by Joanna Shupe
She was falling in love with this man.
Her toes curled and she threw her head back, the heat and light dragging her to another place where thought and worry didn’t exist. She trembled and clutched at him, everything else disappearing but this strong and caring man.
“That’s it.” His thrusts turned rough and hard, drawing out her climax. “Good girl. Yes, keep coming. God, you are fucking beautiful. I don’t want this to end.” He finished on a shout as he withdrew suddenly, sitting back on his haunches. Thick ropes of milky liquid landed on her stomach, his hand flying over his shaft. His big shoulders shuddered, his face slack with his release while she tried to recover.
Seconds later it was over and the only sounds in the room were their harsh breathing. Just when she was about to fill the silence, he looked up. “I don’t believe I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”
She bit her lip, the compliment settling inside her chest like a heavy blanket. “When may we do it again?”
Jack could not believe this woman.
Only minutes ago he came so hard that he nearly passed out . . . and she wanted him to do it again? He hadn’t expected that.
Then again, when had he ever predicted anything Justine said or did?
Grinning, he tucked his cock back into his union suit and rolled off the bed. She was sprawled on his bedclothes, dark hair every which way, with his spend coating her lovely skin. Indeed, he could get used to this vision. A better man might have felt remorse or guilt over taking this woman’s innocence. Jack did not. Virginity wasn’t a prize or badge of honor for a man to earn. He was damn grateful to have her in his bed, no matter her level of experience. “Perhaps I should clean you up first. Then we may discuss a second round.”
He strode to the washroom. “Don’t move, you glorious creature.” Shutting the door, he turned on the tap and grabbed a cloth. The water was ice-cold, so he quickly unbuttoned his undergarment and used the freezing water to wash his cock. It took all of a few seconds, then he re-dressed. With the water now warm, he wet a cloth and brought it out to Justine.
She hadn’t moved and her gaze tracked him as he crossed the room. He put a knee on the bed and used the cloth to clean his semen from her stomach.
“Thank you.”
He lifted his head. “For what?”
“Thinking of pulling out. We hadn’t discussed that, preventing a baby, but I’m grateful you were aware enough to withdraw.”
Finished with the cloth, he tossed it in the direction of the washroom. Then he stretched out next to her. “I would never burden you or any other woman with an unplanned baby.” The words just tumbled out. “I was raised in a brothel and I’ve seen those consequences firsthand.”
She searched his face, but he read no pity there. Just understanding. “That is why you don’t run any brothels yourself.”
“Correct.” He traced the line of her jaw with his thumb. “My mother was a whore.”
Her brows pinched ever so slightly. “Your mother earned her living the best way she knew how. It was her job, not who she was.”
He thought of his mother reading to him at night. Though he couldn’t have been more than five or six, he remembered the sound of her voice so clearly. During the day, she took him to the harbor to watch the boats or to the fish market. To visit the neighbors, so he could learn to speak German and Italian. Any activity she could think of to “stimulate his mind.” She’d been smart and kind, but without options when it had come to making a living.
“You’re right,” he told Justine. “She was a great mother.”
“I do not doubt it. Look at how you turned out. Besides, women should not be shamed for selling sexual favors. Many enjoy it. Many even prefer it. I can introduce you to some of those ladies, if you don’t believe me.”
“Oh, I believe you. My mother said as much when I asked her why she worked in a brothel.”
“She sounds like an intelligent woman.” Justine shifted closer, facing him, and he drew her into his side. He hadn’t ever cuddled with a woman in bed before, but he wasn’t ready for this to be over. She threw one leg over his and rested her head on his shoulder. “What happened?”
“She died. There was no one to look after us so my brother and I left. I wasn’t yet twelve.”
“Oh, I am sorry, Jack. That must have been hard to lose her at such a young age. Where did you go?”
“Here and there. Nowhere, really. Just kept moving and fighting. Young boys on the street must sleep with one eye open. I lived in constant fear of being killed, shanghaied or raped.”
“What happened then?”
“I fell in with the Five Points Gang.”
“And the rest is New York City history.”
He huffed a laugh. “Not quite. It took me years to work my way up. I had to gain enough trust to convince several downtown enterprises to work together.”
“You say that as if it were easy.”
“It was not. People were resistant at first. There were fights and takeover attempts along the way.” But he’d survived. Barely.
“Do you ever worry about what will happen in a few years?”
All the time. “No. Why would I?”
“Because what you do is dangerous.”
Astute woman. “I have plans in place for the future.” Qui n’avance pas, recule.
“You’re being vague.”
Kissing her forehead, he smiled. “Yes, I am. This is not the time or place to discuss my future. We should be discussing our present. For example, how late are you able to stay?”
“Another hour, at least.” She swept her hand over his stomach and up his chest, her fingers toying with the tiny buttons of his undergarment. When she started to undress him, he stayed her hand and rolled on top of her.
“Let me focus on you instead.” He bent to kiss her, but she put a palm on his shoulder and pressed him back.
“Why don’t you wish to undress with me?”
He paused. Had he been so obvious? “That is rid—”
“Don’t you dare say it is ridiculous. You told me you would not lie to me, Jack.”
He tried for an affable grin. “It’s your first time and I don’t want to scare you.”
“What would scare me?”
“Have you ever seen a completely naked man before?”
“I have.” He blinked at her, the answer unexpected. She bit her lip. “Not in person, but I’ve seen statues and Florence has these playing cards . . . Anyway, you won’t scare me.”
Indeed, I would.
Sliding his hand below her waist, he petted the soft mound of hair between her legs. Her expression slackened, eyes going dreamy. Christ, he loved the way she looked right now. Lips swollen from his kisses, skin glowing from exertion. Muscles lax with pleasure. He wanted to keep her here for eons.
“You’re trying to distract me.”
Her observation startled him enough that she was able to get him on his back. Leaning over him, she stared at him as if trying to unlock all of his secrets. “Tell me.”
Heat crawled up his neck. Shame. He hadn’t allowed himself to experience it in years. “There are scars, cara. I only look perfect from the neck up.”
She didn’t appreciate his attempt at levity, apparently, because she gave him a fierce scowl. “I neither asked for nor expected perfection. What I want is you.”
He swallowed. The life he’d lived—dangerous and precarious—showed on his naked skin. He avoided looking at it whenever possible. “You have me.”
Her gaze flickered between his eyes. “No, I really don’t.” Leaning in, she brought her hand to his cheek, their foreheads touching. They paused, trading breath back and forth. “Trust me enough to understand, Jack.”
Indecision warred while he closed his eyes. He hadn’t trusted anyone, not like this, in a long time. Justine wasn’t just anyone, however. She was kindness and generosity, selflessness and light. She hadn’t judged him for the way he lived his life. He’d shown her parts of himself
that he hadn’t revealed to anyone else. What was one more secret uncovered?
And what if he horrified her?
Then whatever this is between them ends sooner rather than later.
Above all, he couldn’t stand to disappoint her. Whatever he had in his power to grant her, he would. Full stop.
Shifting, he slid out from under her and sat up. “Be careful what you wish for,” he said as he started unbuttoning his union suit.
She said nothing and he could feel her watching. He kept going, trying not to think about what she was about to see. The knife wounds that became jagged scars. The bullet wounds. Razor slashes. They started at his knees and kept going to his collarbones.
He stood and stripped off the thin fabric. Now naked in front of her, he kept his gaze on the wall just above her head.
He heard her move. Clenching his muscles, he prepared himself. Now she’d try to tell him the marks weren’t so horrible and then make excuses to leave. It’s for the best.
A featherlight touch swept over the worst of the scars, the one on his chest. He sucked in a breath and held perfectly still. Then he felt another gentle caress over his stomach. His hip. All the way up to his shoulder. Bold fingers explored, not shying away from the ugliness on his skin.
Pressure built in his chest, an emotion stronger than anything he’d experienced before. It was overwhelming and confusing. How was she not horrified?
Her lips followed the path of her hands and Jack’s knees wobbled. His heart hammered as she pressed soft kisses all over him, as if she were soothing those old injuries. “You are a warrior,” she whispered. “A survivor. Never be ashamed of that, Jack.”
His lungs refused to pull in air past the knot in his throat. She made him feel normal, that he hadn’t lived a life of cruelty and violence. That he didn’t deserve every one of these scars to atone for his sins. The tenderness he felt in that moment was larger than him or this room; the feeling threatened to consume him. His cock was already hard, her touch and proximity all that was required for it to swell between his legs, but this was about more than easing his lust. He wanted to devour her. To crawl inside her and never leave.
Grabbing her hair, he tilted her head back and captured her mouth with his. The kiss was hard and frantic, his lips moving over hers desperately. She met him eagerly, matching his frenzied pace. And thank God for that. He needed her. Now.
He cupped her breast and gently squeezed a nipple. “Are you sore?”
“No.” Panting, she arched her back to give him better access. “Please, Jack.”
Placing her down on the bed, he stood on the floor between her splayed thighs. She watched through hooded lids as he pushed inside her, the moisture at her entrance easing the way. Tight heat surrounded him as he sank deeper, the pleasure heightened because it was her. Justine. His little do-gooder with the pure heart. A woman he didn’t deserve but would fight to the death to keep.
“Oh, my sweet heaven,” she whispered, her fists curling into the bedclothes.
“Am I hurting you?”
“Goodness, no. It’s so much better, and I thought that impossible.”
He angled over her, desperate to feel her skin against his. “Wrap your legs around me.” She did as he asked and then he covered her, his hands flat on the bed. “It’s about to get better still.”
And he said nothing more, but proceeded to show her exactly what he meant.
Chapter Nineteen
Justine entered the legal aid society around ten o’clock. She’d meant to get up earlier, but the energetic hours with Jack were catching up with her. For the past week she’d spent afternoons with him, returning home around suppertime. Her sisters hadn’t said anything more about Jack and Justine hadn’t offered up any information. It was none of their concern.
They wouldn’t approve, anyway. They thought she was naive and foolish and unable to handle a man like Jack. Absolutely ridiculous. Jack had complained yesterday that he was barely able to keep up with her, not the other way around.
She smiled to herself as she crossed the waiting area. The two of them were evenly matched, and she’d never felt closer to another person. She loved the hours they spent in his Bond Street home, completely secluded from the rest of the world. He was attentive and sweet, a force of nature when he wanted something—usually her.
How could she complain?
“Miss Greene!”
She spun at the voice and studied the faces in the anteroom. A woman she recognized approached her. “Mrs. Gorcey, good morning.” Her smile quickly faded when she caught the expression on the other woman’s face. “What is wrong?”
“It is my husband,” she started.
Justine took her hand. “Come with me. Let’s find a private space to talk.” Nodding at Mrs. Rand, the secretary, Justine took Mrs. Gorcey inside. Just as she was about to go into an empty office, her brother-in-law turned the corner.
Frank’s brows lowered as he studied both women. “Mrs. Gorcey. I thought things were settled.”
“No.” She clasped her hands together. “My husband has stopped paying me. The lady at the front said there is no money for me.”
Frank swept his arm out toward the empty office. “Please, sit down.”
The three of them sat. “Tell me what happened,” Justine said to Mrs. Gorcey.
“Well, like you and Mr. Mulligan arranged, the money from my husband was supposed to come here each week. At first, I had money waiting. Last week, nothing. Again this week, nothing.” Moisture pooled on her lids. “I do not know what to do, Miss Greene. I need that money to buy food. To pay my rent.”
“Why didn’t you tell me last week?”
“I didn’t wish to trouble you. You and Mr. Mulligan have done so much for me already.”
Frank’s fingers drummed on the table, a heavy silence on his side of the room. Justine ignored him, reaching across to clasp Mrs. Gorcey’s hand. “I will have answers this afternoon. I know where to find him. You will have your money soon, I promise.”
“Oh, thank you, Miss Greene. I hated to bother you but I didn’t know where else to turn. And I didn’t think I should visit Mr. Mulligan alone.”
“No, definitely not. You did the right thing. I’ll stop by with your money today.”
Mrs. Gorcey appeared relieved at that news. “I appreciate your help. Bless you, Miss Greene.”
Frank stood and pulled Mrs. Gorcey’s chair out for her. “Thank you for coming, Mrs. Gorcey. I am pleased that the Lower East Side Legal Aid Society could help you.”
Mrs. Gorcey nodded and then bid them goodbye. Justine started for the door, prepared to finish her errand here and then go see Jack. How dare Gorcey just not pay his wife—?
“A moment, please.”
She turned to her brother-in-law. “I need to see Mr. Rosen.” She had questions about the police department.
“That will need to wait. Sit down.”
“Why?”
Instead of answering, Frank went to the doorway and spoke to someone in the corridor. “Send in my wife, will you?”
Unease slid down Justine’s spine. “Why do you need Mamie in here?”
He said nothing, merely crossed his arms and frowned at her.
Skirts rustled in the hall. “Frank, I’m busy. What do you want?” Mamie stormed into the room, as regal and unafraid as ever. Then she saw Justine and stopped. “Oh, hello, Tina.” She looked between them and cocked her head. “What’s this about?”
“I have no idea. He won’t let me leave.” Justine dropped into a chair.
“Shut the door,” Frank told Mamie.
Mamie did as he asked but didn’t sit. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you know?” Frank asked.
“Did I know what?”
“That she’s been working with Mulligan on our cases?”
Mamie’s lips pressed together and she apologized to Justine with her gaze. “Yes.”
Frank made an angry sound in the back of his throat, something betw
een a huff and a growl. “Goddamn it, Mamie. Why would you not tell me?”
“Well, you saw him at the fundraiser with her. This cannot be a surprise to you.”
“He said he did a favor for her. I had no idea that was in relation to our cases. She took Mrs. Gorcey to see him, for God’s sake.”
“Because Gorcey works for Jack.”
Frank sent Justine a withering glance. “Oh, it’s Jack now?”
“Stop it,” Mamie snapped at him. “Be angry with me, but do not take it out on Justine. She’s done nothing wrong.”
“Are you serious?” He dragged his hands through his hair. “How many cases has he helped you with, Justine?”
She cleared her throat and debated on how to answer. “Do you mean my own efforts, or cases brought to the legal aid society?”
Frank pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and two fingers. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
Mamie smacked his shoulder. “Language, please. And that’s all in the past. She’s not seeing him anymore. Are you, Justine?”
“Jack and I are friends,” she said, not giving a direct answer. “Furthermore, it’s none of anyone’s business.”
“It is my business.” Frank motioned to the room. “Literally, this is my business. And if you are involving Jack Mulligan in it, then I damn well should have a say about it.”
“I am not involving him in legal aid business.”
“Then what was that?” He pointed to the door Mrs. Gorcey had just gone through. “Because that felt like involving him. You are planning to go see him, aren’t you? To find out why Gorcey hasn’t been paying.”
“Yes. I owe her answers and Jack can get them for me.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Frank put his hands on his hips. “Jack Mulligan is like a spider, Justine. You’ve fallen into his web and the more you let him, the deeper he’ll pull you in.”
