Page 2 of Irrevocably Mine

Stacy felt Jeff tense to her right as Miracle told her account of the evening in question. It was time to shut this bitch down and not drag Jeff through the lengthy process of waiting on this arrogant bitch to incriminate herself.

Time to employ my five-second flash assessment.It was a technique Stacy taught herself when she needed a fresh take on things.

Sometimes, she looked so hard that she missed the forest for the trees. That’s when she would do a flash assessment—clear her mind, close her eyes, and then look at things under a new light, rapidly taking in any details that jumped out. She did it with no thoughts, no idea of what she was looking for, and just took in what was actually there, not what she wanted or expected to see.

Just as she hoped, it cleared her mind and put her on the right trail to root out the truth.

“At what point did my client say no?” Stacy questioned. She knew what the answer would be. It was one of the things lawyer’s referred to as “a bad fact,” but for Stacy, it was merely a road bump on the way to ultimate victory. The twat answered as expected, but with arrogance that saidshethought she had just won instead of the other way around.

“Never, Ms. Roberts. The word never left his lips.”

“Let me get this correct, Ms. Stevens. Since according to you, my client never said the word no, then in your mind, that was a firm yes?”

“Of course. I mean, he wasn’t as into it as I was at first, but he wanted me, I could tell. He wanted me, I wanted him, we enjoyed a night together and that’s that.”

“No means no, and anything else means yes. Am I understanding you correctly, Ms. Stevens?”

This caused Miracle to sputter before CounselorDouchbagfinally made an attempt to earn his money. “Don’t answer that, Miracle.” Turning his attention toward Stacy, he continued, “Where are you going with this Stacy?” The dick used her first name to try to intimidate her. He was a typical member of the boy’s club, underestimating her because she had a vagina, but she was used to it.

They don’t call me Killer for nothing, taint biscuit.

“My client has already sworn that Mr. Jamison never said no. Why are we still here?”

Stacy adopted the same condescending tone, but with enough femininity to play into his expectations. “Please, indulge me, Mr. Harris. I just have a few more questions and then we’ll be done here, I assure you.”

At his dismissive nod, Stacy turned back toward Miracle.

“Am I correct in saying your understanding of no is simple, it’s a spoken no?”

“Yes,” Miracle spoke before CounselorDouchebagcould interject. “Legally speaking, he never said no, therefore, how would I know if hemeantno?”Oh, so she’s a lawyer now. I couldn’t have hoped for a more perfect answer.

“So, next time you meet a man in a bar and take him back to your place, but you’re just not that into it, it will be fine if he shoves his cock inside you because you never said the word no?”

That was it. There were no words that could be spoken that would turn the table back in Miracle’s favor.

Stacymentally fist-pumped all the way to the parking garage. The deposition couldn’t have gone better. There was no way it would go to trial. CounselorDouchebagwas probably still choking on his fucking tongue. He was not happy being bested by a woman.

Once she was in her car, Stacy actually did pump her fist and congratulate herself aloud. Winning cases always hyped her up, leaving her with an abundance of pent-up energy. Sex was the best way to release that energy. It was almost a routine for her. Win a case, go for a stiff drink and a stiff cock. Stacy didn’t do attachments or relationships. She had sex, period. No strings attached sex.What are strings good for anyway but binding? The only relationships I’m destined to have start and end with one word, tequila. That, and one rule, no names.

The problem was, the only person she really wanted to have sex with was Dax. There was just something about the man that ruined her for others. Not that they had been together or were anything more than friends, but Stacy hadn’t been able to do the casual sex thing since they became close.

It felt weird somehow, hanging with Dax, watching movies, and eating pizza after she came from some stranger’s bed. So, she gave it up and relied on the tools God gave her, along with those that needed batteries, to relieve tension. But they were just not cutting it anymore.

Dax was a tall, hot, lumber-sexual, Viking god. He towered over everyone she knew by at least half a foot. That familiar itch started at her fingertips the longer she thought about him—one she recognized as her hands begging to be buried in his espresso locks.

Maybe it was his dark, mysterious eyes that called to her. Or the twinkle they got when he said one of his off-the-wall curses. Possibly, it was the ink that she desperately wanted to see up close and personal, or the big hands she wanted to feel all over her skin, or the tall body she wanted to mount like a fucking cowgirl in a rodeo, or maybe it was his orgasmic scent?

Dax’s scent was locked into her memory—pipe tobacco and heat.Yes, the scent of heat.He always smelled hot, whether from his forge or his pipe, she didn’t know, but heat had a scent, and it was Dax.

Most likely, it was a combination of all those things that made her horny just thinking about fucking him. The one thing that kept her from his bed so far was complication. As a rule, it tended to get dicey if you had casual sex with someone in your circle. Either one person got attached or it made group dinners awkward.

The shrill ring of her cell pulled her from her mental inventory of Dax. She looked down at the display and smiled. “Speak of the devil.” With a swipe of her finger, she accepted the call.

“Hey, Dax, what’s up?” She sounded like an eager teenager waiting on a call from the popular boy.Where the fuck did that come from?

“Hey, beautiful, how’d it go?” She should’ve been expecting his call. Anytime she had a case, her brother, John, Michael, and Dax always called later that day to see how it went.

“Excellent, as always. I got game in the courtroom, or conference room, as it were.”

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