Tempting Justice, Sons of Sydney 2

by Fiona Archer

  He was so close to pushing her over. A few more seconds and—

  Heath lifted his head and studied her body.

  London stared, horrified, as he used his hands to rub her inner thighs in long firm strokes, each time squeezing the flesh as he neared her pussy.

  “What?” She frowned up at him. “Why did you stop?”

  His blue gaze hardened. “You forget yourself, London.” The dark warning in his voice froze her in place. “Who’s in charge?”

  “You, but I want—” She broke off as he spanked her inner thigh. Her gasp drew a smile from the handsome bastard. The zing of pain turned into a burn of pleasure that rushed straight to her core. This didn’t… How could she be getting off on mild pain? She couldn’t find the words to voice a denial.

  “Answer me.” He rose up on his knees, blocking out the overhead light. Now backlit, his large, powerful body held an aura of dominance and danger. Such a heady mix. “Who’s in charge?”

  For a moment she couldn’t speak, caught up in the wonderful sensation of helplessness, which fed a submissive need she never knew existed.

  But was fast coming to enjoy.

  His hand trailed over the still smarting skin of her bottom. His warning was clear.

  Yikes.

  “You,” she rushed out. “I’m still learning, Heath.” Surely he understood?

  “Indeed you are.” He ran his hands up her sides, fingers and palms splayed wide, and cupped her breasts. “My job’s to keep you where I want you.” He massaged the swollen, sensitized flesh. “Which is exactly where you want to be also.” He lowered his head, sucking one nipple and then the other, drawing on the pointed buds. “Even if you don’t realize it at first.”

  A bit sure of himself? “How do you know?”

  “Because you haven’t used your safe word,” he stated. “And because of this…” With no warning, he reached down and thrust two fingers deep inside her, swirling and stroking in a shockingly confident maneuverer that caused her to arch off the bed.

  “Oh, God.” Each stroke was like a spark igniting delicate nerves, sending a whirling tornado of pleasure along the walls of her core. Deep shudders overtook her, growing ever fiercer under his expert touch. “Please, please Heath. Let me come.”

  His fingers slowed, his touch softened.

  But, but…he wouldn’t stop. Would he? She wanted to cry out; instead, she looked up into Heath’s unyielding stare.

  “Do you want my dominance, Red?” His continued torment mocked his gentle tone. “Will you trust me to do whatever I want?” He brushed over her g-spot in a whisper-soft stroke. She whimpered in frustration. “Whenever I want?” Another stroke, this time longer but more faint, driving her to desperation. “However I want?” He stilled his fingers, leaving them inside.

  “Yes. God, yes.” Pressing the pads of her fingers into the back of her clasped hands, she bit her lip against crying out.

  A knowing gleam entered his gaze. “You’re not saying that just to get what you want?”

  Fuck yes.

  “I—” She broke off, unable to meet his stare. Shoot. “I want both.” That at least was true. And not for the first time she was reminded Heath missed nothing. She licked her lips. “You’ve proven I want you in control.” Dragging in a quick breath, she pleaded, “P-please, Heath, I need to come.”

  “Then you shall.” He lay down and closed his mouth over her clit, sucking the tortured bundle of nerves as he pumped his fingers inside of her.

  She cried out, unable to focus as a blinding wave of pleasure rose so high, then crashed over her, carrying all thought away with its force.

  Heath was merciless, licking and sucking even as she bucked her hips in a desperate attempt to control the impact of his devastatingly skillful mouth. Hard, strong hands pressed down on her pelvis, keeping her in place.

  She begged, cried out, even cursed. Nothing would stop Heath as twice he drove her to orgasm, the second coming as a sweet agony.

  Only when he was satisfied and had taken his fill did he lean up on one elbow. “We’ve only just started.”

  Oh, sweet Lord.

  Heath didn’t give her time to worry.

  He positioned himself above her and entered, filling her slowly, one thrust, then another, giving her precious time to stretch to accommodate him. A pleasurable burn ran along her core. His muscular frame filled her vision. She wanted to touch those shoulders, feel the strength underneath.

  “Heath, I need to touch you.”

  His smile belied the hard, controlled manner of the man. “Go ahead.”

  She lifted her hands, running her fingers over the toned muscles flexing under her caress. Such strength. That power could protect—and control—in equal measure.

  A wondrous shiver rippled through her. Under his control. In her bed. The thought bestowed only pleasure.

  Heath leaned down, capturing her mouth as he pushed harder with his thrusts, going deeper. On instinct, she lifted her hips, and he sank right to the root of his cock.

  She broke off their kiss at the fullness of his invasion. He was so…big. Her breath caught as she spasmed around him.

  “Jesus, you’re a fucking perfect fit,” Heath almost growled. He pumped faster as her body rocked from his taking. “Wrap your legs around me. I wanna feel those heels of yours.”

  Hell yes.

  She lifted her legs, at first wrapping them tight and squeezing her thigh muscles. His pelvis rubbed her clit, stealing her breath. Reluctantly, she lessened her hold so the heels of her shoes scraped over his back.

  He threw his head back, exposing his muscled neck. “Fuck, yes.” His rough groan filled her with joy. She wanted to pleasure him in every intimate way possible.

  He angled the thrust of his cock to hit her g-spot. Over and again. Soon she wasn’t conscious of anything other than the hypnotizing ecstasy beginning to engulf her. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she held on for dear life.

  “Heath, I can’t last. It’s j-just”—she sucked in a breath—“too m-much.” Clenching her teeth, she squeezed her eyes shut against the rolling thunderstorm of pleasure about to strike.

  “Then don’t hold back, Red. Fly with me.” Heath drew out, then in one brutal thrust, plunged into her, dragging his cock over her most sensitive spot.

  Her world disintegrated around her, shattering into a million pieces of pure rapture. The muscles of her inner walls clenched around Heath’s cock, her body embracing his taking of her, reveling in the carnality of the act. Pleasure fired from every nerve. Hard, breath-stealing shudders racked her body as Heath drove himself into her, three, four times before his body shook under her frantic grip.

  Dimly, she heard his guttural cry of release as she gave herself over to the exquisite bliss vibrating through her system. Nothing mattered except this moment.

  The muscles in her legs quaked from exhaustion. London slid them down over Heath’s hips. She lay sprawled underneath him.

  With a deep sigh, Heath rested on top of her for a few seconds. The weight of his body on hers somehow felt like…a claiming. She soaked up the heaviness, the hardness of his build against the giving softness of hers.

  Too soon, Heath propped himself back on his forearm, removing his weight. He stared down at her, his forehead sheened with sweat, his hair mussed. From her hands? She must look equally disheveled.

  And…oh, heck, her mascara. She wiped at her eyes, cringing at the black smudge on the side of her finger.

  “London.”

  She dropped her hand at his deep, authoritative tone.

  He pushed back a damp lock of hair from off her face and traced a line down to her lips. “You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do now.”

  She stilled, not drawing a breath, not blinking before reality crashed in. “I look like I’ve waged war with a sauna,” She grimaced “And lost.”

  “No.” His finger pushed down on her lips, silencing her. “You look thoroughly fucked.” He claimed her mouth in a har
d, demanding kiss. She capitulated, her mouth opening for his tongue. He swept inside her, tasting her as she joined him, kissing him back. By the time he lifted his head, her lips felt slightly swollen. “And now thoroughly kissed.”

  He pulled out of her, and no way could she stop her answering moan as light ripples shot along the core of her still sensitive flesh. Heath glanced at the nearly closed door on the right of her bed. “Master bathroom?” he asked as he removed and tied off the condom.

  “Uh-huh.” She tried not to shiver as the air in the bedroom hit her damp skin.

  Heath grasped one of her hands and pulled her to sit on the side of the bed. “Shower big enough for two?”

  Now there was an idea. “Detective Justice, that question warrants further investigation.” She giggled as he pulled her off the bed and herded her into the master en suite.

  ****

  Twenty minutes later, showered and refreshed, Heath laid his phone on the dark wood nightstand next to London’s bed. He’d accepted her invite to stay the night. Getting to spend more time with her snuggled in his arms wasn’t something he’d pass up. And he’d have an easy trip home tomorrow morning with both of them living in Green Lake and his house only a few blocks away.

  From her side of the bed, London glanced over her shoulder as she checked the alarm setting on her beside clock. “Five a.m. okay? Will that give you enough time to get home and change clothes? I know Derek expects you in early.”

  “Perfect.” He waited until she finished with the clock before hooking an arm around her belly and dragging her back against his side.

  Curves and softness in all the right places, her body fit perfectly against his. He rubbed his chin over the top of her head. “How you feeling?” He’d held back tonight. No cuffs. More interested in giving her a taste of his domination and letting her feel her way.

  “I’m good.” She turned onto her back, her gaze bright. “I get the feeling you went easy on me.”

  He shrugged. “No point scaring you off at the beginning. We can try cuffs next time. Essentially, dominance is more about me being in control and testing your limits. The last part especially is a gradual journey. We’re not trying to break the sound barrier in one go.”

  She chuckled. “Good thing. The whole ‘g-force cheeks fluttering’ thing isn’t a good look for me.”

  He loved her self-depreciating sense of humor. “Noted.” He smiled to himself and gave her a squeeze, before settling her back against him.

  “Heath?” Her voice ended higher, prompting a question.

  “Yeah?” Once more, he lowered his head to the pillows.

  “I’m curious about something, and I’ll understand if you don’t want to answer, but I think it would help us get to know each other better.”

  They’d just shared as intimate an act as two people could. He could handle a simple question. “Ask away.”

  “Can you tell me some more about your family?”

  “My brothers?” Fair question. He hadn’t shared much.

  “Both your families. The one you had as a kid, too.”

  He stiffened, and he could tell she felt his body tense when hers did the same. He rarely talked about the family from his childhood. And even giving them that title seemed…odd. But what the fuck should he call them? The family I helped kill?

  At his continued silence, London shifted against him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No, it’s okay.” He ran a hand over her hair, wanting to reassure her. “I’m not used to talking about them with anyone other than my brothers.” And Aurora when she’d been alive. With her understanding gaze and gentle manner, he’d been able to confide his conflicting emotions about mourning one family and embracing another.

  “Mum’s name was Vicky. She was a midwife at the local hospital.” He still pictured her navy scrubs hanging on the clothesline. “Sometimes new parents would give her presents.” Boxes of chocolates she’d share when she got home. “She had gorgeous, dark wavy hair that fell all the way down her back.” The same color as his. “And the best laugh. Dad used to joke with her so he could see her smile.” Anthony Hudson adored his wife, told Heath he was the luckiest man in the world when she’d agreed to marry him.

  “My dad, Anthony, was middle management at an insurance company.” Tall and with blue eyes just like his son, he’d been a good provider. “He always had time for us kids, no matter how busy he was. Never said no when I wanted to practice passing the footy in the backyard.” “Good throw, son.” Heath could almost feel his dad’s hand ruffling his hair in a sign of approval.

  “And you had a sister?”

  “Michelle. She was sixteen. Three years older than me. We drove Mum and Dad nuts with our arguing.” Boys, lip gloss and obsessing over her weight consumed Michelle. Heath had bugger all in common with his sister. “God, you’re so gross” was her favorite greeting. And Heath wasn’t any better, ribbing her unmercifully. Fighting was their main way of communicating.

  And the final way they ever addressed each other.

  “She was sixteen at the time of the accident?” London gently clarified.

  “Yeah.” Funny that. He always described Michelle in terms of the car accident. Not how she looked, or the many years before, when they’d got on fine. Joked together. Before boys. Before puberty.

  Before the crash.

  “You remember I told you my family was killed in a car accident?”

  Her hair brushed his chin as she nodded.

  “I was in the car, too. Survived with only a few cuts and bruises.” He’d sat in the back of an ambulance, refusing the blanket the paramedic tried to drape over his shoulders, and watched as the broken bodies of his family were removed from the crumpled mess that had been their family sedan.

  London’s hands rubbed his forearm in gentle comfort where it rested on her belly. He liked the fact she didn’t offer any platitudes of sympathy. Her touch meant more right now.

  “Can I ask how it happened?”

  Fuck, what a loaded question. Heath focused on saying the words and not the churning in his gut.

  “We were on our way to the movies. Star Wars, Phantom Menace.” He’d done extra chores so he could buy himself the biggest bucket of popcorn. “Michelle had spent ages getting ready, so I’d started teasing her, being an annoying shit.” ‘You made us late again. What if your precious boyfriend won’t wait and goes in with another girl?’ “She gave back twice as hard.” ‘At least I won’t be sitting with mum and dad like some little kid.’ His mum had no patience left after a long shift at work. ‘For God’s sake, Heath, give it a rest.’ “Dad turned back to tell us to behave.” ‘Shut up the pair of you.’ “He wasn’t watching the road.”

  Because of him. Maybe, if his dad hadn’t been breaking up their fight and had been facing front, a precious few seconds to swerve…

  But he had robbed his dad of that chance.

  Heath dragged in a breath and exhaled slowly, but nothing could assuage the guilt, which festered like an open wound on his soul. Some sins could be washed away; he’d carry this one for life.

  “A drunk driver missed a red light. Plowed into the driver’s side of our car.” No warning came. One moment his dad looked over his shoulder at Heath, the next, a massive force slammed into them. The deafening noise of steel being crushed and twisted. A piercing scream. Then the world spun and squeezed around him as the car became so much smaller, everything squashed tight against him.

  He sat there, stuck in the back passenger seat, warm liquid flowing down one side. Later, he’d see it was his sister’s blood.

  “Dad and Michelle never stood a chance, copping the full impact. The collision propelled our car into a street lamp. Mum’s body was crushed by the force.”

  Catastrophic injuries. That was the term the coroner used.

  And Wade McMannas—drunk, disoriented, staring blindly as onlookers rushed to help—walked out of his car and sat in the gutter. Not a mark on him.

  The two p
eople most at fault had survived.

  London’s grip on his arm tightened. “And the drunk driver?”

  “Found guilty of three charges of manslaughter under Australian law.” High-range alcohol reading with a long history of drunk-driving offenses. “Got twenty years. Be out in three.” Less than seven years for each of Heath’s family members.

  Heath clamped down on the anger that rose up like poisonous lava in a nearly erupting volcano.

  She turned in bed to face him and cupped the side of his face in her hand, her touch gentle, consoling. “I can’t imagine how that must have been for you.” Lifting her chin, she kissed him on his jaw and snuggled against his chest.

  He wrapped his arms around her, hugged her tight. No pitying remarks or polite platitudes from London. He appreciated she recognized he wasn’t a man for either. Her genuine sadness and gentle comfort touched him deeper than he could have imagined.

  “My dad’s brother, Uncle Sean, took me in.” A good guy who had no fucking idea what to do with a lost and lonely kid. “But a few months later, he suffered a heart attack at work. There were no foster families at such short notice, so they sent me to a juvenile detention center.”

  He ignored her gasp and kept on, needing to get the words out, to tell her everything so he wouldn’t have to repeat the story again. “I landed there scared out of my fucking wits. I didn’t look sideways at anyone.” A kid from a loving family was all soft around the edges compared to the hardened teenagers who fought against the system.

  And then there were the guards.

  “One of the dormitory supervisors decided to teach me the rules when I forgot to call him ‘Sir’.” Short, stocky, the bastard’s crewcut hair and jowly face swam in front of Heath. The man’s punishing grip on his arm had hurt like hell, but Heath didn’t want to be a crybaby. “He took me to the bathroom.” White tiled walls and gray cement floors with showers along one side. No stalls. No privacy. ‘I don’t take shit from any kid.’ “Threw me against the wall and beat the crap out of me.” He felt London’s hand on his chest, but his focus was elsewhere. The first blow had sent him to his knees. The second, a kick to the ribs, doubled him over. The third… ‘Please, I h-haven’t d-done anything.’ Hard, cold laughter greeted his pleading. ‘That’s how it’s gonna stay. You wanna be my little bitch? I could make you—’