Tempting Justice, Sons of Sydney 2

by Fiona Archer

  As an officer of the law, Heath’s dealings with bikers held little in common with bad boy/antihero sexiness and more to do with hardened criminals, but he wasn’t about to debate the point.

  He glanced over Mercy’s head and through the glass sliding doors. The tall green hedge behind his back deck provided a backdrop to Adam as he talked to someone on his phone.

  To Mercy he said, “Honey, you think you could call Aidan and add to that takeout order?”

  “Already done.” An easy smile played at the corners of her mouth as Seth handed her a glass of white wine. “He’ll be here soon.”

  “In the meantime, can I get you a drink, luv?” Seth asked London as he opened Heath’s fridge. “We’ve got wine, soda, beer, juice or chilled water.”

  “I’ll have some wine, thanks.” London walked around the kitchen counter and sat on the remaining stool next to Mercy. She glanced between Seth and Heath. “During the drive here, Adam said he once knee-capped a terrorist masquerading as a reporter. You guys think I could ask him to do the same here or would that be pushing the friendship?”

  Heath studied London and caught the hint of desperation in her gaze not fully camouflaged by her smile. Putting her game face on.

  Right at that moment, as a mixture of heartfelt pride and searing admiration warred for prominence, he knew he was falling for the little writer. How deep he had no idea. But London was his, and by all that was fucking holy, he was going to make things okay, just as he’d promised.

  ****

  London glanced between Heath and Seth. Had she pulled it off? Being glib was usually easy for her. After all, hadn’t she and her hunky detective traded one-liners every time they were together? Except, the full totality of today’s events had stretched her coping mechanisms to straining point.

  Tonight when she’d turned on the TV…

  Her belly rolled at the memory, pitching a wave of bile up her throat. A tremor raced through her. She clenched her hands to hide any possible shake. Oh God, she wanted to run and hide and just…just block out the world for a few hours.

  But then she caught dark blue eyes studying her. Heath. If she ran, he’d worry. The man was taking his role as her protector seriously, wanting to give her a sense of normalcy after the earlier turmoil.

  Must not let him down.

  As Seth handed her a glass of wine, she held her nerve.

  Tonight she refused to be the needy girl sitting in the corner. At least…not with everyone here to see.

  “So,” she sipped her wine and concentrated on the taste, the freshness lifting her mood a tad. “What are my chances of convincing Adam to torture another reporter?”

  “I’d say excellent.” Seth grinned, and London let her body relax. The big Aussie with the wavy, dark blond hair leaned his forearms on the counter. “Adam would only have to glare, and Kemp fucking Douglas would wet his pants like a preschooler.”

  “I’ve got to say, Adam’s, uh…zeal”—‘Blood thirsty enjoyment’ was another term that would fit—“for that particular job was sobering.” London guessed the commando was letting her know he wasn’t a big fan of reporters in a show of sympathy, which was sweet in principle. However, she normally drew the line at crippling her enemies.

  Not that she’d had many enemies in her life and certainly not ones she’d had to confront nose-to-nose, per se. London used words, wit and canniness to get her revenge. Knee-capping was the kind of on-the-job skill most authors never mastered.

  On the other hand, if she ever had any research questions involving special ops and all things military, she now knew who to approach.

  Mercy glanced over her shoulder at Adam, who was still on his call but looking back toward the kitchen. “I wonder if he’d consider talking to some of the kids I work with at the Youth Center.” She turned back. “Not about the kneecapping of people. I meant more channeling his energies into something good. In fact,” Mercy glanced between Heath and Seth. “You guys have overcome obstacles to make yourselves successful. Maybe you’d all like to come and meet the kids sometime.”

  “SPD works with a number of youth clubs, and I’ve volunteered through the programs in the past.” Heath moved to the fridge and got himself a beer, then came to stand beside London. “Aidan can give you my email address. Send me some information. I’ll forward it on to my brothers.” He sipped his beer. “No promises, but we’ll take a look.”

  Mercy’s eyes lit up. “That would be awesome.”

  London felt a smile tug at her lips. Heath covered all the bases for hero material in any romance she could write. Rescuer of women facing a media frenzy, a great kisser, and he’d volunteered with youth programs. The man’s good points were piling up.

  The swooshing sound of the sliding door opening caught everyone’s attention. Adam slid his phone into the clip on his belt as he entered. “Had to take that call. Business.”

  She’d have to be blind not to notice the look exchanged by all the men and that it wasn’t shared with her and Mercy. No problem. She’d had enough intrigue for one day, thanks.

  Derek got up from his seat, headed to the fridge, and glanced back to Adam. “Beer?”

  “Thanks.” The big Aussie, still dressed in the same black clothing he’d worn earlier today, walked the couple of steps to London. “You take a deep breath yet?”

  She stared into unusual gray eyes flecked with gold. Adam’s compelling stare had her answering before she knew otherwise. “Yeah, a couple.”

  “Good.” He accepted a bottle of beer from Derek, but kept his focus on her. She tried to not fidget under the intense scrutiny. “You’ve had a crap day. But you have good people who’ll work to get to the bottom of what’s gone on.” His normally gruff manner gentled to something close to coaxing. “Give yourself a break for a few hours, London. The world will still be here in the morning, but this time, you’ll be prepared and have back-up.”

  Adam left her there, speechless, as he walked around to the other side of the counter. Clearly well-versed on the layout of Heath’s kitchen, he opened up a cupboard and pulled out a large white plastic bowl. Then he reached into the pantry and grabbed a large bag of chips.

  Seth muttered to Adam, “You’re going to ruin your reputation as a hard arse with such flagrant displays of compassion.”

  “Seth’s right.” Heath slung an arm over London’s shoulder. “That was a genuine moment you shared with London, bro.”

  Adam glanced first at Seth. “Fuck you.” Then to Heath. “And fuck you.” He emptied the chips into the bowl. “And I genuinely mean that.”

  Far from daunted, his brothers threw back their heads and laughed. Derek and Mercy joined in, and a second later, she found herself doing the same.

  They only stopped when a knock sounded on Heath’s front door.

  A minute later, Heath reentered the kitchen, along with Aidan who carried two bulging white plastic bags.

  “What have I missed?” Aidan asked as he placed the bags on the kitchen counter and then kissed Mercy.

  “The Justice brothers showing they are just like us and communicate their deep feelings by ribbing each other mercilessly,” Derek offered.

  Aidan reached over and tugged a strand of London’s hair. “How else would a family show they care?”

  The next two hours proved Heath and Adam right. Once she laughed, the heavy thoughts of her day were pushed back to the edge of her mind, allowing her to relax and enjoy the evening.

  Making the most of Heath’s fabulous back deck and outdoor seating, they loaded the teak table with food and drink and spent a healthy portion of the evening teasing the heck out of each other. London had to hand it to the three Justice men. Their dry Aussie humor had set the mood for a fun night.

  By the time she and Heath waved goodnight to everyone, London felt like she’d smoothed out some of the wrinkles that had disrupted her peace of mind.

  Heath locked the front door and led her from the wide foyer into the hallway and then through the doorway on her
right and into the living room. “How about a glass of wine and we’ll listen to some music or watch a movie.”

  London glanced around the room, noticing for the first time the enormous leather couches strewn with cream and russet patterned cushions inviting a person to rest, and the leadlight chandelier in hues of deep yellow, olive green and cream. The room was gorgeous, and at any other time, she’d want to study all the details at leisure.

  However, for now, that would have to wait.

  She was calling in a marker.

  “I want you to make everything okay.”

  Heath lifted a brow. “Looked like you were enjoying yourself sitting on my back deck, Red.”

  “I was.” She stepped closer, now only a foot apart and—oh my—that familiar flutter of pleasure, when his height and muscled physique filled her senses and made her feel so feminine, danced over her shoulders and down to sink low and deep between her legs. “But last night, when you introduced me to how you…play, I felt so free, totally caught up in the moment.” She let out a long breath. “I want to forget everything and only think about us, together, and you…” Don’t give in now. “…taking complete control of me.”

  Heath swept his gaze over her face. “Are you sure? What you’re suggesting may be too much after the day you’ve had.”

  He was being cautious. Understandable considering her day had been the pits. But she’d never been surer in her life. “You made me a promise. Don’t make me beg.”

  One moment, he was a foot away, the next, she was hauled against him. He twisted a handful of her hair around his hand and tugged. Hard enough that it burned at the base of each follicle.

  He…she blinked…he’d man-handled her. There was no other word for it. A hot thrill of pleasure shot through her body.

  She loved the raw dirtiness of this harder, rougher touch.

  He dipped his head and whispered close to her ear. “Red, you’re definitely going to beg.”

  She felt him draw her arms behind her, felt a cool pressure on her wrist, and the next moment, the distinct ratchet-like click of one handcuff and then another sounded. She tugged her arms, but she was caught.

  Arousal swept through her, raising her pulse. She tugged again, but the steel bands held her firmly. This was really happening. Her gaze traveled from the tanned skin not hidden by Heath’s open-necked shirt, up the column of his throat and then higher, over the strong line of his jaw to his smoldering blue-eyed gaze.

  His unrelenting confidence as he studied her stole the air from her lungs.

  “What’s your safe word?” His voice rang with iron-hard command.

  “Dentist,” she whispered.

  Heath released her hair and gripped her upper arm. “That’s right, Red.” He scooped her up in his arms and carried her from the living room, down the main hallway, to a doorway on the left. “Remember you have the power to use it if you feel the need.”

  “Okay.” Though she hoped she wouldn’t need to. Whatever happened next would be based on her letting go. And she so wanted to embrace that sense of freedom.

  They entered a room painted in navy and decorated with heavy wood furniture. A man’s room. A seascape painting hung over a low king-sized bed. The rich timbered headboard had wooden slats, perfect for bondage.

  Heath lowered her to her feet. “Steady?”

  She nodded when she got her balance.

  He moved behind her, and seconds later, one cuff came off.

  What? London glanced over her shoulder.

  “Remove your top and bra.” When she took a second to take in his command, he threatened, “Unless you want me to rip them off.”

  “Uh, no.” She rushed to obey, the dangling cuff getting snagged in the arm of her t-shirt, but she yanked it free. Next was her white bra. She bundled both items of clothing in her hands. “Where should I…?”

  He took them from her and dropped them on a chair in front of the long side window. “Now the rest.”

  She toed off her sneakers and slipped out of her jeans and panties, handing them to Heath. They joined her other garments on the chair.

  Heath flicked his head toward the dresser behind her. “Turn around.” She did so, and he re-cuffed her arms behind her. Moving to sit on the end of his bed, he pulled her to stand between his legs, facing him, and tapped the side of her leg. “Move your feet shoulder-width apart.” She inched her feet outward. “Good girl.”

  Air caressed her damp pussy. She was cuffed, naked and exposed. And so very vulnerable to whatever Heath wanted.

  Her desire grew, now hungrier. Would he make her beg as he’d threatened?

  “Your skin’s so pale, Red.” He smoothed his hands up her sides then over her ribs before cupping her breasts. His fingers skimmed over her pebbled nipples, dragging against them. She jolted. “When you get excited, your skin flushes with pink, like now.” He cupped her breasts and gently squeezed. “I like that. Means you can’t hide your reaction.” With the faintest pressure, he brushed his thumbs over her nipples and smiled at her shiver.

  Heath slid an arm around her waist, flattening her arms to her back and stealing more of her free movement. His hand gripped her hip, both a sign of his possession and to keep her in place.

  She curled her toes in the fawn colored carpet as his other hand moved lower, over her bottom and down her leg. Then up again, sliding across her inner thigh and higher, over the edge of her pussy and to the skin above her clit. The tiny bundle of nerves pulsed as heat raced through her. Would he touch her there? She so wanted to ask but didn’t dare.

  His fingers inched closer, making swirling patterns over her skin. Then closer still, skimming the wetness of her pussy lips before gliding over her clit, and pulling back the hood.

  She gasped at the rough, hot sensation. Her breathing grew faster, shallower. She pressed her lips together, covering her moan as he teased her clit, stroking the tight bundle of nerves one second, then barely touching her the next.

  “But it’s the freckles on your chest that intrigue me the most.” His warm breath caressed her breasts. “Here.” He kissed a few on a spot above her right nipple. “And here.” Another kiss, this one on the top of her left breast. “And right”—he licked the edge of her areola—“here.” He captured her nipple between his lips and sucked as he sank two fingers inside her.

  “Oooh,” she moaned, letting her head fall back as Heath twisted his fingers, rubbing the sensitive walls of her inner core. In and out, he glided his touch over her g-spot with just enough pressure to keep her hanging on a hook of desperate need. Ripples of pleasure consumed her, building to a peak and nearly threatening to take her legs out from under her. Only Heath’s arm against her lower back and his hand up on her hip kept her upright.

  “How long do you think I can keep you on the edge, Red?” He swirled his fingers inside her, firing off another tremor deep inside. “Ten minutes?” Another swirl and another. “Fifteen?” The pad of his fingers rubbed right there. “Maybe an hour?”

  Fuck. Surely she’d collapse first? “Heath, please, I’ll beg. In fact, I’m begging now.” She didn’t give a damn. “I’m not ques—” She held her breath on another swirl of his dark, erotic torment. “Questioning that you are the boss.”

  “I never thought you were, London,” he said in an infuriatingly reasonable tone.

  She glanced down, but there was no smugness in his handsome face.

  “This is another lesson in my dominance and your submission.” His voice deepened. “And the pleasure you feel when you’re absolutely”—he stroked her clit with his thumb as, deep inside her, his fingers glided over her g-spot, sending yet another burst of sweet heat—“fucking”—another thumb flick—“helpless.”

  He pumped his fingers inside her, her body jolting from the force. She stood there, head back, mouth open, unable to think as the muscles in her core drew tight, the pressure building. Any second now.

  “Look at me, London,” he commanded.

  She dropped her head for
ward and forced herself to focus on him.

  And then there was nothing else but his face with those intense blue eyes and his fingers pumping and swirling inside her, holding her on the very edge of sweet oblivion with such masterful skill of a kind she’d never before encountered.

  This was his dominance and her submission.

  “Ple-e-e-ese,” she whispered.

  Heath smiled. “Now you understand.”

  He curled his fingers and rubbed her g-spot. Six, seven times, until her world exploded, firing brilliant colors of ecstasy, one shuddering burst after another, from her core then outward, radiating like a shower of pleasure-filled golden embers.

  Slowly, Heath lessened his strokes until the breath-stealing shudders faded to quivers that fluttered along the walls of her core.

  Satisfaction sang through her body, leaving her giddy but not spent. She wanted to feel his length inside her. Filling and stretching her. Making her writhe under him as he had last night.

  Heath gripped her hips and guided her back two steps as he stood.

  Then, with his larger body holding her in place, he kissed her, claiming her mouth with devastating confidence that she was powerless to resist.

  Ending their kiss, Heath held her securely in his arms. “I wanted to have your lips around my cock.” He lifted her in his arms. “But I can’t wait to be inside you. Maybe later.”

  Dropping one knee onto the bed, he sat her on the mattress. From a drawer in his dresser, he removed a second pair of cuffs. Releasing her wrists from behind her, he then cuffed them in front. After easing her down so her head was on his pillow, he used the second pair of cuffs to secure her wrists to one of the sturdy wooden slats of the headboard. Dropping the keys to the cuffs on the nightstand, he said, “You okay? Cuffs not too tight?”

  London settled back against the pillow, testing this new position. “I’m okay.”

  Heath kissed her forehead and then rose. He undressed quickly and grabbed a condom from his wallet. In seconds, he was sheathed.

  London loved studying his muscled body, but he didn’t give her much time to appreciate those broad shoulders and wide chest before he was moving up beside the bed and shaking his head.