Missy Johnson: Provoke

He raised his eyebrows, realization flashing through his eyes. My face flamed. He knew exactly why we were there.

“Over at the bar. Next to the big dude in the red shirt.”

Laura stood up. Flicking her long, blond hair over her shoulder, she marched in his direction. I hesitated, wondering if I should follow her.

“Don’t worry about your friend. Everyone here thinks you’re both with me. Nobody is going to mess with her.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but I couldn’t deny the chills it sent racing down my spine. There had been nobody since Ben, mainly because Ben had left me feeling so fucked up. I glanced at my mysterious new friend. He was hot, with his dark hair and his deep blue eyes. His lashes were so long I just wanted to reach out and touch them. He was the perfect rebound guy.

“So, I take it you two don’t live around here?” He’d leaned back, his arms across his chest as he looked me over, his eyes lingering on my chest. This guy certainly wasn’t shy about showing his interest.

“If you want me to answer your questions, then try looking at my face and not my breasts,” I replied. Shock resonated on his face. Then he laughed.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Are you from around here?” he asked again. This time he looked me dead in the eyes.

I held his gaze and shook my head.

“I didn’t think so. What’s your name?” he’d asked, cocking his head to the side, the edges of his mouth twitching into a smile as he played with a coaster in front of him.

“Leeta,” I’d replied with a smirk.

“Pretty name for a beautiful woman,” he’d replied. I’d rolled my eyes and burst out laughing. He had eyed me, amused. “Something funny?”

“You, actually. Do those lines ever work?” I’d asked, still sniggering.

He’d had the decency to look embarrassed. “Well, to be honest, the kind of girls I usually end up with aren’t much for talking.”

Laura had raced back over, giving me the thumbs up. She’d looked from me to Mace and decided it would be a great idea to stay there for a while. I’d known exactly what she was up to. That didn’t mean it wasn’t going to work.

That night, we stayed in that bar until four in the morning, talking about anything and everything. This guy I’d been convinced was just like every other cocky, self-assured ass had turned out to be different. He had depth. There were layers to him I never would’ve expected—layers I was only able to uncover after several shots and a lot of kissing.

Within a few weeks, we were spending nearly every night together. It wasn’t until our fourth date that I’d actually realized who he was. Until then, he was just Mace. Hell, I hadn’t even known his last name. But then I was telling him about a case I’d been working on when I literally saw the blood drain from his face. It turned out I was helping lock up an old associate of his dad.

My first thought? Holy hell. This will never work.

His father, the infamous Ronald Jordan, was in prison for life for his part in the hits of several underworld figures, and his brother, Cash, was also inside on drug charges. Thank God I’d played no role in putting either of them in there.

But the more time I spent with him, the more I realized that Mace wasn’t that guy. He came from a bad family, and he had made some bad decisions in his life, but he was a good guy.

He was my good guy.

#

I nodded to the security guard on duty as I passed my way through the screening. Taking the stairs, I flew up them two at a time to room 234, where my case was going to be heard.

Just off from the courtroom was a prep room where I could wait, and go over my closing argument. I slipped inside and flicked on the lights, shutting the door behind me. My phone vibrated in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw I had a new message from Mace.

I shrieked and then clapped my hand over my mouth.

Holy shit!

I blinked and checked the text again. No, I wasn’t imagining it. I stared at the picture of Mace’s very erect penis on the screen. A very impressive picture . I bit my lip as I stared at it, a familiar ache beginning to stir between my legs as I fantasized about his long, thick, erect shaft.

How was I supposed to respond to this? How was I supposed to focus on work with that image in my head? A message flashed up.

Are you sure there is no way I can convince you to cancel this dinner? I’d love your ‘hands-on’ opinion on something.

I laughed, flicking back to the picture again. Definitely impressive . . .

You’re meeting my parents. Case closed. Now back to this picture you sent me. Definitely holding my interest at the moment.

I giggled to myself while I waited for his reply.

There’s more where that came from, baby. But you don’t get without giving a little . . .

No way. He wasn’t suggesting I do that here —was he? I glanced at the picture again, running my finger along the screen. Quickly, I unbuttoned my shirt, untucking it from my skirt. Reaching behind my back, I unhooked my bra and pushed my breasts forward, my arm tucked below in a bid to enhance them.

I can’t believe I am doing this.

Click.

I checked the picture and pressed send before I could change my mind. Sexting? So not me, but it felt naughty, and I liked that feeling. The phone rang almost immediately.

“Wow.” His voice was low and husky. “I am honestly shocked you sent that. I must be a bad influence on you.” He chuckled. A shiver shot up my spine. I slipped my fingers over my nipple and closed my eyes, imagining his mouth on my body.

“I can be unpredictable.” A soft moan escaped me. I blushed, embarrassed. Please don’t have heard that.

“Leets, are you . . . you’re touching yourself, aren’t you?” he said. I could hear the shock in his voice.

“Well, you started it with that damn picture,” I said defensively, my face heating up.

He chuckled, obviously enjoying my embarrassment. “You liked that, did you? So…what are you wearing?”

“You know what I’m wearing,” I smirked. “You saw me a half hour ago.”

He chuckled again. “That’s true. Where are you, then?”

“In a room. Alone.”

“Is the door locked?”

“No.” I glanced up at the closed but unlocked door. “But it’s shut.”

“So anyone can walk in and catch you?”

“I guess.”

“Good.” A chill raced through me as I imagined someone catching me right then. “Are you wet for me, Leets? I want you to slip your fingers inside your panties and tell me how wet you are.” His voice was low and smooth. Was he touching himself too? Was he stroking his impressively hard cock while he was talking to me?

My heart raced as I lifted my skirt and slipped a finger inside my silk thong. I gasped. God, I’m so turned on right now.

“I’m wet . . . very wet,” I whispered. I repositioned my leg so my foot rested on the edge of the desk, allowing me to hitch my skirt up even further, the tops of my thigh-high stockings exposed.

I slipped a second finger inside my thong and began to massage, glancing toward the door every few seconds. If anyone walked in, they would cop an eyeful. This little show could potentially cost me my job, but right then, all I cared about was him, and my need for fulfilment.

“Tell me what you’re doing, Leets. Where is your finger? Is it inside of you?”

“Mmm,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. “I have two fingers inside me. I’m imagining it’s your cock slowly thrusting in, then out . . .” I sighed, my rhythm speeding up. “God, I’m so wet, Mace.”

“Good, Leets. I like you nice and wet. Imagine I’m kneeling down in front of you, spreading your legs as wide apart as I can. I begin to kiss your thigh, slowly making my way up higher and higher, until my lips are kissing the edge of your pussy.”