Samara and Tazara had accepted their internships, their excitement was palpable as Kamala outlined the details. For Samara, it felt like stepping into a dream, a real chance to prove herself, even if the proximity to Kamala made it so.
Kamala, on the other hand, had spent the past week alternating between pride and panic. The internships would undoubtedly help the girls, but having Samara so close, so entangled in her life and work, was an added issue she wasn't sure how to manage. It didn't help that the DA's office had pulled her back in, tying her to Samara in a way neither of them yet understood.
December 20th
The day before break, Samara found herself alone with Kamala in the professor's cozy study. The room was more inviting, it had grown on her, filled with the scent of old books and faint traces of Kamala's perfume, spicy and sweet that seemed to cling to the air.
Samara leaned casually against the bookshelf, wine glass in hand, her posture relaxed but her nerves frayed. "So, what are your big plans for Christmas?" she asked, her tone light but probing.
Kamala swirled her own glass, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Work, mostly. It's not exactly a holiday for me this year," she replied, her voice steady but noncommittal.
Samara raised an eyebrow, not missing the way Kamala avoided her gaze. "Seriously? No family, no friends? You're just going to bury yourself in our lecture notes?"
Kamala chuckled softly, taking a sip of her wine. "I'll survive. Some of us enjoy being productive."
Samara smirked, tipping her glass toward Kamala. " You should come hang out with me and Tazara. We're going to a cheesy holiday movie marathon on campus."
Kamala arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smile. "Are you inviting your professor to a slumber party?"
Samara shrugged, grinning. "Why not? You could use a break."
Their banter felt easy, but beneath it, there was something heavier, something neither of them dared to name. As the evening wore on and the wine disappeared, the energy shifted. Friendly teasing gave way to flirtation, each comment laced with an edge that made the air feel warmer, heavier.
By the time they wandered into the kitchen, Kamala had rolled up her sleeves, insisting on teaching Samara how to make pasta from scratch.
"It's all about the dough," Kamala explained, her hands deftly kneading the mixture on the counter.
Samara, less graceful, huffed in frustration as she tried to copy Kamala's movements. Her "I don't get how you're so good at this. You're supposed to be an attorney, not a chef."
Kamala smirked, brushing flour from her hands. "I'm full of surprises."
Samara shot her a look, her frustration melting into a grin. "Yeah, yeah. Keep showing off, Professor."
Kamala stepped closer, her hands moving to guide Samara's. "Here," she murmured, her voice softer now.
"You're putting too much pressure on it. You have to be gentle, like this." Kamala murmured, sliding her hands over Samara's to guide her.
The contact sent a jolt through Samara's spine. Her breath hitched as Kamala's fingers curled around hers, applying just the right amount of pressure.
"See? Gentle but firm," Kamala said, her voice a low hum near Samara's ear.
Samara swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat radiating from Kamala's body made her want to faint. She couldn't focus on the dough, not with Kamala so close, her hands so steady and confident. When Samara's movements faltered again, she tried to pull back, mumbling something about needing a break. But before she could step away, Kamala's hips pressed against her back, trapping her in place against the counter.
"Not so fast," Kamala said, her voice dropping an octave. "You're not giving up that easily."
Samara's heart skipped a beat as Kamala leaned in, her breath warm against the nape of her neck. The weight of Kamala's body against hers was overwhelming, almost suffocating, yet she didn't want to move. Kamala's hands slid back to the dough, her movements slow and deliberate as she made Samara work through the motions.
"Like this," Kamala murmured, her tone soft but commanding. Her hips pressed a little more firmly, keeping Samara anchored in place as her hands guided her through the kneading.
Samara's fingers trembled, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she tried to focus. But all she could feel was the heat of Kamala's body against hers, the way her voice seemed to wrap around her like a velvet ribbon, tightening with every word.
"You're getting it," Kamala said, her tone almost teasing now. Her hands lingered on Samara's, her thumbs brushing against her knuckles.
Samara let out a shaky laugh, her cheeks flushed. "I think I get the point," she said, her voice lacking any conviction.
Kamala didn't move immediately, her hands still resting over Samara's, her hips still pressed firmly against her. Finally, Kamala leaned back, giving Samara just enough space to turn around. Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
"See? That wasn't so hard," Kamala said, her voice softer now, almost tender.
Samara's lips curved into a small, wry smile. "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure you enjoyed that more than I did."
Kamala's gaze darkened slightly, "Don't push your luck," she said, but her tone lacked its usual bite.
Samara tilted her head, her smile widening. "Maybe you should stop tempting me, then."
Kamala let out a low laugh, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
The moment lingered, both of them standing too close, the tension between them threatening to ignite. But Kamala stepped back, her composure slipping only slightly-
Before she could redirect their attention, Samara kissed her.
Kamala froze for a moment, her lips parting in surprise. Then, with a soft groan, she kissed back, her hands sliding instinctively to Samara's waist. The kiss was slow, tentative, as if they were both testing the waters of something they couldn't take back.
But then Kamala pulled back, her gaze searching Samara's.
"You've been drinking," she murmured,
"So have you," Samara shot back, her words slightly slurred but her eyes steady.
Kamala's lips twitched, a mix of amusement and exasperation flickering across her face. "You don't even know what you're getting into," she said, her tone teasing
Samara smirked, leaning closer. "Maybe you should show me."
Without another word, Kamala grabbed Samara by the collar of her shirt and led her back into the study, her grip firm but not rough.
The room seemed smaller now, the air heavier as Kamala pushed Samara gently into the chair by the desk. She stood over her for a moment, her breathing uneven as she tried to regain her composure.
"You're trouble," Kamala said finally, her voice softer now, almost tender.
Samara allowed a slow smile to spread across her face. " You don't seem to mind."
Kamala let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through her hair. She leaned against the desk, her gaze locking with Samara's. "This can't happen," she said, but the words lacked conviction.
Samara's smile softened, and for the first time that evening, she looked serious. "I know. But it's already happening, isn't it?"
Kamala didn't answer, her silence speaking volumes.
Samara slid from her chair, her movements slow and deliberate as she sank to her knees on the cool floor of Kamala's study. Her gaze never wavered, locking onto Kamala's as she knelt before her.
Kamala's breath hitched, her hands gripping the edge of the desk for support as Samara's intensity washed over her. The vulnerability and hunger in Samara's eyes were undeniable. Kamala tried to speak, to put distance between them, but the words caught in her throat.
"I'll make it easier for you," Samara murmured.
"Forget I'm your student. Forget you're my professor. We're just two adults, Kamala. With needs. With lives that are our own."
Kamala's lips parted, but no sound came out. Instead, her hand moved almost on its own, her fingers brushing against Samara's cheek.
"How do you plan to do that?" Kamala finally asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"Plenty of students have begged before, Samara. Just... not like this."
Samara's lips curled into a sly, knowing, smile as she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Kamala's calf.
"I'm not begging for grades," she said, her lips brushing against Kamala's skin with each word.
"I'm begging for you. For us."
She kissed higher, her lips tracing a slow, deliberate path along Kamala's leg.
"I want to be yours, Kamala. Not as a student. I love you." Her voice was steady, even as her lips continued their ascent.
"I want to be with you. To be your girlfriend."
Kamala's breathing grew shallow, her chest rising and falling as her heart raced.
"Samara..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"I'll do whatever it takes," Samara continued, her kisses reaching the edge of Kamala's knee.
"I'd give up my dreams if that's what it meant to be with you."
...
Kamala froze, her hand gripping Samara's shoulder as she pushed her back slightly. "Don't," she said, her tone sharp but tinged with panic.
"Don't ever say that again. Don't you dare think about that. Do you hear me?"
Samara blinked up at her, momentarily stunned by the force in Kamala's voice. But then she nodded, her expression softening.
"I hear you," she said quietly.
Kamala's grip loosened, her fingers brushing against Samara's jaw as she exhaled shakily.
"No matter what happens between us, you come first."
Samara nodded again, and then, without another word, she leaned back in, her lips resuming their slow, deliberate path up Kamala's leg. Kamala's head fell back slightly, her resolve crumbling as Samara's kisses grew bolder, insistent.
When Samara reached a sensitive spot just above Kamala's knee, she felt the slight shake in Kamala's body, the way her breath caught.
Encouraged, she pressed her lips there again, letting her hands slide up to the hem of Kamala's skirt. Kamala's fingers curled into the desk as Samara pushed the fabric up, her lips tracing the soft skin of Kamala's thigh.
A soft, involuntary moan escaped Kamala's lips, her composure shattering at that moment.
"Samara," Kamala whispered, her voice a mix of warning and surrender.
But Samara didn't stop, her kisses trailing higher, her hands steady as they held Kamala's skirt in place. Kamala's head tilted forward, her gaze meeting Samara's with an intensity that burned.
As Samara's lips continued their path, Kamala's restless need grew. Samara's kisses graced her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Finally, Samara's mouth reached the center of Kamala's thighs, and with a gentle touch, she pushed Kamala's panties aside.
Kamala's eyes fluttered closed as Samara's tongue made contact with her sensitive flesh. But Samara wanted to see Kamala's face, to watch her reactions as she was pleasured.
So, she held Kamala's scrunched-up skirt down with one hand, her eyes locked on Kamala's as she began to eat her out.
"Hey, look at me," Samara whispered, her breath caressing Kamala's skin.
Kamala's eyes opened, and she gazed down at Samara, her pupils dilated.
"I'm right here," she whispered back, her voice husky.
Samara smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I know. I just want to make sure you're okay."
Kamala's face softened, and she reached out to brush a strand of hair behind Samara's ear. "I'm more than okay," she said, her voice filled with emotion.
"I've wanted this for so long."
Samara's heart skipped a beat at Kamala's words. She leaned in, her tongue tracing a path of fire across Kamala's skin.
As Kamala's moans filled the air, Samara checked in with her again. " you good?" she asked, her voice muffled against Kamala's thigh.
Kamala's fingers tangled in Samara's hair, pulling her closer. "Yes, yes, I'm good," she gasped. "Don't stop."
Samara chuckled, the sound vibrating against Kamala's skin. "I wasn't planning on it," she said, her eyes never leaving Kamala's face.
As Kamala's body began to grind against Samara's face, Samara didn't stop, her tongue and lips moving in a rhythm that drove Kamala mad. Kamala's moans continued, harsher, louder, but Samara didn't stop, her fingers digging gently into Kamala's thighs as she held her in place.
"Samara, oh God," Kamala whispered, her voice trembling. "I think I'm going to..."
Samara's eyes locked on Kamala's, her face set in a determined expression. "Let go," she whispered back. "I've got you."
Kamala's body shuddered as she reached her climax, her fingers pulling Samara's hair as she rode out the waves of pleasure. Samara held her close, her tongue and lips gentle as she coaxed Kamala through the aftershocks.
When Kamala finally finished, she slumped forward, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Her eyes, hazy and half-lidded, stared down at Samara, who was still gazing up at her, a triumphant smile on her face.
As Kamala's vision cleared, she shifted her foot, pressing the tip of her heel upwards between Samara's legs. Samara's eyes grew wide, and a blush spread across her cheeks as she realized the tables were about to turn.
"Hey, you okay with this?" Kamala asked, her voice low and husky.
Samara nodded, her face still flushed. "Yeah, I'm okay," she whispered. "I want this."
Kamala's eyes locked on Samara's, her gaze burning with intensity. "I want it too," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel."
Samara's face softened, and she reached out to brush a strand of hair behind Kamala's ear. "You already do," she said, her voice filled with love. "Just being with you makes me feel seen and heard and understood."
Kamala's face melted, and she leaned in to kiss Samara, her lips gentle and sweet. As they kissed, Kamala's foot applied gentle pressure, and Samara's eyes grew wide, her face burning with desire.
"I love you," Kamala whispered, her voice barely audible.
Samara's eyes locked on Kamala's, her face set in a determined expression. "I love you too," she whispered back. "And I'm not going anywhere."
As they broke apart for air, Kamala's eyes never left Samara's face. "I'm going to make you feel so good," she whispered, her voice filled with promise.
Samara's face burned with anticipation, and she nodded, her eyes locked on Kamala's. "I'm ready," she whispered. "I'm so ready."
As Kamala pressed the tip of her heel against Samara's clit, Samara's eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a soft gasp. The pressure was instant, and Samara's body began to respond, her hips twitching with anticipation. Samara's lips parted, but no words came out. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions—fear, excitement—all tangled together until she couldn't tell one from the other.
focus
Kamala's heel,
pressure building
heat between her legs.
Kamala reached down, her fingers brushing Samara's cheek in a tender, almost possessive gesture.
"Relax your hips," she commanded, her tone firm but not unkind.
"I want to see you..." Her lips curved into a knowing smile
"Grind."
"Show me how bad you want this."
Samara nodded, and let her hips sink further down onto Kamala's heel. The pressure was just right, and Samara felt a sensation building inside her.
She started off slow, her hips moving in a gentle circle as she pressed herself against Kamala's heel. But as her need grew, she held onto Kamala's calf, her fingers digging into her skin as she ground harder.
Kamala's voice was a constant murmur above her, sweet and dirty all at once.
"That's it, baby... good student, weren't you? So smart, so... well-behaved." Her fingers trailed down Samara's neck, tracing the collar of her shirt.
"You're not being a good student tonight, are you? You're being mine."
Kamala watched, a smile spreading across her face, Samara's free hand reached back, her palm pressing against the floor as she leaned back, supporting herself as she continued to grind.
"I love watching you like this." Kamala whispered, her voice filled with praise.
"You're so needy, so eager. It's like you can't get enough."
Samara let out a soft moan, her movements growing more frantic as the pressure built. Kamala's heel pressed harder, the sharp edge grazing her clit through the fabric of her pants. It was almost too much, but not quite enough. Samara wanted more, needed more.
"Yes," Kamala whispered, leaning closer.
"Tell me how bad you want it. Tell me how much you've needed this." her voice nearly a growl
Samara's voice was barely audible, shaky and desperate. "I... I need this... oh god," she gasped. "Please, Profes-hit... I need you."
Kamala chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down Samara's spine. "Such a dirty mouth, my god, it's always the ones who know how to make you smile" Kamala's smile grew wider, and she leaned forward, her face inches from Samara's.
"I've got you, baby," she whispered. "You are the only person in the world, baby," she whispered.
"You're my Good girl," Kamala said, her tone softening slightly. "You're doing so well. Keep going."
Samara obeyed, her hips moving faster, grinding against Kamala's heel with abandon. The pressure was relentless, and she could feel it building, closer and closer with every movement, no matter how weak.
Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her hands clutching at smooth flooring for some type of support.
Kamala's hand moved to Samara's hair, tugging gently but firmly.
"Look at me," she commanded.
"Don't you dare close your eyes. I want you to see everything."
Samara nodded, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and arousal.
"That's right," Kamala murmured, her thumb brushing over Samara's bottom lip. Samara's eyes darting between Kamala and her own mess.
Samara whimpered, her body arching involuntarily as the pressure between her legs became almost unbearable.
"You're the only one I've ever done this with. The only one I've ever wanted this badly. Can you believe that? Can you feel how lucky we are?"
Samara's head was spinning, her thoughts reduced to fragments of sensation and need. Kamala's words hit her like a wave.
The only one.
The idea of being so important to Kamala, of being the one she chose, made Samara's chest ache with something close to being dangerously in love.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I feel it."
Kamala pulled back slightly, her gaze searching Samara's face. "Do you want to come for me, baby? Do you want to show me how much you love this?"
Samara nodded frantically, her entire body trembling with the effort of holding back. "Yes, please... I can't... I need to..."
Kamala's hand tightened in her hair, and she leaned down, her lips inches from Samara's ear. "Then come for me," she ordered, her voice low and commanding.
"Show me how perfect you are."
The words were enough to push Samara over the edge. With a strangled cry, she went rigid, her hips jerking uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Her vision blurred, and she felt like she was floating, disconnected from everything except the feeling of Kamala's heel still pressing against her, the feeling of Kamala's hand in her hair, the feeling of Kamala's voice whispering filthy things into her ear.
When the haze finally began to clear, Samara blinked up at Kamala, her chest heaving, her face flushed. Kamala was smiling down at her, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"Was that good for you, sweetheart?" she asked, her tone teasing.
Samara nodded weakly, unable to form words. Kamala chuckled softly, reaching down to brush a strand of hair from Samara's face.
"Good," she said, and Samara rested her weary head on Kamala's thigh.
December 21st
Kamala woke up to the weight of Samara wrapped around her, arms draped lazily across her waist, and her face nestled into Kamala's neck. The early morning light filtered through the curtains. For a moment, Kamala allowed herself to linger, letting the memory of the previous night wash over her, a whirlwind to say the least...
But just as a small smile tugged at her lips, reality set in.
The internship.
Kamala's eyes shot open fully as the realization hit her. Their internship starts in three days.
'My God, what have I done?'
She never even called back.
Sliding out from under Samara as carefully as possible, she took a moment to watch her sleep, her features soft and peaceful. Kamala reached out instinctively to brush a stray curl from Samara's face but stopped herself midway. Instead, she pulled on a robe and grabbed her phone, retreating to the bathroom for privacy.
"SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT" She hissed.
Leaning against the sink, Kamala stared at the phone in her hand, debating whether to make the call. She scrolled to Willis's contact, her thumb hovering over the call button.
'You should've done this days ago'
The phone rang twice before Willis answered, his tone already exasperated.
"Kamala, really? You ghost me until three days before this internship starts? What the hell, Harris?"
"Willis, I—"
"I don't even want to hear it," he snapped, cutting her off, dramatically but rightfully so.
"You called, so I'm assuming you're taking the job. And let me tell you, if you don't show up, you're looking at a lawsuit for emotional distress. I've already filed your clearance and added you to payroll. So, congratulations, Professor Harris. You're back on the team, whether you like it or not."
Kamala pinched the bridge of her nose, the beginnings of a headache forming.
"Fine," she said curtly. "I'll come by soon to pick up everything I need."
"Good," Willis said, his tone softening slightly. "You've got a reputation to uphold, Harris. Oh, and you're gonna love the case that they swapped the original one they were going to give you"
The call ended before Kamala could respond.
Cool. Great. Perfect, she thought, already mentally cataloging what needed to be done.
Kamala quickly slipped into the shower, her mind racing as the warm water cascaded over her. By the time she was dressed and ready, she'd decided she couldn't wait for Samara to wake up.
She grabbed a sticky note and scribbled a quick message.
Had to step out for work. Be back later. Make yourself at home.
PS. the cameras work – K
She stuck it on the bedside table atop her phone, pausing briefly to take in the sight of Samara still curled up in bed. Kamala's chest tightened with a mix of guilt and lust.
Sliding her phone into her bag, Kamala left the room quietly, the door clicking shut behind her as she headed out for the mess she'd just signed herself up for.
—
Kamala stepped into the DA's office with a stride she hadn't walked with in years. The air smelled the same—a mix of cheap coffee and printer ink—and the path to Willis's office came back to her like muscle memory. She let herself take in the familiarity for a moment before fixing her expression, her heels clicking against the tiled floor.
When she arrived at his door, she raised her hand to knock, but before she could, the door swung open. Willis stood there, his shirt half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, and his desk behind him was an absolute mess of papers and empty coffee cups.
"Kamala," he said, pulling her inside before she could say a word.
Kamala gave him a wary smile as she settled into a chair. "What've you got for me, Willis?"
He didn't bother sitting down, instead pacing behind his desk as he sorted through a stack of folders.
"The case you'll be handling isn't criminal," he began, his tone almost apologetic.
Kamala's brow furrowed. "Then why does the DA's office need me?"
Willis glanced at her, running a hand through his already-mussed hair.
"It's a lawsuit. The state is suing Kaplan and Bridgette for malpractice. We win Claire gets reviewed by the board some of wins get questioned, and Kaplan and Bridgette get humbled"
Kamala stiffened, her expression hardening, she'd ignored the reward for it."What kind of malpractice?"
Willis sighed, sitting on the edge of his desk.
"One of our prosecutors lost a case to one of their clients, a criminal case involving a first-degree murder charge. We have reason to believe their defense attorney, Claire Washington, covered up evidence and failed to disclose information to the prosecution."
Kamala stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor.
"I'm not doing this," she said, her voice cold and final, as she turned toward the door.
Before she could leave, Willis moved quickly, blocking her path. "Kamala, wait! Hear me out."
"I don't deal with Claire anymore," she said, her tone icy, refusing to elaborate.
Willis held up his hands in a placating gesture.
"I get it. I do. But this isn't just about her. The case involves overturning the acquittal of Jonathan Marshall. We need to prove that Claire's actions directly impacted the verdict."
Kamala crossed her arms, glaring at him.
"And what exactly is my role in this? Because it sounds like you want me to play defense for the DA's office."
Willis hesitated, then let out a heavy sigh.
"You're not wrong. We need someone who can handle this from the inside. Someone who can spin a story, and someone who can handle Claire. You know she's good. You and her were unstoppable. You're the best option we have."
Kamala shook her head, her voice sharp. "I already said I'm not doing this."
'turn into a conflict of interest in 16 different directions' she could have screamed as she tried to walk past him again
Willis's shoulders slumped, but he pressed on.
"Kamala, I'm begging you. Just look at the case files. See if there's something there. I don't care what you have to do, just please take this case, the interns going to be here soon as it's almost Christmas! Pls, I'm begging you. Do you want to see me cry?"
"NO! God no!", Kamala exhaled sharply. "Fine. I'll look at it. But that's all I'm promising I'll win... it's been a while since I've done this."
Willis nodded, sliding a stack of papers and folders across the desk to her. "Thank you. I mean it. I'll make it up to you"
Kamala picked up the files, flipping through them briefly before an idea struck her. Samara.
"This might actually work," Kamala murmured, more to herself than to Willis.
"What's that?" Willis asked.
She shook her head. "Nothing. Just thinking out loud."
Kamala stood, clutching the files. As she left the office, she already knew what her next move would be: bring Samara into this. It would be good practice for her, a solid distraction, and the perfect way to prepare her for the internship.
—
Tazara sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through her phone aimlessly when it buzzed with a call from an unknown number. She hesitated before answering, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"Hello?" she said cautiously.
"Am I speaking to Tazara Mac?" came the smooth, older voice on the other end.
"Yes, this is Tazara," she replied, her tone wary.
The woman chuckled warmly. "Wonderful! I'm Claire Washington, with Kaplan and Bridgette. I wanted to personally congratulate you on securing the position."
Tazara's heart leapt into her throat. "Oh my god," she blurted out, quickly slapping a hand over her mouth. "I mean—thank you! I'm so excited!"
Claire's laugh was gentle, almost maternal. "Excitement is good. I was hoping to catch you for a brief chat, perhaps over coffee, to discuss the role and what's ahead. It's important to me that my team feels welcome."
Tazara could hardly believe her ears. This was happening. "Uh, sure! When?"
"Well," Claire said with a hint of amusement, "I'm already at the coffee shop. No pressure, of course, but I thought it might be nice to meet sooner rather than later."
Tazara nearly jumped out of bed. "Oh! Yeah, that works! Where should I meet you?"
Claire gave her the address of a nearby coffee shop, and Tazara jotted it down, her hand shaking slightly.
"I'll see you soon then, Ms. Mac, I think we have a lot to talk about... " Claire said warmly before hanging up.
For a moment, Tazara sat in stunned silence, staring at her phone. Then, like a bolt of lightning, she was in motion, scrambling to find something professional yet cute to wear.
As she rifled through her closet, she couldn't help but think, So this is how Samara feels when Kamala gives her attention. No wonder, she's so... devoted.
Within minutes, Tazara was dressed and ready, her heart pounding with anticipation. She grabbed her bag, checked her reflection one last time, and dashed out the door, her mind buzzing with excitement.