Confessions of a Litigation God

My gaze lands on the TV… on some baseball game I could care less about, but I’m too lazy to lift the remote to point it at the TV to change it. I swear… Stella may have broken me.

And yet… I find myself thinking about her all day, getting the periodic hard-on and wishing she were here right now so I could sink into her.

Fuckity-fuck. What the f**k is wrong with me?

Rubbing my hands over my face and then scraping my fingers across my scalp, I try to bring some clarity to my brain. Why am I obsessing and still thinking about a woman I will never see again? I mean, she was a great lay.

A really great lay.

Oh, who the f**k am I kidding? She was the best lay I’ve ever had.

I don’t know why. It’s not like I did anything with her that I haven’t done with countless other women. She’s beautiful, but I’ve f**ked beautiful women before. She’s not even that adventurous, preferring vanilla to kink. I think the dirtiest she got with me last night was when I made her put her red lipstick back on before sucking my c**k a second time. But she just gamely raised one eyebrow at me before pulling the lipstick tube out of her purse and slathering it on that amazing mouth of hers.

Then she gave me a b**w j*b that made my eyes cross.

I think the thing that probably hit me right in the belly… made my attraction to her skyrocket into the stratosphere, was out on the balcony. She was terrified of heights, but she stayed out there because she knew that was a fantasy of mine. She closed her eyes, faced her fears, and let me f**k her while I looked twenty stories down to the Manhattan streets. She was a f**king champ.

r /> All. Freaking. Night.

All freaking night we went at it, taking breaks to drink water, sometimes dozing while we spooned, and once, ordering room service. While giving my dick a chance to recover, we talked about our mutual interests, but we never got anywhere close to divulging identifying information about ourselves. Still… the conversation was light, easy, and she made me laugh on more than one occasion. I found her wit to be razor sharp, sarcastic, and completely self-deprecating. I ate that shit up.

Somewhere between the time we f**ked in the shower, and when I went down on her the last time, I started thinking about asking for her phone number. I thought maybe we could get together again… maybe in a week or so.

Or maybe the next night.

Whatever.

I thought possibly I could even take her to dinner. It’s not an unheard of concept for me. I mean, I took Marissa out to dinner when we were dating, I’m sure I remember how to do it.

But just as soon as that thought entered my head, I banished it. Stomped it down good into the dark recesses of my mind. Then I locked it up and threw away the key.

Matt Fucking Connover does not date.

He does not give.

He takes, and he may reciprocate, but he has no room in his life for a woman.

No matter how great a f**k she is.

So when dawn was just around the corner, we silently got dressed, sometimes looking at each other with a soft smile or a sly grin. I was exhausted, yet exhilarated, and when I watched her hook her bra behind her back, I thought briefly about pushing her back down on the bed. But I shook my head, cleared my thoughts, and mentally started pushing Stella out of my head.

We walked out of the hotel together, and I hailed her a cab. When it pulled to the curb, I gave her a soft kiss and said, “That may have been the best night of my life. I shit you not. ”

Yeah, I know… not the most romantic stuff I’ve ever spouted out, but it was truthful. I think it may have been the single best night of my life.

Pushing myself up from my chair, I bend over and grab the empty beer bottles. Padding into the kitchen, I put them in the recycle bin and open the fridge for something to eat. Nothing looks appealing, mostly because a lot of it’s covered with green fuzz, so I just pull another beer out and twist the top off.

Stella the hot banker is done. Over. Finished.

I tell myself to forget about her, although I’ll allow myself to bring forth the memories when I jerk off. That’s allowed.

Turning back to the living room, I head for my recliner, content to spend the rest of the evening there watching TV.

Chapter 5

“So then the judge apologized to me for the misunderstanding, and we had a good laugh about it. The entire courtroom was in stitches,” Lorraine says as she giggles like a thirteen-year-old girl and reaches out again to touch my arm lightly with her hand.

I see her opening her mouth but all I hear is blah, blah, blah. She’s been talking inanely for the last fifteen minutes, throwing in flirty giggles and touches while we wait for her associate attorney, McKayla Dawson, to show up.

I want to pull my hair out.

Glancing at my watch, I pin a hard stare at Lorraine. “Perhaps you should give Miss Dawson a call to see where she is. ”

I can’t abide people being late, and Miss Dawson certainly isn’t off to a good start with my firm this Monday morning. Add on to that, I’m still cranky as hell, having not been able to shake the thought of Stella from my mind. I keep thinking about contacting her through ONO and see if we can get together again, and yeah… I know that breaches my one-night rule, but f**k it.

She was too f**king amazing to let her slip by without another taste, right?

Just as Lorraine is reaching for her phone, the conference room doorknob turns and I wait to get my first glance at the very late Miss Dawson. I put on my most ferocious glare, so she knows I’m not happy to have been kept waiting.

The door swings open and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, then my dick actually twitches and starts to get hard. Standing there with nervous eyes, looking over at Lorraine, is Stella… The Hot Banker.