Prosecutorial Misconduct

Chapter 6

The path down on the beach was deserted but for the pair. As they walked through the now dense fog, the only sound was the steady crash of the waves on the not too distant shoreline. The knowledge McCoy's former lover provided had proved to be a perfect companion to Weaver's own innate skill of reading people.

Both agreed the only way their plan would work was to get McCoy to bring Weaver back to his place. They had agreed there was no way he wouldn't he risk her taking her to a hotel room - even if he was thinking with parts well south of his brain. In fact, she had taken great care to heed Hawthorne's warning: Don't let on that you know anything about him that isn't a matter of public record or he'll bolt. Anyone involved in criminal law is acutely aware of the dangers there are in the wrong people having that kind of information. The dangers extend not just to themselves, but to their families. Approach him as if the only things you know about Jack McCoy have to do with your case and his job. Anything else and we're screwed.

It had been easy to manipulate Jack into an invitation to his home, simply by acting like she had no idea it even existed.

"Samantha," he said jarring her out of her thoughts. "Maybe we should discuss some practical matters…"

"I hope you don't find this presumptuous," she said opening her purse and placing the small plastic wrapper in his hand. "but I didn't get to where I was am today without preparing for all out comes."

McCoy smiled as he pocketed the condom.

"I have to admit, I'm running out of theories to explain any ulterior motives. I guess this eliminates any speculation about a plot to have my love child," he said, both of them chuckling.

Weaver shook her head and moved moving closer to him.

"That would have been inventive but the losses - like the irreparable damage to my figure - would far outweigh any benefits. Besides, years ago I had my tubes tied. The condom is to put both our minds at ease about other issues."

McCoy nodded in agreement. A part of him wanted put aside his concerns and focus on only his carnal desires. God knows the woman had been asking for this from the moment she approached him. While he still didn't buy she was in this because screwing Jack McCoy was a lifelong dream of hers, he was certain she was a more than willing partner. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he had sex solely for the sake of sex.

However, now he was the father of a young woman. He'd also worked with a series of women he'd grown fond, if not protective, of. Through those experiences, he'd gained insight into the workings of the female mind and heart that he had lacked in his fuck-first-ask- questions-later days. He knew he could be a real bastard after the deed was done but one great turn-on for Jack, had always been his ability to meet the challenge of exciting and pleasing his partner.

"Actually, protection wasn't where I was going," he said seriously. "I used to work with a young woman who is gay. I'm well aware there are aspects … there are things that aren't… wouldn't be pleasant for you to subject yourself to… "

Weaver stopped walking and looked up at him, genuinely dumbfounded. She recalled Hawthorne's assurances, but this was above and beyond any expectation she held. Most of the men she was acquainted with would have concluded they had already gone well passed past the point of no return when she agreed to join him at his place. Additionally, they would have been conceited enough not to question their own knowledge of what a woman wanted.

Impulsively, she kissed him again, with a tenderness that surprised both of them. When she was finished she laughed at the perplexed look on his face.

"Relax, Jack. While it's true the majority of my romances have been with women, this is hardly a romance is it? This is sex," she said. I haven't limited my sexual encounters solely to women. I'll admit I find most men tiresome, but occasionally there have been exceptions, like you."

"You're saying your bisexual?" he asked

"That I am," she replied "and no matter what happens, you should know that I sincerely appreciate you caring enough to ask." She paused closing her eyes, feeling a slight twinge of hesitation. Maybe this was a mistake. NO-just because he has a decent side, doesn't mean he doesn't have this coming to him. He didn't do the decent thing in that courtroom, did he, she thought to herself.

She looked up again, meeting his gaze with an arrogant gaze of her own.

"No matter what else happens? That implies…,"he began.

"Only that I'm well aware of how much you're going to miss that arrogant smirk I'm about to relieve you of," she said seductively as she ran her hand back down towards his inner thigh, licentiously kissing his mouth.

The dim light of a hurricane lamp greeted them as they entered the small house. Weaver carefully looked around the room as McCoy removed their coats and placed them on the rack by the door.

"Can I offer you something to warm up? Brandy, coffee or Irish coffee," he asked as he punched in the code to disarm the alarm system.

Knowing she needed to distract him long enough to start the video recorder she opted for Irish coffee, after she freshened up in the bathroom. While as McCoy busied himself in the kitchen, Weaver followed the small hallway finding where she found three doors. The first one she opened and quickly closed again, one glance confirming it wasn't the master bedroom. She walked past the middle door and into the master bedroom. Without pausing, she reached behind the dresser beside the door, smiling broadly as she felt the remote control in her hand.

McCoy handed her the steaming mug, as she dropped her gloves and handbag on the coffee table. The sitting room was inviting. It was tastefully decorated - Weaver assumed by his ex-wife. The impressive stone fireplace held several framed pictures of the same young woman at different ages.

"This is a charming place you have, Jack," she said taking an obligatory swallow of the coffee. "Whomever your decorator was, she did a nice job."

She moved towards over to the two-tiered bookshelf that ran under the picture window. The shelves overflowing with an assortment of novels, law journals, and magazines.

"You're well read," she said thoughtfully. "Fairstein, Paretsky, Faludi - I'm impressed."

"Don't be," he said, setting his scotch on the coffee table and moving behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "My stuff is mostly the motorcycle magazines, some of the law journals, and Grisham."

"Your stuff? Does someone-"

"Samantha, maybe its better if neither of us asks too many questions," he said. He removed the ribbon, releasing the silky blond mane. "Are you getting warmed up," he asked as his lips began to move down her neck.

Weaver leaned against McCoy. Her hand moved to find the inviting hardness between his legs.

"Oh Jack, I think 'hot' is the better word."

Weaver gasped audibly as his hands moved from her shoulders underneath the softness of the cashmere sweater.

"God, it's been so long," she moaned. His fingers lavished attention on her soft, firm mounds which were already responding to his touch. She began to fumble with his zipper as he turned her to face him. His hands moved the sweater slowly up and over her head. He gently whispered her name as he bent his head down to explore her breasts with his mouth and tongue.

She knew part of her lustful reaction was due to the fact that she hadn't intimate with anyone since before her conviction. Weaver had always been a very sexual woman. Her self-imposed celibacy had been necessary, but painfully frustrating. Some days she ached for the touch of anyone.

Weaver regretfully stepped back out of his reach momentarily and removed McCoy's sweater. She began to unbutton the shirt, opening it as his mouth found hers. They sensuously explored the others chest. McCoy could feel the urgent demand of his cock as he pressed against Weaver's body. In his mind he was throwing her on the bed and pounding into her tightness already. He just needed to seal the deal.

"Jack," she said softy as she took his hand. "I'm still waiting for an answer." Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

McCoy looked at her with a mixture of lust and amusement, a lazy half smile half-smile resting on his lips.

"Still wondering what gets me into bed?"

"I'm beginning to think maybe you're not sure. Earlier, you were gracious enough to give me an out," she said moving closer to him as her pants joined the pile of clothes on the floor. "I certainly don't want to take advantage of you. Maybe I shouldn't have been so presumptuous. I know how you feel abut me personally, possibly you find my body equally repulsive."

McCoy's eyes moved appreciatively over the woman before him; clad only in a lacy purple thong and matching bra that pushed her ample breast enticingly upward. He took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

In one motion, he flipped the switch on a small lamp. Then returned to her, unclasped the bra and let it fall to the floor.

"Revolting," he whispered as he caressed her naked breasts." Positively horrifying."

As he kissed her a one hand moved down her body as the other held and kneaded her shapely backside. In response Weaver removed his shirt and caressed his surprisingly hard, muscular chest. Her hands moved slowly over his chest, lingering to play with his hardened nipples until he moaned with delight, involuntarily thrusting his hips against her. Her hands moved to undo his belt and remove his pants. As they dropped to the floor, Weaver slipped a hand into his briefs. McCoy gasped with pleasure as her hands teasingly stoked his hardness.

"Oh God," he said. He was gritting his teeth and trying to clear his mind of how tight he knew she would be. He placed an arm around her waist, drawing both of them onto the bed. From the way she touched him, Jack knew this woman was well versed in gratifying her lovers.

He whispered her name as his hands impatiently slipped the thong down her shapely legs. She sensuously opened her legs, releasing the garment as she guided his hand to the smooth wetness between her legs.

"God, you feel incredible, " he said as his hand moved with tantalizing expertise. He steadily caressed her until he felt her body begin to move with his strokes. "Does that feel good?"

"You know it does," she purred as her breathing became more rapid. She gasped and shuddered with pleasure as McCoy replaced his hand with his mouth.

He continued playing with her clit gliding his tongue over it, waiting for her body to assure him she was indeed excited by his actions. He grinned with immense satisfaction, feeling her body lift off the mattress as he began to move his tongue in and out of her, carefully manipulating her clit in the process. He brought her within strokes of climax, her body moving in a steady beat with his mouth. Without warning, he returned to her mouth, his body on top of hers moving with her, even as he felt the urgent protest.

She held him tightly returning the kiss with lustful passion as her hand found his organ once more.

"Bastard," she whispered as she continued to run her hands over him. "You're going to regret being a tease, McCoy."

"What happened to that crap about knowing what kind of man I, you tried to hand me earlier? Besides, that's why we're here isn't it," he shot back, his voice shaking with ardor. "I thought you wanted to fuck that arrogant smirk off the bastard that prosecuted you."

"When I'm finished, you are going to BEG for it, Jack," she hissed as she began to lower herself toward his cock.

McCoy moved to stop her. She looked up at him and saw the unspoken question in his eyes.

"Jack," she said with feigned annoyance," I'm quite sure I want to do this. If you want to get laid - don't screw it up by playing the nice guy."

McCoy released her with a gleam in his eyes.

"And I thought I was above reproach. Besides - I never beg."

She gave him a look of defiance as her mouth found his hard shaft. She focused her energies on her task. She'd would never admit it to a man, especially this one, but he was right-oral sex wasn't her favorite activity when she was with a man. She could do it and do did it well, as she had been told more than once. However, it wasn't something she relished. But, she certainly wasn't going to give Jack McCoy the satisfaction of being right about anything. That smirk had to go-at any cost.

She gained motivation to continue as he groaned with obvious pleasure. She knew he was trying to hold back most likely out of concern, as well as the desire to gratify his ego, by waiting her out. His body grudgingly began to move involuntarily, thrusting in and out of her mouth, growing more urgent in its beat.

She heard him try to catch his breath.

"Samantha…this isn't... ... isn't... an endurance test," he gasped.

She laughed, pausing just long enough to reply," Do you want me to stop?"

She laughed again in triumph, when she heard no response.

Finally, just as she was ready to bring him over the edge, he roughly pulled her away from his cock. Without any real rancor, he called her a bitch as he covered her mouth with his. He used his legs to keep hers open and accessible. With one arm he kept her on top of him, while with the other he found her wetness and slowly brought her back to the edge stroking her clit as he slipped a finger inside her pulsing cavity.

"The smirk is still there," he said. He delighted in watching her wither and shiver uncontrollably under his touch. "What are you going to do about it?"

"What would you like me to do?" she replied moving her hips as her body strained to meet his touch.

McCoy met her eyes and deadpanned," What every prosecutor dreams of - confess."

Weaver struggled to hide her utter shock, staring at him before replying mocklingly,"Why would I confess to a crime I plead innocent to? Besides, if this isn't coercion, I don't know what is."

He grinned at her and shrugged his shoulders.

"This falls under the heading of 'excited utterances'", he said sarcastically." Pleading innocent and being innocent are different things. You've never come right out and said you didn't do it, Samantha. Did you?"

She gave him a knowing smile.

"What else do you want?"

"I'd settle for you trying to follow through on your threat, after I'm finished with you," he said as he slipped another finger inside her. He could feel the power of her contractions as he thrust in time with their tempo.

As she approached her climax, she reached for him. She skillfully moved to release his hand, replacing it with his aching penis, sliding it into her warmth. She sat up, leaning back as he began to thrust inside her. She rode him in a delicious wave of ecstasy. She closed her eyes as her climax came violently, her body long over due overdue for the release.

She looked down at her partner, who was watching her intently his eyes glazed over with excitement, his smirk replaced by desire. She moved to meet his lips, his arms holding her as he rolled them over. When he started to loose control, Weaver watched his face contort with bliss as his body racked with spasms of pleasure.

McCoy listened to the stillness of the house as he studied the face of his sleeping lover. He knew the smart thing would have been to send her back to her hotel. As pleasurable as the evening had been Weaver was right. This night had been about sex, not romance. If the fog had not been so dense and it hadn't been too late in the small community to call for a cab, he would have accepted Weaver's earlier suggestion to end the evening with her return to her hotel.

Carefully, he moved out of the bed, picking up the robe that lay beside the bed. Even with the physical release that had brought a longer than usual session of sleep, McCoy found himself restless. Moving to the dresser, he quietly began opening a drawer, looking for something his unexpected house guest could wear in the morning.

His mind was preoccupied on a review of the evidence he'd had during Weaver's trial, as he reluctantly began to question whether he had indeed missed something, possibly misjudging her guilt. As he pulled a pair of sweatpants from the drawer, he inadvertently knocked his watch from the dresser top of the dresser. He swore softly, unable to stop it from falling behind the dresser.

McCoy bent down, stretching his arm. He felt around blindly, finally touching the watchband. As he pulled his arm out, he was puzzled to feel something unfamiliar. McCoy stared at the small device for a moment. It appeared to be a sort of remote, with a strange thin white cord attached.

He glanced at the bed, making sure he hadn't woken Weaver. He carefully pushed the dresser forward, cautiously pulling the wire. He followed its the path around the room to just above the bedroom window. He gave the wire a tug and what looked to be a miniature camera fell into his hands just has he heard the sound of the DVD recorder clicking off.

He sat on the edge of the bed, studying the device, then his sleeping lover.

"Son of a bitch."

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