Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3) (17 page)

Uh-huh. What? Breathing was becoming a chore. Her head felt all fuzzy and with her aching breasts and the burning heat pooling between her legs, she was fast on her way to a total meltdown.

“Up on the bed. On your knees. Show me your pussy, and if you’re a good girl,” he drawled, “I’ll let you come when your desperate little clit is on my tongue.”

T
HERE WAS HIS
world before this moment and everything that came after. That was how it felt. This woman. This complicated, amazing woman. He wanted to know her dreams, not just what turned her on. Did he know what her favorite movie was? Or if she had a hobby? He wanted to see her smile when she told him stories about her childhood. And he wanted to share the same things about him with her.

She was so thorny and uncompromising at times. Even though he recognized those traits as part of her armor and tried not to take them personally, having her place herself in his hands when she’d admitted to being something of an emotional mess felt fucking bigger than huge. What he wanted more than anything right then was to rock her world. Let her know by way of what they did best, how much he wanted her. No, scratch that. Not want. This feeling was need. He needed her.

Giving her a little shoving encouragement with his body, he helped her crawl onto the bed. No easy task since she was visibly shaking all over. She’d never even gotten remotely close to allowing this position before. Her willingness now made his cock pulse. She was also on the verge of coming. He could smell it.

Wanting all of this to be about her, he said a silent prayer.
Please don’t let me lose it too fast. Give me the strength to make love to her the way she deserves. Show her how wonderful it could be if she let me in.

As she got into position, he stared helplessly. Heather was a grown woman with a healthy, voluptuous body. Round where it should be fleshy and toned in all the right places. She was also very, very wet. The cluster of brownish curls adorning her pussy showed just how wet. He almost devoured her right then and there.

“Oh, my god.” The hunger in his voice was unmistakable. “Oh, my god.”

She turned her head and looked back at him. When those blazing bronze-colored eyes locked on his, he saw just how close she was. Teasing her was going to be a breeze.

“Baby,” he ground out. “You are so fucking wet.” Her flesh contracted and he smiled knowingly. What they’d begun in the hallway, he was going to end. Soon.

She liked hearing his pleasure, so he grunted to show his satisfaction when he ran two fingers along the folds of her slit from the rosette of her ass to the swollen button ripe with need. Wet was an understatement. Spreading the silky fluid, he stimulated her labia with long, slow strokes. As her pretty pink lips unfurled, he groaned when the lush invitation of her pussy was revealed. His groan joined her whimper and more arousal oozed.

Feeling a lot like the master of everything, he sank two fingers into her wet heat and reached under her body to claim a breast. He was gonna fucking enjoy watching his cock being swallowed by her throbbing pussy. Then, as if she read his thoughts, not only did he feel her muscles clench, but he saw it too. That was nearly his undoing. Hers too judging by the frantic way she cried his name.

Tugging the nipple begging for his touch, he bent over and bit her as hard as he could without marking her permanently. Right on the ass. At the same time, his fingers searched and found the distinctive bump of her g-spot and began rhythmically massaging. She shook all over and cried out again.

“Come if you must,” he grunted.

So she did. First, a long, rumbling wail broke from her throat. Her body tightened. He bit the other ass cheek. Her pussy clamped down on his fingers. Hard.

Grasping tight to the entire globe of her tit, he kneaded the soft flesh and doubled down with his fingers.

She tried to quiet a scream by turning her face into the bed.
Nuh-uh.
Unacceptabl
e. He wanted all of her. Even the animal sounds. On reflex, he grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her face up as the climax roaring through her turned the scream into a loud series of grunts.

When it was over, she quaked in the aftermath and collapsed onto the mattress. Without skipping a beat, he rolled her onto her back, spread her thighs, noted the creamy evidence of her arousal, and dove headfirst.

Licking the sweet mess, he growled with a ferocious hunger, bit the sensitive flesh on her inner thighs, and stabbed his tongue into the entrance to her passage. She was moaning with her arms flung wide, palms up and useless. He could tell by the arching of her back and the delightful quivering from belly button to knees that she was on her way to a second orgasm.

Swirling his tongue around her turgid, little nub, he nibbled and bit until her moans became one long, drawn-out wail. Lifting her ass to give his mouth total, unrestricted access, he did some of his own groaning and feasted on her succulent flesh.

“Again,” he growled in a commanding voice.

Pulling the nub between his lips, he applied a deadly series of rhythmic sucks that gave him the climax he demanded. As her honeyed nectar gushed, she bowed her back completely off the bed and screamed the house down. At the exact same moment, loud celebratory noises invaded the apartment. Her delirious, gasping screams drowned out the sounds as he brought his lady to the breaking point.

Mission accomplished. He’d gotten her past the dreaded stroke of midnight with the most intimate kiss of all, and now that she was satisfied … for the moment anyway … it was time to give his cock what it patiently craved.

Her.

“I’m terribly sorry about the baby, Mrs. Allen. There was simply too much abdominal trauma to save the pregnancy.”

Heather nodded. She couldn’t do anything else. Not with her face so swollen and bloodied that talking wasn’t possible. And besides, what did you say to something like that? Too much abdominal trauma? Jesus. What a crock. The way she felt left her with the impression this so-called trauma wasn’t limited to just her stomach. Every tiny millimeter of her body hurt. Shit. Even her ears throbbed with pain.

“Try and get some rest now. We’ve put a hold on visitors until some things get sorted out. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call for a nurse.”

No surprise there. The scene caused by her parents and Jason’s asshole folks was sure to be the talk of the entire hospital. An actual scuffle broke out when she was in the ER and security was called in to calm things down. The emotional explosion pretty much defined how much of a mess everything was.

The kind-faced doctor in the brilliantly white coat pressed a small controller into her limp hand. Slinging a stethoscope around his neck, he smiled. Even as fucked-up as she was, it was hard to miss the sympathy in his expression. His worried look didn’t affect her one way or the other. Nothing would. Not ever again. In one dreary flash, she saw the rest of her life play out and just knew that as long as she lived, there would never be any escape from the horror. Or the pain. This shit would be a part of her forever.

Shifting, she tried to find a comfortable position but the IV and monitor lines attached all over her body held her in place. The restriction felt symbolic. Trapped by circumstance. Jason did his worst, but she’d survived. Barely. And right now, she didn’t give a flying fuck what happened to the bastard. Karma would take care of him. Hopefully.

Eyes too heavy to keep open, she closed them and started drifting. Snippets flashed in her mind. How she staggered into the emergency room and collapsed. The calm, efficient medical speak that went on over her head. The horrifying sound of her mom crying.

Everything got fuzzy. The drifting picked up speed, and it seemed like she was an observer rather than a participant as her dreams flew by. When her family appeared at a distance, she simply retreated further.

Alone. She was alone. No husband. A family she struggled to embrace. No baby.? Was she stupid? Foolish? When did it all gone so wrong?

I missed you.

What was that? Who was talking?

I missed you.

The fluttering started in her belly. Nerves pulled tight to contain the tingling, but it spread anyway. Soon her chest filled with panic. Something wasn’t right.

The bed dipped slightly. She wasn’t as alone as she’d thought. Instead of feeling comfort, she only sensed dread.

Oh, god. What have I done?

“Hey, sleepyhead,” a deep voice teased. “Come on, pretty lady. Time to wake up.”

Jesus Christ! Someone was in her bed. Alarmed, her eyes shot open. Desperately trying to focus through the haze of sleep, Heather blinked then froze. How the hell did Thor get into her bed? No, wait. Not Thor. Someone else. Someone big and muscular with the sort of holy fuck dirty blond surfer scruff that made hearts flutter.

Oh, shit. Brody.
It was Brody, and he’d spent the night. In her bed. With her.

Swallowing became difficult. So did breathing. A mirror wouldn’t be necessary for her to see that she was gaping at him with a wide-eyed expression of horror.

“You need to eat, m’lady,” he drawled with a sexy chuckle. “I think we have an energy deficit going on. More out than in … if you catch my drift.”

Clutching the sheet across her chest in slow motion, she was a little surprised her fingers even worked. An energy deficit? Oh, dear god. It all came flooding back.

Brody. Showing up unannounced. On New Year’s Eve. Dinner. George. Crop tops and David Beckham. The things he said and the things they did. Not just once but all through the night. Again and again, they made love. Slowly. Deeply. Completely. When exhaustion claimed them as dawn began to appear, he’d wrapped her in his arms and held her close whispering things that scared the fucking shit out of her in the cold, harsh reality of a new day.

Her stomach rumbled. She’d just said they’d made love. Oh, no. No, no, no.

No.

This was bad. Oh, god.

And where the hell was her backbone? Why couldn’t she shut down her feelings? Oh, right. Along the way, her salty outer shell, the one that protected her from further hurt and from hurting someone else, simply crumbled to dust. She was fucked.

The panic building in her chest went off inside Heather without warning. Her whole body flushed with a searing heat that made her ears feel like she was on fire. She had to get out of bed, and she had to do it now.

Keeping the sheet clutched tight, she pushed him away with her free hand and struggled to get herself upright. The panic was closing her throat. She mentally mapped the steps from the bed to the bathroom and hoped she made it in time.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. So the wrong tone to take with her.

As he held a hand out to help her, she slapped it away and pushed him farther from her. “Get away. I need to get up.”

“Let me help you.”

“No.”
Ugh
.
Get a fucking grip. You sound crazy. Calm down. Just move past him and get to the bathroom
. Now.

Scrambling to get off the bed, she tried to dial back the frantic beat inside. Unable to look at him, she averted her eyes the second she realized he was wearing a towel. Just a towel.