Unforgettable (Family Justice Book 5)

by Suzanne Halliday

Patting her hands where they sat clasped on top of the table, Heather snickered and grinned. “Remington Bissett! Lady, you are a piece of work. I was referring to Finn O’Brien when I asked if there was anything you wanted to talk about. Girl, that hunk of half-ginger sizzling hotness has you on his radar.”

  Remy gulped and wondered if she looked like a mindless idiot.

  “But if you wanna talk about issues. Or triggers. Jesus, hon. Look around you and open your eyes. You came to the right place to dance with your demons because there’s not a one of these people who haven’t been exactly where you are.”

  “Fuck,” she growled. “Wore that one on my sleeve, huh?”

  Heather smiled and patted her hands a last time. “Relax. It’s a journey not a one-off. We all deal with our shit the best we know how.”

  Word.

  “So stop stalling and give me the four-one-one on you and the O’Brien kid. He hasn’t let you far from his sight, Remy, and if Brody hadn’t stepped in with Randy when he did, I think Finn might have made a scene.”

  She shrugged like it was all nothing but also snuck a peek at the man Heather referred to.

  “Yeah, well cocky brisket appears to have his hands full with Slutty Nurse.”

  Heather shrieked with laughter and rocked back on her chair. “Cocky brisket!” she hooted with a hand slapping the table. “Slutty nurse! Bwahahaha! Have you been hanging around Victoria or Angie because my god, girl—that shit was off-the-hook funny.”

  She smirked. “Nah. That’s what being a helo-jockey taught me. Have a black belt in snark. Only way to manage warrior testosterone.”

  “Wow. Haven’t ever heard it put quite that way.” Heather was looking at her strangely. “You’re a bad ass Remy. If I wore a hat, I’d be tipping it.”

  Justice had a way of moving in waves. Without warning a stream of familiar faces began appearing around the table. Heather glanced at her with a look of happy resignation. For now anyway, their conversation was over.

  “Princess, I swear on all that’s holy. You keep on dancing like that and your Leia braid is going to come in handy later when I teach you some restraint.”

  Angie giggled as she twirled playfully in a circle around her unusually grumpy alpha. Sheesh. You’d think he’d be in a better mood. After all, she’d taken matters into her own hands, er uh mouth, not that long ago and done quite a slobbering number on Parker’s grandé sized blaster.

  Oh my god. Blaster. Cock. Get it? She laughed and danced, filled with happiness and a great deal of naughty mischief. One well-delivered blowjob, knees and everything, was just the tip of her over-sexed iceberg tonight. Below the surface she was on a slow simmer and before the evening was over planned to have her big, growling man in every position possible.

  Twining around his huge frame, she rubbed seductively in all the right places and sighed. Her arms loosely banded around his neck, she played with the hair on the back of his head and licked his neck.

  “Do you love me, Parker?”

  Coming from nowhere, she was startled by her own question.

  “You know I do.”

  Hmph. That wasn’t the answer she wanted. Maybe she’d asked the wrong question. “Why? Why do you love me?”

  With all the activity going on around them this was an insane time to ask such a serious question but she didn’t plan these things. Right now, here…in this moment. That was the question she needed to ask.

  He led her, smoothly and with an unhurried ease that said so much about him to an out-of-the-way corner, drawing Angie into the shadows. Parker knew when a serious vibe required special handling. One of many reasons why she loved him so completely.

  Leaning a shoulder against the wall, he made the Han Solo get-up look damn good due in no small part to his being a spectacular specimen of good looking m-a-n.

  Looping both thumbs into his belt, he grinned at her with a cheeky leer that set the barely there bikini bottom on fire.

  “You know, I was gonna try and be serious. Answer your question. But you sizing me up for the main course is making it kind of difficult. Think you can dial back some of the fuck-me-now lip licking long enough for me to offer my opening statement?”

  Oooh. She loved it when he wagged his head and got all smirky.

  “Anyway,” he drawled, painfully enunciating each syllable. He reached out and traced a finger around her lips. “That’s a hard question to answer, angel. I’ve known you your whole life so it’s not as if one thing stands out. But I can tell you this.”

  She moved closer with her hands on his waist as she looked up into his handsome face.

  “I remember the day you were born, baby girl. It was the first time I’d been inside a hospital. Me and Alex were dumb ass kids, still in elementary school.”

  Angie smiled.

  “My dad was in charge of bringing the two of us to the hospital. He lectured us the whole way there about behaving and being gentlemen. God,” he chuckled, “I remember he was constantly drilling that into my head. The walk to Aunt Ashleigh’s room in the maternity ward felt like we were being led someplace solemn. But all that seriousness vanished the minute we were ushered into her room. There was a goddamn party going on with balloons and cake and pizza!”

  She’d never heard this version of her birth before. “For real?”

  “Absolutely, angel,” he teased with a gentle tap on her nose. “The way I remember it, you were a party from day one.”

  She snorted an inelegant giggle. “Being the result of a we-got-drunk-and-frisky pregnancy is a fun way to come into this world.”

  “Indeed,” he huskily growled. “Your dad took me and that dumb ass brother of yours over to a clunky looking hospital bassinette and pointed. “Come on boys. Say hello to our new angel. Alex and I rolled our eyes. And then my mother said, Angelina is her name.”

  He touched her almost reverently. Like he was remembering that first meeting. His hands swept gently up and down her bare arms.

  “Angelina Valleja-Marquez, your dad said. We peered into the bassinette and at first all I saw was a blob of nothing. Alex was supremely unimpressed but I remember being curious. And excited. So I looked closer. You were wrapped in a pink blanket and had a pink cap on so all I could see was your tiny face.”

  He traced her lips again and then held onto her shoulders. The look of bottomless love in his expression turned her to jelly.

  “You were so beautiful angel baby and I know this is gonna sound mental but I swear. With that first glance? I had some ten-year-old’s Namaste moment or something where my soul recognized yours.”

  She gasped slightly and bit her bottom lip. The tears welling in her eyes quickly started pouring down her cheeks.

  “So to answer your question Angelina Valleja-Marquez. I’ve loved you since the day you were born. There is no how. There is no why. There is only your soul and my soul. Forever joined. Forever, baby girl.”

  And then he gifted her the sweetest kiss in the history of kisses, going all the way back to the dawn of time. His tongue softly traced the fullness of her lips sending shivers of desire though her. The sound of a needy moan swirled in her brain and then his lips covered hers and his tongue sought entry into her mouth.

  His masterful kiss set her on fire and unleashed a heady mix of desire and ecstasy. She surrendered instantly. His firm, insistent mouth demanded a response so she kissed him back with a ravenous hunger.

  Raising his lips off hers, he gazed into her eyes and brushed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

  “Don’t give up on me, counselor,” she whispered.

  “From your first day angel baby, our souls have been connected. I could never let you go.”

  16

  “Did you make a guess?” Alex chuckled. He shoved her on the bench to make room and sat down with a thud.

  “No. Would feel like cheating somehow.”

  “How so?”

  Meghan jostled his hulking body with her shoulder and made an evil sounding laugh. “Because a count-th
e-candy-corns challenge was part of every school year and more than once I got stuck filling up and counting one of those damn mason jars.”

  “Ah,” he drawled. “Unfair advantage.”

  “Yep,” she snickered.

  “You could give me a hint, ya’ know. Help the poor old guy out. Be kind of sweet to win a flat screen TV.”

  Looking at his feigned outrage she gave him a playful what-what. “Major Marquez,” she ground out. “You have enough flat screens to outfit a hotel as it is. One more would be overkill.”

  “Party pooper,” he jested.

  Dropping a lovely, firm kiss onto her lips he took control of her hand as she reached for the pretzel bowl. Bringing it to his mouth he nonchalantly drew a finger into his mouth and sucked on it until she glared him down.

  “Alex,” she warned gravely.

  A ballsy grin was his best answer. “I hate these guys,” he drawled in time with the overly thunderous bass beat coming from the stage. “Fucking seriously? Wham? Someone needs to kick Josh Gordon’s ass before he go-goes.”

  She snickered and made a comically pouty frown. “Oh, what? So The Chixie Dicks suck because you don’t like eighties dance music?”

  “Something like that,” he agreed with a boyish nod and arched brow. “So I need to be distracted before I start howling in pain.”

  “And your idea of distraction is depraved and dirty. Am I correct?”

  He nodded again like a too-eager kid with a present dangling before his eyes. Slapping his beefy hand on his chest a la Tarzan, he pointed at his T-shirt. “Beast need pussy.”

  “Alex!” she screeched as her eyes darted about to make sure no one heard him.

  With the face of an innocent he asked, “What? No good?”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re in a crowded bar—which reminds me. Shouldn’t you guys be getting ready to take the stage? Sounds like the Dicks are winding down.”

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little brain about ol’ thunder cock,” he assured her. “He’s always ready to rock out. Ah haha,” he chuckled. “I made a funny. Rocking out with thunder cock. Cool.”

  He snatched a handful of pretzels and started popping them in his mouth as he spoke. “Here’s what I’m thinking, wife.”

  Not calling her by her name was significant. She recognized the clue. Oh my god, she thought. He wants to play! Maybe all her drivel about keeping things normal got through to him.

  “You look quite fetching in your pretty yellow gown.”

  She found her husband’s ability to play with words quite the turn on. Fetching? She might be able to stifle a laugh but the shit-eating grin on her face? Not so much.

  Dusting pretzel crumbs and salt off his hands, he leaned close, looming over her with one arm on the back of the bench and the other on the table, caging her in. The beating of her heart picked up steam and thumped in her chest. She liked this particular physical power play.

  “Scoot closer,” he demanded in a gravelly voice. “Pull your dress up so you can swing your leg over mine.”

  Meghan inhaled sharply. Now that she knew what he wanted, her body was eager to get on with it.

  Calmly following his command, she shimmied on the bench and rearranged how she sat in a business-like way so as not to attract undue attention. Luckily, there was so much going on around them that having what looked like a private discussion in a corner gave them duck and cover.

  Her leg over his, she turned her body toward him and scooted until she was practically in his lap. From this position he only had to slide his hand beneath the fabric of her gown for easy access.

  “You are a bad man,” she whimpered when he leaned in like he was going to say something only to stay silent as his big warm hand landed on the skin of her thigh and stroked upward until his fingers were tugging at her panties. He started to move them aside only to shred the ribbon ties on each hip. So much for matching lingerie.

  Talking to her as if they were discussing changing the drapes in the living room, he leaned on the arm he kept on the table and put his chin in his hand. They appeared to be doing nothing more than talking. His hidden hand however was doing wicked things to her private parts.

  Matter-of-factly he drawled, “I prefer no panties. There’s something hot about knowing your pussy is mine whenever I want it.”

  A finger stroked the seam of her sex and she shuddered. Anticipation was such a bitch.

  “Sometimes I like when my lingerie ends up in tatters. I wear it for you, after all.”

  He chuckled. She felt the warmth of his breath on her face. “Lean back a bit, baby. That’s good,” he grunted when she shifted and her pussy opened. “Look at me, wife,” Alex growled.

  Starting to pant, she swung her gaze to his. Her body reacted to the wicked lust she found in his gaze by releasing a flood of moisture onto his questing fingers.

  With deliberate slowness, he separated her folds and pushed a finger deep until it was all she could do to stay still and not start frantically humping his hand.

  She grabbed a hold of his arm, the one on the table, and dug her nails into his skin. Her eyes burned as she stared helplessly, biting her lip to keep from moaning.

  “Meghan,” he groaned. “I love fingering your sweet pussy.”

  She wanted to agree and beg for more but if she wanted to come away from this erotic interlude with her dignity intact, she had to remain outwardly controlled.

  Alex’s thick, manly fingers slid in and out of her with a building intensity. He knew how to touch and tease her for maximum arousal. She was so wet and turned on that he had no trouble triggering full-blown wanton mayhem.

  “My sexy Irish Fuck Goddess,” he ground out.

  Squeezing his fingers, she could only stare at him with mute passion, her eyes begging him to finish it.

  That’s when the devil pressed two fingers deep, chuckling lustfully as he massaged her in a way that pushed Meghan right to the edge. When his thumb began circling her clit, she held on for dear life.

  Alex’s eyes blazed. He liked making her come. All the time. Any time. Anywhere. It was all good from his standpoint.

  “Does my naughty wife need to come?” His voice sounded deep and sexy. She nodded and bit her lip. Hot, sticky arousal was pouring from her body.

  Suddenly, his touch was gone. He’d pulled his hand away from her body. She shook her head no and dug her nails deeper into his arm.

  “I want the words, wife. You look at me and say the words. Speak your pleasure, baby.”

  Alex liked when she gave him back a little of his crude talk. He told her it made him feel powerful and focused on her because nothing mattered more to her sexy alpha Major beast than her pleasure.

  She relaxed her grip on his arm and spread her legs more. Once she begged he’d have no choice but to get her off, in public, while a hundred people milled around them.

  “Alex,” she ground out. “Please baby. Make me come.”

  He wasted no time, shoving his big fingers inside her again and rubbing the swollen nub of her clit. Fucking her with rapid, fierce stabs she held on as the tingling that announced her impending orgasm started in her spine and radiated outward.

  “So wet,” he murmured. “So fucking sexy.”

  Meghan rolled her hips once, twice, and then closed her eyes as a fierce climax detonated inside her. Alex’s fingers never stopped and despite bringing her to a bone melting orgasm, he didn’t appear to be doing anything more than having a conversation with his wife. He was that good.

  Momentarily satisfied despite her pussy’s continued pulsing for more, she smiled blissfully as he withdrew his hand, patting her mound as he murmured, “My wife is such a good girl.”

  He sounded rather pleased.

  “Lift your ass,” he directed. She did just slightly and felt him pulling the torn panties away from her body. “Don’t want these landing on the floor when you stand up.” His leer was priceless. Watching him surreptitiously stuff the shredded silk into his pocket
brought a soft moan from her.

  Then, with his eyes glued to hers, he made a fist and lifted his hand to his face. Pressing his nose near his thumb, he inhaled deeply and groaned.

  “Now I have your sweet scent on my fingers.”

  She almost went up in a flash fire of flames.

  He licked his middle finger. “Mmm. Essence of fuck goddess.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Have I told you yet what a bad man you are?”

  “Every damn day,” he sniggered proudly.

  “You do not play fair,” she pouted. Fussing with her elaborate Belle hair-style, Meghan gave him just enough side shade to earn a laugh. “You know damn well that all I can think of is how one-sided that just was.”

  “Your pleasure is my pleasure, wife.”

  He sounded so damn proud of himself that she wanted to pinch him. Men. Sheesh. She was tuned in to her hunky alpha beast in a way that meant he had the power to make her orgasm at the damn breakfast table without touching her and with only his words as foreplay. Unfair advantage as far as she was concerned.

  Of course, then there was the massive protrusion pressing against the front of her man’s well-worn jeans. Maybe not so unfair after all.

  “Tell you what.”

  She eyed him warily the second she realized the devious beast had a plan.

  “Remember the time we fucked like animals in the storage room behind the stage?”

  Not something she was ever likely to forget. Her beast had been in pain and needed her body for relief. A relief she was desperate to give and give she had with her panties dangling off her cowboy boot as he took her on a pile of crates with the force and passion of an animal in the wild.

  “I think we need to christen the new Pete’s with some sucky-fucky after the show. I can see it now. My beautiful Belle bent over a stack of boxes, her pretty yellow dress pushed up over her hips so her beast can pound her from behind.”

  While there was no doubt in her mind he intended to do exactly what he described, she played with him because it was too much fun not to.

  “Eh, I don’t know, Major. A repeat?” She shrugged and made a face. “Running out of material already?”