Oliver
Anna Donovan is nervous.
Good.
She should be.
I’m not the type of man who gets all caught up in love and romance. I’m not the type of guy who meets a woman and it’s all love-at-first-sight. That’s not my thing, not my deal. Never has been.
Still, she intrigues me, and it’s not often that this happens. Usually, when I meet a woman, there’s an exchange of sorts. I buy her things, and she doesn’t ask me too many personal questions. I take her to restaurants, and she takes me to the brink of ecstasy. I give her access to powerful people, and she tolerates the fact that I don’t like talking about myself.
Or anything.
It’s not that I’m shy. I’m just private. I don’t feel the need to have people up in my business. I don’t feel the need to make small talk where I ask about the person’s mother and they ask about mine and we have this feel-good interaction. That’s not what an attorney does. It’s certainly not what I do.
But today is the first day a client has ever grabbed my dick before she even told me what she needed, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this one slip by. Anna Donovan is weird, and quirky, and apparently, she’s completely horny. I like it, and I like her, and for some reason, I actually do want to get to know her.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Donovan,” I say, holding my hand out. She looks at it warily, as if it’s going to bite her, but Joyce is watching us both, so she eventually decides to try to act normal. Anna takes my hand and shakes it.
“Mr. Lyon,” she says.
“Can I get you two anything?” Joyce obviously knows something is up between us, and she’s enjoying the awkwardness happening right now. Nothing gets by Joyce. It’s one of the reasons we hired her. She’s sharp as an arrow, but she’s also as annoying as a kid sister.
It’s obnoxious.
“We’re fine,” I say. At the same time, Anna asks for a glass of water.
“I’m sorry,” she looks at me. “It’s just…really hot in here.”
Joyce nods and disappears, and I head to my desk. My office is sparse: it’s true. I’m not here to make friends and I’m certainly not here to make sure my clients are super comfortable. I bill by the hour and I round up. My clients hire me because I’m the best: not because I pamper them with fancy chairs.
“Have a seat,” I motion for Anna to sit in one of the chairs in front of my desk, and she does. I’m not a monster: the seats are comfortable. It’s just that I don’t have top-of-the-line furniture or a lot of decorations or any personal touches. There’s no hand-made quilt hanging over the back of my office sofa and there’s not artwork by my kids on the wall. I don’t have pictures of relatives or friends on my desk.
It’s just a desk.
I have a shelf full of books I use regularly and a second shelf of books I just like. There’s a small sofa where clients sometimes sit during lengthier consultations or where my two associates, Casa and Fee, sometimes hang out when we’re not busy.
Today, I’ve got a mental image of Anna Donovan sitting on that couch wearing nothing but a smile, and in this fantasy, she’s reaching for my cock with her mouth: not her hand.
She sits down across from me and crosses her legs. Then she uncrosses them. Peculiar.
“Do I make you uncomfortable?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Before she can answer, Joyce appears with a bottle of cold water. She squeezes Anna’s shoulder and shoots me a glare, as if to tell me not to fuck with her friend. Like I would. I’m seeing Anna as a favor to Joyce. My schedule is packed this week and I really don’t have time for pity cases, but I owe Joyce.
We all do.
She’s the backbone of this law firm. Yeah, Casa, Fee, and I are amazing attorneys. We’re incredible, really, but Joyce handles everything. She orders furniture and hires the guy who cuts the grass and orders food and makes sure we’re all drinking enough water. She’s sort of the unofficial mom of the house, and even though Casa and Fee both have wives and children now, Joyce still keeps things under control at the office.
Joyce leaves the room and closes the door firmly behind her. Now I’m alone with Anna, but I don’t want to start discussing her case. Not just yet. Maybe it’s the cat in me, but I want to play with her a little bit first. I want to toy with her. I want to see what makes her tick.
She’s sitting with both of her feet firmly on the ground now and her hands are planted in her lap. She’s wearing a tight, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans that show off her ass. Yeah, I was looking. She’s curvy and cute with big, heavy breasts that would feel incredible in my hands and even better on my tongue. She taps the heels of her boots nervously on the floor as she sips the water and stares at me.
“Why do I make you nervous?” I push her.
Will the human push back?
I doubt it.
When people come to the offices of Casa, Fee, and Lyon, they’re looking for help. They’re scared and they don’t know where else to turn. Maybe they’ve been charged with a crime. Maybe they’re trying to figure out their legal rights. Maybe they need someone to represent them in court. Maybe they just need a will drawn up. It all depends, but one thing is the same: my clients are never where they want to be.
No one wakes up one day and thinks, “Wow, what a beautiful day! I should get in some legal trouble that requires additional counsel.” That’s not the way the world works. Most people only know what lawyers do from watching crime dramas and that information isn’t exactly accurate.
“Because I didn’t think you were my lawyer,” Anna says finally. “You’re wearing jeans and a tee shirt,” she motions to me.
“I’m not in court today. I don’t have to wear a suit. This is my office, you know.”
In actuality, she’s my only meeting of the morning and I wanted to feel comfortable while I did paperwork. I’ll change into a suit after lunch when I meet with my other, more established, better-paying clients. I wasn’t going to get dressed up for Joyce’s friend. I’m already doing her a favor by meeting with her. I don’t need to do anything else for her. I’m certainly not going out of my way for a human, no matter how delectable she looks.
“Yes,” she says. “I realize it’s your office. You just caught me off-guard.”
“Is that why you grabbed my cock outside?”
She blushes eight shades of red. Her cheeks turn a beautiful rosy crimson, and she shakes her head.
“I apologize for my behavior. I was out of line.”
“Because you shouldn’t have grabbed my dick or because you shouldn’t have grabbed your attorney’s dick?”
“I was irritated you knew I thought you were sexy.”
Interesting.
“What makes you think I knew you thought I was sexy?”
“You’re a tiger,” she says, and now it’s my turn for my jaw to drop.
“Excuse me?”
Anna rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t roll right out of her head.
“A cat. A shifter. A giant feline. Whatever you want to call yourself is fine. I’m not dumb, though, Mr. Lyon. And I know you aren’t a real lion. You don’t carry yourself like one.”
So the human knows about shifters, does she? Interesting. While the existence of shifters isn’t a secret – after all, we have our own laws and codes of conduct that don’t always intersect with the human world – most people aren’t aware of the innate benefits that come from being an animal.
We can see better.
We can hear better.
We can smell better.
We’re faster, stronger, quicker than humans, and even though I’ve dated non-shifters in the past before, I’ve never had anyone call me out on it the way Anna is. Somehow, she just seemed to know that I’m not entirely man, and something about that excites me.
I walk around to the front of the desk and stand next to her. Leaning against my desk, I cross my own legs. Now she’s got an eye-level view of my dick, and yeah, it’s hard.
“And how does a lion carry himself, Miss Donovan?”
She swallows hard and the scent of her arousal fills my nostrils. She’s a horny little thing, isn’t she? I watch her, wondering what she’s going to do next. I don’t expect her to grab my dick again. Not now. Not now that she knows who I am. I don’t expect her to touch me or play with me or flirt with me. In fact, I half-expect she’ll slap me with a sexual harassment lawsuit. The icing on the cake would be the fact that both of my colleagues would absolutely, totally defend her if she decides to.
“With grace,” she says finally, staring at my cock. She looks up and her eyes lock on mine. “With precision.”
“And a tiger?”
“Well, that’s the thing,” she says, and I notice her voice has gone soft, quiet. We’re all alone, but still, this moment feels too important to be ruined with loud words and voices. “Tigers are big and they’re strong, but they’re more than that. They’re more like cats than lions. Lions…lions remind me of big dogs. They’re wild and lovable, but you don’t have to earn their love like you do a tiger. You have to earn a tiger wanting you. You have to fight for it.”
“Is that what you want to do?” I ask her quietly. “Are you a fighter, Anna?”
I don’t know why I’m asking her this.
I’m not sure why I’m asking her something I don’t even really understand myself.
I don’t do relationships.
They’re messy, and I don’t like them.
I don’t like the idea of having to give myself to one woman or of having to change for her.
I don’t like the idea of being tied down, of being trapped with someone.
Somehow, though, I don’t think it would feel trapped if I was with Anna. Somehow, the idea of being stuck with her doesn’t scare me the way it should. Somehow, I’m more curious than afraid when it comes to her, and that alone should have me running.
Anna looks at me, watching me.
“I’m not afraid,” she whispers. Then she leans her head forward and presses her mouth against the crotch of my pants. I can feel it through my jeans, can feel her lips pressing against my cock, and I swallow hard.
I will not come in my pants like some uncontrolled teenager.
I am a tiger.
I am in control.
I am in charge of this situation.
But then she moves her hands to my legs, too, and runs them up and down my jeans. Then she cups my ass and pulls me closer to her, pressing me deeper against her mouth.
I groan, wishing there was nothing between us. I groan, wishing we were upstairs in my apartment and had all the time in the world. I wish she was naked on top of me, bouncing those big, beautiful breasts. I wish I was making her come apart with pleasure.
I wish we were anywhere but right here because we’re in my office, and no matter how excited I get, I won’t fuck her here.
She’s better than that.
The thought shocks me more than it should. At the end of the day, Anna is just a random client. I should have no problem with sleeping with her in my office and then leaving. I should have no issue with it at all, yet somehow, I do.
Somehow, I think she’s more valuable than a quick fuck.
And somehow, I think she needs my help.
Carefully, gently, I pull her away from me.
“What’s wrong?” She asks, looking up at me in surprise. Her eyes flicker with the tell-tale fear of rejection, and I instantly want to protect her. I don’t want to hurt her.
Not Anna.
“You’re very beautiful,” I say slowly, and she pulls her hands back to herself, placing them carefully in her lap.
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I was out of line.”
“Not at all,” I say, and sit on the edge of the desk. Fuck. I know I’m blowing this. She’s getting nervous, embarrassed, and the last thing I want her to feel is humiliated.
Not by me.
Not ever.
“You interest me,” I tell her honestly, deciding to make myself vulnerable, as well. The reality of the situation is that Anna is really putting herself out there and if she sees me doing the same thing, she might not feel as sad or scared or nervous.
“I feel the same way about you, Mr. Lyon.”
“It’s not often a woman catches me off guard the way you did today.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, I’m glad I could bring a little excitement to your day.”
“You did. Now, why don’t we get into the real reason for your visit?”
Anna sighs and runs her hands nervously through her hair. She twirls the end of her hair with her finger. I don’t move, but I probably should. I should make this a professional visit. Sitting on the edge of my desk with my dick so close to her face isn’t professional.
“My father died a few years ago,” Anna says. “He was in a car accident and didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. I’m all right. It was hard, but, you know…I managed. Anyway, that’s not the point. My father…he had a trust drawn up for me. My mother was in charge of it until my 25th birthday, but she recently passed away, as well. Cancer, for her. Now my stepfather is in charge of the trust.”
“And he won’t let you access it?”
Sometimes the new executor of a trust isn’t always the best person for the job. Sometimes the person can be a complete asshole on a power trip. Is that what’s happening with Anna’s stepfather?
“No, he won’t, but that’s not the problem. The problem is that I just found out there’s a tiger clause in it.”
“What the hell?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” She pulls out a stack of papers from her bag and hands them to me. Quickly, I start looking through them. “I had no idea it was in there. My mother never mentioned it and I never had any reason to look at the paperwork myself. I figured that when I turned 25, I’d have access to the money and the land that my dad left me.”
“Why the fuck would he put a tiger clause in here?”
Anna shrugs, but looks sad. Pained. “I was dating a shifter at the time. Maybe he thought it would be like a sort of wedding gift. I don’t know.”
“Were things serious?” I find myself jealous of this unknown man. It’s not a feeling I’m comfortable with.
“I was 16 when we were together. We both thought we were in love.”
“What happened?”
“Life happened. He met someone. I met someone. We drifted apart. Classes were hard and homework took up a lot of time. We both got jobs. Typical story.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago,” she waves her hand like it’s nothing, but I’d bet anything that breakup still hurts her, haunts her. “I went to talk to my father’s attorney, the one who drew up the will. He’s good friends with my stepfather. I assumed he would help me, but he was firm in saying that my father wanted me to be married to a shifter by the time I’m 25. Otherwise, everything goes to my mother. Since she’s dead now, everything goes to Carl.”
“Carl is your stepfather.”
“Bingo. He already has big plans, so this is obviously something he’s been aware of for awhile. He’s in real estate. He wants to build condos on the land.”
I look at the clause. It’s rarely used in contracts anymore. I know about it from law school, but I’ve never seen anyone write this type of clause into a trust before. In today’s modern age, such things are considered fairly barbaric. After all, women aren’t considered property anymore, and they aren’t considered useless without a husband.
Still, Anna’s father’s wishes are clear: she needs to marry a shifter by her 25th birthday or she’s ineligible to receive her inheritance.
I look at the little human sitting in my office and I wonder how I’m going to break her heart by telling her.