Chapter 30
Marcel
Marcel desperately needed to speak to Sharla. He wanted to warn her about the judicial misconduct allegation. When she didn’t respond to his multiple calls and texts, he suspected Sharla had likely already undergone a dressing down like the one he had just endured.
As he drove home, he thought about the walls that were about to come down on his life. Screw the firm. He could find another job. But could he find another woman like Sharla Ratliff? If their relationship got her kicked off the bench, she would never forgive him.
Against his better judgment, he reversed direction and drove to Sharla’s house. They had to figure out a way out of this together.
Paranoid as he was, he parked up the street and walked the short distance to Sharla’s house. It was close to dusk. As he reached her house, he realized that he had probably drawn more attention to himself by walking up the street in his Hugo Boss suit than he would have if he had parked in her driveway.
Instead of knocking on the front door, he slipped through the back gate. He knew he had to be careful not to scare her. The back deck no longer held any furniture, just the fire pit, which blazed with yellow and orange flames. Peering through the large, sliding glass doors, he saw Sharla sitting in the den, wineglass in hand, staring off into space. Even from a distance, her dark nipples were visible underneath the tight, white tank top she was wearing. A red thong was the only other item of clothing she had on.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there before Sharla noticed him. She shot up from the couch, splashing wine onto the floor.
For several seconds, they just stood there, staring at each other.
Sharla walked over and opened the sliding glass door.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know. But I had to talk to you.”
Marcel stepped inside and she didn’t object. They both sat down on the couch. She remembered the spilled wine and got up to retrieve paper towels from the kitchen.
As she bent down to wipe up the spill, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the thong that separated her luscious butt cheeks. He wanted to charge across the room and kiss each cheek, then mount her from behind right there on the floor.
After tossing the wine-soaked paper towels into the trash, she returned to the couch, sitting farther away from him this time and he was glad. It was hard to think straight with her being so close.
“My managing partner just read me the riot act,” he said. “Shall I assume something similar happened to you?”
She nodded.
Marcel swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“How’d they find out?” she asked.
“Someone called the opposing counsel. Anonymously.”
“Your ex?”
“I don’t know for sure, but probably.”
She shook her head.
Silence filled up the room and neither of them spoke for a long time.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Marcel said.
“And how do you know that?”
“I just do. So what happened to you?”
Sharla recounted her meeting with Judge Checkoff. “I have an appointment with the presiding judge next week. Best-case scenario, I’ll get off with a reprimand. Worst case scenario, I’m off the bench.”
“They won’t kick you off the bench.”
“Let’s hope. Do you know I’ve never even had a traffic ticket?”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, trying to fight the urge to run his hands up and down her thighs.
He stood up. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I don’t blame you,” she said staring up at him. “I’m an adult. I knew the risk I was taking by getting involved with you.” She smiled. “And to be honest, it was worth every minute.”
Marcel smiled back at her. “So does that mean it’s not over?”
She sighed. “I don’t think I should answer that question until I find out what’s going to happen to me. Aren’t you worried about your career?”
Marcel shrugged. “Yes and no. If the firm lets me go, I’ll just go to another law firm. I’m good at what I do.”
“But what if you get disbarred?”
“I seriously doubt that’ll happen.”
Sharla stood as well. Her nipples seemed to call out to him from beneath the sheer fabric.
Marcel headed in the direction of the glass door, but Sharla stopped him.
“Why are you going out the back?”
He chuckled. “I actually parked a few houses down because I was afraid someone might see me here.”
“What’s done is done.”
As he followed her toward the front door, a familiar stirring rumbled in his groin. Watching her ass, he yearned for her, longing to plant himself deep inside her again.
She reached out for the doorknob and before he could stop himself, he gently pushed her up against the door, kissing the back of her neck as he palmed her ass.
Her silence only encouraged him and, in seconds, he had unzipped his pants and stepped out of them. Moving her thong to the side, he jammed himself into her harder and faster than he had intended. Her initial wail of agony quickly turned into muffled cries of bliss. She spread both hands flat against the door and protruded her ass, giving him deeper and deeper access.
She came quickly, writhing ferociously beneath him, screaming into the door as she climaxed. Then she fell limp, exhausted from the sexual explosion he’d created inside her.
Marcel carried her back into the den and set her on the couch. Without words, she reached up and took him into her mouth. The soft tug of her lips fired shivers through his body. He braced himself by holding onto the back of the couch, fearing he might collapse and crush her.
Sharla drew him further and further down her throat, then intermittently pulled back so her tongue could suck his tip. Seconds later, she hungrily took him in again—every inch of him.
Damn. He thought Camille was in a class by herself when it came to giving head. Sharla’s skillful performance was making him reevaluate that assessment.
Gibberish spurted from his lips as he neared his trigger point, uncertain whether it was okay to come into her mouth.
“I’m coming,” he managed to blubber as he tried to pull away.
But Sharla reached around with her free hand and grabbed his ass, holding him in place.
At the same moment that he fired into her mouth, a bright flash of light lit up the entire den.