A/N: I hope everyone enjoys reading my writings just as much as I enjoy writing them. Peace and Blessings.
I jadedly watched steam slowly coil around my hand-painted Artisan coffee mug as I tried my best to concentrate on my case briefings. I was set to defend an eighteen year old African-American male for attempted murder and alleged rape of a sixteen year old female classmate tomorrow morning at around ten. I knew the case would take up the bulk of my day and was going to be one hell of a headache. I had just made partner at my firm, Johnson and Troy, and was given my first hard-hitting case right out the gate. With the scandal being made into national news that stirred much racial and ethical controversy, my involvement was either a smart career move on my part that could greatly influence my current salary and position at the firm, or it was an unwise choice, my boisterous ego and overzealous persona getting me into deeper waters than I can swim in-yet again, that could finish to my law career before it even began. It was already two in the morning and I needed sleep, the five hour energy drink I took earlier now waning. To make matters worse, I was to be in front of one of Chicago's more ruthless judges, Judge Irvine. She was known to be a bitch in and out of the courtroom and was rumored to lack any sympathy in her cold, calloused being. She was twice divorced due to infidelity issues with her two late husbands and was without children; so I can see why she was a bitter and angry old woman that envied anyone with a sliver of happiness in their spirits. To top to top it off, I was starving and the dry, stale bagel I had stolen from the coffee room was making me even more frustrated. There wasn't any cream cheese or jelly either. My morning was certainly turning out to be quite the experience.
I took a small bite out of one of the coffee room's many dry, stale bagels I had snatched to ease my late night hunger, sipping my hot chocolate I had just prepared shortly before from my mug. I had a sudden craving for Chinese food but resisted the urge to call Chin's. I was currently on a low-fat, low-calorie diet that restricted my consumption of all sweets, sugars, and, my favorite, fast-foods. With me being a curvaceous beauty with a weight problem, according to Cosmo magazine, it truly was hard to avoid going through the McDonald's drive through and getting my usual ten piece nugget meal after a long day's work. I did not really consider food to be an addiction before, but since going on this diet I came to realize that those tasty treats I love munching on during my drive home from work, while watching my late-night reruns of Jerry, and my rainy evenings snuggled up in my backwards robe, were causing me to become addicted to their tantalizing flavor. I never knew I could miss the sweet and tangy taste of sweet and sour sauce mixed in with the flavor of fried chicken so much.
Fuck my life
I looked at my computer monitor sometime later and saw that the time was now 3:45 a.m. I now had a pounding migraine that made every word I read blurry, every yellow streak of highlighter painful to even look at, and the bright desk lamp on my office desk simply unbearable. My case briefings were halfway finished, no where close to being ready for the final presentation. I was supposed to be in the courtroom, ready to address the press, talk to the media, and defend my client in less than seven hours and I had a migraine and lack of sleep. Not the ideal first impression you want to make as your first time as newly elected partner. I sighed and buried my face in my palms, running my freshly manicured hands through the thick curly locks of my hair.
Fuck my life
There was a small knock on the door, but I did not bother to look up to address the person. I thought it was Ursula, the Cambodian cleaning lady that spoke very little English and always smelled of Lysol and vanilla, and just gestured for her to come in and begin her daily disinfecting ritual with a small wave of my wrist. She came in abnormally early to clean the entire office suite but was compensated handsomely from what I was told from staff. Every day, without fail, she would flaunt her signature smile and attempt to say "Good Morning" in her thick accent, never daring to part ways with her weapon of choice-Clorox- and her trusty companion-Windex. This time, there was no aroma of Lysol or Vanilla, but the heavenly scent of men's cologne, Armani perhaps. I heard to door close and someone sit in one of the two leather chairs I had positioned in front of my desk. It took me a moment to collect my thoughts to finally realize that the person that was in my office was not Ursula. I looked up and saw Troy, thee Troy of Johnson and Troy. He was grinning and gracefully had one leg over the other, leaning backwards into one of the cushions lazily. I quickly fixed myself up and fixed my disheveled desk to make it seem as if I had been somewhat productive over the last hour and a half.
I cleared my throat and graced him with a small smile. "Mr. Troy. I thought I was alone in the office. I did not know I had company." I began to ramble nervously, intimidated by his carefree demeanor and shroud of silence. "If I knew you were here, I would have said hello or made your coffee or umm...got your briefs prepared."
"It's quite alright, Tasha. I decided to come in a bit earlier than usual and get a head start on the Phillips vs. Texas case. I saw your light was on in your office and decided to drop in and see how the new partner was doing on her first big case."
I laughed nervously as I felt his stare move downwards towards my full, ample breasts, proudly protruding through the deep plunge of my V-neck chiffon blouse. I had a pink blazer over it earlier to conceal any amount of sexuality I could have exude but had taken it off when everyone had left for the evening and I had realized I was alone. My pink lace bra was visible to the naked eye through the taut fabric of my shirt and I began to blush crimson.
Mikeyl, Mikeyl Darnell Troy was his full name, and I had a romantic affair years back when we were in college together. He was four years my senior and was a semester away from graduating and going to Northwestern to study law. At the time, he had a girlfriend, Shayla Watkins, and was madly in love with her-until he met me. We started off as friends but blossomed into something much more months later when he and Shayla broke it off after some petty argument about groceries. I was a virgin and a freshman in college and he was a well-endowed, truly experienced senior that had aspirations to become a future lawyer that made my panties moist with just a "hello". We did not officially date because of his conflicting feelings with Shayla, but on numerous occasions, we made passionate love throughout many of nights in either his apartment or my single dorm that could not deny our inevitable feelings for one another. After he graduated, we lost contact because he and Shayla reconciled their differences and decided to give their relationship another try; my heart ending up broken and my self-worth now diminished, feeling as if I gave all my love to the wrong person. A few times he tried to contact me but I never responded nor acknowledged his presence. Eventually, we fell off and I hadn't heard from or seen him until I applied for a position at Johnson and Troy-unbeknownst of who the Troy truly was.
"Still, I would have said hello, Mr. Troy."
Mikeyl sighed and uncrossed his legs, getting in a less formal position. "Tasha, no need for the formalities." He gave a small, sensual smile. "We are friends, aren't we?"
I nervously cleared my throat and looked at my abandoned case briefings. I did not feel like getting into it with Mikeyl. Ever since he found out Chad Johnson had hired me to be apart of their firm, Mikeyl has been trying to win back my affection. It was bad enough he was my first love; I did not need him to be my employer as well. "Sure. But I really need to get on these case briefings. I have court at ten and I am barely through..."
"You know I never stopped loving you."
I grew speechless and began to stare at the yellow streaks of marker I had drew on my files, my migraine damned to hell. My breathing became much more brisk, the yellow lines of marker now beginning to become one. He continued.
"I haven't seen you in seven years and out of the blue, Chad tells me there is a new lawyer he wants me to meet and...there you stood." I remained silent. He drew in a small breath. "Shayla and I were a mistake, you and I were not and I first and foremost, would like to apologize for that."
I began to stare at the perpetual motion balls that were resting at the corner of my desk. I could see my reflection in the steel spheres and decided to pull on one gently, making a motion that resonated through all five balls and knocked the fifth, causing a repetition in motion. I could feel Mikeyl watching me, causing me to sweat.
"Mikeyl is fine, Tasha."
I continued. "Mikeyl, that was in college and it's ok. You were in love with Shayla and who could blame you. She was skinny, light-skinned, pretty..."
"Don't give me that bullshit, Tasha." He interrupted, his voice growing irritated and louder. "You are equally as beautiful as she is, if not more."
"You did not seem to share the opinion when you were twenty-one." I shot back, almost angrily. Ever since joining the firm, I tried my utmost best to keep the romantic affair Mikeyl and I had in secrecy. Everyone, even my secretary, can tell there is some tension between us, but the last thing I need to happen is for everyone to find out Mikeyl and I was college mates and fucked each other in every position possible. The small flirting he does here and there does not hint off any major signals about our past rendezvous, but it ignites the fire I thought had long gone out. I had thought my feelings for Mikeyl were long over, the passion and love I had for that man nothing more than a distant memory. For almost a year, I gave him every part of my being without looking for anything in return but his love and affection. Shayla was his heart, I knew that; but I wanted to become his soul, to be apart of him-something he could not live without. The last thing you want the man you love to tell you is that he and his ex are back together and there is no possibility of a relationship, especially after I spread my legs for him and gave him the gift of my purity. I felt myself getting angry just thinking about the past, deciding to take the latter and change topic.
"It does not matter Mr. Troy." I went back to being formal to mask my feelings of pain and anguish. Just looking at him pissed me off and I just wanted to go back reading those stupid briefs so I could at least go home by five. "That was the past and we are both past that."
"Are we?" he asked.
"I am. The question is, are you, Mr. Troy."
There was a pregnant pause before he answered, the stiffness in his body showing great amounts of tension as his poised manner resembled concentration. He grinned and stood over my desk, causing me to fall back into the soft, engulfing skin of my office chair.
"Are you really over me, Tasha?"
"Mr. Troy, please..."
"Tasha, answer the question and stop stammering like a dumbstruck little girl."
"No one is dumbstruck!" I felt slightly insulted. "I am simply saying that..."
"Answer the question." My hazel eyes never left his dark brown ones as I watched his figure move from in front of my desk, to the side of my desk, to finally, behind my desk, only inches away from me. I felt that flame within begin to grow with much more ferocity as I slowly began to roll my chair away from him. He looked better than I remembered. His jet black dreadlocks were now long half-way down his back in a nice French braid that started at his crown, much longer than the shoulder length ones he donned in college. His cocoa brown skin was smooth and much more even, his facial hair now more shapely and masculine contrasted to the somewhat rugged look he had before. He was taller and a bit more muscular as well; certainly dressing much more finely that complimented his newfound career and social status. The only thing that had remained consistent being his pearly white teeth that I envied, wishing I could have the ability to smile like I had come fresh off the set of a Crest commercial.
I swallowed, hard, and eyed my briefs. I don't know what I was expecting, but I was hoping they could somehow save me. "Mr. Troy, I have court in a few..."
"Tasha." He spoke my name in a command, his voice reverberating my name in a way that sent my fire to a region long forgotten. I clenched my thighs together as I tried hard to conceal my obvious excitement. It brought me back to when I was in school, laying on his king sized bed fully exposed in nothing but my natural beauty waiting patiently, eagerly as he prepared himself for me. "
"Mikeyl...I have the briefs..."
He shushed me by grabbing the arm of my office chair, slowly sliding it towards his loin. I could not help but notice the obvious erection he had through the perfectly ironed black slacks his body elegantly modeled. I had to catch my breath as I began to go back into memory to the first time I saw his penis. It was not huge like many women say black men's penis' are, but it sure as hell was thick. He was an average seven inches but truly had the width of an untamed stallion, knowing how to work it like one as well. The night I had lost my virginity, he had me in the traditional missionary to begin with, then doggy style to ease some of the pain. Soon after came backwards cowgirl, the rodeo, and other sex names I can't even remember. The man truly was talented in and out of the bedroom, his intellect not being the only thing that makes any woman reach out for their "ticklers" and wish that it were him in between their thighs and not some silly piece of plastic.
"Tasha, I meant what I said." He carefully pried my legs apart, placing them on either side of his body. "I never stopped loving you and leaving you was a mistake."
I remained silent. He continued. "You say you have surpassed me but your body says otherwise. You truly do not understand how much I missed you over the course of these long seven years. I tried emailing you, calling you, texting you before you changed your number, even went to Facebook and Myspace." There was a small pause before he spoke again. "Nothing."
"You...You broke my heart Mikeyl." I finally let it out, beginning to feel myself weld tears in the corners of my eyes. "I thought we had something."
"We did, still can."
"Obviously not if that...bitch was able to take you away from me!" I did not mean to shout out at him but I could not control it nor take it back. I quickly covered my mouth and regretted expressing the pent up emotion I had towards him. I had to admit, it felt damn good to finally tell him after all these years how I had felt, but I completely forgot that he was my employer and he was never supposed to know. The expression on his face turned stoic, as he pulled away from me ever-so-gently. I turned away, ashamed and feeling completely exposed. "Mr. Troy, I think it's best if I go home and work on these case briefings."
He began to speak but I cut him off quickly. "I better go."
I began to collect my things from desk before I felt his hand lay atop of mine, forcing me to look into his eyes. He said nothing but simply kissed me, his lips soft as cashmere as his taste resembled apricot. I tried to pull away, those tears I had welding between my eyes now beginning to fall but he held me close. Before I could react, he pushed me deeper into the depths of my seat and spread my legs wider, exposing my lace Victoria secret intimate. I gasped lightly in between our kiss, feeling his masculine hands roam my voluptuous thighs and graze over my jewel lightly.
"Let me show you how much I love you, Tasha."
My mind could not formulate a proper response before I watched him kneel before my entrance, kissing the clothed dampness of my cavern. His dark brown eyes never left my hazel ones, a deepening shade of scarlet rouging my cheeks as he placed my each of my legs on his shoulders. He slowly licked my entrance through the confines of my panty, outlining my swollen lips with his tongue. I moaned out lightly as I watched his slowly remove the fabric from my waist, tossing them to the side like an abandoned childhood rag doll. At that moment, I was thankful I decided to get a wax that morning and wore some sexy underwear other than my Fruit of the Loom I always wore during the week,
Gently, his lips touched my lips and I exhaled a cry of pure pleasure, running my hands through the grooves of his braided dreads. I felt him snake his tongue inside of me, licking slowly and gracefully along my inflamed clit. I felt myself become wetter with each stroke of his artistic brush he called tongue as he began to increase speed. Each stroke was as if it were addition to his final touches of his masterpiece, creating and birthing an art form that could rival even the Mona Lisa. He rolled my clit around, swirling and suckling on it in a rhythmic beat that could not be forgotten. He traced the concaves of my womanhood with his brush, careful to lap up every droplet of nectar that held my unique taste. It became much more intense when he added two of his fingers, holding them against my clit and rubbing it gently in circular motion. I moved my hands from gripping his braid to the grabbing onto the arms of my chair with dear life.
As he inserted his two fingers in my wet heat, I could feel myself clench around him, as if he were mine and I was to not let go. His brush began to stroke against my clit once more, this time flicking at my nub at a greater pace than he had set before to match his fingers. I arched my back in ecstasy as I cried out to sweet baby Jesus in the manger. I finally freed my aching breasts from my blouse and began to rub my nipples, playing with myself and Mikeyl played with me. They resembled freshly cultivated black pearls and were enhanced by the dim moonlight from my window. I could feel myself near an orgasm and began to tease myself more; matching the speed my beloved had set for me to compete with in the ultimate conquest for my orgasm. His fingers quickened in pace and I matched him in tempo with ease. His tongue was beginning to vibrate against my clit and that sent me over the edge. I gave myself one last taunt before I felt a long-lost friend encase my entire being with intense vibrations that shook the core of my soul. I closed my eyes as my orgasm washed over me like waves to a restless sea. Before I could open my eyes, I felt a familiar hardness enter me and it sent my orgasm tenfold. I was not certain when or where, but when I last looked, Mikeyl was in between my thighs going in on an early breakfast. Now, he was deeply planted inside of me.
He quickly pulled me into a deep embrace as he lifted me up from my seat and onto my desk, ferociously pushing all my documents, briefs, letters, paperwork, and utensils to my freshly carpeted floor. I heard my cup of pens and paperclips fall violently as my papers began to resemble the paper planes I made in grammar school. I would have freaked out considering how some of those documents were my case briefs for later that day, but I did not give damn. Beginning his tempo, the maestro had begun to conduct his symphony. He began to move in and out of me at a medium speed, quickly speeding up and then going back to his set rhythm. I spread my legs eagle as I let him go to work on his orchestra, playing with my body as if it were his own personal instrument. I felt him gently begin to suck on one of my nipples, never breaking his tempo. I wrapped my legs around his waist as I played with his hair, trying to pull him closer to me. He lifted his head from my chest and kissed me, this time with much more passion, his thrusts now faster in motion, creating more friction. All I could hear was the sound his skin hitting my skin, his sack against the moist entrance of my aching heat that begged for more. I whispered in his ear words that would make even a porn star blush and felt his infamous smirk burn through my skin.