HE MUST HAVE DOZED OFF because one minute he’d been enjoying the simple delight of watching Angie sleep and the next he was struggling out of a dream that threatened to push him further than he wanted to go.
Pretty much the last thing this situation called for was an erotic fantasy involving Angie’s legs, his shoulders, and a pillow bunched up and shoved under her ass. Not good. Not good at all. There was only so much control he could cling to before something like that tripped him up. And no way was he going to fuck this up by getting naked with her in Alex’s house.
Inhaling deeply to try and shake off the dream’s aftermath, he ended up groaning when all that did was fill his senses with her alluring scent.
It hit him like a freight train rolling eighty miles an hour. Had he ever been fully present with anyone but her? He didn’t think so and was damn sure he’d never given two seconds of thought before to how anyone smelled.
A soft sigh drifted across his chest and she squirmed slightly in his embrace. It felt so good to hold her close. Something was happening inside him. No. Not the ever-present hard-on he lived with twenty-four seven. This was different. Feeling immersed in her smell. Caring about her feelings. The simple pleasure of holding her close. These were not things that existed in his world before. She was changing him.
The angel sleeping in his arms sighed and quite adorably, rubbed her face on his chest with a quiet moan—settled, then sighed again.
“Mmmm.” Her voice rumbled slightly and sounded husky. “I was dreaming.”
Pushing off him with a murmured, “Oh,” she moved the hair from her face and looked at him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “Did I fall asleep?”
Parker smiled and thought, Ah yes—that moment when you wake up and ask the obvious.
He glanced at the clock on the bookcase. “Just for a few minutes. Was it a good dream?”
When she sat up the blanket slipped off her shoulders giving him his first really good view of what she was wearing and oh, dear god, what was it about silk and lace that made a guy’s dick throb?
He knew precious little about what women wore to bed. Sleeping wasn’t an activity that mattered much when all he’d ever done was hook-up. Sex was sex. There was an established protocol . . . all superficial. Drinks or dinner. Occasionally a show or a social engagement. No strings attached fucking.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Nighties and practical shit? Yeah, whatever.
Gathering her hair into a tail, she told him with innocent surprise, “You were in it.”
He chuckled. Well, he’d been dreaming about her as well, but he bet his mental picture was a fuckton lustier than anything her sleep-drunk mind had conjured up.
Running his finger over the swell of her breasts above the flimsy silk nightie, he husked, “Did I behave myself?” Not even the dim light of the room could conceal the prickling of her skin beneath his gentle touch.
She actually thought about it! Hehehe. Un-fucking-believable. Someone else might have been ready with a practiced line and played a part in an attempt to gain his attention. Angie didn’t have a coy bone in her body. When she was shy or reserved, it was genuine and not some pretense.
At the sound of a muffled chuckle, he dragged his hungry gaze from her flesh and found she was giggling with a hand firmly over her mouth. “Oh, you were very well behaved.”
Ooookay. Pulling on a curl, he kidded her tenderly, “Are you saying that you weren’t well behaved? I find that hard to believe. Your performance earlier at Pete’s was perfectly well behaved!”
Her whole body moved causing nearly permanent impairment to his manhood when she adorably crossed her arms and huffed dramatically. “That was not the time to be ladylike, sir,” she snarked with a frowny face.
Unf. Control was becoming an intention rather than a requirement. Supremely conscious of their circumstances and where they were had Parker struggling. Need was a mighty opponent—one he was losing to.
“The fiery spirit you have is a good thing, Angel.”
She stopped frowning. And breathing.
“Your passion excites me.”
They stared deeply into each other’s eyes.
In a small voice, she asked, “Do you want me, Parker?”
“How is this even a question?” He growled and rolled his hips beneath her, driving his steely cock against her bottom for emphasis.
“I think I needed to hear you say it,” she admitted.
Not sure where this was going, he issued a muttered warning, “I absolutely want you, but that doesn’t mean I’m making love to you in this house.”
Better to get that out there and be firm about it. He’d deal with the disappointed fallout if there were any.
The stunning smile that made her face glow rattled his ability to function and the suspicion that he’d somehow just handed her the upper hand made him twitchy.
Wiggling her naughty ass on his lap, she wrenched the blanket from beneath her and tossed it aside with a hearty grunt, “Ugh.”
Without missing a beat, the sexy nymph stood then gracefully sank down, pressing open his thighs as she did, ending on her knees between his open legs. Her hands immediately went to his chest, landing with palms flat on his shoulders.
Grinning wickedly she dug her nails in and firmly clawed her way down to the top of his waistband. “I’m so glad you’re clear on what you won’t do. It’s good to have that spelled out.”
Drawing figures on his naked stomach, she smirked at him from time to time with a pout that made him nervous.
No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Uh-uh. Nope. No way.
“What are up to?” he asked warily. The effect her nails had on his flesh was shocking. It was a miracle he didn’t embarrass himself by coming right then and there.
“That’s odd,” she purred. “You asked the same thing in my dream.”
She’s trying to kill me, right?
“Cut it out. Stop messing around, Angie.” There. He told her!
She snickered and moved her hands up to caress his pecs. “Said that, too.”
“Behave yourself,” he grunted.
Leaning close, she asked him in a husky voice, “Are you sure that’s what you want?” She punctuated the question by rubbing his hardened manhood through the sweats. Unf.
Parker swiftly grabbed her hand. This was getting ridiculous. He had to make her stop. “Angelina,” he growled.
“Parker,” she answered with a mocking growl of her own.
Only thing was, while he’d grabbed her hand, he also made no real effort to remove it or stop her from rather boldly fondling him. With one hand thoroughly mapping his erection, she took two fingers of her other hand and tapped them lightly on her lips.
“Kiss, kiss Parker.”
He froze. She used to do the same thing as a little girl, always asking for kisses. During their torrid liaison, she’d turned the gesture into a private intimacy.
Her hand upon his straining flesh and those words still clinging to her lips pushed him to the edge. Grabbing her face in both hands, he pulled her into his mouth and went deep. A kiss wouldn’t hurt, right? Just one kiss. Maybe a really, really, really long kiss. With lots of tongue. Something wet and slow and sensuous.
Yeah. He was cool. They’d just kiss.
And kiss.
And kiss.
And kiss.
Moaning, she welcomed his mouth and wound her arms around his head, rubbing her silk covered tits on his bare chest while her tongue dueled lustfully with his.
Banding an arm about her torso, he held on, grabbing a handful of her sweet ass to knead and massage. Their faces were getting wet from the saliva and each time the need for air forced them apart, she licked his lips and whimpered until he returned and ravished her mouth some more.
Parker hung in there as long as he could. She was just this side of insatiable and so demanding that the kiss threatened to go supersonic until a point was reached that tested his limits and he knew they had to back off.
But each time he tried to peel her off and put some space between them, she protested and pushed him further.
Finally, when he was hanging by the thinnest of threads, he shook her off with a frustrated grunt. “Enough.”
She sat back on her feet and frowned sullenly. Running her hands over his thighs, she made a plea he was unprepared for.
“Please don’t make me leave here without having some part of you.”
Her words stunned Parker. “What is it you want, baby girl?” he asked. In a way, he dreaded her response.
“I think you know,” she replied, her busy hands making it difficult to think.
“We can’t,” he declared vehemently.
“But I want you.”
Why the hell did she have to lick her lips like that? “Angie. Please. This isn’t a button you should push.”
“I. Want. You.”
She wickedly squeezed him in a demonstration of her want and that was it for him. Giving up, he sat back heavily in the big chair, gripped the soft leather upholstery on the arms and tilted his head back. Growling a terse, “Fuck,” he pinned her in place with a look. “You’d make a shitty submissive.”
She beamed at his scolding tone. Dammit.
Once he surrendered, she went into overdrive, swiftly divesting him of his sweats. His shaft exposed, she gasped and exclaimed, “Oh, Parker!”
Keeping his hands on the arms of the chair was torture. Through eyes at half-mast, he examined the expression lighting up her face as she studied his bared flesh. His cock was a self-centered bastard, used to the admiring glances of women. Thick and long enough that he was accustomed to the thrilled sighs accompanying an unveiling, Parker was bowled over by the immense satisfaction he got from her obvious delight.
She got busy damn quick after that. Putting those soft hands of hers to good use, she thoroughly fondled and stroked his swollen flesh, making little noises that read like erotic shorthand in his mind.
Showing a particular fascination with the fat head of his sex and the ridges of sensitive flesh that ached for her attention, she created a mesmerizing sensual ballet out of handling his pulsing cock. By the time she bent forward and added her lips and tongue to the effort, he was so far over the edge that freefalling was guaranteed.
No stranger to a blowjob, Parker was nonetheless spellbound watching as Angel feasted on his manhood. She was on fire, greedily licking, nipping, and kissing the length of him.
It was a fucking given that he very much liked what she was doing. The wildcard was that she so obviously did, too. An adrenaline rush thundered through his body and he grunted along as she began taking him deeper and deeper on a journey of such exquisite pleasure, he ended up closing his eyes, his head thrashing on the back of the chair as she sucked him into an erotic trance.
He was so close—yearning for release—but not wanting to end the torture of pleasure that she was creating. Forcing his eyes to open, he watched through the ravenous craving clouding his vision.
Parker pounded his fist on the chair’s arm, grunting wildly at the sight of her luscious lips stretched around his swollen cock. Oh, fuck. It was too much. When she looked at him, half his dick in her mouth, eyes glazed with desire, he cried her name lustfully.
“Angelina!”
Plunging up and down on his staff, she worked his flesh until an orgasm of such intensity overtook him that he gave up his determination not to touch her and grabbed her head.
She welcomed his rough handling with eager moans as he pushed her to take him deep. Deeper. Until he felt her throat working the head of his cock.
When he exploded, she groaned and accepted the pulses and throbs of his wildly jerking flesh as he released in her mouth. She hadn’t wanted to leave without some part of him. Well, she certainly got what she wanted.
But he wasn’t happy about it.
ANGIE CREPT SILENTLY FROM THE study a while later, hurriedly making for her room. She shuddered to think what would happen if Alex found her sneaking around the downstairs in a nightie. Especially since there was no way to disguise the rather telltale aftermath of the oral seduction she’d lavished on the body of a certain lawyer. Biggest clues? Her hair was a total mess, and she had what Tori called BJ Lips, a polite way of saying her mouth had that puffy, swollen post blowjob look. Eeek. No way to hide that.
Safely back in her room, she threw herself onto the bed and hugged a pillow close. There was no way to explain what she’d just done. One minute, she’d been enjoying a hot spicy dream, and the next, she was demanding things from Parker she never had before.
All she knew was, when she woke up from a deep doze, surrounded by his heat and incredible smell and with the remnants of a highly erotic dream still in her thoughts, the first thing that occurred to her was this man is mine.
She was done with all the bullshit and decided on a sleepy, sexy whim that no matter what it took, she was going to make Parker Sullivan love her. Luck didn’t happen to those who stood on the sidelines. If he was what she wanted, well . . . men, y’know? She’d be waiting forever for him to get a freakin’ clue unless she took matters into her own hands, or mouth, as the case might be.
Angie rolled into the pillow to hide her face and groaned loudly. What had she done? It wasn’t the balls-to-the chin, blowjob that was the problem. It was the expression on Parker’s face after. She’d struck a nerve, and it didn’t look like a good one.
Dawn had finally come but Parker had yet to return to the tiny room adjacent to Angie’s that he’d settled in despite a glowering frown from Alex. Nobody said fucking shit when he declared that he wasn’t leaving Angie’s side while Esperanza was still around, but that didn’t mean any of them were stupid. Putting him and Angie in nearby rooms was sexual suicide.
So he’d made a vow on the fly that no matter what, he’d show the proper respect to his friend and behave. He was a guest in the man’s home and sleeping with Alex’s sister while they were under his roof just wasn’t going to happen.
Why the hell did everything keep getting more and more complicated? And fucked up?
Flipping the fireplace control to off, he plodded on bare feet to the tall arched window looking out over an expanse of Villa property. He was at war with himself and needed the calm that the bucolic vista brought.
Ready to jump out of his skin at any second, Parker remembered other times he’d felt this unhinged. Months after he and Angie fell into their deadly silence, he and a small team of government lawyers and a handful of agents fresh from Quantico had been quietly dispatched into the middle of two fucking wars. Every goddamn thing the military and the government did was under constant legal scrutiny. It had been a busy time.
He’d bounced around to more black and special op compounds than he cared to remember. Brutal shit went on around him morning, noon, and night. Dropping into the middle of a war zone wasn’t unusual for him right up until he left Washington.
During a couple of those trips, he’d hooked up with Alex and learned a new term . . . feral anxiety. The conditions those guys lived under was staggering. What they were doing was terrifying. To say he developed a new level of respect for his friend was the understatement of all time. And he couldn’t even think about how much deeper that respect and gratitude went after the bombing, which nearly killed him.
Guard-dogging Angie had been his reason for staying at the Villa. Parker was a lot of things, but a total dog wasn’t one of them. His intentions had been genuine. Keeping that jackass Esperanza on a short leash and away from her was his primary motivation.
But he also had an itchy conscience because Alex trusted him to . . . well, he trusted him to keep it in his goddamn pants and remember where the hell they were.
Vigorously scraping both hands back and forth through his hair until his scalp tingled, Parker tried valiantly to rein in the angst eating him up. Never intending to disrespect his friend and supremely conscious of the privilege afforded him not only as a guest at the Villa but as a card-carrying member of Famil
y Justice, his loss of control with Angie felt like a tawdry betrayal. Ugh. Fuck.
The morning view was beautiful, but he was still jumpy and off balance. And it didn’t help at all that his inner beast complicated this emotional turmoil. The knuckle-dragging caveman was threatening to break free so he could thunder upstairs, push open her door, scoop her badass up and toss it over his shoulder—take her away from here where they could be alone and figure out what the fuck they were doing.
The figuring out part was admittedly second on the to-do list. First up was some bone-melting lovemaking and once and for all, he was going to tell her how he felt. That he’d loved her for her whole life and could never love another. And that he was more sorry than she will ever know for the years they lost.
Humming happily to herself as she ambled through the big hacienda, Meghan stopped to chat with the portrait of Alex’s great-great grandmother that hung in an upstairs hallway. She liked the beautiful señora’s enigmatic smile and knowing expression. Must be a family trait because she often saw the same look on the Major’s face.
“Morning, Abuela,” she chirped. “Did I say that right?” she chuckled. Shaking her head in mock annoyance, she teased the silent portrait, “Your great, great grandson dropped the ball, I’m sorry to say, when it comes to learning the language. But don’t you worry! I’m on it.”
Fussing with the bowl of fresh flowers that Carmen religiously maintained on a table beneath the large ornately framed canvas, she assured the distinguished-looking ancestor that the next generation of the Valleja-Marquez family born under the Arizona sun would most definitely be bilingual.
Smiling, she continued on, making her way to the kitchen for a cup of the coffee she smelled wafting through the house. Meghan truly loved the hacienda. There was something about the history of the Villa and the surrounding land that spoke to her. And lately, she’d felt it speaking back.
She was still unsure and nervous about how she’d handle being the mistress of a legacy so grand, but with Alex at her side, she knew they could handle anything . . . as long as they were together.
Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) Page 45