Read an Excerpt

Friend of the Court
Kelly Rand

It was after seven. Custodians had turned off some of the office lights and a vacuum cleaner hummed down the hall. Koryn’s phone blinked with an unchecked voicemail message. Under the desk, she’d kicked off her high heels. Her lower back ached from sitting all day.
But she stayed late because Craig was staying late.
His office nameplate read “Craig Malcolm, Criminal Defense Attorney,” and Koryn’s skin crawled when she heard even snippets of conversations about his cases. Husbands who beat their wives to death. Men caught with hard drives full of material Koryn could hardly imagine, let alone examine as evidence. She imagined that was why his jaw seemed so stiff and his blue eyes so hard. He had short blond hair, a closet full of Armani suits and a body like a runner. And he was older than her. A lot older.
Koryn was 23. Craig had turned 37 earlier that week, a fact he only acknowledged after she sent him a text message asking if he wanted to have dinner. They always had dinner in his office, never outside of work. He never had time for a restaurant, and she didn’t want to ask for fear of it sounding like a date. For his birthday, she’d brought two cartons of food and two sets of chopsticks from a Thai place near her apartment. He’d unwrapped the chopsticks and tried them for a minute before tossing them aside. His fuse was too short—his impatience too tried—to bother with the extra hassle.
She rubbed her feet against the carpet and hit the button to illuminate her iPhone. When Craig needed her, he’d send a text from his Blackberry like he did during his meetings or between court appearances. When the latter happened, she liked to imagine him sitting in a row of lawyers in the courtroom, the waiting public slumped in the gallery behind him until they heard the words, “All rise.”
But right now, her iPhone only showed her the wallpaper image of her cat. She glanced back through the darkened desks and saw his closed office door. By her calculation, three associates were still at work, but none of them worked for Craig. They sat in cubicles down partially illuminated hallways, people Koryn only saw when they walked past her to the elevator, keys jingling as they barely looked at her.
She tapped the Facebook icon on her phone and checked her messages there. A guy she’d met at a bar six months ago with her friend Tamara had sent her a smiley face. Koryn had been too polite to decline his Facebook friend request. Even as she’d chatted with him at the bar that night, she’d remembered a time when Craig had taken her in the back seat of his Lexus.
She scrolled to a new message from Tamara. What color is your boyfriend’s tie today? Koryn smiled. She had told Tamara once, in a moment of weakness, that she wanted Craig to invite her to dinner—just some hint that she represented something other than casual sex. And he always had a different colored tie. She’d touched his ties several times, sliding them out of their knots and discarding them before she undressed the rest of him.
The phone vibrated beneath her fingertip, shivering in its sleek black case. She closed the Facebook app and saw a text from Craig. Come in if you’re not busy.
She palmed the phone and slipped her feet back into her shoes, heading across the carpet to his office and opening the door.
Craig sat at his desk, his head in his hand as he looked at the glowing screen. He liked to keep the overhead light off, illuminating the room with only a lamp by his computer. He’d cleared his desk of papers and folders. He’d even tucked the framed photo of his daughter—the product of a distant divorce—into one of his drawers.
“Long day?” she asked.
He took a noticeable breath and swiveled his chair away from the computer. “Yeah. You?”
“I answer the phones. How long can my day be?”
He sat back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him as she felt the weight of his blue gaze on her. His face visibly softened when he looked her over like this. She saw it in the way his brow stopped furrowing and a small smile played on his lips. “Come here.”
Her heels clacked on the floor as she walked around and leaned against the desk in front of him. He ran his hands up her legs, under the hem of her skirt, and rested them on her hips. His eyes looked large and different. Softer somehow.
He reached her panties—red lace especially for this, for him—and slid them down her legs. Neither of them spoke. She stepped out of them, one foot at a time, before he lifted her and she sat on the edge of the desk.
No words were necessary as he pulled her forward so she fell back onto her elbows. She kept her eyes on him as he shoved her skirt to her hips, planting a stream of kisses along the inside of her thigh.
Already she breathed heavier. Already she bit the inside of her lip in anticipation. A dozen guys hitting on her at bars couldn’t match this moment. She knew what his tongue would feel like when it reached between her legs and she held her breath when his mouth hovered over her.
“Come on,” she hissed.
A light, slick flick of his tongue over her clit rewarded her, moving in little teasing circles.
She dropped her elbows out from under her and arched her back against the desk until her hair hung over the edge of the desk. He parted her legs and forced them into a V in the air. He always made her come like this. He insisted, even. Koryn secretly thought he loved the control—the ability to see how, in that moment, he’d won even when he lost in court.
He slipped two fingers inside of her, moving them rhythmically as she felt that familiar feeling of him licking her to orgasm. A quiet, breathy moan felt heavy in her chest, but when it reached the air, it barely materialized. She wondered sometimes if she ever dripped on his desk, marking important documents with their secret. She’d certainly been wet enough, and undressed enough, and both were his fault.
Her thighs trembled when she came, and she gathered her breath to slide off the desk and drop to her knees. She always reciprocated for just as long, if not longer.
But there wasn’t time. She felt his erection slip easily into her, pushing all the way to the hilt and causing another moan.
“I needed this,” he whispered. “I needed to see you.”
She opened her mouth to respond but he’d already established a rhythm, knocking his hips against her as she fondled her breasts through her dress. She kept her eyes closed, but she could feel his, taking her in with that blue gaze as she arched her hips and prayed for more.
It always felt deeper on the desk—smoother and more on target than anywhere else. The computer monitor blinked in her peripheral vision. She tilted her head and looked back at the blinds as she felt him dig his fingers into her hips and come deep inside of her.
They only waited a moment before she sat up. Even after work hours, they didn’t stay like this for long. As she pulled on her underwear and watched him adjust his tie. It was crimson today. Crimson like a rose petal.
She reached out and undid the knot, sliding off the tie and dropping it on the desk. “Work is over, you know.”
He looked at the tie, his jaw firm, his hands drifting up and down her legs as if he needed the soft skin-on-skin contact. When he looked up at her, she tilted forward and kissed him. The softness sparked nerve endings, marking the dawn of new need.
He looked at her in close proximity. Koryn cleared her throat and willed herself to maintain eye contact. She wouldn’t shy away from it. Not today.
“I want to go out for dinner this time,” she said. “Not just sex. I want to date you.”
His gaze slipped away from her and back again before he answered. For a long, tense moment, her heart beat heavy in her chest. No, she thought. The answer is no.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve probably always wanted to ask you that.”
Both of their smiles grew as she slid off the desk, waiting for him to grab his jacket before she took his hand and led him to the door.
“Down the street,” she said. “I feel like Thai tonight.”