He pushed a knee between my legs.
“Batson challenge hearing? That right?”
I moaned as he ran his hands to my breasts and squeezed through my top. “Yes,” I breathed.
“Challenging jury selection?” He switched my wrists to one hand and used the other to lift my skirt to my hips. “What was wrong with the jury, Ms. Montreat?”
“It was . . . it was all white women.” I squirmed as the heat built between my thighs.
He shucked my panties down to my heels and knelt to pull them off. Then he placed a wet kiss right on my pussy. I put my hands in his hair and gripped him. He shook me off and stood, yanking my upper arm and turning me to face the door.
He ground his hard cock into my ass. His belt clicked and then I felt his slick head at my entrance, then pushing forward and rubbing against my clit, the shaft trapped between my thighs.
“What strikes are you going to challenge?” He stroked back and forth slowly, teasing my clit with each move.
“Two black men and a black woman. They had nothing in voir dire that would be a valid reason to strike them off the jury panel. Had to be an improper motive, especially—” I gasped as he positioned his tip at my entrance and pushed inside.
“Especially what, Ms. Montreat?” His voice was tight as he sank even deeper, his cock filling me.
“Especially because the defendant was a young black male.” I scratched my nails down the door.
He gripped my hair in one hand and yanked my hip back with the other.
“Fucking perfect legal analysis, Ms. Montreat.” He kissed down my neck and fastened his teeth to my shoulder. His cock pumped in and out of me. I arched my back to get him even deeper, and he groaned into me.
He pulled my hair harder and nibbled at my earlobe. “Your pussy is so wet, Ms. Montreat. One would think you wanted to be rough-fucked in your partner’s office.”
His dirty talk turned my heat up another notch, and I pushed back against him harder and harder. Our skin slapped, the sound reverberating around his office. He released my hip and slid his fingers to my clit. Swirling around the nub, he sped up his pace, hammering into me as I moaned into the door.
“So fucking hot.” His dick grew even harder as he pistoned deep inside me.
“I’m close, Wash.” I gasped.
“Then come for me, Caroline. I want to feel you convulse all over my cock. Think you can do that for me?”
I nodded and lifted higher on my toes as he flicked my clit. His body crushed into mine, and my breath fogged the dark finish on his door. When he bit down on my neck hard enough to leave a mark, I squealed. He released my hair and slapped his hand over my mouth, pulling my neck back and making my back arch even farther.
I came in a rush, my orgasm like falling off a cliff. I was falling and falling until I hit bottom, my screams caught in Wash’s palm. He grunted in my ear and gave two more deep shoves before shooting inside me, his hips grinding his release into my pussy as far as it would go.
When he was spent, he released my mouth and stepped back. He zipped up and retrieved some tissues for me. I cleaned up a bit.
“Good luck with your Batson challenge.”
“Thank you.” I reached for my panties, but he snagged them off the floor before I had a chance.
He tucked them into his pocket, then opened the door for me with a smirk. “Mine.”
I smiled up into his beautiful blues. “True.”
His grin widened, the dimples appearing, and he slammed the door before dragging me to his office sofa.
I was fifteen minutes late to my hearing, but won the challenge all the same.