IT WAS eight o'clock in the evening when I arrived at my apartment. I squinted, checking twice to see if my eyes were deceiving me. The van she used to ride in was parked just outside my building. A frustrated sigh escaped me as I entered. I did not want to see her tonight. Maybe tomorrow, when we go over her case and prepare for trial, but not tonight.
My breath steadied when I saw no one waiting in front of my apartment door. Maybe the van outside was just similar to hers. I latched onto that thought and stepped inside, immediately peeling myself out of my clothes before heading into the shower. I let the water wash over me, hoping it would cleanse away the stress and the lingering alcohol in my system.
It did nothing to quiet my thoughts.
Her silence and the way she looked at Gracie. The way she never once thought to tell me the truth. It all replayed in my mind, over and over, refusing to loosen its grip.
I caught my reflection in the fogged mirror. Do I look like her?
I groaned, disgusted with myself for even making the comparison. No. I refused to feel insecure. I had the looks, the body, and the confidence to match anyone. That was never the issue. And yet, Gracie's words from earlier surfaced uninvited.
I see why you slept with me. I did resemble her quite a lot.
My fists clenched at my sides. "How dare you," I muttered under my breath. Accusing me of building a life in Canada while she was clearly enjoying sleeping around with other women.
I finished my shower abruptly, drying off with more force than necessary. I was tying my robe when the doorbell rang. My brows knit together as I walked toward the door, irritation flaring when whoever was outside pressed it repeatedly.
I peeked through the peephole and saw her standing there.
"Lauren, I know you're in there," she said, leaning closer to the door as if she could see through it. I immediately stepped back. "I saw you come in."
My jaw tightened. "So now, from a liar, you've graduated to being a stalker?"
"I'm too beautiful to be a stalker," she replied smoothly outside my door. "I'm more of a lover."
The arrogance in her voice only deepened my irritation.
She tilted her head slightly, studying me the way she always did when she thought she could already see the answer written all over my face.
"You're jealous," a cocky grin escaping her lips.
"Don't flatter yourself." I let out a sharp laugh. "I'm irritated, not jealous."
Her gaze never left mine. If anything, it softened, like she was watching me lie to myself in real time. "You are," she insisted. "You wouldn't be this angry if you weren't."
"You yelled at me, made me look like a fool in front of the prosecutor, and then acted like I was unreasonable for wanting an explanation." I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, more to steady myself than to appear composed. "This is not jealousy. It's basic self respect."
She took a step closer, I did not move back. I held her gaze, challenging her, even as my heart betrayed me. It was beating so loudly I prayed she could not hear it. I hated how my body reacted before my mind could catch up. I am mad at her—for making me feel lesser than that woman, and for making me believe I could be more than what this thinning professional relationship allows us to be.
"You pushed me away in the hallway," her voice lowering, her eyes dropping briefly to my lips. "You walked out on me. And you went drinking."
"I have the right to be mad too," I snapped, even as my hands betrayed me, trembling slightly when I noticed where her gaze lingered. "You gave me the reason to." I tried to steady my tone, but it melted away despite my effort.
She was close enough now that I could feel the warmth of her body, smell the faint trace of her expensive perfume invading my senses. Something clogged in my throat as she placed her hand on my waist, steadying me as if she knew I was one step away from backing out. My heart hammered violently against my ribs, furious at how aware I suddenly was of her presence, of how easily she could undo me.
"You hate the way I look at her," Megan continued softly. "You hate that she bedded me. And you hate that it bothers you."
"I don't," I said firmly, though my voice wavered despite myself. "It doesn't mean I'm mad at you. It means this is about you and her."
For a moment, I thought she would argue again. Instead, she exhaled slowly, like she was surrendering to something inevitable.
"I don't have feelings for her," she said at last, lifting her eyes to mine. "But you wouldn't believe me if I told you that."
⚠️ Trigger Warning: This following contains mature content not suitable for minors. Reader discretion is advised.
I opened my mouth to respond, but she closed the distance between us before I could speak. Her hand tightened at my waist, grounding me in place. The argument dissolved in a single breath when her lips met mine.
The kiss was not gentle. It was hungry, provocative, like she was proving a point I was already losing. I stiffened in shock for half a second before instinct took over, my fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt as I pulled her closer despite myself. I kissed her back with the same intensity, pouring frustration and irritation into every movement of my lips.
When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against mine. I was catching my breath while closing my eyes. No fool would believe if I say I didn't what would follow next.
"Tell me you don't feel anything," she murmured caressing the curve of my waist "Tell me this is just anger and nothing else."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My silence was already a confession.
Her hand slid to my wrist, guiding me backward as she nudged the door fully open with her foot. I let myself be led inside, the door closing behind us with a quiet finality that sent my pulse spiraling.
My hand rose to her temple. I might still have alcohol in my system, but I was fully aware of the heat coiling in my chest, of the resentment and desire tangled together, of the thought of her with that woman still burning at the back of my mind. I kissed her again, pressing her back against the wall, biting down on her lower lip hard enough to draw a sharp moan from her, sliding my tongue inside swiftly.
No more questions.
I answered her by wrapping my fingers inn her hair gently, deepening the kiss which she returned with the same intensity. Her hands on my waist slowly moves their way down to my thigh, caressing its way inside my robe. Giving small squeezes in my legs. I felt feverish at the contact of her hand on my legs, sending warmth in my lower stomach.
"Aggressive attorney," she breathed heavily, just inches from me, slowly guiding me back until my hips hit the kitchen counter. "Am I being punished by your kisses?"
"Shut up, you liar." My hand slid from her chest to her neck, then to her face, finally to her lipstick-smudged lips. I bit my own lip at the sight—soft, pink, ruined in the most tempting way. I couldn't resist biting her lip gently. "Keep this mouth from talking and do the work."
"On to that, attorney," she murmured as she settled me onto the stool, pressing me back against the cool surface of the counter before kissing me again. Her left hand wrapped around my waist to steady me while the other traveled slowly down my thighs. Instinctively, I curled my fingers around her neck for support.
"You look so sexy when you're angry." She broke the kiss and turned her attention to my neck, licking the sensitive skin before leaving small, deliberate bites. A sound escaped me—one I didn't even recognize as my own. She held me tighter, pulling me closer, as if determined to hear more.
"And you're planning to make me angry a habit," I breathed.
She lifted her head to meet my eyes. "If I get to kiss you like this," she said, her tongue tracing my exposed collarbone before sucking gently and leaving a red mark, "then be mad at me every day."
While her lips continued their slow assault on my neck, her fingers worked their way to the ties of my robe. She loosened them with practiced ease, the fabric falling open to reveal my chest. Without hesitation, she latched onto one nipple, sucking with an eagerness that made my knees weak.
"Oh my God," I moaned as her tongue circled slowly, while her other hand explored my remaining breast, squeezing and pinching just enough to make me gasp.
"Did you also do this to her?"
She stopped and looked up at me, displeasure flickering in her eyes. "Lauren."
"If you can't explain, answer the question," I said, holding her gaze.
"Yes."
"Then who is better?"
A smile curved her lips as her hand continued its slow movements. "Yours is softer in my hands." I bit my lip to stifle a sound when her finger toyed with my hardened nipple. "They fit perfectly in my mouth, too."
Heat flooded my body as I watched her mouth trail from my chest down to my stomach, pressing light, fluttering kisses along the way. My heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else. She tugged the robe completely from my body and tossed it aside.
"You smell so good," she whispered, desire dark in her eyes as she knelt in both knees between my legs, kissing the inside of my thigh like a devotee at an altar. "It makes me want to trace every inch of you... mark you."
"Do you say that to her too?" I asked quietly, insecurity creeping into my voice. Right now, I didn't want her saying it to anyone else... I don't want her doing it with anyone else but me.
The question slipped out because I needed to know, because in this moment I wanted to be certain that what she was giving me wasn't something she handed out so easily. Right now, I needed reassurance more than answers.
"No..." a genuine glimmer in her eyes as she looks up to me from between my thighs "You are the only woman that my mouth worship like this"
"You look at her as if you want her"
I cannot still get over of how I saw her looks at the woman earlier at the court, like she didn't want to removed her eyes from her.
"I don't want her. I want you." She kissed the inside of my thigh, lingering there, breathing me in as her lips moved slowly. My body reacted instantly—every fine hair rising, my core warming, slick with anticipation at her touch. I held my breath, waiting, hoping her mouth would move closer to my most sensitive spot.
"Why would I want anyone else," she murmured, "when I've been yearning for you all this time?"
"But you still bedded her," I said, my voice breaking, faltering as I struggled to breathe through what she was doing. It was only my thigh, yet my thoughts were already spinning—if this alone could undo me, I knew I wouldn't survive her lips any closer.
"I'm sorry. Look—I'm kneeling now," she said softly. She bit my thigh, just enough to make me jerk at the sensation, a shiver racing through me and settling where I was already aching. Her warm breath brushed dangerously close, and when I looked down, she was there—just a breath away—gazing up at me with softened eyes.
"You don't have to be mad," she whispered. "And you don't have to be jealous anymore."
"Fuck—Megan... ahh," I moaned as her thumb pressed against my hardened clit, while her lips traced and smelled me, making me twitch uncontrollably. She was clearly enjoying how she was torturing me.
"Shit... ahh—I'm not... I'm not jealous," I gasped, trying to deny the fluttering panic in my chest.
"We need to work on the feedbacks," she murmured, teasingly, a hint of command in her tone.
She leaned closer, and I threaded my fingers into her hair, bracing myself for what she was about to do. A groan tore from my throat when her mouth finally moved to my core, licking it slowly, taking her time tasting me. Just as she had done to my nipples, her tongue circled before she sucked gently my twitching clit.
My eyes rolled back at the sensation, pleasure spilling through my body as heat pooled deep in my core, every nerve there fully claimed by her mouth.
"I—I'm not—ah—Megan," I managed, already a moaning mess as her tongue worked me with practiced precision, tasting every glistening part of me. Her thumb pressed my clit, sending another wave through me, turning the pleasure into a sweet kind of torture.
Fuck—ahh—"
My body arched as she pushed her tongue deeper, drawing out everything I had just given, leaving me trembling as I was trying not to fall of the stool. I was heaving my lost breath when she moves, trailing kisses on my body as she moves up.
"Spread your legs wider" she commanded softly, my eyes widened when I felt her finger that is in my clit slowly teasing my wet entrance.
"Can we at least go to my bedroom?" I swallowed looking down at the scene between my legs.
She shook her head in disapproval. "I prefer you in the kitchen—you look so hot right now." Her voice was sultry, edged with command. "So be a good attorney and do as I say."
She leaned in, lips close enough to feel her breath. "Open your legs wider and welcome my fingers."
"Megan!" I tried to resist, gripping her hand, but my strength faltered when she teasingly pressed just the tip of her fingers in my wet entrance. "I—I haven't had sex in a long time." I swallowed the embarrassment, heat creeping up my face at the confession.
She chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before resting her forehead against mine. "Then I'll help you loosen up tonight."
"Fuck you," I managed to blurt out, breathless beneath her teasing arrogance.
"Yes, Lauren," she smirked. "Doing it now."
And without warning, she pushed her fingers in deeper, a faint sting blooming beneath the pleasure. I twitched at the sensation, and Megan immediately noticed. The smugness on her face softened into concern.
"M-Megan... ahh—"
"I didn't expect you to be this tight," she murmured.
"I want your mouth," I cried, almost begging, her lips hovering just inches away from mine. She was torturing me—her fingers moving slowly inside, forcing my body to adjust, to familiarize itself with the sensation.
"Say please."
I bit my lower lip, hesitating. I didn't want to—but the way she moved very slow, it was a special kind of torture I couldn't bear much longer.
"P-please... kiss me," I whispered, finally surrendering to it.
Megan gave me what I asked for—lips soft as they traced my bottom lip, licking before sucking it gently, then fully claiming my mouth. My moans were muffled between them, tongues meeting and moving together in a slow, heated rhythm. I felt her fingers move again, and I held onto her tightly, forcing myself to focus on the sweetness we shared in the kiss.
"Ahh—Megan—ahh," I moaned as her gentle pace shifted into something faster, my core growing even wetter. "Shit... you fucking liar."
"Yes," she murmured against my lips, "this liar is fucking you right now."
"Oh God." I opened my eyes and looked down, watching the way her fingers worked inside me—slick, glistening, moving swiftly through my wetness. Heat flooded my body at the sight. "It's good... ahh."
"You taught me well." I met her gaze, her eyes dark with lust as she picked up her pace. "Remember how you taught me how to fuck you back then, Lauren?"
"And you—ahh—you practiced it on her—ahh." My words broke apart as she changed the rhythm again, moving fast before suddenly stopping, curling her fingers deep inside me. My eyes rolled back as she hit that spot perfectly.
"Keep being jealous of her," she said lowly, "and my fingers won't stop fucking you until it's sore."
"M-Meg—Megan... ahh." My hands gripped her shoulders as I felt myself on the edge, every nerve screaming as she moved inside me. She changed her pace, thrusting harder, curling her fingers in a way that made my body writhe uncontrollably. I couldn't take it anymore—the pleasure was overwhelming.
"I—I'm close... ahh," I gasped, my head falling back as something inside me tensed, ready to release.
She latched onto my breast with her mouth, and I gripped her harder. Her fingers pumped faster, my core tightening around them.
"I'm—" she thrust again, and I groaned in frustration as she pulled back slowly,
"Sorry," she murmured, then thrust once more, curling inside me in a way that made my head shot back.
With a long, shuddering moan, the last movement sent the heat I'd been holding crashing through me. My body convulsed, surrendering completely around her fingers, which stayed still inside my twitching core for a second before withdrawing it out. I gasped for breath, utterly spent, while she busied herself with gentle kisses, trailing from my chest up to my neck.
And when her face came into my view, she smiled "Am I forgiven now—"
SMACK!*
"Ouch, Lauren!" Her hopeful tone died when I slapped her, taking a shaky breath to regain control.
She stared at me, confused, hands still pressed to her redden cheek. "Is that your way of saying that you liked it—?"
"GET OUT!!" I shouted, shoving her back as I grabbed my robe from the floor to wrap my self again with it. My legs still wobbled from what had just happened on my kitchen stool—in my fucking kitchen stool!
The pleasure had faded, and now the anger surged back. I was still furious with her—for making a fool out of me in front of that bitch of a prosecutor.
"What? I thought we were good now—"
"Just because you fucked me doesn't mean you're forgiven, you stupid liar! You still embarrassed me in front of that bitch!" I screamed, seizing her wrist and trying to drag her toward the door, but she resisted, looking lost, unsure of what was happening.
Yeah... just like I had felt earlier when they'd talked about their past in front of me. I was lost too. Finally, I shoved her out of my apartment.
"Lauren, that was a long time ago—can we at least cuddle or—"
The door slammed into her before she could finish. "Lauren?!!" she yelled, banging on the door. I leaned against it, knees weak and hugging myself, still burning from what had just happened.
I bit my lip, suppressing a curve of a smile that was trying to escape. Embarrassing as hell. How was I supposed to face her now, after we'd crossed that line—the line between attorney and client?