**(Lucas)**
‘You won’t believe what Garrett has been up to,’ Jillian said. I shook my head when I heard that name. Garrett. Not dad. *Never* dad. In fact, I don’t even remember the last time any of us called him anything but his first name. All things considered, it beats what we want to call him: Pain in the ass.
Mondays usually began with three coffees sugared to give a toddler pre-diabetes, but I haven’t had the time to eat my melting scone, much less go for coffee. Where the fuck is that office assistant? It’s not even lunchtime yet but I’ve already watched one client rip journalist asshole on national television while forty-five minutes was devoted playing therapist to another on his fourth failed marriage. This shit wasn’t Law and Order.
‘Nothing surprises me anymore about him, but try me,’ I sighed. I noticed the mountain of files Simco was trying to drown me in at the corner of my desk, and it looked like Chinese takeout in the office at midnight.
Again.
I was barely keeping my head above water and the last thing I needed was some more bullshit from Garrett, but I’d rather know about fires now so they didn’t turn into infernos later. ‘How bad is it?’
‘It’s bad. Like kick you in the teeth when you’re down kind of bad,’ she growled. ‘He took on three new cases, all pro bono. Two of them are shoe-ins for trial. Why? Just why?’
The pen in my hand snapped in two. I held the broken pieces in derision, knuckles whitening as I assaulted the jagged plastic. The muscles in my arm flexed against the tailored dress shirt, and I could feel the prickling stress mounting up my neck.
‘Is he insane? Our associates are already working twelve-hour days, so we’ll have to parking lot something else that’s actually bringing in money!’ I barked. ‘There’s no time for a charity event. None. Zero. A big fat goose egg. I’ve canceled two auto shows, haven’t done a marathon in god knows how long, and Jake, Chris, and I haven’t seen our own beds before midnight for weeks!’
‘Yes, we all know he’s insane,’ she said with a staccato of nails on desk. ‘But we signed a deal with the devil to start this cluster fuck, and the devil still has majority voting rights. Did you know he started going vegan again? Way to crush a girl’s dreams of a fatal heart attack.’
‘I’ll be sure to send him a full-fat ham at Christmas for you,’ I sneered with a sly grin. Brimstones weren’t known for two things: modesty, and following authority. It’s probably why we became lawyers in the first place. After working a few years for golfing racists like Garrett, my older brother Chris and I decided to open this location on the East coast to escape the hippies and our father.
He offered monetary help and we took it out of necessity, not realizing the shit storm he would be dragging us through ever since. From the outside, it looked like we found the secret sauce to building a law firm, but it’s never as pretty when you flipped over the rock. Instead of worms you found Garrett, who didn’t expect us to fail, but he also didn’t expect us to kick this much ass – and he showed it by leaving steaming heaps of dung everywhere but the john.
He was good at keeping appearances. After all, how selfless for an old man to stay involved in his children’s business? Only a select few knew that underneath his fifty-dollar words and wide grin was a man haunted by alcohol, maliciousness, and uncontrolled rage. He shat on all of Chris’ ideas, attacked Jacob’s manliness, and treated Jillian like a hired assistant. The only reason he didn’t eat me up is because he liked having someone on his side – or so he thought. Five years of professional abuse and being his unpaid translator had left me wondering how I ever put up with it. I was sick of playing referee and ready to throw on a jersey. Go millennials.
‘I’m due for a meeting five minutes ago, and I’d rather get it over with so I can sleep for more than four hours tonight,’ I said tiredly. ‘I’m going to pass off the buck – Chris is better making these decisions anyway. If you haven’t already, tell him about this. I’m sure he would love a reason to empty a few rounds into a poster of Garrett.’
‘I think I’ll join him,’ Jill murmured.
I took a bite out of my amoeba of a scone, closing my eyes at the relief of food for the first time today while my hand instinctively grabbed for where the coffee was normally on my desk. Seriously, what do we pay that fucking assistant for? Thirty seconds into case review, I realized that I was going into this meeting with bad news. This one’s going to trial, and Garrett has made sure that I wouldn’t have time for any profitable court time. Besides, it looked like a tough win, and the only feeling worse than coming in second during a 10-K is having the judge’s gavel swing in favor of the opposition at trial.
Centering my tie, I walked through the hallway of glass doors frosted just enough to impress basic privacy while revealing unwanted shenanigans. Managing partners still needed to be couriers and I raised my brows when the room of associates scrambled back into perfect position as I knocked on the door. Eight folders lighter, I sent Chris a text telling him to stop scaring the kids.
I had to hand it to Jillian. She pronounced herself queen of renovations and turned a dead bullpen into a space that’s open and modern – all under budget. Growing up with three boys and their hand-me-down hockey equipment, she became a default tomboy sharing a bathroom that perpetually smelled like a sock.
Once Garrett’s firm took off, her inner woman was allowed to indulge on pedis, lipstick, and shoes, but she never shed that brusque exterior, and it’s probably why my brothers and I have never had to kick any boyfriend ass. She spent a lot of energy giving everyone the impression she didn’t care, but two shots in and she became sobs and stories of dead-end first dates.
Recently changed from conference room 2 – a small jab to Garrett’s original naming scheme –, conference room B was all minimalist armchairs and glass tabletops, with a view of the Hudson that’ll silence a crying baby. As I entered, I saw a woman facing outwards admiring the landscape, which would normally warrant at least a passing glance from me, but instead I found myself watching her. Long brunette locks captured the noon sun down to her lower back, and a perfect hip-to-waist ratio appetited an ass that could have been the cure to cancer. Firm and full, a deep desire to squeeze it – hard – made me pocket my twitching palm.
*Lines, Luke, lines.*
My gentle cough prodding her turn morphed into something of a mute gasp. With sculpted brows and full lips, a symmetrical face stared back at me with blue eyes that flirted with dashes of silver. Radiating softness, the peachy skin on her face ended at just the right level between her breasts to rouse my imagination, as the folder in my hand deftly moved to hide my growing erection. In an all-eyes-this-way business suit that would have brought a proud tear to Ralph Lauren’s eye, curves sweet as honey were wrapped like presents on Christmas morning. And the best part about presents was the unwrapping. She wore a warm smile and issued me a hand. For a moment I was back at high school and it’s Tammy at prom all over again.
‘Hi. Abigail May. I’m very excited to work together.’ I was lost between the caramel cream voice and beauty spot beneath her eye so instead of my cracked teenage voice, I was surprised to hear a fully developed male. ‘Sorry, Miss May, I didn’t mean to keep you. Lucas Brimstone.’ We shook hands and her skin felt as smooth as it looked. I took a long second staring into those eyes that couldn’t decide if they were blue or silver, and then another.
‘None of that Miss May stuff. Abigail will do. Since I have you now, do you mind if we just get right into it?’ While I know what she meant, my mind wanted her to be referring to the laundry list of activities I would have liked to cross off with her. Right here. Over this table. Four hundred feet in the air.
*Lines, Luke, lines.*
Nodding, I brought out a chair for her – something that I never do for clients. Clacks of heels on hardwood floor brought my attention to those zebra stripe please fuck me heels as she made her way over, and the way her thighs and ass splayed across the Italian leather as she sat made me thank twice for that folder in my hand. She flicked her hair behind her back to uniform any strays, allowing me to catch the origin of a tattoo at the base of her neck. Tatted chicks weren’t normally my thing, but I was left shaking my head free of curious thoughts on where it might end.
Finding myself an inch from infatuation was an anomaly, especially when the cause was someone like Princess Diaries here. I liked tough females. Savages. Girls who preferred dri-fit Under Armor to lacy underwear. Girls who didn’t know color blocking wasn’t referring to Legos but knew six ways to kill someone with a pair of bamboo chopsticks. My job required all my focus, and everything else had to fit accordingly. It’s all got to work, and it’s got to work fast.
Speed is why I drove an R8, ran marathons, and only fucked women who forgot my name the moment I pulled out. No time for kisses and roses. No time for chocolates and pats on the back. Which is why my little black book looked like the list of female members at a Gold’s gym – strong enough to get over a cold shoulder and big enough to handle the swinging pendulum between my thighs.
‘So, I’ve outlined . . .’ Her lips began moving, and while that occupied my ears, it allowed my eyes to wander. Abigail’s a good nine inches under my six-two, and normally that would have been enough evidence to render the glove too tight a fit, but an inescapable desire to leave my prints all over her ass sure made me want to find out for myself. She’s all woman – soft features, wide hips, and a rack that you’d never find at a place like Gold’s. Far from savage.
She’s the type of girl who always had suitors to choose from, and from what Diane told me about her, I was willing to bet that she wasn’t one to wait patiently. I was sure someone smart had already snatched her up and promised her two carats and vows in Paris, and it was really none of my business. But imagining that ass in another man’s hands and those legs strapped around someone else’s waist at night brought bile to my throat. ‘. . . so that means we need to move fast. Lucas, what’s our plan here?’
‘Just Luke is fine,’ I smiled. She returned with a rosy smirk and a compression of her breasts that dried my mouth. I cleared my throat, reigning myself back to deliver my practiced spiel. ‘This is an open-and-shut case. Zero witnesses. It’s your word against his,’ I murmured while blowing out a long breath. ‘Greedy liars have made judges numb to sexual assault and the days of juries siding with the woman, just cause, is over. I’m afraid I can’t help – I can’t take this case.’ Strangely, I had an urge to stuff those words back inside my mouth the moment they left my tongue.
Genuine confusion plastered over Abigail’s face, but instead of contorting her face into something less attractive, the way her nose wrinkled with her brow turned her into something far sexier. She kind of had a pouty thing going on, and that lip looked ripe for biting – or wrapped around my cock. I knew which I preferred. ‘Look Luke, I went through a lot of hassle getting here and I’m not giving in that easy,’ she said amicably, but entirely resolute. ‘I was told you’re the man that takes on hard cases. Now, I’d love to work with a man of such confidence, but if you’re not him, I guess I was misinformed.’
Ouch. She had a fiery mouth and dead shot aim. I prided myself on growing my bank account off of worthy cases. Being a corporate lawyer paid the bills just fine, but after the second vacation home and matte white Bentley, nothing satisfied the ego more than giving real victims the power to stick foots up asses. Being meticulous was a start, but being Terminator-style laser focused was better when you’re against a dream team of Harvard douchebags, and that’s usually the situation when you took a case that no one else touched. Winning against the odds was something that I made a habit of doing – it bordered on orgasmic – and something told me Abigail would be the best courtgasm I’d ever had.
She was playing with my pride here, and I knew it. On any other day I’d be smarter. More detached. If it was anyone but Abigail May and her taunting smirk I’d build my defensive garrison of litigious verbosity and wake up the next day happy knowing what a bullet I dodged.
But forget my fucked up version of climax and the odds and the pounding headache that this suit would be to dispute. My twitchy palm and I wanted to fight for this woman – and then do things that weren’t part of a typical lawyer-client relationship. And I knew if I didn’t do a home run of the first I’d never get an opportunity to do the second.
One quick glance back at those slow eyes and thoughts of spanking and more were replaced by the realization that she had actually been assaulted. A sudden swell of macho pride infused with protective anger allowed me to find my choice. It was obvious why, no matter what morality bullshit I could concoct to justify the reason. The answer was called Abigail May.
She also deserved her pound of flesh to help heal those mental wounds just like any other limping bunny, and while I didn’t know the first thing about her assailant, I also wouldn’t mind bumping into him in an empty parking lot. ‘Let me give your case a personal combing,’ I said with eager pragmatism, barely concealing my newfound devotion. ‘There might be factors that our associates missed. But if I come to the same conclusion they have, you have to believe me when I say it’s a lost cause.’
‘Oh, thank you Luke!’ she beamed, hair and tits bouncing in unison. ‘I’ll take your word on it.’ As if they had a mind of their own, my cheeks touched my eyes to mirror hers, and it felt fucking good knowing I could make her smile that wide. She rose, making her way to my side of the table, and I followed suit. There was obvious joy in her steps, and she practically sprinted towards me to seal my decision. I didn’t know where she went to school but she definitely knew her ABC’s. Always Be Closing.
As she brought herself forward for a welcome embrace, an errant chair leg caught a heel. She squealed, lurched forward, and the next moment her hands were gripping my chest, while I had a handful of waist – my breathing hastened. Adrenaline overrode boundaries, but her body didn’t complain, breasts fitting like Tetris pieces underneath my ribcage.
My other hand invited itself instinctively, and together the two contracted over the supple fabric. Softness covered strength, as I felt firmness underneath the surface layer of femininity. I found myself inhaling deep above her head, a heady mishmash of sugar and pep wafting up my nostrils. Sweet and spicy – an apt combination for her. ‘Careful Abigail, we don’t want you breaking a heel,’ I teased quietly. ‘They look like big-ticket kicks.’
‘Wouldn’t be the first time,’ she murmured below. I didn’t understand how it was possible, but I heard the smile in her voice. ‘You’d think three years in retail would help, but my inner klutz has other plans.’ Perhaps I felt her forehead nuzzling deeper into my pec, but I couldn’t be sure, senses overwhelmed.
As if she suddenly realized the nature of our position, a strategic cough gave her cover to move away, and I felt her hands leave my chest. Though I didn’t want her to go, I was two seconds away from introducing my palm to her ass, and that’s one assault case I couldn’t run from. As she withdrew, I got a close glimpse of her hands. Delicate, long fingers were roofed with glossy tips, and I couldn’t help but imagine how they’d look enclosed around me. While her left index fashioned a gemstone, I noticed that the hand it’s on was otherwise ring-free.
While I liked helping others just as much as the next justice warrior, I always watched out for number one first. In one meeting Abigail May had me scanning fingers for rings and offering help when I was already spread as thin as can be. And I also haven’t forgotten that this was the first pre-noon boner since freshman year college. ‘I’ll look into him, see if I can’t dig something up,’ I said distractedly as we approached the elevators. I tried to end the meeting un-phased, but one grin from Abigail and sparks were flying down my spine. ‘It’s good you can’t trip in elevators,’ I murmured as the doors opened.
‘You’d be amazed at what this klutz could do,’ she said whimsically as she entered. She stood with two feet heel-to-toe, and in that moment, I wished her hourglass could stop time, or at least slow it down long enough for me to figure out why I wanted it to. ‘I think you have all the relevant information,’ she said softly. ‘But please don’t hesitate if . . .’ Her mouth stayed open but it also stayed quiet, unsaid words lingering in the crevice of her tongue. The doors began to close, her mouth followed, and sharp daggers pierced my neck, my chest in the silence to end all silences. I was left staring at her shy smile disappear between the doors, wondering what that tongue missed, and secretly hoping that the damn associates missed something about this case as well.
Next Chapter: https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/71v9we/downing_abbey_chapter_3/
Chapter 1: https://redd.it/6yxcps
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticstories/comments/7mwwqt/downing_abbey_chapter_2