Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Every time he touched me—every single caress of his fingers, kiss of his lips, or press of his body to mine—I melted. I didn’t understand. How could one man do things that, under any other circumstance, would be a turn-off if anyone else had done them? But because it was Harrison Astrid, it just made me want him more.
Then I remembered where I was.
In a jail cell where he had the audacity to hold my future over my head because I had dared to go on a date with another man after he had made it perfectly clear he didn’t want me.
Fuck him. This wasn’t happening on his terms. I was not going to be some little damsel in distress who gave in to him every single time he wanted to claim me.
I laced my fingers in his hair and pulled hard. When he broke the kiss to grunt something out, I took the opportunity to latch onto his neck, biting as my hands went from his hair down his chest to his pants. I was taking control of this entire situation. He was not going to use me in a jail cell to work out his frustration. I was turning the tables, and I was going to use him. How dare he think that he had the right to threaten my entire future because I went on a single date? No, I wasn’t the one that was going to be punished here.
With more strength than I knew I had, I pushed Harrison back a step at a time until he hit the bench that was attached to one of the barred walls.
He sat on the bench, and I climbed onto his lap, gripping the bars on either side of his head, caging him in.
“It’s my turn to ask some questions,” I said.
“I already made my judgment, babygirl.”
“Then consider this my appeal. True or false, counselor, the name in the files is not Detective Patrick Doyle, it’s an alias used as a means to conceal the identity of a dirty cop until charges could be filed.”
“True.”
“So there’s no way that I could have known that Detective Doyle was the man listed in those files.”
“Do you often go on dates with men before getting their full names?”
“It’s my turn to ask the questions, counselor,” I said, grinding my hips down on his lap, on his hard cock that was barely contained by his pants.
“When you told the defendant not to speak with Detective Doyle, did you tell them why?” I asked.
“I did not,” he said. His hands went to my hips, and he tried to rock me back and forth, but I tightened my core and became immovable.
“Why did you decide not to tell me the reason I shouldn’t be flirting with the detective?”
“Because you should have known better. Flirting in the office is unprofessional,” he said before he wrapped his hand in my hair and pulled me down so my lips met his again.
I broke the kiss and leaned back, taking my mouth out of his reach. So he started kissing my chest and working the buttons of my blouse apart one by one.
“I’m glad you said that.” I wrapped my fingers in his hair, directing his lips to where I wanted them. “Because professional boundaries are important. Tell me then, counselor, was it professional when you bent your paralegal over your desk and spanked her during the workday?”
“She deserved to be punished.”
“That wasn’t my question. Please answer the question I asked. Was spanking your paralegal during work hours professional?”
It was getting harder to focus. His lips were wrapped around my nipple, still covered by the lace of my bra, and his cock straining to get free of his pants pressed at my core.
“No,” he growled before sinking his teeth into my breast, sending a bolt of electricity down my body to my core. I wasn’t going to be able to hold out for too much longer.
“Was it professional to fuck her in the office when there were other people working just on the other side of the door? Tell me, counselor, did you even bother to ensure the door was locked?”
“I have a release built into my desk to lock it without getting up.”
“But was it professional behavior, counselor?”
“No,” he grunted out before ripping aside the cup of my dark blue lace bra and sucking my nipple into his mouth.
It was hard to maintain my focus with the way his lips kept pulling at my breast, sending shock waves of pleasure down my body and pressure building in my core.
“And counselor, was I working with you when I behaved unprofessionally and accepted a date from a detective?”
“No.”
“And why wasn’t I working with you?”
He didn’t answer my question. His hands just moved to my hips and pulled me closer.
“Counselor, I require a response to my question.” I pulled his hair back, forcing him to release my breast and look me in the eye.