Appealed (The Legal Briefs, #3)(47)

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 f*cking 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 f*cking 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 *. 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 f*ck 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.”