It’s a salty, gross thing. “You can’t—”
“I made it happen.” He growls, and I watch in amazement as his tongue parts his fingers. “I can.”
He makes an entire show of enjoying my taste. Just the groans alone are enough to make me wonder if it really tastes that good.
“Wouldn’t it be quicker…to taste it right at the source?” My voice is shaking, my walls fluttering as I stare at his mouth. Lifting my gaze, I catch the way his pupils grow at what I’moffering. I get it, I do. Just thinking about that same slickness clinging to his beard, and his lips…
“Fuck, Pen.” He curses again before his beard tickles the crook of my neck. “I’m trying not to overwhelm you. Stop making it hard. We’re taking it slow. Baby steps.”
It sounds like he’s reminding himself more than me, but I nod anyway. When his hand returns to my pussy, I groan when one of his fingers prod at my entrance.
“Watch me, Pen.” His breath grows hotter against my skin. “Remember, I’m the one touching you.”
Blinking, I do as I’m told. Taking in his tattooed fingers, I stare at the ink hard. Faded lettering over the years passing by. “I’ve always liked your hands,” I murmur. “It’s silly, but—”
A moan consumes my next words as he slides his finger in deep. All the way to the knuckle.
“You feel that?” His lips brush my ear, his own voice shaky. He curls his finger, groaning as I clench around him. Despite my hold, he pulls back before thrusting back in. “Doesn’t hurt, does it?”
My toes curl tight, digging into the sheets as he keeps moving. A helpless shake of my head, and my body bows against his hand, surrendering to a rhythm I don’t control. Then, he amazes me by working in a second finger, stretching me in a way that is all at once shocking and perfect.
“Are you supposed to put fingers in there?” I pant, my walls fluttering wildly around the delicious, unfamiliar fullness. “I’ve never had—”
He growls, a low, displeased sound deep in his chest that makes me jerk. Both from a spike of fear and a dizzying wave of pure arousal. “Listen to how you suck them in, Pen.” He parts them inside me, and the slick, obscene sound echoes my own wetness. “Your pussy was made to take them. Just my fingers, you hear?”
I must have made him angry with my naive question; I can feel a new intensity in the way he crooks his fingers, pressing against a spot deep inside I never knew existed. A spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
Clawing at his wrist, I find no purchase. He doesn’t ease up. He keeps thrusting, a relentless, perfect piston motion, hitting that glorious, devastating spot over and over and over until—
I cry out, a raw, broken sound as my walls clamp viciously around his fingers. A wave of pleasure slams into me, so powerful it steals my vision. It’s an ocean, crashing down and pulling me under. I can’t breathe, can’t think, as my entire body sings a song only his touch could compose.
Overwhelmed by sensations I never knew my body could hold, I don’t realize my eyes are flooding until hot tears spill down my cheeks. I try to stop the dam from breaking, to be the strong woman he needs, but all I can do is choke on my next breath, the aftershocks of the pleasure mingling with a sudden, inexplicable grief for what was stolen away from me.
Judge doesn’t panic. He doesn’t pull away in confusion or ask what’s wrong. Instead, in one swift, decisive motion, he flips me over and gathers me against his chest. His arms are steel bands, crushing me to the unyielding wall of his muscle. He’s not gentle about it; he doesn’t give me room to breathe, to hide the way my body shakes as I sob into his skin.
“I don’t know why…” I hiccup, hating myself for ruining this perfect moment. “It felt really good, Judge. It was—”
“I know.” He shushes me, his voice a gravelly rumble against my ear. He doesn’t let me finish, doesn’t let me cheapen the moment with an apology. “I know.”
His heart is a frantic drum against my cheek, pounding a wild counter-rhythm to my slowing sobs. He just holds me, his solid presence urging me to let it all out. And so I do, until the storm inside me subsides.
Even when my body stops shaking, he doesn’t let me go. He just holds me tighter, as if he knows—he has always known—exactly what I need. He’s always done this. Whenever my world has started crumbling, he has been the foundation I could stand on.
And as I sit there in his lap, wrapped in the safety of him, all I can do is hope that my unexpected tears haven’t completely ruined the fragile, beautiful thing that has finally begun to bloom between us.
10
Judge
Ghost can’t get into their cameras. Not without risking gaining unwanted attention. What he can get us is a floor plan, an idea of what we’re walking into.
“Can’t guarantee it’s up to date, but it’s the best I’ve got.” He’s frowning, not a fan of the words he’s forced to say. “Two years ago, they did a few renovations. Luckily for us, the contractor doesn’t ever clean out his email.”
Next to me, Trouble taps his finger against one of the squares. “Back entrance is out. Some idiot dented the hell out of it.”
That leaves a side entrance and a front entrance.
“They have someone scouting the area at all times. Always in pairs.” Trouble frowns as he points out each room, spilling their secrets. “What’s the goal here? Blaze’s death, or…”
