“Can I ask you a question?”
“Aww . . .” Meghan smiled warmly. “You can ask me anything. You know that.”
“Okay, well . . . you and Alexander seem so well matched but that’s now. When did you know? For sure.”
Meghan smiled sort of wistfully. “I felt something immediately, but I knew for sure when I left him. I loved him and walking away nearly killed me, but he had to decide what was more important. The future or the past. Until he did, we had nothing.”
Sounded like the narrative swirling in her brain. It was funny how she and her brother both came to that moment when letting go of the past became the key to having a future. Could she do it? Just move past one awful moment in time and rethink the future?
“Of course,” Meghan drawled mockingly, “once that control freak brother of yours decided . . . well, my life has been completely taken over. So there’s that.”
They laughed. Angie knew it was true. Alex was seriously overprotective of Meghan.
“You know what would be funny?” she chirped.
Meghan quirked an eyebrow.
“A tattoo. Why don’t you get a tattoo? Maybe have Alex put on your butt.”
Instead of laughing off the suggestion, Meghan actually seemed to think it over. “A tattoo has possibilities.”
“Really?” Angie squeaked. “This is epic! I want to get some ink before I turn thirty. Now, I know it’s still a ways off,” she smirked, “but I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”
“What would you get?” Meghan asked.
“Wanna see? I have some drawings in my binder.” Reaching for the overflowing notebook, she opened it carefully and flipped a couple of pages. Pointing, she said, “Like this. Really small, though.”
“Are those angel wings?”
“Yeah,” Angie replied. “They’re cool, huh?”
“Wow,” Red murmured as she checked out the page of drawings. “They’re really pretty. I like these,” she said with a finger on a particularly beautiful pair of delicate, feminine looking wings.
“Have you ever considered getting something inked?” she asked.
Meghan grunted out a deep chuckle. “I’m considering it now.”
She flipped through a few more pages and stopped. “What this?” she asked. “It looks familiar.”
Angie peered at the notebook to see what she was referring to.
“Ah. That. Those are mock-ups of the family crest. For the new label design Sophie is working on. She took the original emblem and had it cleaned up to be more modern and easier to see. It’s cool, don’t you think?”
Meghan bent over the page and studied the drawings intently. “Which one did you go with?”
“The one with the black griffin and the vines.”
“Hmmm.”
“What are you thinking, Meghan?”
Red looked at her with a huge grin. “I’m thinking you and I are getting tattoos.”
Angie fell over onto her side laughing. “Alex said our mom would kill me if I got a tattoo. I can’t wait to see his face when it’s you with the ink!”
“IT’S BEEN A WHOLE YEAR since we met,” Victoria purred. “Do you remember? I do. Every single detail.”
Her wet tongue swirled in and around his ear, making Drae shudder. When he heard her soft, “Mmmm,” she sounded like she’d just tasted the food of the gods when all she’d really done was suck on his earlobe.
Excitement had him by the balls. His heart was thumping heavily, and his chest was rising and falling with each heavy breath. She smelled like coconut and warm vanilla and those devastating brown chocolate eyes of hers were lit with a wicked gleam.
Straddling his middle, Victoria met his gaze with unblinking focus.
“You were sitting under some twinkle lights in your tuxedo.” Two hands reached for his head and massaged his scalp. “In the soft light, your hair looked golden, and I thought maybe you were some sort of fallen angel.” She snickered softly, adding, “Or a sexy Viking.”
She ran her fingers from his chin down his throat to the top of his chest. “Your tie was undone and the top buttons of your shirt open. I thought you were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.”
When she leaned in and licked his Adam’s apple, then moved lower and pressed a soft kiss in the center of his chest, Drae groaned.
“Victoria,” he warned her gruffly—to no avail. All he had were words because his precocious wife had tied his hands to their bed. She was totally in charge and fuck almighty was he ferociously turned on.
The little witch laughed at his distress. Planting her hands on either side of his head, she rose up on her knees to hover over him, close enough that her long mess of curls brushed his skin. She was looking at him like he was a ten-pound box of chocolates and she was deciding which one to devour first. Not sure, but Drae was pretty certain his toes curled.
“Yes,” she cooed seductively. “You growled just like that—trying to scare me.”
His chest surged when he grunted, remembering well their first encounter. Nothing in his life had been the same from that moment on. Thank fucking god.
She lifted away and reached out to touch the ropes binding him to the bed. They both knew he could extricate himself from her girly knots in seconds, but he was always eager to play with his sexy wife. She restrained him just enough that he was able to tense against the ropes, and Drae found that he rather liked the loss of control even though it was more a suggestion than a fact.
Gracefully climbing off him while he groaned his disappointment, she drifted her fingers one last time from his throat straight down to the top of his low briefs. Goddammit.
Drae watched her with excited intensity. Everything she did was for effect. Leaving him lying there, arms wide and tied, naked and vulnerable except for his underwear—she drifted away and left him alone with his anticipation.
Looking delicious and seductive in the low lighting, he drank her in with hungry eyes. His little wife had positively bloomed since giving birth. It was unreal how natural motherhood came to her. She was rounder now. Softer. Every inch the sexy Madonna with her ripe breasts and gentle curves.
And the best part? She apparently loved the way she looked because, oh my fucking god, had she ever turned into a twenty-four seven tease. Shit, man, he had a new item in the budget besides the baby stuff. Keeping her hot ass in lingerie and those sexy costumes she tormented him with was costing him an assload. Not that he was complaining any.
Wearing something that looked like it came out of the Fuck Me catalog, she was dressed to thrill. The killer shoes she slid her feet into were a walking advertisement for a style that had to be called the Screaming O. He very much liked how heels made Victoria’s naughty hips sway and when a pair of sheer black thigh-high stockings with sexy lace tops were added, well . . . c’mon.
Tonight though, the pièce de résistance of her risqué outfit was a pair of black panties that nearly stole his sanity. Made up entirely of lace and ribbon, they, along with the matching bra, were a triumph of sensual engineering. With her ass cheeks barely covered, a series of criss-cross ribbons with a dainty little bow framed her beautiful bottom. Same for her tits. Beautifully presented for his pleasure.
She approached the bed from the bottom. Drae strained to lift his head enough to see what she was doing. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she put a hand on his ankle and casually caressed.
“You’ll need to stay still, okay?”
He nodded his head and grunted. Fuck. He’d try to but her touch, no matter how brief or innocent was driving him wild.
Drae felt her put something on the bed near his feet a second before she climbed onto the mattress. He heard the shoes thunk on the floor as she slipped them off.
She chuckled. “I like it when you growl at me.”
Really? Okay. He growled low and deep, which only made her laugh more. It was her dainty hand sweeping up a leg that stopped any more sound from coming out of him.
“Let’s see if
we can release the beast, hmmm?”
He sucked in a breath. Oh, my god.
“This might get messy,” she murmured as if to herself. “The briefs have to go.”
Well, shit. Drae had to admit that tending to their son’s butt gave her a certain flair when it came time to whip the cotton molded to his bulging erection off his body. But instead of tossing the unnecessary clothing aside, she smirked and with a saucy wink, wadded up the fabric and placed it directly on his throbbing dick.
Not content to simply cover him, she took advantage of the situation and explored him through the cotton. When her fingers made contact with his balls, he moaned loudly. Victoria’s hands fondling him that way never failed to reduce Drae to a mass of quivering flesh.
“You know I get distracted by, um . . . visuals,” she purred.
Yeah? Him, too. He closed his eyes and tried to rein in the thundering desire running rampant inside him.
Next thing he knew, she was kneeling between his legs and pushing them further apart as if she needed more room. Now, he felt vulnerable. Hands tied—legs spread wide.
And then she giggled—which made his cock surge—which got his heart thumping—which made his breathing ragged.
A sound, something he couldn’t immediately make out, snagged his senses. There was an odd sensation on his ankle and then the sound again.
“When you growled at me that first time, I wondered if that was something you always did. Or if I could make you. Now that I know a little more about what turns the notorious Draegyn St. John to mush, I intend to harness that beastly grunt and make it my own.”
And then he felt something cold and soft drift up his leg.
“The ankle bone’s connected to the shin bone,” she murmured. “And the shin bone connects to the knee.”
Whipped cream. Jesus fucking Christ. She was squirting whipped cream from his ankle to his knee.
When she began licking the ribbons of goo off his flesh, Draegyn twitched in his restraints and grunted.
“Fuuuck.”
Playing him perfectly, she took her goddamn good time, doing the same to his other leg until her insatiable lips and tongue had lapped up the mounds of sweet cream.
Sitting back on her feet, she looked at him as she swiped her tongue across her lips to catch any leftover dribbles.
“Have anything to say?” she asked huskily.
He wasn’t dumb. Drae growled at her, and in doing so, pretty much let his inner barbarian loose. She wanted him pumped up and at her mercy. No fucking problem.
Satisfied with his response, she settled and reached for the spray can again.
“Fuck, I love whipped cream.” Taunting him, she dropped her head back and opened her mouth wide. Holding the can a few inches away, she pressed the nozzle and a blast of white oozed onto her waiting tongue. The move was so provocative and carnal, he couldn’t help but moan.
Her smug leer told him that she was pleased by his reaction.
“Now, where was I?” She looked around with a hilariously adorable expression then chirped, “Oh, right!” and shook the can still held in her hand.
“So . . . the knee bone’s connected to the thigh bone.”
With all the focus and intensity of a civil engineer, she made a circle around his knee then drew a line straight up his thigh where it connected with his torso.
He could see her now when he tilted his head. She was holding her hair out of the way as she bent over him and licked the whipped cream, making quiet sounds of satisfaction as she moved up his hairy thigh. He felt his leg quiver and sex swell with need.
Before she moved to the other leg, she sat up quickly, her hand holding her hair, and grinned at him. White globs of cream stuck to her nose and chin.
“Messy business.” She chuckled. “Clean me up.”
She rose up and put her face near his mouth, a signal he willingly answered. Sticking his tongue out, Drae lapped at the white globs, removing them from her nose, chin, and around her lips. No kissing. Just lots of licking accompanied by a symphony of growls.
Then she replayed the knee to thigh bone tease on the other side. He was so close to being out of his mind with arousal that Drae was fighting to stay still and do as he was told.
From there, she tested his control in every way possible. With his entire torso as a canvas, she became a master artist, drawing naughty objects and writing vulgar terms all over his skin before using her tongue and lips to erase her handiwork.
Thinking that was it, he steadied himself, hoping she’d teased him enough and would get down to business. He was wrong.
What was a can or two of whipped cream without some fresh strawberries to go along with it?
From someplace just beyond his periphery, she produced a beautiful big strawberry that she bit into with a sexy moan. With half the juicy fruit gone, she was left holding the green leafy stem as she chewed and licked her lips.
Unf. Why the fuck were his hands tied? He wanted to kiss her. Wanted to taste the ripe fruit on her tongue. He pulled restlessly against his bindings and squirmed.
With a wicked gleam in her eyes, she used the half-eaten berry as a paintbrush on his chest, swirling it around one of his nipples until his flesh was wearing bits of the fruit.
“Oh fuck, Victoria,” he groaned helplessly as she set about licking and sucking the fragrant strawberry from his body.
They went through half a dozen big juicy berries as she went to town all over him, switching back and forth between the strawberries and the whipped cream. By the end of what she planned, his cock was visibly twitching beneath the wadded up briefs and he was seriously contemplating hulking out on the ropes and either sliding from the knots or simply snapping the wooden bed frame into pieces so he could throw her wicked ass onto the mattress and fuck the shit out of her.
“Open your mouth,” she demanded. When he did, she squirted a bubble of cream into his mouth then fell on him for a kiss that set him on fire.
He tried to follow her lips when she pulled away and roared with frustration when the ropes stopped him.
“Untie me, wife,” he ordered. Ha! Who was he trying to kid?
She smiled wickedly. “Oh, baby. I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
Reaching behind her back, she unhooked the bra, and turned taking it off into a five-minute performance worthy of Dita Von Teese.
Using an arm to conceal her breasts from his eager gaze, she peeled the bra off and tossed it aside, shrieking with laughter when it landed atop a bedside light.
“That would be why we can’t have a housekeeper,” she jested, overcome by giggles. “Our clothes draped over the railings and leaving a trail, one floor to another, would be hard to explain.”
Drae glanced at the black scrap of lace lingerie and smiled. Somehow, it looked so right flung upon the lampshade, one end hanging down to the nightstand and a lacy cup pointing toward the ceiling.
But what really looked right, and fucking awesome, and hotter than hell was the sight of Victoria’s dainty hands, cupping and massaging her drool-worthy breasts. Currently in competition with his greedy son for who got more nipple time, Drae was more than happy to share. There was something downright mind-boggling about his wife nursing their son. If ever he was M.I.A. from the compound, it was probably because he was helplessly fascinated with watching Victoria take Daniel to her breast. He’d spent hours drinking in the sight of his two loves, curled up in her favorite chair, while their son latched onto a nipple and went to town.
As if reading his one-track mind, she crawled up his torso and dangled a very pouty looking nipple close to his lips. With Victoria still actively nursing, he had to go easy on her, but she loved having her tits take center stage and he was eager to feel the puckered nub on his tongue.
“Easy,” she purred softly as Drae started flicking his tongue against her swollen flesh.
Within seconds, he felt goosebumps break out on her skin as she sighed and quivered so sweetly.
She let
him gently suckle, shivered when he nipped and bit, and moaned along with Drae as he licked the plump rounds.
And then . . . well, without much warning, she got big time aggressive. What she did to his body and his psyche with her teeth, lips, and tongue took him to the outer reaches of sensual oblivion. When she bit him, she actually really fucking bit him. With his hands tied, her marking him with her teeth as he lay there helplessly was about the hottest thing ever. He liked being at her mercy.
Right about the time she left a burning love bite below his navel, he lost what was left of his control.
“Victoria,” he growled low, deep and menacing. “Untie me . . .”
Her answer to his harshly barked demand? She just shimmied into a better position wedged between his spread thighs, tore the wadded up briefs from his groin, and used both hands to wrestle his throbbing hard-on into submission.
“Ahhhh,” he moaned, thrashing on the bed as she worked his manly flesh with heart-pounding sensuality.
Pumping his cock with slow, firm strokes, he literally lost his shit when she added a twist near the super sensitive head, punctuating the whole movement with a sexy sounding, “Mmmmm.”
Drae pulled against the restraints and grunted. She did it again. And again. And again. The fingers of one hand slid under his balls and began fondling as the other continued to stroke. Yeah. He wasn’t going to last much longer if she kept that up.
Yanking forcefully on the ropes, careful not to accidentally ruin her fun by freeing himself, Drae dug his heels into the mattress and began thrusting his hips.
Growling like an animal in heat, he demanded gruffly, “Fuck me or suck me, woman.”
She smiled sweetly, openly amused by his loss of control.
“Suck and fuck sounds good to me.”
So she did.
“ALEX WENT AHEAD,” MEGHAN TOLD Angie as they bumped along an old dirt road in one the Villa’s fancy electric carts on their way to this special spot everyone kept rhapsodizing about.
“Wait till you see what Draegyn did out here! He built a pergola and a couple of benches, and next, we’re building a hearth.”
Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) Page 19