The first time I met Lacey, she was in an orange jumpsuit with tears streaming down her face. Now we’re in a small windowless room waiting to hear the verdict. If the media had it their way she’d be locked away for life. They didn’t know her as I do.
“How long do you think it will take,” Lacey asks pacing around the long conference table until she’s behind me.
“It could be a while. Longer the better.”
Lacey rubs my shoulders through my jacket. “How should we pass the time?” She asks, her thumbs digging deep into my muscles.
I spin my chair around to see her doing that thing where she smiles with only half her mouth. She raises her eyebrows and then slowly moves her hand to the top button on her blouse. She unhooks it. Then, she unhooks another, revealing a black lacey bra.
“How can sex be on your mind, right now?”
Lacey’s head sinks. “I just need to think about something, anything other than those twelve jurors. Please, Jim. What if they find me guilty? This could be the last time we’ll ever be together.”
“I won’t let that happen. I'm ready to fight this on appeal if I need to.”
“I know you are,” Lacey answers and continues unlatching her buttons. “You’re my hero. You’re the only one who believes I’m innocent.”
She reaches down to undo my belt, unbuttoned my pants and unzipped my fly. “I need this, Jim,” she whispers. “Take me away from here.”
Lacey climbs on top of me and grinds her hips against my thickening cock. Nancy Grace calls her the blonde viper. CNN calls her the PTA Murderer. I call her the unluckiest woman to ever live. Sure, it looks bad to have two husbands die of arsenic poising, but wrongful convictions are built on unlikely coincidences.
“If they find me innocent, I want us to be together,” Lacey moans, easing her body down onto me, my cock pushing deep inside of her. Her hands cradle my face against her breasts. “Tell me you want that, too. I need to feel like I’m worthy of being loved.”
“Lacey, I’ve never wanted to be with someone like I want to be with you.” My god, her tight lips are incredible around my shaft. It’s like I could feel her sucking me up into her, the way she moves around and around, up and down.
She stops and pulls my head away from her chest. Our eyes lock onto one another. “Do you mean it? Do you really mean it?”
I take a deep breath and answer, “Damn right, I do.”
Lacey falls into me, pressing her mouth to mine. She grinds harder as our tongues meet. I give us a 50/50 chance of getting a favorable verdict.
“I want this to be different,” Lacey whimpers, her nails digging into my scalp. “I don’t want us to be like what I had with Harold and Ben.”