Show Me How: A Forbidden Romance

By S.E. Law and S.C. Adams

Mara:

I hate working as a lawyer, so I moonlight as an escort on the side. Yes, it could get me fired from my day job, but ask me if I care. (I don’t, not at all). One day, two handsome clients walk in: Clay and Casper Richmond. The twins are different. They’re huge, dominating, and utterly irresistible with filthy smiles and massive, bulging tools. Even more, Clay and Casper need it a *different* way to be satisfied … and they’re going to show me how.

This story is a sequel to Filthy Twin Fighters as we follow Mara Hoffman on her journey to love and desire in the arms of two gorgeous alpha males. Let’s just say Mara’s sick of her day job and won’t be chained to her desk anymore … at least, not unless her new clients are doing the chaining. Strap on your seatbelts because we’re entering a new world of naughtiness, courtesy of yours truly. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always a HEA for my readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.E. Law Romance Author
• Release date: May 31, 2022

Book preview

1

Mara

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Ithrow my briefcase on the counter and lean against the cool refrigerator, exhausted. It’s been a long week, and I pour a small glass of Chardonnay to unwind.

Why the hell do I do this job again? I swig the alcohol and smile mirthlessly. I suppose when I was in law school, I had some idea that I was going to make a difference in the world. I was going to exonerate the guilty and reform the criminal justice system, all while guiding my clients to freedom and a new way of life. But the memory of those lofty ideals makes me snort because I haven’t done any of those things. Instead, today was a huge clusterfuck because someone leaked news of my case to the press. Some anonymous source accused my clients of hooking up with an underage girl, which was false of course, and I had to do damage control.

I’m ashamed to say that it wasn’t just damage control in the traditional sense. Instead, I practically got into a physical fist fight with a reporter while trying to defend the reputations of my clients, Talon and Torment Creighton. Don’t get me wrong - I love the twin MMA fighters, but still, media is not my forte. Reporters are trash in my opinion, and they can stick it while six feet deep.

But all’s well that ends well. Talon and Torment have been exonerated because it turns out that the woman they’re dating, Paisley, is twenty-two. Take that, suckers. That’s what you get for jumping to conclusions.

But now, I just want to relax. I take another long swig of wine before shuffling out of my kitchen and into the living room. Apartments in New York City are expensive, but I make okay money as an attorney, and I can afford a nice one-bedroom on the Upper East Side. It’s charming with brick accent walls, a cute bathroom lined with black and white subway tiles, and even a decorative fireplace in the living area. Plus, even though the apartment’s small, it’s plenty of space for me because I don’t spend much time here. I’ve been working eighty-hour weeks at the firm lately, and am dead tired as a result.

Bonelessly, I collapse on the couch and feel myself melting into the cushions. This isn’t what I expected when I graduated law school a few years ago. I never thought that I’d be hitting the midnight oil on a regular basis once I became a real attorney. Isn’t that what paralegals and interns are for?

But boy, was I wrong. If anything, I’m pulling more all-nighters now than I ever did during school, and this time lives are at stake. Someone could spend years in jail if I screw up, and I’m not ready to let that happen. As a result, I’m practically chained to my desk these days, and it’s taking a toll on me.

Heaving myself off the couch, I stroll to the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. Yup, the toll is very visible. That’s me with the curls that are frizzy and mangled, and the dark circles under my eyes. My skin looks sallow and I make a face at myself in the mirror. How long can this go on? But then again, what am I supposed to do? Quit? How would I pay off my law school loans if I leave my job? I even have loans from undergrad still, and my lips form a thin line as I lean over to fill up my giant, claw-foot tub. I don’t want to think about money now. At the moment, a bubble bath is in order so that I can let go of my cares for a little while at least.

After a few minutes, the steamy water beckons and I strip down and sink into the bubbles, inhaling deeply of the elderflower-lavender-blueberry scent I poured in. The oil is a special mix that’s supposed to be relaxing, but my entire body still feels tense. I close my eyes and lean my head back on the cold porcelain of the tub with another defeated sigh. It just takes time to unwind sometimes.

But after a few minutes, my phone rings and I jolt out of my reverie. I knew this reprieve was too good to be true. It’s probably one of the partners at work asking me to come back in and help with the next big criminal case. Fuck fuck fuck. Am I bold enough to say no?

But when I look at my phone screen, I see that it’s not the law firm that’s calling but rather Clarissa. Oh shit, this could be even worse, but I paste a false smile on my face before pressing the green talk button.

Hey, Clarissa, I say in a friendly tone.

The middle-aged woman appears on screen.

You’ve been a hard woman to get a hold of these days, she burbles. You’re not ghosting me, are you?

I laugh. I’d never.

Clarissa is nice enough, but she’s also my manager at my escort agency. Yes, for the last year or so, I’ve been moonlighting as an escort during the few nights I have off and it’s an odd second job, I know. I obviously don’t need the money because my salary keeps me housed, fed, and dressed, and I have more than enough to manage my bills. But something’s lacking. Or rather, sometimes I feel like poison is seeping into my veins whenever I practice law, which is why I turned to City Girls a year ago. Escorting provides a thrill, and I love it.

Plus, the agency’s not bad. They screen the clients so that we only see an elite group of men, and of course, discretion is paramount for all parties. That’s important for the girls, as well as the clients, because I’d obviously lose my day job if the law firm found out.

But why is Clarissa calling right now? She smiles, her crimson lips parting and raises her eyebrows.

You’re in the bathtub, she points out, chuckling a little. I didn’t realize, Mara. Sorry to interrupt.

It’s alright, I sigh, making sure the bubbles are covering up everything important. Not that it matters because Clarissa has seen more of me than this while fitting me for various date-night outfits. It can get scandalous, I tell you.

She chuckles again.

Good, good. Listen, sweetie, I called you for a reason. I’ve got a special job on Friday and I immediately thought of you.

I sigh. I knew this was bound to happen, but I was secretly hoping that maybe Clarissa just wanted to talk about life or something. Kind of? Maybe? Then again, we’re not exactly friends, so I suppose it was wishful thinking on my part. I shake my head.

I’m sorry, but I’m exhausted from my regular job. I don’t think I’m up for going out on a date right now.

Clarissa’s perfectly pert nose wrinkles a bit.

It’s been almost six months since you last worked for us, Mara. You know that’s a long time in this industry.

I sigh again and lean my head back against the porcelain.

Yes, but you know that this is my second job. I’m an attorney by day, and anything I do for City Girls has to be in the after hours, when I have free time. I thought I mentioned this when we first started.

The middle aged woman nods, pursing her lips.

That’s true, but still. Six months without one date is a long time, Mara. Even for someone who’s only with us intermittently. I frown. What am I supposed to do? Quit being a lawyer? Then what?

I’m sorry, I say, trying to sound