"We can't... you're my client."
He chuckled, "so? There's no law against fucking my lawyer." He cupped my chin forcing me to look at him. "Stop making excuses and let me fuck you."
Maia Carter has everything she ever dreamed of. At just 25, she's a...
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As I walked into his home, I couldn't help but gasp at the sheer luxury surrounding me. This place was more than just a home; it felt like an art gallery, showcasing exquisite taste and lavish living. Sunlight poured through expansive windows, casting a warm glow on walls decorated with stunning landscapes and vibrant city scenes, their thick oil paints almost inviting me to touch them. The polished marble floors sparkled, reflecting the light. The carefully arranged sculptures and antique furniture cost more than my car. I was sure. "Do Not Touch" echoed in my mind, a frantic mantra against the overwhelming urge to run my hand along the plush velvet of a pillow or trace the delicate curve of a porcelain vase.
The housekeeper kindly let me in; she was a petite elderly woman with short gray hair. She introduced herself as Ms. Carla. As she guided me to his study on the second floor, I struggled to keep up, distracted by the elegant vases and decor surrounding us. We stopped in front of a sleek black door, where she knocked softly. I heard his voice invite her in, and she flashed me a reassuring smile before departing, leaving me alone in the hallway. Taking a deep breath, I quickly entered the room, finding him seated at his desk, absorbed in his phone. Not wanting to linger by the door, I chose one of the chairs in front of him and settled in.
"You have a lovely home."
"Thank you, let's get down to business. What do you want to know?"
I shrugged, "how about we start from the beginning? It's better if I know you personally."
