He reached between her legs and separated her folds. She barely had a second to register what he was doing before Roman began to vigorously finger her. Kelly moaned and arched her back.
His fingers were relentless. She panted and whimpered, shaking her head as he built her toward a climax.
Then, with his fingers inside her body, he simply stopped.
She was perilously close to coming and grunted with frustration when the stimulation ended.
He was laughing. His sexy chuckle made her pussy flood.
“You have a choice. I fuck you now and rip that virgin pussy to shreds or you come and make it easier on both of us.”
Her pants turned to ragged breathing.
Roman’s dangerous leer made her crazy excited.
“Come or fuck?”
Biting her lip, she looked away as if admitting a terrible truth and begged him. “Come, please.”
“Okay.” He snickered. “Go ahead.”
Kelly gasped. He wanted her to what?
“Move those hips. Fuck my fingers.”
She tried a few tentative moves, making sure to act embarrassed and uncertain. Of course, acting was one thing when she was desperate to come.
Bucking her hips with vigor, she groaned over and over. Her orgasm was incredibly strong and left her shaking.
The spasms had barely faded when he untied her ankle and forced her legs up and back.
“And now, my virgin captive, I will fuck your pussy until you can’t walk.”
She cried out when his big cock penetrated her and sank deep with one tremendous lunge. Roman was a consummate cocksman. He could fuck for hours. The more he thrust, the harder and bigger he became.
Grabbing the rope keeping her tied to the bed, she struggled to escape the pounding.
He loomed over her, licking and biting her nipples as his mighty cock pinned her small body to the bed. She flooded several times, and he laughed with each heated gush.
“A virgin who likes to fuck.” He grunted through a series of powerful strokes.
She cried out over and over. With each hoarse plea, his eyes glinted more.
Suddenly, he pulled out, put his hands beneath her ass, and repositioned their bodies. Pushing her legs back, she lay helpless as he lined up for the finale. She was bent with her pussy open and vulnerable and her legs on either side of her head.
With a crushing grip on her ankles, he plunged deep and thrust harder until her eyes rolled back in her head. Pleasure exploded, causing her body to jerk uncontrollably. Roman grunted heavily. She felt his cock expand.
Remembering at last the roles they were playing, she pleaded with him not to spill his seed inside her virgin pussy and tried to wiggle away.
Roaring with pleasure, he pulled out, fisted his throbbing cock, and stroked until his come exploded over her stomach.
She was trembling all over. He untied her hands and played with her dripping pussy. With his face an inch from hers, he growled, “Next time, I’ll be claiming your virgin ass.”
The sensual cocoon created by the fierce fucking left Kelly boneless and happy. She was scared shitless about the situation with Justice, but he kept assuring her that it would be a walk in the park. When he loved her like he just had, she had no choice but to willingly surrender.
Loving Roman Bishop was in her blood now. Until the moment that he had to leave, she intended to do everything she could to drive home that point.
Meghan didn’t see the last Justice team member arrive because she’d stayed in her room all day and rested. It was wearing on her nerves how everyone focused on her when all she could think about was Alex. She appreciated the love and concern but found it annoying.
Oddly, Carmen understood. Doing her best major domo, she demanded her phone and then kept everyone away and let Meghan decide what she needed, if anything. So she read a book and then fell asleep on the terrace for a short nap.
By late afternoon, she’d missed whatever activity had gone down and was glad for it. The highs and lows of pregnancy had trashed her normally serene emotional makeup. She didn’t like being a mess but couldn’t help it. The more she tried and the harder it got, the easier it was to beat herself up for it.
If there was a silver lining, it was that her apprehension meant everyone else went out of their way to normalize the bizarre situation unfolding before her eyes. And in turn, that meant an air of relative calm hung over everything. Much better than having all of them spinning out of control.
There was a soft knock on the door. “Meesus Meghan?”
“Come in, Carmen.” She turned in time to see an enormous arrangement of white roses where Carmen ought to be. In the center of the bouquet was one bright green rose.
Meghan caught her breath sharply and put a hand on her chest. Alex had given her a similar arrangement a long time ago—when things between them were uncertain. She remembered the card with his scrawl on it—matter of fact, it was in her jewelry box. He’d written that the green rose was a symbol of hope and optimism.
Just as she had then, Meghan inhaled deeply and willed the intoxicating scent to fill her senses. Calm her soul.
She married an uncommon man, and his gestures were not one-offs. He remembered the smallest moments and kept things close to his heart. She heard the message he was sending with her heart.
Carmen set the big arrangement on the table between their chairs. “From your husband,” the stately Latina warmly informed her. “He’s a good man,” she murmured.
Meghan could feel how proud the woman was of Alex and smiled.
“I will bring dinner to your room.”
“No,” Meghan swiftly replied. “I’ve hidden long enough. I should go downstairs.”
“No, you should not,” Carmen told her with a sly grin. She went to the door and came back lugging a folding table. Then she dragged two chairs and a big paper shopping bag.
Meghan stood to the side when Carmen waved her away and watched as Carmen put up the table, covered it with a pretty tablecloth, and put a votive candleholder in the center.
When there was no longer any doubt what was going on, she looked at Meghan and grinned. “The meester will be along soon.”
Because she couldn’t resist, Meghan squeezed the woman’s forearm gently and teased her about the accent she put on and took off like shoes. “You know, in the beginning, I wasn’t so sure you even spoke English! How was I supposed to know that Spanish was your second language?”
“Be serious. I still get the phrases wrong. But it’s funny, sí?”
She gave her a wink. “Do you speak the Spanish to Duke?”
Meghan was yanking her chain and didn’t expect an answer, so when Carmen giggled, she looked at her twice. “His grasp of my language is limited to menu items.”
“Men.” Meghan smirked.
Carmen dashed off, leaving her to spend a few minutes at her vanity. She didn’t do much more than brush her hair and make sure she didn’t have dark circles under her eyes.
Her favorite loungewear at the moment was a lace trimmed V-neck cami with thick straps and a pair of super soft sleep pants. Nothing to write home about in the sexy times category, but she was comfortable, and that was what counted.
When Alex finally arrived, she was on the terrace. Leaning against the wall, she stared into the darkness as the cool nighttime breeze played with her hair. She knew he was there before he had made his presence known. The beast was awake—although tightly leashed—and she’d sensed his restless hunger.
Without turning around, she thanked him for the flowers. “They’re beautiful.”
“Like my wife,” he growled close to her ear when he stepped up to her from behind.
“Come,” he demanded in a thick drawl that set her nerve endings crackling. “I must feed you before …”
“Before what?”
He stared her down.
Holding out her chair, he played the courtly gentleman—only with a dirty flair that made her heart sing.
/> “Sit, my fiery goddess. Eat. You will need the fuel for later.”
Knowing he was seducing her did strange things to her body. Her husband’s masterful command and magnetic pull made her putty in his hands.
He pulled his chair close to hers and fed her while they talked. Sometimes, the beast enjoyed the hunt. This was one of those times, and she loved every second.
She kept eating because the spell he wove was too enthralling to cut short. By the time they shared her favorite gooey lemon bar, Meghan would willingly dance naked on the table if he asked her to.
Completely aware of what he was doing and the effort her husband made, she opened herself to the energy they were creating.
He spoiled her with pretty words and played with her hair—praised her beauty in very vivid sexual detail. He also didn’t ask what she needed ... because he already knew.
When he was ready, and she was about as willing and pliant as possible, he lovingly removed her clothes and brought out the rope he knew she craved.
Heady excitement carried on waves of calm filled her body and soul as he applied the soft bindings. His focus was intense, and she quivered from the attention. He’d gone the extra mile this time, turning her pregnant body into a work of art.
Watching him walk around the bed and admire his handiwork, she purred her delight and posed for his pleasure.
He leaned over and kissed her until her moans became desperate.
“Touch me,” she begged.
He studied every inch of her naked, bound body and leered with suggestive intent.
“Not yet, my Irish rose. Your fuck goddess hasn’t been called from her hiding place just yet.”
“Alex,” she moaned.
He stroked her face then ran a finger down her throat, between her trussed breasts, and lower still until he reached the soft curls on her mound. If he was trying to make her crazy, it was working.
“You know what to do,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes and went inside. Her heart was beating fast, and she was panting.
He was doing this for her.
He knew what she needed.
In the midst of everything else, he’d planned this scene and taken her right to the edge. Was there any question at all why she loved him so damn much?
Her ears picked up sounds as he moved around the room. He kissed her stomach and fondled her breasts.
“Ready?”
She nodded, took a deep breath, and opened her eyes. He was staring deeply, mere inches from her face. “I love you,” he growled.
A tear leaked from her eye and went into her hairline. “Kiss me.” She sighed.
He held her chin and ravished her mouth. Then he stood tall, and she saw that he’d shed his clothes and was only wearing his briefs. He also had a flogger in his hand. The ones with the soft felt nubs on the end of each lash.
Soft music played in the background. When the flogger touched her skin, she instantly mellowed. The thuds against her naked body alternated between hard and soft. She purred and kept her eyes on Alex as he went through a choreographed routine that was simply beautiful to behold. He made wielding a flogger akin to a work of art.
He’d restrained her hands by binding them to her thighs. This made her legs part and bend at the knees. There was no way to close her legs with her belly in the way.
Something touched her face. He showed her the cutest mini-flogger—the lashes no longer than six inches and made from soft, thick felt. She knew the small floggers were for targeted stimulation. Her body heated and flooded with liquid excitement.
Unable to remain quiet, Meghan voiced her pleasure as Alex’s expert use of the two devices sent her flying. He teased her mound with the tiny flogger until she was on the brink of an orgasm.
With a series of authoritative strokes, he sent her over the cliff. She came with a strangled cry.
When she could focus again, she found him removing his briefs and watched as his majestic cock sprang to life. She whimpered at the sight of his big hand wrapped around the substantial girth.
He climbed on the bed and moved between her legs. She groaned as he entered her body.
“Is this okay?” he asked in a harsh guttural voice.
“Oh, Alex,” she whimpered. “Yes, please. Please, more.”
She marveled at the control he exhibited by slowly stroking, going deep, and then retreating. His arms shook from the effort of holding his body off hers. Each time his hips flexed, she felt the little undulation at the end of his thrusts that never failed to touch that certain spot, and she cried out.
Her body unexpectedly hurtled toward another stronger climax. She started to shake.
He kissed her and licked her lips. “Nothing will ever part us, Meghan. Nothing.”
He stroked until they both shattered. She was flying someplace in the clouds when he bit her neck and left what she knew would be one hell of a mark.
The process of releasing the ropes left her wiped out and boneless after two shaking orgasms. Her mind was blissfully calm, and every thought made sense.
Knowing how hard she struggled, her very wise husband gave her something he’d withheld out of fear for the babies. Fears she hoped he now saw were unfounded.
Cuddled in their bed, safe in Alex’s arms, and feeling the return of some of the confidence that had been in short supply recently, Meghan drifted off into the first deep sleep she’d had in days.
“What’s going on, you two?” Brody asked as he stood in Bella’s doorway. Heather was right behind him leaning against his back, chuckling softly in his ear with her hands on his waist.
Bella and Matty looked up at him. They were kneeling on either side of Bella’s bed.
“Teachin’ Bella ‘bout gratitude. I gotta say what I’m grateful for each day.”
“Aww,” Heather murmured. “He’s so damn cute.”
“Did you take Georgie out, Daddy?”
“Yep. All taken care of. Now let’s get you two situated. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Your mom is taking you and Matty to the stable.”
Brody loved Bella’s ginormous grin every time he addressed Heather as Mom.
“I’m grateful for Snowflake,” she shouted excitedly.
“Everything okay, honey?” Heather asked over his shoulder. She was looking at the boy.
“Sure,” he said in a funny kid voice. “I do sleepovers at Sam and Gigi’s all the time.”
Bella provided the context. “Matty’s grandparents.”
He and Heather nodded their understanding and murmured, “Ohhh.”
“So you’re okay with being away from Kelly?” Heather asked.
The boy giggled. “Sure. I’m a big kid. Kiki knows I’ll be good.”
“Your mom’s name is Kelly?” Bella asked.
His daughter’s gasp struck Brody as curious. So did the way Heather and their daughter looked at each other with wide eyes. Like they were sharing a secret.
He gave a little headshake to clear his thoughts. There were so many names and blurred connections swirling that he couldn’t keep track of it all. Families today had loads of squiggly lines and asterisks on the family tree.
“Yeah, Kelly Anne James,” he proudly crowed. “She’s an artist. Did you know?”
His baby Bella was such a fierce badass that Brody paused to consider the slack-jawed expression on her face. Bella was never at a loss for words, but something about this bedtime exchange stole the words from her mouth.
Heather patted his ass and shoved him aside to push past and do her nighttime mom routine. She checked for brushed teeth and eyeballed their hands and faces as both kids lined up for inspection. It was incredibly cute. Brody mentally placed the image into the future, added a couple of more kids, and smiled.
She pulled an ottoman from the foot of Bella’s bed and shoved it between the bed and the air mattress on the floor. They had several guest rooms available but the kids ixnayed that idea right out of the gate.
After double-checking to
be sure everyone was adequately tucked in, Heather sat on the ottoman and magically produced a book out of thin air. It was story time at the Jensen residence.
As it did frequently, his mind drifted to the past. Not the distant past and the shit he’d rather not think about but just the past twelve months. One year that changed his life in ways he could never have imagined.
He shifted on his feet when an uncomfortable twinge roiled his gut. It had been a long damn time since he’d had a PTSD episode. Years. But if he ever imagined by the passage of time that he was somehow clear of that garbage, he’d been thoroughly disabused of that notion.
It wasn’t just the gunfire. He’d found ways to cope with it when the occasional activity in the compound made it inevitable. But those times were things he could put on his calendar. Prepare for it. What happened last week was entirely different. Distracted and caught off guard, he’d felt the timing of each shot as it fired off hitting his nerves like blasts from a flamethrower.
A deluge of sensory memories took him under. He could smell the heat and his own sweat. Remembered the feel of the relentless sun baking him into the ground as he lay for hours with his eye pressed against a gun scope. The sounds, though, were what rattled his cage.
“Shooter, by eye, three alpha.” The voice belonged to his spotter, Dave O’Neill. His job was to feed Brody tactical information. Remembering Dave’s thick New York accent triggered more shit than he could deal with.
Taking a bullet to the head was nothing compared to the horror of finding out that while they were lining up a target, someone else had them in kill shot range. From some invisible location, a double tap ended Dave’s life and sent a bullet whizzing close enough to Brody’s head that it struck the edge of his skull and ricocheted off. Dave’s promising future as an English teacher evaporated under the Iraq sun. Brody’s sniper career was over, and a lifetime of sometimes blinding headaches began.
What shocked him more than the episode itself was how Heather reacted. Though they’d spent several years in the same PTSD support group, the issues at the time had all been hers. He’d done plenty of Heather rescues in their time together.
Everlasting (Family Justice Book 6) Page 37