Off The Record Ch. 15

A little more spice and little more confessional pillow talk for Harper's character development...

Hope you enjoy <3

All characters are over 18.

***

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Morgan's eye twitched, her fingers drumming along the kitchen island as she waited patiently for Joel to explain further.

He sighed heavily through the phone. "I know that it isn't ideal, Morgan, but he said he absolutely can't make it that day."

"I triple-checked with him to make sure there were no scheduling conflicts before I sent out the subpoena request."

"I know," Joel said, irritation in his voice. "He won't budge, though. According to him, Wednesday is out of the question."

"Joel, this is going to screw up the entire story that we're telling here." She pinched the bridge of her nose and blew out a breath, trying to will her blood pressure to lower before she had a heart attack.

She could see Harper out of the corner of her eye, giving Morgan a sideways glance from where she was sitting on the couch, politely pretending not to eavesdrop on her very loud, very frustrating conversation.

This was the second witness who had tried to change their testimony date at the last minute, and it was going to give Morgan an aneurysm.

After she'd made the prosecution look foolish by outing their blood spatter analyst, Angela had launched her counterattack, her strategy shifting to simply beating all of Morgan's witnesses into the ground through hours upon hours of questioning until they were so exhausted that they stumbled over their words and looked incompetent.

She was fucking ruthless.

And the pathologist calling Joel to tell him that he couldn't be there for his scheduled day and time was the absolute last thing Morgan needed right now.

"You might be able to convince him otherwise, but he wouldn't give me the time of day," Joel said. "Try to work your charm on him before he reaches out to the judge to make it official."

Morgan rubbed at her temples, completely overwhelmed. "Yeah. I can give him a call and talk to him. Thanks, Joel."

Morgan hung up and took a deep breath through her nose before placing her phone facedown on the counter. She made her way back over to the couch and plopped down with a sigh.

"Sorry about that," she said, giving Harper a small, tired smile.

"Is everything okay?" Harper asked.

Her jaw clenched momentarily in annoyance, but she shook her head, as if that could clear all of the stress from it. "Just juggling the schedules of some of our key witnesses. The pathologist is claiming to have an unavoidable conflict this Wednesday, so I either have to switch everyone around, or risk the jury getting the story in a slightly less organized way."

She bit her lip and furrowed her brow. "It's just a whole thing, because the average member of a jury isn't going to retain much detail about the forensic evidence or the science behind it as it is, and now they're going to have two separate days with very heavy, technical information with a gap in between and--"

Her words were cut off when Harper hooked a finger under her chin and drew her in, brushing their lips together.

And just like that, all of Morgan's anxiety and stress disappeared.

Harper pulled back far too soon, and Morgan chased the kiss, eyes still closed. But then Harper's hand shifted to cup her jaw, and leaned in to meet her lips again. It was a sweet, gentle kiss, and Harper nibbled gently on the corner of her mouth before breaking the kiss to shift backward on the couch.

Morgan's eyes fluttered open, confusion and lust warring within her. A smile played on Harper's perfect lips as Morgan raised an eyebrow at her, demanding that she explain herself. "You broke the rules," she said in a low voice.

Harper reached out and brushed a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. "It's hot when you go all defense attorney on people," she said, her voice dropping into that dangerous tone that Morgan had become very familiar with these past few weeks. "The way you take control of phone calls, all the impressive legal vocabulary that comes out of that pretty mouth."

Her thumb grazed her mouth, following the curve of Morgan's upper lip. "I'm sorry I broke the rules," she drawled, with a smirk that suggested maybe she wasn't quite as sorry as she was letting on, "but it's a miracle I managed to go this long without touching you. This dress is amazing." The backs of Harper's knuckles stroked against the fabric at Morgan's shoulder.

Harper leaned in again, looking up at Morgan through her eyelashes, like she was asking for permission. Morgan stared at her for a beat, her eyes dropping to Harper's lips before closing the short distance between them.

Her hand came up, palm resting against Harper's jaw, fingertips gently massaging into the nape of her neck.

Morgan paused when her mouth was less than an inch away from Harper's, where she could feel her warm breath ghosting across her lips. She sighed. "I was being so good too," she murmured before she tilted Harper's head up to meet her lips. She pulled Harper's bottom lip between her own and sucked on it gently, running her tongue along it as she savored the taste of her. Harper moaned in the back of her throat, spurring Morgan on.

And then Morgan was on top of her, straddling her thighs without breaking their kiss. Harper's lips parted automatically, Morgan's tongue sweeping in to caress hers.

Harper's hands explored the soft material of Morgan's outfit, her fingertips roaming until they reached the hem.

"Off," she demanded breathlessly, struggling to lift Morgan's dress, which had ridden up her legs, clinging to them in her position in Harper's lap.

"Harper," Morgan groaned. "We have work to do." But she leaned down and kissed Harper again, rolling her hips forward as she sank her teeth into that full bottom lip that had been taunting her all afternoon.

Harper scratched lightly down Morgan's neck, and her back arched at the touch. "And you thought climbing into my lap would make all the work get done?" Harper teased. She snaked one hand up to thread her fingers through Morgan's thick hair. "God, it's been way too long since I've fucked you," she said, so quietly that Morgan almost didn't hear her.

Morgan's breath caught before she laughed. "It's been a week."

"Nine days," Harper corrected. She let her hands wander down Morgan's torso, squeezing at her waist. Morgan could tell that her self-control was crumbling by the second.

Morgan cocked her head to the side and smirked at her. "I'm sure with your sexual appetite, you've been taking care of yourself just fine."

"I have been," Harper said quietly. "Especially right before I know I'm going to be seeing you." Those hazel eyes flashed playfully at her, and Morgan felt white hot arousal flood her lower body.

Below her, Harper watched her words land exactly as Morgan knew she hoped they would.

So, Harper was fucking herself before she met up with her for work.

"I see," Morgan said, the mental images of Harper touching herself doing nothing to help convince her to stay focused right now. She wanted to ask her for details, wanted to know how she liked to fuck herself while she thought about her. But instead she asked, "And does it help?"

Harper smirked at her. Morgan liked hearing just how badly she wanted her, and Harper knew it. "Not even a little bit. I remind myself constantly that we're here for business and not pleasure, but I always think about what I'd rather be doing with you when we're together."

Morgan chewed on her cheek, struggling to think through the lightheadedness that had hit her when all of her blood had begun flowing south.

"Taking that phone call set us back," Morgan tried to rationalize, knowing deep down that it was in vain. "We barely even started the interview."

Harper brushed Morgan's hair back from her shoulder and pressed a kiss right over her pulse, her hands squeezing Morgan's hips.

"I think you could use a break," she purred. "You sounded really stressed on the phone. And as much as I love that firm lawyer voice, I think I'd prefer to hear you beg."

Christ.

Morgan felt herself tumbling closer to the edge of the abyss, tempted to just say yes and give in. She wanted to, so fucking badly.

She was fully aware of just how long she'd gone without Harper's touch. That had been intentional; she knew that if she'd let herself get distracted this week, then her work would suffer.

That was why, when they'd gotten together recently, Morgan had made it a point to keep her hands to herself.

Because she and Harper didn't have quickies. It just wasn't possible. They lost themselves in each other for hours, entirely wrapped up in each other, dead to the world around them.

"The interview..." Morgan tried again weakly, hearing her resolve slipping in the way that her voice was becoming lower, breathier.

"Why don't we do both?" Harper nipped her teeth into Morgan's neck. "Simultaneously."

"Oh?" Morgan breathed the word out, her hips rolling into Harper's. "And how exactly do you propose we do that?"

Harper's tongue flicked out just beneath Morgan's ear and said, "Compromise." She leaned back and met Morgan's gaze, and Morgan could see the desire that had already thinned the gold of her irises around rapidly dilating pupils.

Morgan raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I'll ask you questions," Harper said, slipping her hands beneath Morgan's dress to caress her upper thighs.

Her touch on Morgan's bare skin sent electricity through her whole body, all currents leading to the liquid heat pooling between her legs.

"And when you can no longer form coherent sentences, we'll just cut the interview short and do what I want to do."

"Someone thinks very highly of herself," Morgan murmured, but her eyes were already heavily lidded as she looked down at Harper, very interested in what she was proposing.

Harper simply raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her final answer.

Fuck it.

She'd kept her focus for nine days, and that was impressive enough.

Her decision made, Morgan shifted up onto her knees, reaching down and pulling at the hem of her dress, removing it in one smooth motion. She threw it on the floor behind her.

"Much better," Harper said, her hands already reaching behind Morgan's back to find the clasp of her bra.

It fell away, leaving her in nothing but her barely-there thong in Harper's lap.

And then, to Morgan's complete shock and amusement, Harper actually started asking her questions.

She ran one hand up the center of Morgan's chest to grip the back of her neck while her other hand stayed planted firmly on her hip.

"So, Miss Monroe," Harper said, planting kisses along her jaw, that hand sliding higher, gripping Morgan's waist, her fingernails bringing goosebumps to the surface of her skin. "We're a few weeks into the trial now. Can we expect any change in strategy from the defense?"

Morgan groaned in Harper's ear when both of her hands made their way back down and behind her to squeeze her ass.

Even just simple touches like this from Harper drove her insane.

She also really liked it when Harper called her that, feeding into the forbidden nature of their relationship.

"I...fuck." Morgan tried to answer her, she really did.

But Harper's tongue licked at one of her nipples, teasing her, and Morgan felt it harden further as she sucked it into her mouth.

Her hands moved into Harper's hair, holding her against her chest as she let herself enjoy the pure pleasure pulsing through her, radiating from her breasts directly to the apex of her thighs. She hadn't realized just how badly she'd needed this--needed Harper.

"No comment?"

Morgan tightened her fist in Harper's hair at her teasing, and she chuckled darkly against her skin.

She pinched at Morgan's other nipple, eliciting a sharp exhale. "Let's try again. What has been the most challenging aspect of the trial thus far?" Harper slid a hand between them, beginning to run her fingertips lightly over the sheer material of Morgan's thong.

Morgan pulled back, cupping Harper's face in both hands. "Managing the media," she said, a rough throatiness to her voice. "Journalists can be insatiable."

Harper smirked up at her before Morgan's lips descended onto hers, her tongue hungrily licking into Harper's mouth.

Harper began stroking Morgan slowly through her underwear, but held back from giving her the pressure she knew she needed.

Morgan's hips rocked against her hand, needing more contact. She was already close to coming and Harper hadn't even actually touched her yet.

"How does it feel, knowing that you're one of the youngest defense attorneys in history taking on a case of this caliber? Knowing that there's a very good chance that you're going to win?"

"Harper, please," Morgan begged.

With a flick of her wrist, Harper shifted the ruined lace of her thong to the side. She and Morgan moaned at the same time when her fingertips found the slick heat waiting for her.

Morgan began driving her hips downward more aggressively, desperate for friction.

Harper's mouth moved back to her chest, taking one nipple between her teeth as she slipped two fingers inside of Morgan.

"You feel so fucking good," she growled.

Her words made Morgan throb, feeling the walls of her pussy clench around her fingers, pulling at them as they pumped inside of her.

Harper thrust her hand upward slowly, curving her fingers with every gentle movement.

"Fuck," Morgan breathed.

It took everything in her not to grind harder on her fingers, needing more but not wanting it to end just yet.

She reached down and gripped Harper by her chin to kiss her.

"More," Morgan whimpered into her mouth. Her legs were beginning to tremble, the muscles of her stomach tightening with that delicious pressure that came with chasing her orgasm.

Harper slid a third finger inside of her, her thumb finally brushing against Morgan's throbbing clit. Morgan's head fell back with a cry.

Her hips began to move erratically, one hand coming up to brace against Harper's shoulder while she moved against her, bringing herself down hard onto Harper's hand again and again. Harper kept pace with her, meeting every downward thrust with an equally powerful pump of her fingers.

"You didn't answer my question," Harper murmured into the space between them. "How does it feel, Miss Monroe?" Her thumb increased its pace, rubbing quick, deep circles around Morgan's clit.

They locked eyes as Morgan came undone, her thighs shaking with the force of her orgasm. Her muscles clamped down on the fingers that Harper still had buried inside of her, working her through every wave of pleasure that washed over her.

Morgan's hand came up to grip Harper's throat while she rode out her orgasm, and it was all so deliciously erotic that she hadn't even realized what she'd done until she opened her eyes and saw Harper looking up at her, her chest rising and falling heavily.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Morgan said, her voice hoarse as she removed her hand delicately. "Was that okay? I didn't mean to--"

Harper shifted upward and to the left, smoothly landing Morgan on her back on the couch with Harper between her legs, leaning over her. Morgan's eyes widened in surprise at their new position.

"You didn't mean to choke me while you came for me?" Harper's voice had dropped to an octave Morgan had never heard before, roughness and desperation lacing her words.

Morgan swallowed hard, still recovering from her orgasm.

Harper's hand came up to Morgan's throat, squeezing gently. An involuntary moan escaped her.

Hazel eyes darkened as they took in her reaction.

"Do you like being choked, Morgan?"

Apparently, they'd discovered a mutual kink.

Morgan nodded, Harper's fingertips still pressing around her neck. "Yes," she rasped out.

"So do I," Harper said, eyes sparking with mischief.

This woman was going to fucking kill her.

***

Harper laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling, her body and her mind entirely satisfied.

Morgan was propped up on her elbow next to her, tracing soothing patterns over her stomach.

This had become sort of a thing for them, decompressing after sex with quiet pillow talk. Harper enjoyed it, and she found that it helped her silence the noise in her head.

"What happened here?" Morgan's fingertips grazed the raised scar tissue that formed a circular pattern on Harper's lower abdomen.

Harper's heart dropped into her stomach.

And there it was. After avoiding it for as long as she'd known her, Morgan had finally asked Harper a question that she really didn't want to answer.

Things were going so well between them. The last thing Harper wanted was to scare Morgan away with stories of her past.

Harper turned her head to look at her, the blue of her eyes almost gray in the low lighting of the room. She looked so beautiful, a cute little frown on her lips as she leaned in and took a closer look at the scar.

Harper allowed herself to drink her in while she thought for a moment before saying, "It happened when I was a kid. When I was eight."

Morgan traced the outline of the largest area of scar tissue, furrowing her brow slightly. "Were you playing too hard?" She looked up at Harper with a teasing expression.

"Something like that," Harper answered quietly, her throat tightening.

A mixture of concern and uncertainty flashed across Morgan's face, like she could tell they'd entered uncharted territory.

What was the harm in being honest, really?

Morgan had opened up to Harper about her sister, and they had an undeniable emotional connection. There was also the fact that Morgan was incredibly talented when it came to reading people, and she would undoubtedly be able to tell that something was off with Harper's behavior if she avoided the question.

Harper had learned a lot about Morgan over the past few weeks. She knew that Morgan had grown up wealthy, and while her parents had been very strict about their daughters' professional endeavors, they were whole-heartedly supportive of Morgan's sexuality and all of her romantic pursuits.

Morgan had also told her about Maeve, who was four years older than her, and how she was a pediatric surgeon at Skyline Memorial Hospital in the city. While both of their schedules were incredibly chaotic, they tried their best to see each other at least once a week for dinner or drinks.

Harper had opened up as well, but to a much lesser extent; mostly, she'd told her about her time at Columbia and her relationship with Cameron, but that was about it.

That intense fear lingered in the back of Harper's mind. The fear that had grown and festered with every rejection and every goodbye she'd had to endure in her life.

This woman had come into her life like a hurricane, and Harper was terrified that she could disappear just as rapidly.

But the bottom line was that Harper trusted her.

So, Harper turned onto her side to face Morgan, and started talking.

"There was a rule in our house when I was growing up." She ran her hand over the smooth skin of Morgan's shoulder. "I could color after dinner each night for as long as I wanted, but only if I cleaned up everything I had used immediately afterward. Every marker, every crayon, every pencil." She wrapped a tendril of Morgan's dark hair around her index finger. "My mom didn't like messes."

Harper ignored the panic that began rising in her chest as she pulled the scene from the deepest reaches of her memory. She allowed the hand that Morgan had resting on her hip to anchor her.

"One night, I didn't see one of the crayons that had rolled away from me, near the back leg of the couch. My mom found it a few days later when she was vacuuming." Harper picked at a loose thread on her pillowcase. She didn't dare risk looking directly at Morgan, but she could feel the difference in the way she was watching her, didn't have to look to know that her brow was probably furrowing in that adorable way it did when she was puzzling something out in her mind.

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