Red-soled heels clicked across the barren linoleum hall floor of Corrections. Hips swayed in the expensive skirt suit with the center back slit at the bottom hemline. Hair tucked up in a sophisticated bun as defense attorney, Jennifer Stannis Hannigan was escorted by Private Royce and Lieutenant Mack of the State Police to a room at the end of a long hallway.

The news had covered the case of Dillan Baldwin’s death for the past couple of weeks now, Jennifer following every report and printed word closely. She had to, for the man now at the center of it all was a... well, either party involved did not clearly label it. 

A brief and exciting encounter that turned into something long-standing and beneficial but never official, a win-win situation for them both. Impromptu meet ups for a release they seemed incapable of finding with anyone else, decompressing after stressful days on the job for her or, in his case to release the pent up energy he quelled when with his rotten family, or simply in want, to fulfill each other’s needs. It had lasted like that for a while until she’d met her fiancé. Then it ended and a tango of wicked games and mind-fucking bullshit ensued.

Until she needed him and everything changed. 

However, in the circumstance, Michael Kyle Hansberry was no exception to his own privilege, and that’s exactly what led him to where he was today and why Jennifer was where she was. He was cuffed and booked, held on multiple charges that would no doubt led him to see far over twenty-five to life in a state penitentiary. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“You can wait for Mr. Hansberry in here.” Lieutenant Mack held the door for her as she stepped into the windowless single camera room. 

“I trust once my client is in the room, that will be shut off?” She eyed the security camera in the room's corner ceiling. “Or do you just want to get your attorney-client privilege violation out of the way now?” 

“Of course, Counselor,” Mack nodded, “it’ll be off the moment Mr. Hansberry enters the room.”

She nodded and took a seat in the chair opposite where her client would sit. She organized herself, pulling a pen and pad of paper from her briefcase. She sighed and waited, thinking back to when she first laid eyes on Kyle two years ago. 

It was a warm and bright one on the day she’d shown up for a summer function, for a charity she couldn’t remember, but a function no less. She handed the valet the keys to her BMW 4 Series white metallic coupe and smoothed the non-existent wrinkles of her jungle green, above the knee bohemian dress. 

The country club where she held membership since before she was born, and casually at that, was throwing their summer party, a garden party event that kicked off the season with tray passed foods and an open bar. 

Deciding she should make face, because it was for charity, Jennifer waltzed into the main lobby in nude heeled sandals and out the double doors where the lush grass spilled over with club patrons crowding around linen cloth-covered tables, while staff in their club polos and tan khakis passed around trays of food and champagne. She caught a tray as it passed by, swiping a long stem glass filled with champagne for herself. Wide and black framed, Jackie-O like sunglasses covered her green eyes as she stepped into the crowd, her blonde hair pulled back into a festive ponytail and off her back in the summer heat. 

A few of her father’s friends had found her as she moved through the lawn space, greeting her and smiling at her, striking up brief conversations. She politely spoke with them. She didn’t want to be rude, but also didn’t care nonetheless. Her father had been gone three years now, her mother since she was a child, his firm in her care, so young, so powerful. At thirty years old, Jennifer was in charge of one of the top defensive firms in the greater Boston area and she was at the top of her game for as young as she was; aptly named one of the top lawyers in the area.

Then, upon finding a garden chair to take residence on, Jennifer pulled out her phone and checked messages and emails. She grew bored as the day wore on, carrying on conversations with people, but those too grew boring and when the champagne wasn’t enough anymore, she moved to the bar for something stronger. 

Taking reprieve from the heat and growing humidity, Jennifer stood between chairs at the bar next to a seated, tall man with broad shoulders covered by a dark green polo shirt and black designer pants, Sperry’s on his feet. She gave him a once over and turned her attention back to the bartender, ordering herself a scotch sour and moved her attention to her phone. 

“That’s a tough drink for a lady.”

She thought the man sitting to her right, the man with the broad shoulders, was the one speaking up, but to her surprise it was someone else, the man to her left. Red polo, plaid golf pants and a greasy-looking mustache. 

“Well, I’m not your average lady,” Jennifer raised her brow. 

“Hardly,” the red polo leaned in. “I’m Lee. How about you put that drink on my tab, and we take a seat outside.”

A snort sounded from Jennifer’s right. 

The bartender set Jennifer’s drink in front of her and she slid over to him a large tip. She bit back the smirk she wanted to share and inhaled, “Well, Lee... it is an open bar, so there is no need for the tab. And as far as the seat outside,” she leaned forward just a little, “I’ll pass. You see, men like you, with your greasy mustache and horrible plaid golf pants, I eat men like you for breakfast. No one with tact tries to pick up a woman at an open bar with not one but two failed lines on being a lady and buying her a drink.”

A dejected Lee grabbed for his drink and left the room, leaving Jennifer to take up a seat at the bar and sigh with a deep roll of the eyes. The bartender snickered as he cleaned a couple of high balls for an order. The man in the green shirt smirked as he brought his beer to his lips, not once looking at the interaction but simply listening. It was silent for a bit, Jennifer sipping her scotch sour, taking in the air conditioning and the lack of company. Now and then, she’d catch the man in green looking at her from the corner of his eye. She had to admit he was hot and had a great boy hiding under his clothing. It was either the booze or the heat, but she felt a pooling between her legs. 

It was then a clearly ditzy, brassy brunette dressed in a white sundress, huge brimmed hat and ghastly chunky heels giddily called out to the man in green from the doorway and Jennifer could have sworn she heard him groan in annoyance. 

“Kyle! There you are!” 

“Fuck me,” he grumbled before he barely turned his head to acknowledge the brunette. “Liss, didn’t think I’d be seeing you here.”

“Oh Kyle, you’re so funny,” the woman giggled and looked at Jennifer, “he’s so funny.” 

Jennifer bit her lip back and feigned humor in her eyes, “hilarious,” she said, scrunching up her nose. 

“So, I just won in the silent auction a trip for two to Barbados, and I think you,” the brunette pressed into the man at the bar, touching the tip of his nose with her fingertip, “should go with me. I’m going to go powder my nose and be right back so we can chat.”

As quickly as she entered, she was gone, and Jennifer couldn’t help but say something. 

“That girlfriend of yours, she’s...”

“Not my girlfriend,” the man, now known as Kyle, shook his head. ”She’s a fucking gnat.” Kyle looked up at the mirror behind the bar. “She’s a whore I can’t shake.”

“So she’s stalking you?” Jennifer wondered. 

“Many do,” he replied with a smirk and raised brows, a cocky tone to his words. 

“I’m Jennifer,” her lips mimicked the smirk on his own, almost subconsciously. She liked him. Already she could tell he was fun, a little dangerous, but fun. 

”Kyle,” he nodded, and sipped his beer. “So what do you do that gets you in here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

“Attorney. I’ve been a member here since I was in diapers,” Jennifer replied, sipping her scotch. Her body was turned to his in her chair, slender legs crossed at the knee.

He gave her a once over, his eyes trailing up her legs, eyes narrowing at the hem of her skirt line and up to the way her breasts curved against the bust of her dress. “Hmmm, well, that explains the scotch.”

“Scotch is synonymous to legal work for you?” Jennifer quipped. 

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Hardly, you just don’t look.... I expected...” he paused, “I don’t know, just not that.” He could see it now though, tight button down blouses tucked expertly into pencil skirts, hair pulled back and neat, he bet she wore glasses too from time to time. She probably needed a good fuck. She seemed like she could use one. Her legs were long and lean, and she had sexy skin and green eyes. He was quick to assume she did yoga or pilates. 

“Hmmm, well, what do you do?” She asked with a quizzical look, then gasped. “Wait, let me guess, trust-fund entrepreneur playboy?” Jennifer licked at her lips, taking that last sip of her drink. She glimpsed Liss on her way back from the ladies’ room, quickly catching the eye of what seemed to be a friend of hers. “I think your gnat is back.”

Kyle’s eyes catch the mirror again and sees his former one-night stand in an animated conversation with someone. “For fuck sakes,” he groans. 

“Seems like you need an out. If she’s stalking you, running will not help,” Jennifer pointed out. 

“You got a better idea?” Kyle couldn’t help but wonder. 

“Well, clearly subtlety won’t work. You’re going to need to be more...” Jennifer thought, “aggressive.” 

“Oh, it’s not been subtle, I don’t do subtle,” he pointed out. 

An odd idea struck her quickly, always thinking on her toes, “Then a more visual approach, perhaps?” 

Kyle grunted, “You offering?” 

“Depends,” she shrugged, “what’s in it for me?”

The sexiest of sly smirks crossed his plump lips and his eyes danced with a little danger as Kyle replied, “It’s not about what’s in it FOR you, but what could be IN you.”

Jennifer didn’t even need to think about it. She needed a little mischief in her life, an escape from the stressful career, the late nights and long weekends. She needed a release that she hadn’t felt in ages, a proper good all senses igniting release. And who else to get it from than a trust-fund fuckboy who, in his own words, didn’t do subtle? “Deal.” She put her hands on his smooth jaw, pulling him in for a deep and desperate kiss. 

Not one to turn an offer away from an attractive woman, Kyle kissed her hard, his tongue dipping into Jennifer’s mouth, neither having a care of the venue they were in. He was a great kisser, and he smelled delicious, woodsy like mahogany and teakwood with a hint of oak. Her fingers gripped his shirt as his hands dropped from the bar to her hips. 

She tasted like scotch and vanilla, no doubt from her drink and lips. Her taut waist fit perfectly in his huge hands, and he heard the faintest squeak emit from her as she relaxed into their kiss. 

Then came the shriek of disappointment, and he smirked against Jennifer’s lips before breaking away. 

“Kyle, what the hell?” Liss whined. “I was just telling you we were going on a trip!” 

His eyes were still on Jennifer as she leaned in to whisper, “Coat room, out to the left, three doors down on the right,” before grabbing her clutch and walking away from him and the scene they caused. A wink from the bartender sent her smirking as she headed out of the room. 

Minutes later, Kyle was opening the door and finding his way in the dark. He needed little light as Jennifer’s hands were quick to find his belt and flies, a clank coming from the buckle as it hung down where her hands were already looking for what she wanted. His lips found hers and she was quickly backed into the wall by the door. He moaned as she stroked him, lips dragging across her neck and back up her jaw. She smelled expensive, sensual even, warm and strong, but had this hint of floral softness. A heady mix of jasmine, cedar, and amber. A scent that was driving his senses wild. 

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” he whispered against her skin, nipping at her. His body caged her in as a hand moved for the bottom of her dress. 

“Not when I know what I want,” she panted against his assault, her hand full of his hard, thick cock pulling him free. 

He palmed her cunt, feeling her already wet panties, and somehow Kyle knew this was well worth the antics. His first two fingers swiped over her panty covered folds and pressed against her clit and she moaned against his lips, all the while still stroking his dick.

When Kyle moved her panties to the side of her folds, Jennifer hitched her knee over his hip as she lined his tip against her slick. She guided him up and down, wetting him, and then, with a thrust forward of his hips, he slid right in.

“Fuck,” she purred against his ear, a ground out groan coming in reply. He was thick, stretching her pleasurably.

Kyle felt the warmth depths of her walls around him, snapping his hips forward while in the same motion he lifted her to seat inside her. Jennifer’s ankles locked at the small of his back as he fucked her into the closet wall. He used the wall as a brace to carry the shifting weight from his pounding into her, her cries of heat in his ear urging him on. Her voice dripping in ecstasy, encouraging him. 

“Oh yes, right there,” she cried, “so fucking good.”

“Fucking so tight,” he ground out. He could feel her bubbling around him, imagining her coil tightening. When she snapped, he pounded into her harder, chasing his own rush and when he was near, he pulled free, dropping her to her feet harshly, losing his load on a coat nearby.

As Kyle fixed himself, Jennifer fixed her panties and made sure her breasts were properly in her dress. She pulled her pony tail free from its mess and fluffed her hair a second before opening her clutch and dropping the hair tie in and removing a card.

With his back turned to her, Jennifer slipped the card into his pocket. “Call me when you want a good fuck,” she said with confidence and walked out. 

The opening of the door interrupted Jennifer’s thoughts, and Kyle entered, cuffed, looking smug as ever, dressed in a blue sweater, tweed pants and his loafers. His hair looked as if he’d run his hands through it a few times during his booking and processing. Mack cuffed him to the table, allowing the man to take a seat comfortably.

Cold blue eyes, vibrant from his current attire, looked back at her, still a smug smirk across his lips, hands folded together on the table. He moved to speak, but she held up a manicured finger at him. Her eyes moved to the camera in the corner, waiting for the light to go off. As she waited, she took him in again, seeing the man behind the facade. The man she knew hid beneath the smug and arrogant exterior. He looked stoic, but she read the look of deep plotting behind those cold blue eyes. His jaw was clenching, flexing under grinding perfect teeth, fingers pressing into one another as his hands were clasped in between them.

Then she spoke, “watch what you say, they’re still listening.”

There was no way they wouldn’t be. She knew with a case like this, there was every foreseeable ear listening in if they could. 

Kyle’s eyes automatically flicked up to the camera before his attention turned to hers, watching as her nose wrinkled up in disgust.

“Why do you smell like vomit?” Jennifer balked. 

“Because I was puked on,” Kyle deadpanned. 

“I don’t even want to know,” she sighed, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek before she shook her head. “Jesus, Kyle, I don’t hear from you for three weeks...”

“What were you expecting? Flowers? Exploding hearts from a box of chocolates? We’ve gone longer without so much as a text.” His expression was arrogant as he interrupted her, cockier than when he’d walked in, knowing damn well he’d cornered her. 

Her eyes narrowed at him and she locked her teeth, the back of her tongue peeking just between her lips. “Then the news pours in about what happened to your father and I find out you’re arrested in connection to it all and that’s when you decide to call me?” 

“Who else would I call? You’re the best defense attorney around, and I obviously need defending.” Kyle rolled his eyes as if the answer should have been obvious. 

“You’re damn right I am,” she agreed. “Shame, no one told your uncle.”

“My uncle?” Kyle frowned.

“Yes, I headed him and one of his attorneys off in the lobby.” Jennifer shrugged snuggly as she unbuttoned her jacket and slipped her arms out, tossing the fabric over her chair from her sitting position. Kyle snorted. “He clearly didn’t get the memo that you’d organized your own attorney. And, speaking frankly, I’ve seen the guy he had with him in action. The previous ADA ate him for breakfast. You wouldn’t stand a chance, especially not now…” she stopped and took a deep breath, refraining from mentioning the person she’d been about to and instead she straightened up and drew her shoulders back. “Well, it goes without saying.”

As she turned back to face him, the strained buttons of her blouse gave him a peek at something he’d missed the last few weeks. Her body pressed against his, his mouth on pert nipples. 

“You know, I love it when you get all feisty.” Kyle smirked, an air of tease to his words as he caught eye of her breasts peeking through the opened buttons of her blouse. “Careful counselor, I might ask for a conjugal,”

“Focus, Michael,” she scolded. His eyes narrowed, and she stared back. “What? You hired me the minute you picked up that phone.” 

A cold staring contest continued. They were one in the same; calculating, smug, downright vile with words and demeanor when necessary. Never one to outdo the other without it turning into some game of foreplay. 

Then, in a change of character that inwardly surprised Jennifer, Kyle sighed as he leaned in as best he could, “I didn’t think you’d come,” his voice was deep but quiet while his eyes softened. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” She sighed, knowing full well he was wrong in his assumptions. She leaned forward, pen clicking in her writing hand, the other tilting her notepad so she could take notes. “Now, tell me everything that’s happened since your father’s birthday. In as much detail as you can.”

A sky, devilishly sexy smirk crossed his lips. “Should I start how I fucked you in my bed that morning or how about in the Beamer after breakfast at the club or how about when I fucked you again against the window of my bedroom before I left for that bullshit party?” Kyle raised his left brow curiously, leaning forward against his forearms, propped against the cool table. The softness he’d had about him gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

“I’m well aware of those incidents, and how they could impact your case if it leaves this room, so why don’t we start from the party itself?” Jennifer pointed out. She didn’t have the patience for his games, especially now, when she was doing him a solid by at least keeping him out of orange scrubs and maximum security. 

For nearly an hour, Kyle carried on, no doubt loving the sound of his own voice, recounting the events of his life since his father’s birthday. Jennifer took comprehensive notes the entire time, glaring at him as he reached certain points like when he was questioned initially at the station with no attorney present, how he wasn’t aware of being recorded as he was questioned again after he was cornered in the study with Dione and the authorities, and the antics he recalled about when Dione puked on him. 

It oddly made sense why he hadn’t called her for their typical rendezvous the night of Dillan’s party. Rendezvous, that had interestingly become more frequent since September. He didn’t want to make her an accomplice to what he’d done. 

“Well, you’ve certainly got my work cut out for me. Thanks for that,” Jennifer sighed deeply. “I’ll call down to the courthouse and find out when you have your arraignment. For now, you’re stuck here. Keep your nose clean and stay out of trouble.”

“What’s the plan, Jennifer?” Kyle asked lowly, eyes locked onto hers, using her nickname reserved only for him. 

She licked her plump lips and leaned forward. “You let me do my job and keep your mouth shut.” 

She packed up her things and knocked on the door for the guard to open it and collect Kyle. They exchanged a look between them as he was un-cuffed from the table and escorted out. When he was gone, Jennifer pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled deeply. The feeling in the pit of her stomach was ready to bring up her late lunch. She swallowed the bile down and gathered her things, leaving the jail. 

This case was going to be the most difficult one she’d ever have to defend. It would test her professionally, beyond the course and scope of her talents. 

“God damn it, Kyle,” she cursed as she pulled away and towards traffic back into Boston. 

In the darkness, night having descended upon the jail, Kyle laid awake in his bunk. Given the circumstances of his case, the high profile of it all, Lieutenant Mack made sure Kyle was in a cell by himself. It was cold and damp, yet his predicament hadn’t fully weighed in on him. All they had was a confession, under duress and a semi-confused state. Surely, it wouldn’t hold up in court. Especially with Jennifer in his corner. She was good, damn good. He’d seen her close regular ‘Joe Schmoe’ cases, and he’d seen her keep some of the most crooked out of a place like this, all on technicalities. He knew she’d make it work for him. 

He sighed as he thought about his attorney. She was something else. Unlike so many women he’d come across, and he knew plenty of women. He thought back to how their arrangement began. 

He’d looked at that business card for days. How dare she just drop it into his pocket and leave him, limp-dicked and cum-stained, no less in the coat closet of the Country Club? The sex was hot, a quick fuck he had enjoyed. And the lawyer, she was hot, smart and witty. She could think on her feet and he appreciated that. He also appreciated the way her pussy hugged his dick, tight and sinfully wet. Initially, he was soured, wondering who the hell did she think she was to pull game on him like that, but it sparked a bit of a challenge in him as well. And Michael Kyle Hansberry never backed down from a challenge.

“Alright, let’s play,” Kyle stood from his couch and grabbed his keys to his vintage mint condition BMW and headed out. He knew exactly where the address on the card was located. He often frequented the upscale bars and shopped at the high end shops in the same neighborhood. 

It was near eight, well after the workday, but something in him told him she’d be there and if she weren’t, he wasn’t far from a regular place. He knew he could go to quell his thirst. 

As he drove, he imagined her in her office, what she was wearing, if she wore sexy black-framed glasses over her green eyes. He was growing more feral with each passing mild. 

Soon enough, he’d pulled up to the building and parked rather haphazardly in a stall. There was a security guard at the front desk behind the locked glass windows. 

“Can I help you, sir?” A pudgy, aging man asked as he opened the glass door. 

“I have business on the 60th floor,” he remarked, not even stopping for the guard. The short, pudgy man tried to track him to the elevator, but Kyle’s saunter was purposeful and the doors had closed before the guard could get more information. 

The elevator was quick and its doors opened on the expansive 60th floor, no one around to greet him. He looked in the open offices and found them unoccupied. Until he got to the door at the end of the hall, reading the nameplate on the wall beside it. ‘Jennifer Hannigan, Senior Partner’. 

“Jackpot,” he twitched. With force he flung the door open, surprisingly not startling the woman inside. 

She was looking out the floor to ceiling windows of her office, hair down and straight, a starched white pin tuck shirt tucked into a gray pencil skirt, black stiletto pumps on her feet. 

“Took you long enough,” she quipped. 

In fewer strides than he was tall, he was on her, lips over hers, pressing her against the glass while her fingers curled into the lapels of his cardigan. “You’re a fucking tease,” Kyle rasped against her lips as his tongue dove into her mouth to quell his hunger. His hands pulling the material of her shirt away from it tucking. 

“Only if you want me to be,” Jennifer moaned as his lips found that spot he seemed to remember from the closet, where her jaw met her ear and neck. A sound emitted from her chest that had Kyle pulling at her top, busting nearly all the buttons off, some pinging against the glass, as he exposed her breasts and cream laced bra. 

Before he could decide his next move, Jennifer was sinking to her knees, breasts spilling out of the top of her bra. She released his button and zip of his flies, a thick bulge freeing from the confines. The grunt that he gave at the feeling of more space in his pants made her insides twitch. She palmed him over before flipping through the waistband of his underwear, fully freeing his dick. She wrapped her lips around the tip and gave a little suck like one would a lollipop before taking him in her hand and titling the erection upward, licking the underside from his balls to his tip. She kitten licked at the pre-cum leaking out, then took him all the way in, gagging a little as he hit the back of her throat. 

“Fuck,” he ground out, falling forward, and used a splayed hand to brace himself against the glass.

Her head bobbed against his shaft, deep at first, then shallow and deep again, her one hand wringing his cock at the base when she didn’t take him fully, the other hand rolling his sac in her palm. Her knees were set in the carpet, between his feet. 

He grabbed a fist of her hair and gave it a little tug. “Feels so fucking good.” At this rate, he was going to cum fast, but he wanted to feel that sinfully wet pussy around his cock before he did. He tugged at her hair again, regretfully pulling her away from his dick. “Get on the desk.”

Jennifer smirked as she stood at the command, a look of lust in her eyes that matched his. There was something feral about the way he’d looked at her, on her knees, lips swollen and wet from sucking his cock. 

Kyle stepped nearly a half step aside, freeing her from the way his body caged her in, making her have to step around him. He watched as she propped herself up on the edge of her desk, legs long and lean, heels barely skidding the floor. Her eyes bored into his as if she were asking him ‘what now?’ 

“Turn around,” he deadpanned. She obliged. With his dick still straight, he stood behind her, foot parting her heels just a little more. He pressed into her, his chest against her back, hot breath in her ear, “I’m going to fuck you raw.” His lips twitched into a blink and you’ll miss it smirk as the sound of her quick gasp filled his ear. He peeled back her shirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, and used his hands to flip her skirt from her knees to her waist. He salivated at the smooth, firm skin of her round ass, eyes trailing up her back to her neck. The head of his cock slid along her covered slit as he watched. Fuck, she was soaked through her cream lace panties already. The rough material scratched sinfully at his tip. Long, thick fingers curled around the waist of her panties and pulled the material down to her knees. Kyle felt at her slit with a middle finger, feeling the way her honey stuck to his digit. He spread the arousal over the head of his cock, ready to slip. 

Aligning himself with dick in hand, he ran it up and down his prey’s opening before sliding into home base.

They both moaned in pleasure, his thick shaft stretching her, her walls tight around him. There was no need for adjustment, for he just started thrusting, hard and fast. When she curled her body up and away from her desk, a long arm pushed her back down, grasping at her neck, thumb pressing into the inked Sanskrit in the center. 

A deep moan elicited from her as he pressed and goose flesh covered her skin, her insides coiling tight and fluttering around him. “Oh, fuck,” Jennifer moaned. 

“Shit, yeah,” Kyle ground out, continuing his fast pace, perusing his release. 

With one hand gripping her hip, the other pressing her down at her shoulder, thumb pushing into the back of her neck, the sounds of her impending release, Kyle fucked her hard. The heat of the moment was feral and wild, loud with grunts and moans, pants and gravelly sounds, skin slapping against skin. And when she broke over the edge, she took him with her, Kyle pulling out in time to shoot hot streams of white across her tight ass. 

When he was through, he tucked himself back in his pants and zipped up. Using her shirt to clean off his hands and tossing it to her desk, he walked to her drink cart and poured himself a glass of scotch, sitting down on the couch across the room, slouching a little as he sipped. “So, what’s the deal here? We fuck any time we want? Because I don’t do attachments.” 

Jennifer took her dirty shirt, wiped the streams of cum away from her skin and pulled her panties up, tossing the shirt in the garbage can under her desk. She fixed her skirt back to its rightful cut and made sure it was on straight, seem at the back before moving across the room to Kyle 

She took the glass from his hand, taking a pull from it and handing it back. “It’s simple,” she sashayed away to her en suite bathroom, pulling a fresh shirt from a small closet inside, “we have needs and we have a means to release those needs. No strings, no attachments, just convenience.” She finished the buttons on the top and tucked it back into the skirt as if he’d never just dicked her down at her desk. “We each get what we want.”

“How do you know what I want?” Kyle smugly sneered, tossing back the rest of the scotch and set the glass down on the coffee table in front of him, standing but firmly staying put, hands on his hips. 

“Because you like to play games just as much as I do, otherwise, you wouldn’t have come.” Jennifer raised a brow. 

“Hmmm,” he huffed. Damn, was she interesting and the two times he’d had his dick inside her have proved to be well damn worth it.

“I’ll call you.” Jennifer turned on her heel and walked back to her desk. “Shut the door on your way out, will you?”

He stared briefly at her retreating form, then turned on his own heel and headed out of her office with a smirk, leaving the door wide open. 

Kyle smirked to himself as he stretched out on his bunk. That was an interesting day, to say the least. He cracked his neck a little, adjusting to the most uncomfortable pillow and mattress he’d ever laid on. He took in the boring white painted brick and concrete walls around him, the rusting, shabby barred door at the foot of his vision. This was a fucking state of inconvenience if he’d ever seen one. He thought to himself briefly how much he’d thank Jennifer when she got him out. How grateful he could be. He was already in an aroused state, and if he played nice and she did her job, he could hold out for it. He just had to wait. While patience wasn’t his best virtue, in fact he lacked it all together, Kyle Hansberry found himself waiting on the one thing he never had to, a woman.

Jennifer didn’t have to wait long for Kyle’s arraignment, for it was happening first thing on the next morning’s docket. She showed up after working all night gathering what she could from his arrest and list of charges being brought down on him. 

And there were quite a few.

She knew that to have any chance of fighting his corner successfully; she needed to get her hands on a copy of his confession, but that would have to wait until after the arraignment. For now, she waited in the courtroom for Kyle to be brought in from holding. 

She picked at her notes, looking over them and glancing around, near boredom really, as the Assistant District Attorney, Damien Gilbert, stepped into the courtroom.

He was a tall drink of water of a man, dark hair, piercing brown eyes, cocky and overly confident. He was always on the other side of the aisle from her, vying for the seat he now held, Assistant District Attorney. He’d been awarded it a few months ago, unceremoniously earning it when the former ADA had resigned because of familial reasons and a murder trial involving his son prior. It was a case that had shocked the legal community, and one Jennifer steered clear of. Roger Rosamond had been well respected, someone that Jennifer had quite liked, although she’d often fought cases against him. He’d been clear, articulate and whilst he had an air of calm confidence bordering on arrogance in the courtroom, he’d done it with grace and dignity, unlike Damien who was cutthroat and ruthless, with no concern about who he trampled over to get the results he wanted.

Damien shot Jennifer a glance from across the aisle, a snarky smirk playing at his lips, “Counselor!”

She nodded back with a devilish hello of her own, having already expected his arrival, and turned her attention to the door opening alongside the judge’s chair and bailiff. 

An armed officer was escorting her client, now tastefully dressed in a pewter suit with a white button down complimented by a steel blue and white polka dotted tie. Jennifer couldn’t help but wonder who sourced the suit from his closet as he looked cleaned up, but uncomfortable. Suits were not in his wheelhouse unless it was absolutely mandatory. Kyle’s hair was styled back and while his face was not cleanly shaven, there was not a look of concern to his conceitedly handsome features. He still wore handcuffs, but had them cuffed in front of him instead of behind his back.

The officer instructed Kyle to take a seat next to Jennifer and then proceeded to uncuff him with the promise that if he tried anything, they would go back on or he would get a bullet to his chest. 

“Little harsh around here this morning, aren’t they?” He joked once the officer was out of ear shot. 

“You could try to look a little less inconvenienced, Michael.” Jennifer rolled her eyes. “And you still smell like puke, despite the wardrobe change. Which, by the way, where’d it come from?” 

“Jennifer, please don’t,” he shot back, ignoring her question and instead honing in on the fact she’d used his given name, not his preferred one. He didn’t want her to call him that. Never did, never would. 

“Kyle, everyone in this room is watching you. Including that asshole over there,” she slightly nodded in Damien’s direction. 

Kyle followed her gaze, and Jennifer heard a little growl roll in the back of his throat.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He mumbled as he eyed Damien from across the aisle. “This douchebag?”

Jennifer shot Kyle a look. “He’s the ADA. Who did you expect? Santa Claus?”

“Jesus Christ, I hate that lanky streak of shit.”

“I know, just like everyone at the Country Club knows,” Jennifer licked her lips and stuck the tip of her tongue back between her teeth in annoyance, ”but the people in this courtroom don’t, and they don’t need to either. Keep your mouth shut and try and leave the pissing contest you two had going on at the door, okay?”

“He going to be a problem, Counselor?” Kyle asked, leaning in towards her.

“In what way, Kyle?” Jennifer raised her brow, and he matched her inquisitive expression. “No,” she answered with a snort. 

“Good,” he nodded.

At that point, the bailiff called out to the courtroom that the judge was entering and for them all to rise. The Judge called upon the court officer to call out the docket number after he’d settled into this chair.

“Docket Number MSC-S-07-3847-CR-8942, The People versus Michael Kyle Hansberry.”

“Thank you. Everyone bar Counselors and The Defendant may take a seat. For the record, we have Assistant District Attorney Damien Gilbert representing The People.” The Judge looked up and Damien confirmed with a ‘yes, Your Honor’ and the introductions then continued, “and representing The Defendant, Michael Kyle Hansberry, Miss Jennifer Hannigan.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Miss Hannigan, do you and your client wave the reading of Mr. Hansberry’s rights and charges?” 

“No. We’d like all rights and charges read, Your Honor,” Jennifer replied for her client. 

“Very well,” the judge looked at his notes read, “initial charges filed against The Defendant, Michael Kyle Hansberry, are as follows: 1st degree murder in the death of Sasha McKinnon, attempted 2nd degree murder on the life of Dione Alda, conspiracy, obstruction of justice, blackmail and theft. Do The People have any additional charges to be filed at this time?”

“Your honor, The State also motions to file charges of Attempted Patricide, given the circumstances surrounding Dillan Baldwin’s death,” Damien added on public record. 

“Well, when you put it that way,” Jennifer mumbled to herself as she stood next to Kyle and took a deep breath. “Objection, Your Honor. Dillan Baldwin’s death was ruled a suicide, therefore the prosecution has no grounds to file a motion on attempted patricide, by way of recommendation of private investigator, Mr. Wesley Clinton.”

“Overruled, The State will be allowed to file,” the judge said, siding with Damien. “I will read the full list of charges now as motioned and filed, once again the charges filed against The Defendant, Michael Kyle Hansberry, are as follows: 1st degree murder in the death of Sasha McKinnon, attempted 2nd degree murder on the life of Dione Alda, attempted Patricide, conspiracy, obstruction of justice, arson, blackmail and theft. How does The Defendant plea?”

“Not guilty,” Kyle replied. Murmurs erupted in the court and Damien looked like he’d been slapped, he was in such shock. 

Jennifer smirked to herself and spoke up, “Your Honor, my client enters a plea of not guilty by way of temporary insanity and emotional distress placated by the shock and post-traumatic stress of hearing the news he’s no longer receiving the monetary contributions his father had promised and willfully managed.” 

Kyle stood smugly, despite being painted a spoiled and arrogant rich “kid”, as Jennifer further explained his plea. She was there to play ball, no question about it. And the scoff she heard from Damien made her smirk. Game on. 

“At this time, The Defense would also like to go on record by stating my client is not a flight risk and should be granted bail.”

The look of shock still hadn’t left Damien’s face as he turned to look at Jennifer when she’d suggested a bail be set for Kyle to be freed upon until his trial. 

The judge took a moment, jotting some notes down. “Alright, the plea stands as not guilty by way. Miss Hannigan, Mr. Hansberry, you may take a seat. Mr. Gilbert, let’s hear from The People.”

The Assistant District Attorney adjusted his jacket, his shock morphing away as his usual smugness resumed, and began his statement to the judge and members of the courtroom. He carried on about Dillan and while evidence based on the investigation by Clinton, Mack and Royce showed Dillan committed suicide, “Mr. Hansberry should be held accountable for his death as well, given the premise that he switched the labels on the vials of medication and had he not done so, Dillan Baldwin would be alive today.”

Jennifer rose from her chair. “Objection, Your Honor, I strongly point out that my client should not be charged in Dillan Baldwin’s death. It was officially ruled a suicide and the death certificate was signed off by the medical examiner. My client, Mr. Hansberry, therefore, by means of already established legal fact, should only be charged with what Mr. Clinton, Detective Mack and Private Royce have filed with the court. Any involvement in Mr. Baldwin’s suicide by my client is pure speculation at this point and unnecessary for this arraignment hearing, as the prosecution is well aware of.”

“Counselor, your objection to the charge of Attempted Patricide is denied and is granted to The Prosecution as a formal charge against Mr. Hansberry. Now, Mr. Gilbert, how says The People for bail?” 

“Your Honor, The People set a petition for no bail in this case. The People feel it is necessary for Mr. Hansberry to remain in custody until the end of his trial as he poses a flight risk.”

“Very well,” the judge turned his attention to Kyle and Jennifer. “Mr. Hansberry, with a no bail-no bond set, you are to remain in custody upon further review of your trial. Bailiff, please escort Mr. Hansberry back to his cell, this hearing is adjourned. Counselors, my chambers in ten minutes.”

Before the bailiff cuffed Kyle, he remarked, “in it to win it, huh?”

“Don’t,” she chopped back. “And the very least you should be right now is concerned. This isn’t going to be easy, so don’t act like it is.”