Appealed (The Legal Briefs 3)

Her hands grip my ass, pushing me deeper. My mouth scours her neck and my hips quicken—driving harder—circling between her thighs each time I’m buried fully. I’d be embarrassed by how fast I feel the surging blissful pleasure of my orgasm coming on if I didn’t know she was right there with me. Because it’s so fucking good.

Perfect—like she said.

Kennedy’s pussy clenches around me with her own building pleasure. I circle my hips harder, faster, rubbing my pelvis against her clit. And then thought becomes impossible. With a high-pitched moan, she contracts so hard around me it’s almost painful. I push in deep with one final thrust, coming so hard that the blood rushing through my ears drowns out the sound of my groans.

Slowly, my ability to hear returns. Kennedy’s hands slide up my back, soft and almost . . . grateful. I lift my face from her neck and open my eyes. She blinks up at me.

I feel like I should say something, something meaningful and profound. But she’s screwed me stupid—robbed me of words. So I kiss her lips—softer now, reverently. And I feel her joy as she holds me close against her and doesn’t let go.

14

We don’t sleep.

We start to, but then light kisses turn deeper, gentle touches morph into greedy grasps, and despite the exhaustion that pulls at us both, we fuck all through the night.

Kennedy spends a lot of time on her stomach in the prelude to round two, because I’ve become obsessed with her ass. The round firm feel beneath my hands, the smooth, supple sensation as I trace the globes with my tongue, the gorgeous way it jiggles as I pound into her from behind. I dig my fingers into it, leaving a dusting of light bruises on the heart-shaped flesh. I scrape and nip it with my teeth, I kiss and worship it with my lips. If Kennedy’s ass were bronzed, I would prostrate myself before it and pray.

During our third trip around the bases, she rides me. She took a few equestrian lessons back in the day, and boy, were they worth their weight in gold. She gets herself off and I find the view of that position particularly delightful. The way her breasts bounce when she drives down onto my cock, the way her elegant back arches as her hips swivel, and the sublime, stunning look that sweeps over her face when my orgasm triggers hers, and she comes for the second time with my name on her lips. Gorgeous.

Kennedy doesn’t stock condoms, so after round three we’re all out. But that doesn’t stop us from going for it one last time. Though it takes a little persuasion at first, she straddles my face and I make her come with my tongue buried deep inside. Then she lies back, totally spent, as I slide my cock between her breasts and fuck them slowly. She garners just enough energy to lift her head and suck on the tip, and she moans when I come hard all over her.

I can’t recall much after that—but I’m fairly sure I collapsed on top of her, and we both passed the hell out.

• • •

I’m pulled from well-earned slumber by the feel of a wet, rough tongue lapping just behind my ear. It tickles, and there’s a smile on my face before I even open my eyes. I roll to my back, expecting to find warm brown eyes gazing adoringly at me—and see almond-shaped, midnight-black eyes staring back at me from a long-whiskered, fluffy white face.

Meow.

I feel another wet tongue on my leg, and glance down to see a brown-and-black calico practically making love to my knee. My throat feels dry and a little sore—probably from all the breathy groaning. I force down a swallow and look back at the snow-white fluff ball curled beside my head.

“You must be Edward.” I assume because of his pale coat, as opposed to the feline farther down—who’s probably Jacob, because his fur is more wolf colored.

And yes, I’m fucking horrified that I know that.

I scratch the cat’s head and sit up, rubbing my beard, looking for Kennedy.

And I see a note on the bedside table, propped against the lamp.

Had to go into the office. See you in court this afternoon.

A note? Is she fucking kidding? After last night—the kissing, the grinding, the plethora of goddamn orgasms—I get a note?

I don’t think so. Not. At. All.

• • •

I stomp through my front door and take a shower in record time. Harrison offers breakfast, looking at me the same way the Avengers regard Bruce Banner right before he goes full-out Hulk. I shove an omelet down my throat, grab my briefcase, and march out the door with my shirt only half buttoned and my tie hanging from my neck.

Ten minutes later I slam into Kennedy’s office—locking the door behind me and snapping the blinds down.

She smiles brightly from behind her desk, hands folded. “Hey.”

My scowl weighs on my face. “Do you not understand the concept of ground rules?”

Kennedy’s smile goes from bright to bewildered. “What?”

I stalk her slowly, purposefully. “You’re a Yale graduate, so you must understand the concept. The only conclusion I can come to is that you purposely broke those rules this morning.” I lean over her, and the pulse at her neck thrums faster. “And broken rules have consequences, little rebel.”

She fidgets nervously under my gaze, but there’s excitement in her eyes.

Anticipation.

Lust.

“I wasn’t running, Brent. I got an email. There’ve been developments in the Moriotti case and I had to come in early . . . to work . . .”

Her words trail off as she stares at the hard line of my mouth.

I nod. And slowly slide my tie from around my neck.

Then in one quick move, I hoist her out of her chair and plant her ass in the middle of her desk.

“Brent—”

She doesn’t say anything else. She can’t, because I slip my tie between her teeth and knot it behind her head. Not too tight, of course—just secure enough to keep it in place.

And muffle her sounds.

Can’t have anyone hearing us. Professional image and all that.

“Apparently I didn’t make myself clear enough yesterday.” I reach under Kennedy’s skirt and yank her panties off, shoving them into my pocket. “I’ll remedy that now.”

I push her legs apart, drag her forward, and drop to my knees.

My tongue touches her first, tracing her already slick slit. My lips quickly follow, kissing and sucking that pretty, pretty pussy. Kennedy leans back, moaning low and long, one hand braced on the desk behind her, the other burrowing through my dark hair.

I make love to her cunt with my mouth, the way I wanted to when we woke up this morning. And I fuck her with my tongue—’cause I’d wanted to do that too. With time of the essence, I pay hard, hot homage to her clit, pressing and rubbing—scraping just a bit with my teeth. It stiffens against my tongue, enjoying the attention. Within five minutes she’s writhing against my face, hissing around the gag and right on the razor edge of a massive orgasm.

That’s when I stop. And calmly sit back on my heels.

I stand, unzip my pants, and take my cock out, stroking my erection with a tight fist. Kennedy watches me with wide eyes.

“Did you want to come?” I ask with raised eyebrows.

“Humph.”

I nod, still jerking myself off. “Only women who follow the rules get to come.”

And now she looks pissed. Really pissed.

“But if you say you’re sorry—I’ll let it slide this time.”

“Thrry,” she mumbles, looking anything but.

I tilt my ear toward her. “I couldn’t make that out. Try again?”

“Thrry,” she growls.

My brow furrows, then smooths in exaggerated realization. “Oh—you can’t say sorry, can you? Cause there’s a gag in your mouth.” I tsk my tongue. “Sucks to be you.”

She takes a swing at me, closed-fisted and fast.

I catch her wrist and hold it at her lower back, standing between her knees—my dick wedged against the soft fabric of her blue silk blouse. She comes at me with her other hand, but I catch that one too—locking them

both behind her back with one hand.

Her eyes slice over my face. “Uck ooh.”

I give her a great big smile. “Now, that I understand. And I don’t mind if I do.”

I grip my dick at the base, lean forward half on top of Kennedy, and thrust inside her to the hilt. She feels fucking beautiful around me. I pump into her without mercy and her eyes slide closed. She rests her forehead against my jaw. I release her hands to hold her hips, pulling her closer.

You’d think she’d take off the gag, but instead her arms wrap around me, holding on for the ride of her life. It only takes a few minutes to build her back up—till I feel the telltale pulse of her muscles, hear the high-pitched keen of her breath that says she’s about to get off.

And my hips grind to a halt. She tries to do the job herself—jerks up against me—but in her position, that’s not going to get it done.

“If I wake up and you’re not next to me, I’ll tie you to the goddamn bed.” The needy, desperate thread in my voice diminishes the effect of my threat. “And I’ll do this for hours. I won’t leave you hanging, because I’m not that mean. But I’ll make you beg, and I’ll make you scream before I let you come. And that’s a fucking promise.”

I tongue her ear, swirling the shell, ending with a kiss. Then I untie the gag behind her head. “Now say please.”

She bites my ear. Hard.

I jerk away and laugh. “Easy there, Mike Tyson.”

I pull out just an inch and nudge my hips forward, teasing her. “Just say please, Kennedy. For both of us. It’s gonna be so fucking good.”

I feel her lips on my cheek. Against my neck. “Please, Brent. Oh . . . please.”

And that’s all it takes.

I pound into her, hurling us toward the edge and plunging straight over. We come together, groaning and grasping, like two wild, mindless things.

It’s frigging awesome.