Kinky
Briefs, Cinque
by
Seelie Kay
Genre:
Sweet Romance & Erotic Romance Short Stories
Take a kinky romp through Lawyerland, where erotic encounters, sizzling partnerships, and euphoric flights of fantasy consume lawyers in love!
A young lawyer’s wicked pen unleashes erotic flights of fantasy, spinning tales of a sensual Sheikh and his lawyer wife who battle terrorism despite a price on their heads, a former rocker turned lawyer faced with a life-altering decision, a law school ménage a trois gone wrong, and a criminal defense attorney whose practice tips into the paranormal. The naughty yarns continue with a medieval adventure, a secret agent’s obsession with a law professor, a Lady turned lawyer fighting to regain her footing after a profound loss, a law student who strips to fund her studies, a fledging lawyer questioning a sexy deal with the devil, and a kinky lawyer fighting a chronic illness. This scintillating collection of ten sizzling short stories will make you laugh, they’ll make you cry, and yes, they’ll even make you blush, but in the end, you’ll run out and buy a set of handcuffs. Because you’re going to want to experience at least one of these hot little fantasies!
(From Chapter One: Honor Thy Father)
In the end, love, with all of its twists and turns, is about supporting and protecting your partner, and sometimes, that’s not always easy, especially when family gets in the way. However, unconditional love is about listening to the voices in your head, rather than the ones flapping about your ears, which means, just maybe, you have to learn to shut off the chatter and focus on what matters most, love. The Sheikh and the international law attorney return, still fighting for the victims of terrorism and their lives. Unfortunately, this time a new gauntlet is thrown and it is aimed directly at their family.
****
…Mari and Harun looked up as the door to the gallery opened. An older man in a white robe with a red and white headscarf entered, followed by a woman in a black robe and hajib. Two men in black suits also entered and positioned themselves by the door. The old man strode confidently to where Mari and Harun sat. He glared at them, then smirked. In a thickly accented voice, he said, “Ah, my invisible son. I was told I would find you here.” He looked at Mari, his eyes harsh as he surveyed her. “I see you have your pet Infidel with you.”
Mari struggled to hide her shock.
Harun stood and motioned Mari to follow. He pulled her beside him. “This is my wife and I expect you to show her the respect she is due!” Harun’s fury was clear. “I don’t know how you found us, but we have no interest in a conversation. Good day, sir. I wish you safe travels back to the hole you crawled out of.”
The Iranian woman gasped and the old man’s face reddened. “This is exactly why I intend to take possession of my granddaughter. Immediately. You will learn to respect your father and Islam. You are still my son and I demand your compliance. My granddaughter must learn her place as well. Everyone knows America corrupts its youth. I read a story in your New York Times about a school district that was installing machines for alwaqi aldhakri in their restrooms. Condoms for free. American teenage boys are pigs. The virtue of a teenage girl is not safe. I want my granddaughter back home where she can be schooled in proper behavior and our true religious beliefs.”
Mari stopped and turned to the man. “This is America, sir, and in America, women and children are not possessions. They have the same rights and privileges as any man. Best you take heed.”
The old man’s wife hissed and spat at Mari, her spittle landing on Mari’s shoe. “How dare you speak in such offense to my husband.” Her black eyes were cold.
Calmly, Mari removed her shoe and wiped it on the woman’s robe. Then she smiled at Harun and carefully placed her shoe back on her foot. “Let’s go, dear. Suddenly the stench in this room is quite overwhelming.”
The woman sputtered, muttering something in Farsi, but the old Sheikh restrained her.
Without saying a word, Harun muscled the two bodyguards aside and pulled Mari through the door.
As they walked away, his father shouted, “You and your American eahira will pay for your insults, my son! El-Sheitan Alaykom! Satan be upon you!”
(From Chapter Eight: My Men)
Relationships are complicated enough with two people. When a third is thrown into the mix, your heart just has to stretch that much more. And your mind has to embrace the fact that suddenly, you have two significant others who matter, not just one. As in any relationship, there are bound to be mistakes—errors in judgment, missed signals, misconceptions. However, love is still love, patient, and kind as the Bible says, even when someone royally screws up. The story of the law student triad returns because three hearts can merge into one. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.
Mallory Sampson tried to roll over in her large, king-size bed, but her path was blocked by a body, one that was emitting not-so-soft snores.
With a sleepy sigh, she rolled the other way. A hand batted her away. Mallory’s eyes flew open and she sat up. “What in the Sam Hill are you two bozos doing in my bed?” She swatted at both naked men and gave them a stink-eye. “Last thing I need is two hungover lawyer wannabes drooling on my sheets.” She sniffed and held her nose. “You guys stink, in more ways than one.”
Matt Davis, his long dark hair covering half his face, opened one soulful brown eye and groaned. “Must have wandered in here in the middle of the night. Didn’t think you’d still be mad. Kind of missed you.” He reached out, his hand landing on Mallory’s thigh. She picked it up and pushed it back at him. Matt rolled away from her and mumbled, “Guess you didn’t miss me.”
Mallory turned and glared at her other bedmate, Jeff Andrews. “You know how I feel about you two hooligans tumbling in here after a night on the town, drunk to the gills, smelling like cheap whiskey. I told you to sleep in your own rooms. Dammit, I should have locked the door.”
Jeff moaned and gazed at her with half-lidded blue eyes. “Seriously, Mall? There is no lock on the door. And I am trying to sleep here.” He brushed his shaggy blond hair off of his forehead and frowned. “And no need to shout. I don’t even remember wandering in here.” He tried to sit up, then fell back onto the bed. He groaned. “God, get me something for my head. Please.” Then he shut his eyes and nestled into a pillow.
“Oh, hell, no!” Mallory’s face reddened with fury. “I ask for one night to myself and you two are too durn selfish to even give me that. This has got to stop. This is so not working for me. I should have never agreed to this ménage a trois thing. God, I was so frickin’ stupid.” She yanked the quilt off the bed and scooted to the end of the mattress. Then she stood, wrapped herself in the comforter, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her….
(From Chapter Nine: Marrying the Devil)
Sometimes you make a deal with the devil and you like it. Especially when that devil is an exquisitely handsome mass torts lawyer who holds the keys to the kingdom—to Lawyerland, that is. Sure, we all like to fantasize about that perfect love and overwhelming attraction, but the reality is, when possible career advancement is thrown into the mix, that devil’s deal becomes almost irresistible. Until you meet his mother, Momzilla by any other name. When she-who-shall-not-be-named starts bulldozing her way into your life, suddenly that deal fills you with dread and your only option may be to flee. The question is, will the devil follow?
…Laura threw her phone across Carmen’s living room, narrowly missing his head. He snagged it with his right hand, then frowned at her. “What the hell? Who was that on the phone?”
“It was the Women’s Club, confirming the date for my wedding shower. Three days before finals. I told your mother that I wanted the shower after finals and graduation. She just won’t listen. None of your sisters work, so everyone in your family thinks my legal career is a joke. Your mother even told me, once we have children, I would be staying home. Your mother has no respect for me or my aspirations. I am sick of it.” Laura threw up her hands, frustrated. “I don’t have time for this shit. Your mother has turned into some sort of wicked witch. This is becoming her wedding, not mine. Dammit, if I can’t have the wedding I want, then what’s the point?” Laura pulled the engagement ring off of her finger and handed it to Carmen. “I’m sorry. I want to marry you, I do, but I can’t do it her way.” She began to button her coat.
Carmen rushed to Laura and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry.” He nuzzled her neck. “I know my mom is a handful. Tell me what to do and I’ll get it done. Please. You know I love you and I will do anything for you. How do I make this right? Canceling the wedding is not an option.”
Laura pulled away and looked up into his dark brown eyes. “Let’s elope.”
“What? My mother will have a stroke.”
“This isn’t about your mother. This is about us. You and me. This is about what we want. I will marry you today if you want. Let’s just go to City Hall. Your mother can knock herself out planning a reception after graduation. And my mother can do her thing as well. All I know is that I am done. You want to marry me? Take me somewhere and marry me. Your mother has me so stressed out I can barely function. Otherwise, I walk…”
Seelie Kay writes about
lawyers in love, with a dash of kink.
Writing
under a nom de plume, the former lawyer and journalist draws her
stories from more than 30 years in the legal world. Seelie’s wicked
pen has resulted in seven works of fiction, including Kinky
Briefs, Kinky Briefs, Too, The Garage Dweller,
Kinky Briefs, Thrice, A Touchdown to Remember, and
Kinky Briefs, Quatro, as well as the romance anthology, Pieces
of Us.
When
not spinning her kinky tales, Seelie ghostwrites nonfiction for
lawyers and other professionals. Currently she resides in a bucolic
exurb outside Milwaukee, WI, where she shares a home with her son and
enjoys opera, the Green Bay Packers, gourmet cooking, organic
gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.
Seelie
is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis.
Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. You define MS,
it does not define you!
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