A/N: Ha, I did it! Somehow this prompt just wouldn't cooperate, it took a while! But here you are! Enjoy! I wrote all I had received! Bring on some more! :)
It all happened because you didn't listen. Or according to your sister, because you never listen. As if!.. As Di said later on, shaking her head in disbelief, the arguing and heated discussions had been going on for months before the party. You vaguely remember Phil's barking shouts piercing your concentration over breakfast, but the two tossers have been squabbling since the day they brought Killian from the hospital. There might have been additional decibels in Phil's voice, but you had a case.
You had the Case. Everything else had to wait, the merger was all that bloody mattered. Then Killian smashed his car. You handed him the checkbook and the dealer's card. You really had no time to look into it. He wasn't drunk, he was reckless, no one got harmed. He is a pillock, you would deal with it when the case was closed.
The party was black tie in some resort and spa, you even spent extra time choosing the dressing jacket and the cufflinks. You took Phil with you, it's his case too. You discussed with the partners whether to invite your posh bugger of a client to the office for this conversation but propositioning him in the casual circumstances seemed wiser. A birthday party for his daughter-in-law seemed like it would help him to loosen up a bit and pull that stick out of his arse.
Mingling, that is what you are doing when the first shouts erupt. You see Phil's face blanche, and that's when it becomes obvious that you really should have listened. Blood is trickling from the client's son's nose, and people are dragging Killian away from him. Fucking bloody fuck! You see Phil rushing to him. Someone is trying to restrain the blond tosser from punching your nephew's face in return, and you see his father's butthurt face. The nostrils flare, the poxy black brows drawn together, and all this shite! Can he look any more posh?
You help Phil drag thrashing Killian outside. "What is wrong with you?!" You should not be shouting. The boy is obviously pissed, tears in his eyes, looks like a beaten up pup. He is mumbling something unintelligible and starts toppling over. Phil is supporting his weight, "He said she promised to leave the fucker. And Killian thinks he is forcing her to stay." There is obviously some drama going on in here, you really don't have time for this.
You vaguely remember the wife, a redhead, saw her once at some tennis match. Again, everyone wears giant hats and glasses there. You need to fix it. Bollocks! Last thing you need right now is a cougar drama with the client's daughter-in-law. You won't let the bint botch up your merger.
Killian is wailing openly. "She wants to kill the baby. Why would she do that to me?" You freeze and then grab his shoulders. "What did you say?!" He is sobbing. You give him a shake. "Killian, what baby?!" "She said she'll take care of it…" He has his mother's eyes, and you see red. "She didn't even ask me..."
You push him towards his brother and rush back into the house. You storm through the rooms and see the fucker in the patio. He is pressing a napkin to his nose, and a small redhead in front of him is gesturing wildly, her naked back in a red dress, white shoulder blades. He lowers his head and stares at his shoes.
You really should learn to control your temper... but not today. Unlike your nephew, you don't waste time on yelling. You bestow him with a short punch and hear his long posh nose unpleasantly crack with a squelching sound. Then you grab the chick's upper arm. "Listen, missy..."
You don't have time to say anything when she tries to jerk her arm out of your clenching hand, but you are holding her tight, and the momentum twirls you both. You are so angry that you are slightly unstable on your feet, and you both start keeling. At the very last moment you realize that you were standing on the edge of a pool, and the panic comes.
You are falling backwards and pulling her with you. Your back hits the cold blue water, and a silent scream bursts out of you. Your eyes are open, and you see the bubbles rushing out of your lungs. And then the madness hits. You are thrashing, the old forgotten terror kicking in. When you were five, you fell off your father's boat, and water is the stuff of your worst nightmares.
It pours into your mouth, into the throat, lungs. Instead of moving your arms and trying to get out you are taking giant gulps of water, and feel that it is the end. It is all pain and cold. Something red flashes in the water in front of your eyes, and you are pulled up and out by a pair of small strong hands.
People help her to pull you out of the water, and you are coughing on the floor. You think you are going to cough your bloody lungs out, the amount of water you are spitting out seems improbable. She is sitting on the floor near you, and you suddenly realize that she is rubbing your back. "It's alright, you're alright..." She is actually trying to comfort you!
You are finally capable of lifting your eyes from the nauseating piles on the floor. Her eyes are giant, bright hazel colour, and they are worried and warm. "Are you alright, Mr. Thorington? John?" You take a shuddering breath in and nod.
The father is addressing the guests, the son is standing with his head tilted back, another napkin pressed to his face, and you are dizzy. Like a chick from a Jane Austen novel, shaky and disoriented. People help you get up, and she is dragging you away. "Common, you need to take the clothes off, you are going to get sick." You can hardly remember where you are.
She pushes you in a room and disappears somewhere. Then she shoves a towel into your hands, and she is gone again. You are standing in the middle of a room like a complete plonker and can't stop shaking. She is back in a tee and jeans. "You haven't even moved!" And she starts dragging your jacket off your shoulders. You let her and her fingers are working on the buttons of your waistcoat.
You come to your senses when she is dragging the shirt off you. "Wait… What are you?..." "It's alive!" Her eyes are warm and smiling. "You had me worried there, Mr. Thorington." She deftly takes the cufflinks out and the wet shirt falls on the floor. She shoves a jumper into your hands. "Common, I'll try to find you a pair of trousers!" "I'm not wearing some bloke's trousers," you are cold and the sweater looks so warm, but you bloody would never!... "They are new, it is a tailoring place," she is smiling. You look around and realize you are in a spacious changing room. She is laughing at your shocked face, "I'll be charging you for the carpet cleaning too."
She disappears again and you pull the jumper on. It is soft, and you promise yourself to shop here later. The door creaks, and you see her hand sneaking in. She throws you a pair of trousers. A small box with, you presume, underwear follows. Everything fits. In a minute a pair of socks smacks you to the head. If she is not looking, how come she hits the target?
Suddenly it seems very funny. And you start laughing. And you can't bloody stop. You sink on a small sofa by the wall and press your palms to your eyes. The laughter, or sobbing, is bursting out, and she is instantly sitting near you, her hot little hand rubbing your nape. "It's alright, alright," and then she pulls you into her, and you bury your face into her neck, her hair wet. The little palm is rubbing your shoulder blades, and you are surprised that you breath easier.
"It's alright… Phil mentioned you were aquaphobic..." You slowly breathe her smell a bit more and then lift your face. "Phil?" "Yeah, we go to pub together, I helped him with the dinner jacket. I'm Wren? Mr. Balinson's assistant? The tailor?" She thinks you are supposed to know who she is. "Wait, you are not her?.." You sound like a moron, and you fancy yourself a lawyer.
"Who her?" "Oropherson's daughter-in-law." "Eva? You grabbed me because you thought I was her?" Then the understanding dawns. "Is it about Killian? Oh, bugger, he doesn't know, right?" She is frowning. "You lost me," you feel much better, think faster, her hot little hand still stroking your spine becomes more distracting. "They separated, she was going to talk to Killian today. Just stayed for the party, for Oropherson's guests," she makes a funny disgusted face, "Posh albino pillock!" You guffaw.
She has exquisite skin, delicate clavicles, and you think you will just say that it was adrenaline, and you weren't thinking straight, though you definitely are. You grab the back of her head and pull her lips to yours. You will let her go as soon as she pushes you away, but you just can't help it. She moans into your mouth and treads her fingers in your hair. Then she practically moves on your lap and bites your bottom lip. You deepen the kiss, and she straddles you. Her lips are soft but she is demanding, and then she pushes your shoulders away. You are panting like after a marathon. "The door doesn't lock here."
You head is swimming, and you just need her, now. She jumps off the sofa and stretches a hand towards you. She pulls you up and drags you into a closet. She locks the door behind her, why do they have locks inside closets? And then she pushes you on a low table with fabric rolls. Some of them fall on the floor, she quickly straddles you. You finally have full access to her lips, and she is divine. The tee and your sweater fly off, she has perky small breasts, they fit in your hand perfectly. The flies unzipped, she jumps off and drags the denim off her. The tiny lacy knickers follow, and you grab her, one hand in her orange curls, another dips a finger in her. She is so wet, that you groan and bite her lip. She pushes her hand in and squeezes your cock. Fuck! Bloody fucking fuck!
And then suddenly she jumps back, clicks the lock and you are alone in the closet, trousers open, your cock sticking out of your fly. What the bloody?.. She tumbles in again, the lock clicks, and she tears on a square package with her teeth. Quick confident movements of her palms, and she is sinking on you. Bugger, she is tight.
She is moving, you are bobbing her on your hips, her hot walls making your groan loudly, and she is tossing her head back, delicate throat under your lips. You seem to be leaving teeth marks, but she is driving you completely bonkers. Soft skin, slender shoulder blades, nails digging in your shoulders. And the sexiest little gasps you have ever heard in your life! She comes with a sob, and you follow in a jiffy. You squeeze your eyes. It's been awhile, and feels like it's never been that good.
She is sagging down, gentle cheek on your shoulder, and now it's you stroking her back. You don't know what to say. You are a lawyer, bugger! Common, you have to have something to convince her to stay. You need to keep her. You need this. Not saying that forever, but then again, why not?.. Sod it! She hardly looks like a trollop that shags clients in this closet every day. Common, ask her out, dinner or something. She'll say yes.
She straightens up and stares directly into your eyes. "Mr. Thorington, I'm asking you out. Properly, like a dinner or something. I want a date," she nods firmly, and a small curl above her eyes bobs. Then she proudly lifts her chin. "I want to date. You. And before you say anything," you weren't going to, you are just smiling like a dimwit. "I don't care that you are that poxy super lawyer, and the bloody age difference... I know it is a great idea, and it will be perfect. We will work." She is done and is practically glaring at you. You consider different answers but then you just kiss her. Talking is overrated.