Confessions of a Litigation God

When I open my eyes, Mac is no longer staring between my legs, but all of her intensity is focused on my face. I give it back to her in equal measure, and we are both helpless to look away from the other.

“Spread your legs,” I say roughly and she doesn’t hesitate for a moment, spreading them wide and giving me unfettered gazing access to her pu**y.

Fucking beautiful pu**y!

“Touch yourself,” I order her, surprised I can even talk right now.

Mac’s delicate fingers go between her legs, and she gives me the show of a lifetime. I can’t help but pull on my c**k harder and faster as I watch her, but when I feel the telltale signs of an orgasm starting to rumble, I release myself because that’s not happening the first time unless I’m inside of her.

“Enough. You’re ready for my mouth, and I don’t think I’ll stop until I’ve made you come at least three times. ”

Mac shivers and her eyes go half-mast. I step up to the bed, intent on latching my mouth onto her cl*t hard, when she says, “Wait. ”

Fuck no, not waiting, but my eyes go to her in question and I pause momentarily.

“Let’s make this a little more balanced,” she says.

Hmmm. Interesting.

“What did you have in mind?”

“We’ve done a lot of dirty things together, but I don’t think we’ve ever done sixt

y-nine. Let’s give that a try. ”

Yes, Mac Dawson is beyond magnificent. In fact, I feel like busting out an ode to her greatness right now.

“You are like the perfect f**king woman,” I say in awe.

“No, I’m not,” she says simply, and I think that may be an allusion to the fact that if she was… I would have never parted ways with her. That thought hurts, but then she says, “But I’m damn close, so get your ass on this bed and get into position. ”

***

I wake up and glance at Mac’s bedside clock. It’s 5:30 AM and I am warm, secure with my arms wrapped around her, and I am utterly content.

I also know this feeling will be fleeting, because Mac and I agreed that last night was a goodbye sort of f**k.

Except… it wasn’t f**king at all.

Don’t get me wrong… there was plenty of sex. The sixty-nine just got us started and after she came on my lips and I jetted over her tongue, we didn’t even pause. Just started kissing, touching, and groping each other, and we went at it again.

And again.

And again.

But there was a level of need on my part that was not going to be satisfied by a mere orgasm—or five. I needed more from Mac and for a brief time last night… I got it.

I got the intimacy, care, and pure desire that I had been craving for so long. She gave it to me in murmurs, whispered touches, and gentle licks. She smiled at me over and over again, causing my heart to soar. We talked and we laughed. We did so much more than f**king.

Yes… what we did last night was transcendental.

It may have been the most perfect night of my life, and yet the dawn of this new day may end up starting the worst of my life… when I walk out that door and probably out of Mac’s life for good.

Sadness overwhelms me at the prospect. It’s a miserable f**king thought.

But it’s just a thought, I tell myself.

Doesn’t have to be true, does it? Perhaps I can change things with Mac. Maybe I can go back, to that time in our relationship when we were both happy with everything there was between us. I’m not quite sure how to go about doing it. In fact, I need to talk this over with someone trusted, and there is only one such person in my life.

Easing out of Mac’s embrace, I give her a light kiss on her head and slip out of bed. I dress silently and leave her apartment just as quietly.

As I hit the street, looking to hail a cab, I pull my phone out and dial my dad. It’s too early for him to be up, because he’s a night owl like me.

But he’ll answer the phone when he sees it’s me that’s calling. When I tell him I need to talk to him… that I need advice, he’ll quietly slip out of the marriage bed he’s shared with my mom for thirty-six years, and pad into the kitchen.

He’ll make a pot of coffee while I lay my woes out to him. He’ll listen and won’t interrupt. Then he’ll sit at the kitchen table that overlooks the backyard, and he’ll sip on coffee while he imparts his wisdom. I know my dad… he won’t call me a dumbass and won’t make me feel bad for the stupid choices I’ve made. Instead, he’ll put his head together with mine and help me figure out exactly what I need to do.

Chapter 35

In my opinion, unaccomplished people only consider the risks, not the rewards.

Those words reverberate through my head, over and over again.

My dad said them to me about ten hours ago when I talked to him first thing this morning. After I told him, with no holds barred, all about Mac Dawson.

I told him how we met—sparing him, of course, the sordid details—and then proceeded to explain how our relationship progressed, then how I f**ked it all up.

I didn’t hold back, but told him it was my bitterness and insecurity… my fear over getting hurt, that held me prisoner.

My dad was quiet the entire time, patiently listening to me while I unburdened. He didn’t even make a sound when I told him what really happened between Cal and Marissa.