Legally Not Yours

Back to Square One

POV: Leah

I stared at the corporate email for a full sixty seconds before I even blinked.

Subject: Update – Project Echelon Deadline

Due to client-side developments, the final materials must be submitted within 48 hours.

Forty-eight hours. Not one week. Not five days.

Two. Fucking. Days.

I felt my stomach bottom out. I had twenty hours of slides left. Case summaries still pending review. Half the sourcing is still scattered in folders not even labeled yet.

It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t even remotely possible. And worst of all, the project wasn’t just mine, Jared’s name was attached too.

I slammed my laptop shut and practically ran to the restroom.

The light was too bright. The mirror was too honest. I leaned forward, gripped the sink, and splashed cold water on my face. Again. And again.

My heart was beating too fast. My thoughts are a blur of panic, rage, and fatigue. I was losing everything.

Then—Click. The bathroom door locked behind me. I froze.

Footsteps. Slow. Measured. Approaching from behind. A hand — firm, hot — gripped my waist and pulled me backward against a hard chest.

“You’ve been a very bad girl,” a low voice murmured in my ear. “I’m worried about you.”

I jerked around instantly.

“What the hell—” Jared. He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I pushed him hard, hands flat against his chest. “Don’t you touch me.”

“Leah—”

“Get out. Get the hell out!” I shoved again, harder.

My breath was ragged. I was two seconds away from screaming. He reached for me — not to grab, but to contain. His hands found my wrists gently, holding them still.

“Stop,” he said. “I’m not here to fight.”

“Oh, really? You followed me into a locked room because you don’t want a fight?”

“I wanted to talk, but you’re spiraling.”

“No. I’m crashing. You think this is fun? Watching me break down while you play hot-and-cold like a psychopath?”

His grip tightened slightly, still controlled. “I know I’ve given you hell. I know I’ve made this harder.”

I laughed once. Bitter. “That’s an understatement.”

“But I’m not your enemy, Leah.”

“Then why does it always feel like you’re trying to ruin me?”

He breathed in through his nose. “Because I didn’t want to lose to you. Not in front of Jeff. Not in front of myself.” I froze.

He continued, voice softer. “But I realized something. I don’t want to beat you if you’re barely standing. I want you at your best. So I can finally prove I’m more than just a last name.”

I stared at him.Still angry. Still shaking.

But beneath the fury, something cracked. Something old. Deep. Familiar.

“I don’t need your help,” I whispered.

“I know you do. We both know that we need to finish this.”

And for the first time in weeks… I admitted that I needed him and let him help me.

* * *

We stayed late. Hours ticked by.

Jared pulled his laptop beside mine. He reviewed my citations. I reorganized his data into something cohesive. We didn’t speak much at first. Then slowly, the tension shifted.

“Your notes are a mess,” I said.

“Your formatting is criminal.”

“You breathe too loud.”

“You type like a raccoon.”

We sniped. Insulted. But this time, it was different. The air felt charged slowly somehow.

It turned flirty and aggressive. Our tone somehow became more softer and the bickering started to get lighter than before. He also leaned too close and I found myself not pulling away.

I reached over him to grab a pen.

He didn’t move. I could feel his eyes on my mouth, could hear his breath change and suddenly, the work didn’t matter anymore. We locked eyes and there’s no words between us.

Just heat.

His lips crashed into mine first, rough and hot, as a wave of desperation washed over us. I matched his intensity, pressing back with equal force. Our clothes fell to the floor, one by one, like a snake shedding its skin.

None of us try to say anything. We let our bodies talk the way they wanted.

He lifted me onto the sofa and traced his fingertips along my curves, exploring every inch of my body with a mixture of reverence and urgency. Jared bent down and captured one of my nipples with his lips, gently sucking on it while watching for my reaction.

My back arched involuntarily in pleasure. His hands roamed lower, reaching between my legs to stroke my swollen clit. With each touch, I felt myself growing more in need.

Guided by desire, he lowered his head to taste me. As his tongue flicked against my dripping pussy, my fingers became tangled in his hair, urging him closer. He alternated between licking and sucking each tender part of me as I writhed beneath him.

“You’re driving me fucking insane. You’re such a problem,” he hissed against my wet pussy, then proceeded to lick me. He kept eating me like he'd been starved for days.

“Shut up!” I moaned as I arched my back.

“Your wet pussy taste amazing, Leah.”

“Shut up, Jared. Just use your mo— Oh shit!” My moans erupted, loud and shameless, a symphony of desperation that echoed off the walls.

His tongue was a fucking weapon, relentless and precise, lapping at my clit like it was his last meal. I could feel the pressure building, coiling tight in my core, until it exploded in waves of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. Once. Twice.

My body convulsed, my thighs clamping around his head as I rode out the aftershocks, my pussy pulsing around nothing but air. He pulled back, his lips glistening with my juices, and let out a low, predatory chuckle.

“Fuck, you’re a mess,” he growled, his hands moving to my tits, kneading them roughly. “Look at you, needy little minx. Can’t even keep it together.”

Before I could catch my breath or form a coherent thought, Jared was on me.

His cock—thick, veiny, and rock-hard—brushed against my inner thigh and I whimpered at the sheer size of it. He didn’t give me time to adjust. With one brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, stretching me wide, filling me so completely I thought I might split in two.

“Fuck!” I screamed, my nails digging into his back as he started to move, his hips slamming into mine with a rhythm that was both punishing and perfect.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with our ragged breaths and my high-pitched cries. He was relentless, fucking me like he was trying to claim me, to brand me as his.

My tits bounced with every thrust, my nipples rubbing against his chest, sending sparks of pleasure through my body.

“You like that, don’t you?” he snarled, his voice rough with lust.

I couldn’t answer—couldn’t do anything but moan and writhe beneath him as he pounded into me, his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside me with every stroke.

My orgasm hit me like a freight train, my pussy clenching around him as I came hard, my vision going white at the edges.

But he wasn’t done. Not even close. He flipped me onto my stomach, yanking my hips up so I was on all fours.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, slapping my ass hard enough to leave a handprint.