Page 79 of Justice

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, my nails digging into his back as he hit that spot inside me that made my vision blur. His breath was hot against my ear, his voice a rough whisper.

“You’re mine, Skye. Say it.”

I couldn’t think. I could only feel the stretch of him inside me, his weight on me, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. My body was strung tight as a wire, every nerve lit up under his hands.

“Say it,” he said again, hips slowing just enough to make it torture, grinding deep instead of pulling back, watching my face like he needed to see it land.

“I’m yours.” My voice cracked on the last word. “Justice, I’m yours.”

That seemed to be exactly what he wanted to hear, because he pulled out just enough so that the tip was at my entrance and drove back into me hard enough to punch the air out of my lungs, one hand sliding up to close around my throat, not squeezing, just resting there, a warning and a promise both.

“Louder.”

“I’m yours.” I said it against his palm, felt the vibration of it under his fingers.

He flipped me then, easy, like I weighed nothing, hands on my hips guiding me up onto my knees, and the new angle had me gasping into the pillow the second he pushed back inside me. He set a pace that didn’t ask permission, deep and punishing, one hand flat between my shoulder blades pressing me down into the mattress while the other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise. I could hear myself making sounds I didn’t recognize, high and broken, muffled against the pillow, and every single one of them seemed to feed him, because his rhythm only got harder, more determined, like he was trying to reach something in me that words couldn’t touch.

“Look at me,” he said, and dragged me back up by a fistful of hair, gentle even in the roughness of it, until my back was flush against his chest, his mouth at my ear. “I want you to feel exactly whose this is.”

I reached back and grabbed at whatever part of him I could hold onto, his thigh, his hip, anything to keep from coming apart too soon, but he wasn’t having any of that either. One hand slid around and found me, fingers working slow deliberate circles while he kept driving into me from behind, and the two sensations together built until I couldn’t hold a single thought in my head that wasn’t his name.

“Justice—” It broke off in a sob and a gasp all tangled together, my body shaking apart against him, his name the only word I had left in me.

“That’s it,” he said, low, ragged, his fingers not stopping, his hips not slowing. “Give it to me.”

I came so hard my vision whited out at the edges, my body clenching down around him in waves I couldn’t control, my thighs trembling where they pressed against his. He groaned deep in his chest, a sound that vibrated straight through my back, and his rhythm broke apart into something rougher, less patient, chasing his own release with my name dropping out of his mouth like a prayer he hadn’t meant to say out loud.

“Skye—” His grip on my hip tightened. He then was spilling into me with a groan that sounded torn out of him, his body going rigid before it folded forward over mine, his forehead dropping between my shoulder blades, both of us breathing like we’d run a mile.

Neither one of us moved for a long minute. His weight pressed me down into the mattress, warm and heavy, his heartbeat slamming against my back like it was trying to match mine.

“Damn,” he finally said, voice wrecked, and I felt the huff of a laugh against my skin.

He eased us both down onto our sides, still inside me a moment longer before he slipped free and pulled me into him, my back against his chest, his arm wrapped heavy across my waist like he had no intention of letting me roll away from him. His mouth found the back of my shoulder, pressed there soft, nothing like the hunger from a few minutes before.

I lay there listening to his breathing even out from behind, his hand splayed flat over my stomach like he was holding something in place. I thought about every single lie sitting between us in that dark room, thought about weeks shrinking down smaller every single day, thought about a boy somewhere I hadn’t held in longer than I could stand to count.

I’d get up in a minute. Just until his breathing got slower. Just long enough to revel in his warmth and the weight of his strong hands. One minute, and then I’d slip out and go back to my room. That’s if I had any sense left.

But his heartbeat was steady against my back, I was warm. Five years since I’d been warm like that. Somewhere between one breath and the next, I broke the last rule I had.

I fell asleep in that man’s bed.

40

SKYE

“Daddy? Skye?”

Dream’s soft voice tugged me out of sleep. Sunlight drenched my face in his massive bedroom. I was curled on my side, him flat on his back, one heavy arm still thrown across me.

I jackknifed out of that bed. His door was locked, thank God, but the sound of his daughter calling my name in the same breath as she said Daddy from the other side of it had my heart going like a fist on a door.

“Fuck,” I whimpered.

I was not supposed to sleep in here. I didn’t want the girls to know about us. I didn’t want Storie to know this much about us. What was I thinking? I was so mortified.

I shoved him, forcing him out of the most peaceful sleep I’d ever seen on his face. I hated to do it. But the little one was up, and the rest of the house would follow.