Page 56 of Choices

The heat in his eyes tells me it's working.

He kneels on thehardwood in front of me and my eyes widen. He'll tear his suit! It'll get dirty! Or...I don't know, but men in suits don'tkneelin them.

But Matty only has eyes for me. He raises my skirt. I shimmy my butt a little on the desk so he can get it above my hips, before he does the reverse with my leggings. My ballet slippers go with the leggings.

He leaves my panties on, though, and a part of me starts to wonder if I didn't read the room wrong?

Matty spins around, an excited grin on his face, before he reaches into a mini-fridge I hadn't noticed and pulls out a bottle of champagne.

"Aren't you supposed to celebrateaftera divorce is finalized?" I tease.

"Today we're celebrating the incredibly intelligent decision you made to leave that piece of shit husband - who from now one we're calling POSH," I laugh, remember his nickname for his cousin. "And the arguablymoreintelligent decision you've made to let me have at this pussy.Finally."

I can't help but laugh. He wrestles with the cork for a moment before it finally pops, spray and bubbles pouring over the side.

I look around us. "No glasses?"

The grin Matty shoots me is so sinful it should be illegal.

"Don't need them, Pretty Girl. Lay back, feet up on the desk."

I take a deep breath in and out, but do as I'm told.

"I've been dreaming of this day since 8th grade," Matty mumbles under his breath before freezing bubbles hit my warm, wet clit.

The breathis stolen from my lungs in an instant, and I go to slam my knees together when Matty roughly grabs one of my knees and shoves it to the side, burying his face between my legs.

He laps up the champagne over my panties like a fucking ice cream cone.

"Holy fuck," I whisper. I've never experienced something like this before. The shock from warm to cold to warm, the slide of the wet fabric of my panties against my swollen clit, the fact that we're doing this, in front of an open window where anyone in the next buildings can see.

Something about the overwhelming sensations, the fact that my divorce lawyer is eating out my champagne-soaked pussy to an audience shuts off the logical part of my brain and I melt into the desk.

Only to jump up again when Matty pours another helping of cold, bubbly champagne over me.

Another luxurious lick and a quick nip to my clit and I'm sure I'm close.

"So we can backdate the separation a year. In the state of Virginia, if you have children you are supposed to be separated for a year before divorce."

I shoot my head up and look at him incredulously. "Are you seriously lawyering with your head between my legs?!" I scream at him.

"Multi-tasking, baby," he replies with a wink.

Holy fuck.

More cold bubbles, and more warm licks and sucks. My hands fly to the back of his head, threading through his thick hair. Fuck, I'm close.

"Division of assets?"

"Ass-whats?" I ask, my lust-drunk brain unable to process words.

"Assets," he says without missing a beat, as if he's not completely mind-fucking me into orgasm.

"I..." I start, trying to play his game, but what the fuck is English?

He pauses, lifts his head, and waits for me to finish my statement. What was I saying? Assets. Things are assets. Right!

"I want the house. I don't want to have to move the kids, or change schools." I pant out, slamming my head back against the desk.

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