Strung

Strung

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Summary

Clients, lovers, and employees, these days, it seems like everyone is being strung along. Ellison Bryant can't stand his clients being strung along in their civil cases, while his girlfriends can't stand being strung along by his obvious infatuation with his best friend. Meanwhile, Leni tries to retrace when she became under the thumb of her employers at work, and concludes that the pattern started with her best friend, who is exactly whom you guessed him to be, Ellison Bryant. Only who is really stringing along who?

Summary

Clients, lovers, and employees, these days, it seems like everyone is being strung along. Ellison Bryant can't stand his clients being strung along in their civil cases, while his girlfriends can't stand being strung along by his obvious infatuation with his best friend. Meanwhile, Leni tries to retrace when she became under the thumb of her employers at work, and concludes that the pattern started with her best friend, who is exactly whom you guessed him to be, Ellison Bryant. Only who is really stringing along who?

Chapter1 (v.1) - Strung

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 18, 2016

Reads: 424

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 18, 2016

A A A

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The M.C.'s name was originally Anya, but it changed to Leni, and I'm sorry if I didn't catch them all. As difficult as it is to manage, I can't stand having stories on this site where the names match people that I know, and I met a version of that name since I wrote this chapter over a year ago. If you read my stories and think that my names are especially weird, or they're spelled oddly, that's why

The lights were dim, which was her excuse. Dim lights and a smoky club. Why did they need that mystic look on the dance floor so bad? For what reason did she even go out that night? What did she think she was going to prove?

She chose those tight skinny jeans, that black tank top, the dark grey smoky eye, and the strappy heels with the objective to drive that man wild. Never would she admit it, because that would take the blame away from the dark, the smoke and the alcohol, all the makings for an excusably bad decision.

A decision like Ellison Bryant.

Ellison Bryant. What a stupid name.

His tall, rigid body dwarfed her small, pliable one. She had tried dancing with someone else, which only made his eyes go black with a dark kind of excitement, watching her play a game she couldn't possibly win.

She even let this Dave, or maybe it was Abe, grind against her, and she so desperately hated grinding. Usually, she disliked physical contact of any kind. 

And somewhere between the strobe lights and Dave/Abe's hands, Bry was shoving her roughly against the wall outside the club, his teeth nipping her lower lip when he pulled back, as punishment for playing out of her league.

While he pulled away, she went up on her tip toes, desperately searching for his lips. How quickly the scales turned against her, when in less than a minute, he was already in control.

And then they were in his car. He couldn't believe she took the metro that late by herself dressed like that. He thought she was still her parent's little angel, her mom's sunshine, and she maybe should be punished later.

She would be punished? Maybe she would sue him with his arch rivals! The nerve of him.

A hand fell against her ass, and her pelvis jutted against his. Gasping, she reached out to exact revenge, but he easily caught her hand and kissed her mouth. All the while, a fire ran through her and into him, binding them in lust.

Bry put her in his car. Once in the driver seat, he slipped his hand into her jeans. "Wet already?" He teased.

She died of embarrassment then, but unfortunately some angel, or maybe it was an evil, evil demon, decided to resuscitate her. Maybe it was when Bryant's eyes went from twinkling and teasing to darkly aroused. "Suck."

The demand sent a chill through her as he held his two fingers to her mouth.

Before she could think to obey or disobey, her body reacted to that tone. Her mouth was over his fingers when she realized what she was doing. Now her cheeks burned with humiliation.

Breathlessly, he commanded, "Now show me what you want to do to my cock."

Despite her shame, her wanton desire won out, and she bobbed her head over his fingers as he drove with one hand. Her absolute desire for him, despite her humiliation at the knowledge that people in the cars next to them or pedestrians at red lights could see them, made him equally excited to get her home. It was all he could do to complete the ten minute drive while getting this innocent siren home safely. Not that he was going to let her know how taken aback she was that she actually played along.

Then he was toying with her as she fumbled with the door. She missed getting the key into the lock three times before the fourth succeeded as he played with her breasts. She got the door open as one of Bryant's hands strayed too far south.

Hands on her hips, mouth on her neck, he guided her into her own apartment. As he moved through the door, he found that sweet spot to kiss on her neck.

She moaned his name. "Oh, Bry."

Fishing through his jacket, he pulled out his phone and started some app. It played music similar to what had been in the pub.

"Strip for me," he commanded, leaving his phone on the table. She glared, but as usual, Bry got his way.

Bryant was hard just watching her sway her hips as she took off her tank top and tossed it away. That bra wasn't far behind. And oh, when those jeans shimmied down. Her hands swept through her hair as she disappeared into the music and kicked the jeans away. It was amazing how relaxed she could get after a drink, or two. Alcohol made her a little more adventerous, willing to close her eyes and drag her finger tips over her chest, down her smooth curves, to the hem of her jeans. As she slowly spun around, the denim came down little by little with thrust of her hips from side to side. Bry couldn't help, but wonder, who was torturing who?

Hm. Panties matched the far-flung bra. Someone had cheeky ideas about how this night would turn out. He added it to her list of offenses.

Lustfully, he strode towards her and placed his hands on her waist. Instinct made her hands begin to pull up his shirt, but he stopped her. "Not yet, Leni." He chuckled in response to her desperate moan, and explained, "You let someone else play with what's mine. You need permission for that, Leni. And you didn't call me."

She made a sound of protest, rocking back on her heels, and then back up to her toes, hoping to get close to him, to get some relief from the fire that was eating her alive. "You always come up with some bullshit excuses to drag this out, to tease me. Just fuck me, already."

Brushing his lips against her, he teased her with a light touch, but pulled back when she tried to instigate more from him. "Then what would that teach you?" he wondered. His hand batted her knee away, before it could get close to his groin with its dangerous intentions. "And how am I supposed to fuck some relief into this desire that's burning you up, if you follow through on that plan? Think things through, Leni."

She could have screamed in frustration right then. Instead, she tried to breathe through the palpable tension, as he asked, "What do you think you should do, Leni, to make it up to me?"

That answer was easy. Sinking to her knees, she used her hands to make quick work of the button and zipper of jeans. Quickly, she took his erection into her mouth, letting her tongue run up its length, before she sucked. She moaned and the vibrations almost drove him maenadic. "Touch yourself," he hoarsely commanded, almost having to bend over her to grab onto the counter. 

Happily, she obliged, rubbing her clit through her panties, even running her hands up her body to tease her nipples and rub her breasts. When she felt her orgasm rising, she forced herself to stop. Desparately, she gripped his ass, her fingertips digging into well-defined shape. 

Unable to control his own desire anymore, he demanded, "Stop." His hand buried in her hair, he guided her head back, and helped her quickly to her feet, just to bend her over the counter. He needed a moment to catch his breath, before he dove into her, the tension making his heart feel as if he had run miles to get to her. 

The cold table top against her breasts and sensitive nipples made her catch her breath. So did the voice murmuring in her ear about how bad she had been, while his lubricated dick rubbed between the lips of her slit, agonizing that poor, sensitive clit of hers. 

"I hate you," she said into the counter, "I can't take it anymore, Bry, fuck me."

As he traced her spine with his finger, he chuckled. She always said it, but never meant it. Still, could he allow such naughtiness to go unpunished? A solid spank made her gasp, and he said, "I'm not going to if you keep being mean to me. Such an extra naughty girl tonght."

He finished sliding off his pants, which had bunched at his knees, and then unbuttoned his shirt as she pushed herself off the island table, and turned around. Without warning, he grabbed her, and ran up the loft steps to her bed. Her hands dug into his shoulder and his back, and she buried as a squeal of terror into his chest. Running up the stairs with such fragile cargo? Jerk. 

When he tossed her onto it, Leni bounced on the mattress towards her headboard and her one million soft pillows. Quickly, she regained her balace, moving onto her knees and stretching her body forward. This put his member at mouth level, and she was determined to make it more than semi-hard. Although he was a prick, but he had a glorious cock. Maybe that was the source of his personality issues.

He groaned. This again. She was driving him wild, but he couldn't let her have control of the situation. He wrapped his hand in her hair, but didn't last long before he was diving into her bed. He couldn't let her be the only one making someone arc, buck and moan.

Finally spent, they fell asleep between her sheets. And that's how she woke up, wrapped up in his warm body and cotton.

His arm was over her stomach, her back against him, his morning wood against her ass. God, he was insatiable, and she couldn't believe she let this happen again.

Then he woke up, taking a long, satisfied breathe of her hair. "Good morning, sunshine."

She wrinkled her nose. Bryant wasn't being cute, sunshine was what her mom called her, and he used the pet name in order to tease.

Then the brat asked, "Do you have pancakes?"

Too comfortable in her little cocoon to get pancakes for the lazy ass next to her, Leni humphed, "Who has pancakes lying around?" 

"What about the frozen kind?" Bryant pointed out.

Did he mean eggos? She hadn't eaten them since they were kids. The only reason she even knew they existed was because Bryant's parents did not cook; they reheated. "Those are waffles, and you know I don't eat the frozen stuff."

Oblivious to her defensive tone, he yawned and stretched and said, "I brought by papers yesterday for you to look at."

"I didn't give you a spare key so that you could abuse it," Leni lied.

Shamelessly, he got out of the bed and stretched, greeting the morning in his birthday suit. And walking over to the center island, or what Leni called a table even though it was a really a counter top floating in the space that designated the boundary between living room and kitchen, Bryant retrieved the papers from his case. When he brought them over to her, Leni reluctantly accepted it. "You need to get a forensic scientist, or someone in this field to be able to corroborate this on the stand for you. I'm an immunologist. I can't tell a bunch of jurors that- holy shit," she stopped her lecture and looked at the test results of the water samples. "Is this from the tap water? Have your clients been drinking in this, bathing in this?"

"That bad?"

She didn't know how he did it, taking on all these civil claims cases. Each one damn near broke her heart. "And they're alive? These are toxic, life-threatening levels, Bryant."

His eyebrows pinched together. Leni only used his name when she was serious. All the other times, he was just Bry. "There's ten different contaminants that are dangerously off the charts that cause serious cancers, organ failure and nervous system breakdown. Your clients need medical care right away. Some of this is everyday risky. Legionaire's gets exasperated naturally in heating systems, but arsenic? How old is this building?"

His frown deepened. His clients can't afford medical care. Knowing what he was thinking, she said, "I know some doctors who run free clinics."

He smiled and kissed her lips. "Thanks, Leni."

"Just make some damn pancakes. You're lucky I don't throw your ass out for spanking mine over the table last night."

"That's an island," Bryant said sternly, deciding to leave out that it was a single spank, and she deserved it for almost kneeing him in the balls. Again. Still, he didn't respond to threats in his professional life, he certainly wasn't going to take them in his personal life from little Miss-I-don't-need-a-table-like-I'm-an-almost-thirty-year-old-adult. "Not a table. Which reminds me, I made you a table."

Incredulously, Leni demanded how and why.

"When we left for college ten years ago, I said to your parents, I will look after her," Bryant answered, and Leni wrinkled her nose. Every damn argument came down to his dramatic retelling of this single moment in time that happened, as he said, ten years ago. And for the record, she had promised his parents the same thing. Her parents just wanted her to have a body guard at parties, terrified that their only daughter might get roofied. His parents wanted to make sure he did everyday adult things, such as laundry and brushing his teeth. 

Still, Bryant went on as if the burden of that promise was solely on him. Clapsing his hands to his chest, Bryant went on, "Part of that is getting you a damn table and a counter island is not a table. You can't entertain with that."

While he lectured he moved to the kitchen and she grumbled that she hated to entertain. As he started their breakfast, his phone rang, and he grabbed for it. Leni watched him get to it just in time and start talking to his soon to be no longer ex. Sighing, she put away the flour, eggs and mixing bowl and pulled out multigrain bagels and cream cheese. At least, she wouldn't be hungry watching her best friend from as far back as age five, her sometimes fuck buddy, and the total jerk for doing this in her apartment, sweet talk, argue with and then seduce his ex back into being his girlfriend.

Not only did Leni have the standard hangover, but she hadn't even drunk enough during the night to block out everything they did. She slathered on extra cream cheese. It was raspberry cream cheese. It would understand her.

She watched him from her island as her teeth sank into her bagel. Him and his perfect ass. Who needed a fucking table? This island was her table. Just for fun, she moaned loudly and called out, "Oh baby. Just like that."

The look Bryant shot her was rewarding in its own way. By the loud screeching coming through his phone, Leni guessed that his ex wasn't amused by her antics either.


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