Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3) (29 page)

“Are you still hungry?” They’d put away a ton of Buffalo wings, destroyed a side salad, and sucked down a few beers. George was fed, walked, and ready to curl up. The kitchen was clean. Dessert was next on the menu.

“I seem to have lost my appetite,” she whispered. Her soft breath on his skin excited him. He wanted more. Only not on his face.

Closing the distance between them, he reached for her hands, raised both above her head, and pressed them against the wall behind her. Settling the thick ridge of his shaft into the softness of her belly, he growled low and looked down into eyes sparkling with desire.

“How ‘bout we try and change that, hmm?” Transferring her wrists to one of his hands, he used the other to trace the outline of her mouth. Her lips parted and he smiled knowingly. When he pressed his thumb, she opened and he slipped it inside. Immediately, her tongue greeted the intrusion and sucked it deeper.

Dipping close to her ear, he grunted. Her hair vibrated from the earthy sound. “Your mouth seems hungry enough.”

He wasn’t disappointed or surprised when his words made her tremble. He’d hoped for this. A moment when he was man and she was woman and none of their human failings or fears mattered. They were dancing around the edges of what was the most basic, most fundamental, and most deeply primal about the human condition.

Pushing his thumb deeper, emboldened by her response, Brody embraced his dominant side. Using the advantage of his size and strength, he crushed her against the wall, grinding his hard-on into her as he squeezed her wrists tight and kept them anchored high enough that she was almost on her toes. All the while, she moaned quietly and sucked on his thumb in a way that sent lustful signals to his cock.

Releasing her suddenly, she slumped and wobbled as he stepped back. Searching her face for reassurance, he looked at her with eyes he knew were hungry and probably a bit menacing.

“Take your dress off. Now.”

“Here?” she asked with a frown. He watched her glance around with uncertainty.

They were in the dining room, the scene of quite a few raunchy encounters. It wasn’t like taking her on the antique table wasn’t already a satisfying memory. In fact, he vividly remembered spreading her out on the polished wood and putting her legs on his shoulders before giving new meaning to the term screaming O. It was a damn wonder the neighbors didn’t call the cops because his lady let loose with some pretty loud moments.

Pushing her out of the comfort zone was one thing but she was already off balance enough. He didn’t want to add to the tension. Not with what he wanted to do.

“Where would you prefer?” Though he was pretty much ready to eat her alive, he made a real effort to smile reassuringly. She got a say, after all. If she spoke quickly. Too much hesitation and he was going to take matters into his own hands.

The smile must have done it ‘cause she stopped with the lip biting and shook her head at him like he was a naughty kid caught stealing cookies.

“How exactly does taking off my dress help my appetite?”

With an answer at the ready he grinned when he said it aloud. “You got any of those seafood bibs laying around? The ones that cover the whole chest?”

“Whaat?” she barked on a strangled laugh. “A seafood bib?”

Yeah, she was hooked all right. With one finger, he circled her lips then drifted down her chin and onto her neck. At the base of her throat, he detected the rapid beating of her pulse. Sort of matched the throbbing of his dick. But he didn’t stop there, continuing to run the finger down the center of her dress stopping right before her waist.

“This is a very pretty dress and unless you want it ruined with, um …” He paused and pinned her with a steamy look. “Saliva, either wear a bib or take it the hell off.”

“Are you suggesting I drool, Mr. Jensen?” It was just flirty banter, but the minute she said it, recognition dawned on her face.
Gotcha,
he thought with satisfaction and a pulse of excitement.

Stepping close, he tried not to laugh at how quickly she tried to wind back what she’d said, but it was too late.

“How much does a psychologist know about biology, hmm?” This time, when he pressed his thumb against her lips, he did it with a suggestive leer. She resisted for one second then let him slide it along her tongue. “The human body is an amazing thing,” he purred in a deep voice. “When your gag reflex kicks in,” he gave her a steady look, “a thicker, more viscous saliva is produced. If we do it right, all that lovely gooey drool makes taking my cock as far as you can in your mouth nothing short of heaven.”

He pulled his thumb away and watched with satisfaction when she licked her lips.

“And the more, the better. I have a desire to see you on your knees, saliva dripping off your chin and onto your tits while you swallow my cock. Everything, honey,” he smirked, “is better when wet.”

He was halfway prepared to get his face slapped. Or for her to start yelling about what a pervert he was. In no way did he expect her to smirk right back in his face. He believed this was her
challenge accepted
face. Before he said another word, she turned around and gathered her hair over one shoulder. Looking back at him, something that instantly turned his dick to stone, she made a little pout then asked, “Can you help with the zipper?”

The impulse to put both hands at the neckline of her dress and rip the thing off her was way too tempting. Fuck the zipper. That was a civilized guy thing, and right now, he was feeling every inch the primitive man.

When he hesitated, the primal beast took over and shoved his civilized side away. He really couldn’t help it. She brought out shit inside him that he didn’t know was lurking.

The sound the fabric made when he tore it open made her gasp and flinch. “I’ll buy you a new one,” he grunted as the material hung on her hips.

The soft, pale skin on her back bared to his gaze hit him like the sound of a starting gun. Clutching her shoulders, he pulled her close and kissed a line from one shoulder blade to the other. Heather trembled and softly whimpered and next thing he knew, his teeth went nuts. She liked him to bite her, and he was happy to oblige.

Bolting from his grasp after he’d quite thoroughly marked her shoulder with lusty bites, she took off down the hallway, swinging her hips in clear invitation. At the door to her bedroom, she turned around and shimmied out of the torn dress leaving it in a pile on the floor. With a graceful wave of her hand, she murmured, “After you,” and waited for him to pass.

He liked her bedroom. Despite the no-nonsense act she put on, Heather possessed a sensual side that was evident in her private space. Not a lot of overkill happening—just a huge bed, a couple of nightstands, and a side chair in one corner next to an enormous armoire. There was a padded bench at the foot of the bed. The fabrics on she chose were soft, luxurious and like her—unique.

In every way that mattered, this was her comfort zone. By inviting him to essentially take her in this intimate space, she made him damn glad they’d waited all these weeks. Now, where was he? Oh, right. She’d lost the dress with more than just a little help from him. What was next?

Taking a seat on the upholstered bench, he tested it with his hand then sent her a salacious look..

“Hungry yet?” he asked.

She sighed, her eyes moving briefly to the thick bulge that was making it hard to sit. When she looked back at him, he waggled his eyebrows. “That’s the main course. I suggest you start with some nibbles first. Work up to stuffing your, uh, mouth.”

Though she swayed slightly, he was damn proud of her when she swaggered forward, ready and willing to meet the challenge he was throwing down. She’d taken him in her mouth before but not in any significant way and certainly not for more than a few quick minutes. He’d always assumed she just didn’t like doing it. He was intrigued and wildly turned on that she seemed more than just a little willing now.

“I’m not very good at this,” she admitted in a small, uncertain voice.

Well, goddamn. Really? That was what all the vacillating was about? Okay. Looked like he was wearing his instructor hat.

Scoffing at her pitiful admission, he took her wrist and pulled her till she stood between his spread thighs. “You’re very good at it, honey,” he assured her. “You just need more practice.”

He didn’t expect her soft chuckle or the way her eyes lit up when she teased, “Practice makes perfect?”

“You’re perfect already.” He knew he’d said the right thing when a smile curled her lips.

Putting her hands on the buttons of his shirt, she started to release them one by one. Halfway down, she murmured, “I think my appetite is returning.”

Good. Glad to hear it ‘cause her mouth was about to get real busy.

She got all serious about removing his clothing and watching her was hot as shit. Maybe it was her little sighs or the cute way she was nibbling on her lips as concentration etched her face. Or just maybe and quite possibly, it was the black lace lingerie on skin gone pale from the lack of winter sun that got him fired up.

After removing his shirt, she walked to the side chair and draped it over the back. Smoothing the fabric, she lingered for a second then returned to him. When she glided to her knees, he almost choked to death with desire. What was it about seeing her like that, kneeling before him, that was so damn exciting?

Next, she worked on his boots, tugging until the first one slid off. The way she handled the leather fascinated him. Unless he was mistaken—and she’d actually indicated several times that his thoughts on this were correct—his woman rather liked the boots and jeans look. Thank god, ‘cause once he got her ass to Arizona, she’d discover right quick that flannel, leather, and denim were everyone’s uniform of choice.

When his feet were bare, she shocked the holy shit out of him by bending over and dropping a soft kiss on each one. Her hair brushed his skin and when she sat upright again, he was struck by the look of serenity on her face. Somewhere between fucking like animals and taking a page from a 1950’s dating guide, she’d become his personal geisha. Fuck, yeah.

“I think you have to stand up now,” she murmured.

Stand? Oh, right. Levering upright, he looked down at her as she sat on her feet with her hands clasped in her lap. When she touched her stomach and grimaced, he grunted as she smirked adorably. “That’s my tummy growling.”

He couldn’t believe she was playing along. The differential pose and silky voice were a new side to Heather. He’d been right to push. This wasn’t an act—it was the real deal.

Even though he knew what was coming next, he still sucked in his gut when her hands reached for his belt. How he stood still while she unhooked the buckle and then the button on his jeans was pure bluster on his part. It was all he could do not to take over and move things along. The sooner she sucked him into her mouth, the better.

As she worked the zipper, he wondered if women take some class to show them how to drive a man insane. She pulled the damn thing down so slowly, he was sure she was counting each metal tooth, with a cheeky grin plastered on her face.

“Sorry,” she quipped when his erection pressing against the fabric halted her progress. “Is there a technique for this that won’t cause any … damage?”

She was having way too much fun and the sly smirk almost got her a serious over-the-knee swat.

Grunting was all he could do at the moment. “Got David Beckham protecting the goodies, remember? So just yank the damn thing and get on with it.”

“Ah,” she cooed. “So what? You bend it like Beckham and no harm, no foul?”

She. Was. INCREDIBLE. “You let me know after I fuck your throat.” Shit. He didn’t meant to answer like that. Too crude. Too much like before when all they did was fuck. Luckily, she gave him a pass when she snicker-laughed at his choice of words.

Zipper finally undone, she slid her hands into the waistband of his jeans and guided them down his legs, then waited while he lifted each foot free. When all that remained were his briefs, she smiled up at him. His field of vision took in two things. Her radiant expression and the ri-goddamn-diculous bulge in front of her face.