Second Chances

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As I wished, he positioned himself to where I was atop of him and he was lay flat against my desk, him using my office chair as a support system for his long legs for balance. I slowly began to bounce on his dick, careful not to hurt him with all of my weight. He wrapped his hands around my waist and helped guide me as I began to "ride" him. I started to twirl my hips in a hula-hoop motion as I rode him harder; wanting to please him as he effortlessly pleased me. I watched as he closed his eyes in erotic bliss, biting his lower lips gently. I began to go harder, bucking against my stallion as if I were in a Texas rodeo. I watched him watch me go to work, palming my bouncing breasts as they matched me against him. I felt him grip my waist tighter and bring me deeper onto him, releasing me as I went up and gripping me again as I came down. I went faster, bucking harder as I began bounce deeper onto his length. I swirled my ass along his crotch to purposely go deeper against his dick, alternating between twirling and bouncing on his dick as he aided me. Our erotic cries of lust and passion could be heard throughout the office floor but we did not care. I could feel his penis stiffen inside of me as I grew closer and closer to my second orgasm. With an animalistic cry, I felt my beloved orgasm in the depths of my flower, releasing himself into me. I felt myself come shortly after and collapsed atop of his sweaty torso. I looked at my clock that was now hanging lopsided from my lamp and sighed. It was now 5:00 a.m. and the sun had begun to rise.

I started to play with his half-buttoned Ralph Lauren dress shirt, tracing over the little man and the horse on his right pocket. I did not dare take his now flaccid penis out of me, but I knew I had to at some point. For almost ten minutes we laid quietly atop my desk and listened to the sounds of downtown Chicago. He finally spoke.

"What happens from here, Tasha?"

I listened to his heart beat. "I don't know."

"Did this mean anything to you?"

I looked up at him with hurt eyes. "How could you even ask that?"

He sat up and propped himself on both his elbows. I blushed slightly at the sight of him looking so damn good in the virgin sunlight. He resembled a Calvin Klein model but also African royalty. "So, let me ask again. What happens from here?"

I shrugged and removed myself from off of him, beginning to search for my lost pair of panties. "I'm still not convinced you truly love me and just did not want to fuck me."

Mikeyl chuckled as he began to compose himself, buttoning up his dress shirt and zipping back up his pants. "You really think I'm like these other niggas, huh?"

I immediately shot him a look. Never, and I mean never, have I heard Mikeyl Darnell Troy use the "N" word. I coughed. "What did you say?"

He brushed past me and unlocked my office door, revealing a stunned Ursula- infamously holding her Clorox and Windex. I tried to mumble Good Morning to her while shielding my still exposed chest with a folder, Mikeyl not really phased by the entire situation. He took out his wallet and handed Ursula a few crisp hundred dollar bills and told her to come back a little later after she treated herself to a nice, long breakfast on him. He finally addressed me.

"You heard me. You think I am going to hurt you, don't you?"

"You don't exactly have a great-standing track record!" I was furious and wanted to go home. I did not like where this was headed. I quickly buttoned my shirt back up and cursed my panties to damnation. I decided that it was too late to even think about reading the briefs at this time of day and was going to choose the option of just freelancing it. Before I could grab my purse and car keys, Mikeyl stopped me and forced me to look at him. I could feel that familiar heat rush back into my cheeks.

"I meant what I said Tasha. Shayla and I were a mistake. I believe you were put back into my life for a reason and I'll be damned if I let you go a second time."

"Mikeyl..."

"Go home, get some rest, and I'll take care of your case. I'll ask for a continuance if need be but don't stress about this and let me handle it."

"But, Chad...!"

"I'll handle Chad. He would prefer a more seasoned lawyer take this case anyway, no offense."

I pouted. "But..."

Mikeyl kissed me once more and reassured me everything was going to be taken care of. I finally obliged and allowed him to take over my case, feeling completely drained and unable to fully give it my best anyway. Before I left, Mikeyl whispered in my ear that I should not try and change who or what I am, telling me he adored my body and wanted it to stay that way. I felt that familiar fire begin to ignite in between my thighs and hurriedly ran out the building. When I got home almost a half hour later, there were dozens of red roses lined along vicinity of my apartment, all from, of course, Mikeyl. I inwardly smiled as I began to have a feeling he set the entire night/early morning up just to prove himself and his feelings to me. He was not there to start on the Texas case, but rather to see me. He knew I would be there late with my first big case, I was almost certain. Inside my room was a blue Tiffany's box surrounded by dozens of rose petals and I quickly held my breath. Slowly opening it, I revealed a small note and a heart shaped ring that had "Second Chances" engraved on the band.

I read the note and could not help but smile to myself, now unable to find the will to sleep. It was a quote by some famous unknown philosopher:

Everybody deserves a second chance, but not for the same mistakes.

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5 Comments
AnonymousAnonymous8 months ago

Nice to see a black author his story now once a player always a player plus he's attorney ,if his mouth is open he is lying.

AnonymousAnonymousover 4 years ago
Yeah Right

If she buys in to the line of crap that slick talking shyster is peddling, especially after the way he’s already treated her, she pretty much deserves what she gets. What she should be doing is planning on filing sexual harassment charges against the arrogant prick. Maybe that’s in the second chapter.

rightbankrightbankover 9 years ago
I still seemed like

someone with power using it to overwhelm a junior.

and, since you brought it up, his is one of those. . . . .

DecadentdessertDecadentdessertover 12 years ago
Love it!!

You are one of few authors that highlight sucessful black love, thank you. I echo what "anynomous" wrote that it was disjointed in places but with proofing from a skilled eye you will be just fine. I am eagerly awaiting your next submission.

AnonymousAnonymousover 12 years ago
Not bad

The story line seemed a little disjointed, I think you need to find a way to make things flow better and to make things seem more realistic. For example, private firms rarely represent young black murder suspects, and if they were to do so, there would need to be a reason explained. Also, black men with long dreadlocks are rarely partners, and that would also require some explanation of how he got to that position only 7 years out of college. Please note, I'm saying this as a black woman with aspirations of climbing the corporate ladder, but I am also realistic. Also, how did she just get hired into a partner position? That doesn't happen. Then with their love story, it just needed some more dialogue to be believable. I really don't think your story was bad though, just wanted to give some constructive criticism to help out!

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