*17:Vindication

Blood thrummed through Jon’s veins to create a buzzing in his ears.  He couldn’t determine whether it was from boiling anger or exhilaration at finally having the chance to look this woman in the face and let loose with an uncensored diatribe detailing exactly what he thought of her shitty lawyering.

Or the realization that this is the first time they were going to be alone together.

Why in the hell is there such a fine line between angry and horny?

Jon didn’t want her in his house any more than she already had been and, clenching his jaw, he bypassed the kitchen door with the assumption that she would follow.  The guest house that sat beneath the huge shade tree was an option, but Tony and Lilah were staying there and he didn’t want their possessions judging his vindication, so he bypassed it too.

When he ultimately drew to a halt, it was in the far corner of his property between the back of the guesthouse and the six foot hedges that separated his yard from the one next door.  Knowing that those particular neighbors had a thirty foot swimming pool between here and their house, he wasn’t concerned about eavesdroppers when turning to confront his nemesis in the dark shadows of late evening.

Most people had enough sense to fear his hot Italian temper, but not this woman.  She stood no more than three feet away with her chin stuck up in the air and eyes boiling like hot cocoa.

“Well?” she taunted, belligerently crossing her arms.  “Don’t know what to say now that you have the chance?  You could start with bitch, but that’s pretty tame, considering that even my kids think of me that way.  Old school seems your style, so how about battleax?  Or if you wanna zoom right to the most offensive, cunt does the trick.  Any of those working for you?”

“Why don’t you just shut your fucking mouth for once?” he spat, infuriated that she thought this was as juvenile as name calling.

“Oh, ho, ho!  Now’s he’s coming to life.”  She uncrossed her arms to waggle fingers in a gesture for him to bring it on.  “Show me what you’ve got, Hot Stuff.”

“What I’ve got is a serious lack of tolerance for unprovoked malice toward somebody you don’t even fucking know.   I was married to Dorothea for twenty-six frigging years and know good and goddamn well that she would never consider half the shit in that divorce settlement if you hadn’t pushed her into it.  That ‘unable to afford medication in my old age thing’, is that a standard or did you drum that one up especially for me?  Huh?”

Her smile was positively feral as she egged him on.  “That’s it, baby.  Feels good, doesn’t it?  Gimme some more.”

Irate that she was making this sound like some kind of sick and twisted sexual samba, Jon leaned down to get in her face, placing their noses mere inches apart. 

“Let me tell you when you crossed the line, lady – and I use that fucking term lightly.  Take my money, fine.  I’ll make twice as much.  Take my motherfucking vacation house; I’ll get a bigger and better one.  All that doesn’t mean shit in the end, but when you start using my kids as pawns to get your sadistic jollies, you done pissed off the wrong guy.  Nobody fucks with my kids.”

“And you showed me didn’t you?” she practically purred.  “You put your foot down and demanded to be obeyed.  It turns you on to be in charge, doesn’t it?  That’s why you’re so pissed at me.  Admit it!  The bitch stole your precious control, and you can’t fucking stand it.”

Intense pressure pounded in the top of Jon’s skull and a red haze clouded his vision.  He couldn’t remember another time where he was this mad.  Her actions incensed him, her words infuriated him, the truth in them was enraging as all hell, and he was goddamn livid that his testosterone levels were spiking as dangerously high as his blood pressure.

Jon would never physically harm a woman, but he had no moral objections to intimidating one.

Reaching down, he grabbed her wrists in an ironclad grip, using it to walk her backward until both shoulder blades hit the cedar shingle exterior of the guest house and those same wrists were pinned next to her ears.  “It would be a public service if somebody fucked the immortal bitch out of you.”

“You offerin’?”

The woman wasn’t intimidated in the least.  In fact, her widely dilated pupils and flared nostrils prompted him to believe she was turned-on by the idea.  He even imagined the slight breeze that found its way into their seclusion carried with it the scent of her arousal. 

His dick’s potential interest immediately burgeoned to a fully-erect psychotic obsession.

“Only if you beg.”

Her laugh would haunt his dreams.  So arrogant, yet practically dripping with sex, just like Mae West delivering her famous “Come up and see me sometime” line.

“I was right about that control thing.”

“So what if you were?” he countered, bringing his hips forward to press his erection against the plane of her stomach.  The pressure felt good.  Damn good.  “I guarantee I’ll get the job done.”

Her spontaneous purr was brief, but prominent and immediately followed by a mumbled confession.  “I hate wanting you.”

“Not as much as I hate wanting you.”

That left them in a standoff, with blue eyes riveted to brown while their wills silently clashed.

As much as he was inclined to, Jon didn’t physically push against her again.  Her shallow breaths were doing enough pushing for both of them, forcing their chests in full contact.  He’d thought the form-hugging clothes from this morning told him everything he needed to know about her body, but the soft mounds that pillowed against him were a welcome surprise.

“Fuck me.”

There was another welcome surprise. 

It was a victory, yet not.  No matter what his brother said, Jon had higher standards and a firmer resolve than to accept that piss poor excuse.  The way she said it was an order, not a plea.

“That’s not begging, Counselor.”

A fire lit in her eyes, and he could feel the resentment roll off of her in waves.  He knew as surely as he was standing here that she hated being called out on anything.  He recognized the signs.  Hell, he lived it.

“What are your specific guidelines for begging?”

God it felt good to have the upper hand with her.  His ego might now be able thrive in the wake of his divorce.

“’Fuck me’ was a good start,” he approved.  “Next time say it a little breathier.  Add my name and ‘please’.”

Her mouth puckered petulantly, earning his interest.  Was it possible that she tasted sweeter than her personality?  Damn her for making him curious.

“Please fuck me, Jon,” she puffed obediently, giving him the victory for the briefest of moments.  “Push up the dress like the goddamn Jersey caveman you are and nail me to this friggin’ wall.”

“Sweet Jesus, you are an obstinate little bitch,” he mumbled.  “But fuck if I don’t want you anyway.”

Releasing her wrists, he used one foot to widen her stance while rough hands shoved the short dress to her waist.  Beneath it, she wore a skimpy thong as a pathetic excuse for panties, but it made his job easier. 

Jon slid his finger under the edge of the front triangle, separating it from a close-trimmed mound and sliding down between the thighs that were going to be locked around his waist.  Withdrawing the string crotch that was soaked from her desire, he pushed it aside and he crammed a finger inside just to hear her gasp.

“You’re wet, Counselor,” he taunted, stroking deep to find her G-spot and tenaciously milk it.  “Wet for a man you can’t goddamn stand.  How does that make you feel?”

“Don’t call me that.”  She was trying so, so hard to be pissed, but the moan that wrenched free when he touched her clit had her forceful demand falling a little short.  “Say my name.”

Satisfied that she was in a condition to receive the nailing she’d begged for, Jon withdrew to shove the elastic-waist shorts down to his knees.  “No.  I’m not calling you some ridiculous butch name.”

Cupping one hand over her ass, he skated down the back of her thigh to grasp it with hard fingers and drag it to his waist.  It left her open, helpless and at his mercy, which stoked the fire of an arousal that was already an inferno.  Bending his knees, Jon positioned himself so that when he rose to full height with a forceful grunt, he was buried balls-deep within her.

So fucking good.

“Oh, God,” Charlie was panting while clutching at his shoulders for support.  “That’s amazing.”

“It doesn’t suck.  Now wrap your other leg around me.”

She tried to do as he asked, but the angle wasn’t right or the balance wasn’t right or something, and her foot went back to the ground.  Swearing, Jon demanded, “Do you know how long it’s been since I fucked against a wall?”

“I don’t really give a damn, as long as you remember how.”

Thankful for his arm work in the gym, he used sheer brute force to bring that second leg up again.  This time, he simultaneously stepped forward pushing his dick deep enough to tap her cervix while he forced her back into the wooden shingles. 

“Lock your ankles behind me,” he commanded harshly.  “And hold onto my shoulders.”

Her muscles were responding to his presence, rippling along his girth while he sought a stable position and it was making his already frayed temper go short.  All he wanted was to spew a blistering orgasm inside her in as short a time as possible.

“Hook your ankles, but relax your thighs.  Open your pussy.”

“I know how to do this.”  Her fingernails dug through the cotton t-shirt to imprint half-moons in his shoulders.  “Just start pounding until I tell you to stop.”

“You’re gonna motherfucking beg me to stop,” he grunted with the power of his thrust.  “Your pussy will be so good and fucked that you can’t walk right for a week, Counselor.”

“Unh!”  Her head fell back into the wall and bliss lit her features even as she bitched, “I said don’t call me that.  Use my name or shut the fuck up.”

She was so hot. 

So slick. 

So hot. 

So hot.

Soooo hot.

Sweat was beginning to run down the side of his face, and the hair on his neck was soaking wet.  Some people might complain, but Jon had discovered long ago that being hot and sweaty was the precursor to amazing things.  The tingling at the base of his dick told him this time was going to be no exception.

“Oh God.”  Her breathless approval was hot against his neck.  “There’s nothing like a real dick.  So... mmmnhhhff! ...good.  So good.”

The transformation from ballsy lawyer to chatty nympho had him pounding harder.  He wasn’t going to be happy until she had splinters in her back, and Jon slammed her ass against the cedar hard enough to jar her teeth.

The hellcat wasn’t bothered in the least and, rather than complaining, she ate it up like candy. 

“Ohhhhh!  That’s what I need, stud.  Yessssss.  Bang me like a gong.  Screw my brains out.  Make me come all over you.  I need this.  God, I need this.  Please, Jon.  Give it to me!”

At last, she had willingly broken loose with what he had requested, and her sweet begging sent a new surge of testosterone running rampant.  It bounced from the inside of his skull to the tips of his toes and all points in between, prompting Jon to impulsively bend and breathe in her ear, “Chiara.”

Without waiting for a reaction, he pushed his chest hard into hers, holding her stationary against the wall and letting his hips do the work.  Driving forward, over and over and over.  The wet slap of flesh on flesh.  The smell of her building orgasm.  The tingle of his. 

“Unnnngggghhhhhhh!” 

Her scream was muffled in his shoulder, but he felt it all the way to the soles of his feet.   The cry, the vibration and her muscles contracting against him was just enough to send him driving home one last time, where he held himself until the last, sticky shot was fired.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered and blew out a harsh breath before lowering her legs to the ground.  “Can you stand?”

“Of course.” 

Her tone wasn’t any less assertive for the breathlessness, and Charlie used her fingertips to lightly push him away.  While he slid his shorts back up around his waist, she reached down to right her panties and dress.

“So we done here?” she challenged once everything was in place and her hair was smoothed into place as much as it needed to be.  “Or do you need to continue the tongue-lashing to make yourself feel better?”

She was the single most infuriating, arrogant, condescending… best quickie he’d possibly ever had.  Jon was pissed off all over again, but this time it had nothing to do with his divorce settlement.

“Just go.”