“Right, um...” I cleared my throat. “Long story short: My client carried a gun into a federal bank and forgot to turn on the safety lock. Someone bumped into him and his hands instinctively went to his pocket, and the gun fired—shooting him in the leg.”

“Since when do you practice criminal law? I thought your specialty was corporate.”

Shit... “It is, it is. I’m taking this case for a friend, pro bono.”

“Hmmm. Well, your friend is looking at two to five years in a federal prison if he doesn’t have any priors. What part of this do you need help with exactly?”

“The pleading part. He didn’t hurt anyone but himself.”

“Did he have a license to carry?”

“No...” I looked through my notes.

“Then I’m sure the prosecution will convince the jury that he carried that gun into the bank with the intent to harm someone other than himself. Take whatever deal they offer.”

“Well, I...” I looked at what the assignment sheet said. “What if I already rejected that deal?”

He sighed. “Call the prosecution and try to get it back. If they say no, plead no contest.”

“No contest? Are you out of your mind?”

“Are you? What type of corporate lawyer agrees to take an open and shut criminal case? A fairly inexperienced one at that...”

“For your information, it’s an assign—” I coughed. “Never mind. Telling me to plead no contest is pretty much the same thing as telling me to plead guilty.”

“If that was the case, I would have said plead guilty.” He sounded annoyed. “No contest is your client’s best option, and any real lawyer would know that. Are you sure you passed the bar exam?”

“I wouldn’t have been invited to join LawyerChat if I hadn’t, would I?” I felt my heart ache with that lie. “I’m just trying to avoid my client being sentenced to prison.”

“Then you really should stick to corporate law.” There was a smile in his voice. “Your client is going to prison and there’s nothing you can do about it. The only negotiable thing about his case is how long he’ll spend there. Anything else I can help you with? Do I need to lecture you on the difference between guilty and not guilty?”

I rolled my eyes and put the file away. “Thank you for your condescending help as always.”

“My pleasure,” he said. “I need to ask you something important.”

“About my case?”

“No.” He let out a low laugh. “What do you look like?”

“What?” I could barely hear my voice. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. Since I may never get a chance to see you, I’d like to know. What do you look like?”

I stood up and walked over to my mirror, letting my eyes roam over my reflection. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to answer that...” I needed to change the subject, fast. From everything he’d told me about his dates over the past few months, he definitely had a type he liked best, a type that intrigued him like no other: Blonde, slightly curvy, full lips...

Me.

I’d tried to envision what he looked like plenty of times. Dark haired, maybe? Dirty blond? A mouth made for kissing with deep green eyes? Six pack, no, eight pack that leads down to a lick-able V?

He does mention working out every day...

I was more than certain that he was attractive—he had to be if so many women put up with him on those dating sites, but each time my mind drew a picture, I’d convince myself that I had him all wrong.

“You know what?” I said, snapping out of my thoughts. “I’ve never been good at describing things. What do you look like?”

“I look like a man who wants to fuck you.”

Tingles ran up and down my spine. “That’s not a description...”

“What color is your hair?” He didn’t sound amused, and I knew he wasn’t going to let me direct the conversation tonight.

“Red.” I yanked the band from around my bun and let the blond strands fall to my shoulders.

“How long is it?”

“It’s short...”

“Hmmm. What about your eyes?”

I stared at my blue and grey irises. “Green, light green.”

“Do you have freckles?”

“No.” At least that part was true.

“And your lips?”

“You want to know how thin or thick they are?”

“I want to know how they’d look wrapped around my cock.”

I gasped.

“Are you playing shy tonight?” Ice cubes clinked against a glass in his background. “How much of my cock do you think you could take into your mouth?”

I remained silent, and my breathing began to slow.

“Alyssa?” His voice was soft. “Are you going to answer me?”

“It’s hard to make a prediction about something you’ve never done.” I heard him inhale a deep breath, and the line went completely silent.

I thought he’d ask me how I’d managed to have sex with boyfriends in the past without ever giving a blowjob, but he didn’t.

“Hmmm. Are you a natural redhead?”

“What does it matter?” I moved over to my bed. “I’m clearly not your type.”

“I have a preference, not a type, and a smart mouthed redhead who’s never had another man’s cock in her mouth is more than worthy of an exception.”

I hooked a thumb underneath my panties and peeled them off before slipping under the sheets. “Too bad I’m not a full blown virgin, huh?”

“I don’t fuck virgins.” He paused. “But considering the fact that you and I have never fucked, you might as well be one.”

Wetness slipped down my thighs, and I felt my nipples hardening. “I highly doubt—”

“I’m tired of only being able to talk to you on the phone, Alyssa...”

Silence.

“I need to see you...” His voice was strained.  “I need to fuck you...”

“Thoreau...”

“No, listen to me.” His tone was a warning. “I need to be buried deep inside of you, feeling your pussy throb around my cock as you scream my name—my real name.”

A hand trailed down past my stomach and between my thighs, and my fingers began to strum my clit. Slow at first, then faster, faster with every sound of his heavy breaths in my ear.

“I’ve been very patient with you...” His voice trailed off. “Don’t you think?”

“No...”

“I have,” he said. “I’m tired of imagining how wet your pussy can get, how loudly you’ll scream when I suck your tits as you ride me...How hard I’ll pull your hair when I bend you over my desk and fuck you until you can’t breathe...Tired.”

I shut my eyes, letting my other hand squeeze my breast, letting my thumb pinch my nipple.

“I’m giving you two weeks to come to your fucking senses...”

“What?”

“Two weeks,” he whispered. “That’s when you and I are going to meet face to face, and I’m going to claim every inch of you.”

“I can’t...I can’t agree to...that.”

“You will.” His breathing was now in sync with mine. “And the second you do, you’re going to invite me over and I’m going to remind you of everything you’ve teased me with over the past six months.”

I was speechless. My clit was swelling with each rub of my finger, and my breaths were getting shorter and shorter.

“I’ll be gentle at first,” he whispered, “especially when I slide my cock into your mouth and pull on your hair, showing you exactly how I like it to be sucked.”

“Stop...” I was panting. “Please...Stop...”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

“Thoreau...” My legs were trembling.

“I can’t just talk to you anymore. I need to feel you, I need to taste you. Say yes to two weeks...”

I bit my lip, knowing that if he said it again, if he asked me one more time, I would say yes.

“Alyssa...” He was begging.

I was seconds away from coming, seconds away from screaming “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Promise me you’ll let me fuck you in two weeks...”

As if my mouth was under his command, it freed my bottom lip and prepared to say yes, but I hung up.