We need to pay him a visit unannounced, and sooner rather than later.”

“Already on it. I found his last three addresses, all of them halfway houses for ex-cons and drifters. The most recent was over in Algiers.”

“Any jobs?”

“No. Not that I saw. He hasn’t worked in over five years. Not sure how he survives, but he’s still kicking.”

“Family?” Sometimes parents were the best way to get to witnesses. Even the most hardened deviant would accept calls from his mom.

“Parents are dead. He has a brother, polar opposite. Lives in the Garden District, big house, wife, kids, job in the financial sector. Might be worth talking to. Maybe he could tell us where his brother went wrong?”

“Seems like a good start. Got the morgue lined up?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked out my window, perusing the patches of Mississippi River in the distance. “Yes.” She bit her lip.

“You’ll do fine, Ms. Montreat. We won’t be doing any inspections ourselves. It’s just better for us to hear it from Dr. Snider while he looks them over in person. We need to know every detail, every bit of minutiae that can help our case.”

“And you’ll be there with me?”

Something in my chest warmed as her gaze returned to mine. I ran a hand through my hair, as if that would make the sensation stop. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” She let out a pent-up breath. “Okay, I think I can do it.”

“You can. I wouldn’t have chosen you for this assignment if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

Her face brightened.

“But don’t let it go to your head.”

She rose and swayed her hips to my door. “I’ll get to work on our game plan for Monday’s visit to Algiers. Anything else I should attend to?” She shot a look over her shoulder and busted me looking at her perfect, plump ass.

I played it off by yelling for Shirley to bring me the jail docket for the afternoon. Before I could give any more directives, Trent strolled in.

“Ms. Montreat, are you attending the get-together for Judge Lane tomorrow evening?”

Shit
.
I’d forgotten all about the fund-raiser we were throwing for Tim Lane.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Her easy charm even got a smile out of Trent; she was that good.

She continued down the hall back to her office as Trent came inside and closed my door. “Did you forget about this weekend?”

“No, not at all.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure you didn’t. Doesn’t matter. You’re coming. Now, do you want to talk about Ms. Montreat?”

My stomach churned as I tried to gauge the correct response.

Trent sat in one of my chairs and continued on, seemingly oblivious to the guilt that covered me from head to toe. “Well, how’s she doing? You think she’s going to be able to handle the big leagues?”

I relaxed, my paranoia at bay. “Her performance has been good so far. She’s spotted some key issues and seems to be proactive about moving the case along.”

“That’s what I like to hear. As you know, she certainly wasn’t my first choice for the position, but if she turns out to be a good hire, then that’s just all the better.”

“I think she is.”

“Good to know.” He rose, the interrogation finished. When he got to the door, he paused. “Just watch yourself with her, Wash. That’s all I’m going to say.”

“I—”

He held up his hand. “I know you wouldn’t. But just be careful. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Hero worship and all that. Keep her at arm’s length. We don’t need any scandals. Got it?”

“Of course.”

“Good talk.” He left, greeting the secretaries and paralegals as he made his way to his side of the office.

I leaned back in my chair and looked to the ceiling, just breathing for a minute. Trent didn’t know or he would have said something then and there.

This was my wake-up call. I needed to get back on the straight and narrow and keep my relationship with Caroline—Ms. Montreat—strictly business. The slip with her the previous night was a moment of temporary insanity. I would see to it that we were never alone like that again.