Loving Justice (El Camino Real Book 2)

by Hunter, Sable

  “I’m dying here.” She halfway teased.

  “Can’t have that.”

  As she waited, breathlessly, Justice used one hand to place the head of his cock at the entrance to her channel. She moaned, clutching his shoulders, waiting with hungry anticipation.

  Slowly, Justice began to push in. She was tight, lusciously tight. Feelings of recognition, remembrance, gripped him. He’d known this rapture before and been robbed of the memory. “Ohhh fuucck,” he growled as he pumped his hips, tunneling into her sweet velvet.

  Charlee wasn’t quiet, she let him know how she felt. Sweet sounds of urging and acceptance were whispered against his shoulder. “More, more, Justice, take me, please.”

  Desperate to be inside of her, Justice pushed in with one long thrust. She moaned and clung to him as their hips met, and he held himself still, luxuriating in the sensation of holding himself deep. When the need became overpowering, Justice began to move, pulling out, sliding back in, his pace quickening as the urgency grew. “Charlee, my Charlee…”

  Charlee ran her hands over his neck and chest feverishly. Justice was making love to her and there was no denying the fact that he was aware of who she was, for he said her name over and over again. She cupped his cheek, adoring him. His face was intense with strain, an intensity she could feel in her whole body. He was thrusting hard in and out of her and all she could do was wrap herself around him and hold on. Molding her body to his, she reveled in his possession.

  With ragged breaths warming her neck, Justice pressed his lips against her ear and whispered, “Don’t ever leave me again.” Holding her in his arms as she flew apart, her little pussy milking him as she came, Justice’s hips pumped helplessly and followed her over the edge.

  The words he gave her was all it took, Charlee closed her eyes and cried out his name. As her world exploded, he buried his face in her neck and groaned. She kissed his neck over and over as his body stiffened, his muscles bulging beneath her touch.

  “Baby, baby, there are no words,” he murmured, kissing her face. He didn’t move, he didn’t want to. Instead, he kept himself buried deep inside her. Gradually, the aftershocks subsided, leaving them drained, but he still held on.

  Charlee loved every second of it. She stroked his hair. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

  “Only with me. No one else.”

  “No, no one else.” Charlee thirstily drank in his possessive attitude. When he rolled to one side, still holding her, she nestled deeper into his arms.

  “Sleep, sweetheart. Later I’ll check the fire, but right now I just want to hold you and thank God you’re back in my life.” Charlee let out a contented sigh. For the first time in ages, she wouldn’t be lonely. Tonight she would sleep in the arms of the man she loved.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Charlee awoke to the cries of birds. She was warm and very comfortable. The only odd thing was a light snoring noise. As her brain kicked in, she became aware that her head was lying on a broad warm shoulder and there was no moving because she was anchored by an arm strong enough to carry the heaviest of burdens. Beneath her ear, his heart beat solidly, a reminder that he was real, alive—not a figment of her imagination. The events of yesterday and the night before came rushing back. Charlee smiled and blushed, remembering what they had done.

  What she’d like to do again.

  During the night, Justice had turned off the lantern, pulled the sleeping bags over them like a blanket and left the propane heater running on low. The sun was coming up, giving a warm glow to the inside of the tent. When she moved her knee a fraction, she found that something else was up.

  Her man was hard.

  Looking up into his face, peaceful in sleep and handsome as sin, she raised a tentative finger to touch the sensual curve of his lip. So dear to her heart. She wanted to kiss him so bad she ached.

  Even though she knew the circumstances were different, Charlee needed reassurance. Being braver than she’d ever thought possible, she eased up and placed her lips on his. Ever so lightly, she rubbed her mouth across him, loving the whisper of his breath that tickled her nose. “Justice, Justice, do you know who’s kissing you?”

  He wiggled his nose, and Charlee giggled. The vibrations in her chest made her nipples chafe against his skin, and she almost gasped at how good it felt. Time to try again. Lowering her head, she took her tongue and ran it along the seam of his lips, ending with a tender kiss which, if she was not mistaken, drew a little interest. “Say my name and you’ll get a surprise.” She teased.

  Justice opened one eye. He liked surprises. Almost, he teased her. Almost, he asked if her name was Katie Perry or Snookie. But he didn’t, Justice realized this wasn’t really a game. This was serious. “I know you. You’re my Charlee.”

  “Good answer.” She placed a lingering kiss on his lips.

  “So where’s my surprise?” he asked, rubbing the soft skin of her upper arm that lay across his chest.

  “I’ll show you.” Slowly, she wiggled her way down his body, being careful not to injure the part of him that she intended to focus on. Charlee wanted to pleasure him within an inch of his life.

  “Hey, where are you going?” He knew where he hoped she was headed. Justice didn’t know the extent of her knowledge, but as far as he could tell she was fairly innocent. No matter, he lived in hopes and knew he’d love whatever she offered him.

  On her way down, Charlee took advantage. She’d always heard there was value in the journey, so she tongued his nipple, licked his abs, and nipped the tight muscles of his abdomen. When she arrived at her destination, she couldn’t be quiet. “I sure do like this part of you.”

  Justice laughed, but he soon hushed as she closed her small fist around his swollen erection and slid the palm up to glide slowly over the head, luxuriously spreading pre-cum all over the swollen crest. Charlee watched him with a rapt stare, her tongue darting out to tease the tip. And when she licked the side of his cock, Justice arched, throwing his head back and groaning. “God, your mouth was made for sin.” Fire pumped through his blood. Charlee’s lips spread silken heat as she worked him deeper, laving the thick shaft in a slow push to the root.

  The taste of him was an aphrodisiac on her tongue, but nothing compared to the thrill of watching him enjoy what she was giving to him. She hollowed her cheeks to increase the suction and give him more pleasure. He filled her mouth wonderfully.

  She was killing him. A low moan rumbled from his throat as she worshipped his rock-hard length. If she wasn’t sucking him off, the sweet little noises alone would keep him stiff as a board. He loved watching her as she gripped his thighs, completely lost in pleasure. Sliding his fingers in her hair, he pulled at the dark tresses until she whimpered and took him deeper. His balls churned with need as she opened wide and nearly swallowed him whole. Damn, this was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen in his life.

  Gazing down at the woman who’d haunted his dreams, he writhed as she let her tongue drag across the rim and down over the swollen veins. She swallowed around the crest, and he bucked, fucking her mouth, relishing the way she held on to him, nibbling the head before she stole his sanity and repeated the process. Christ, she was taking him the fuck apart. Needing to touch, he smoothed his hands over her shoulders and down to her breasts, playing with her nipples. He’d learned that was one of her favorite things. She might be self-conscious because she wasn’t as big as she thought she should be, but what drove him crazy was how she responded when he touched and kissed her tits. Charlee didn’t understand how a man’s mind works—knowing he could please his woman and seeing her burst into flames was the sexiest thing in the world. As he pinched and plucked at her nipples, she purred, bouncing her perfect ass up and down. He knew she was needing his cock, and he’d give it to her—all she could handle.

  “Uh, uh, hmmm, ummmm,” she hummed around his cock and the erotic sounds danced up Justice’s dick, from the sensitive head to his aching balls. His whole body was covered in
a fine sheen of sweat.

  A rising swell of aggressive, grabbing hunger saturated his lower body. He was about to cum. Relinquishing control, he speared between her lips as she moved her mouth up and down his cock again and again until his eyes rolled in the back of his head. “Suck me, baby. Don’t stop.”

  Locking her gaze to his, she stared up at him, those big dark eyes telling him all he needed to know. She was going down on him, taking him to a level of pleasure where he’d never been before. And she liked it. Cupping his balls between her fingers, she massaged him, sucking even harder until he froze, ever muscle tensing, then she did something that just blew his mind.

  Charlee was trembling with need, wetter than she’d ever been before. Giving Justice pleasure had turned her on so much that she was desperate. Moving up his body, she straddled him, took the head of his cock, bathed it in her juices by sliding it up and down her pussy, then she put it to her entrance and sank down, moaning at the sheer unadulterated relief of having him inside of her.

  And that was all it took. She put her hands on his shoulders and rode him, sliding up and down his pole—one, two, three perfect strokes, and an orgasm hit hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. Justice bellowed like a bull, his hips flexing up, his hands on her breasts. She screamed his name. “Justice!”

  He marveled in awe as she threw her head back, the long dark hair grazing his thighs. She flexed her hips, tightening, milking, squeezing every last drop of seed from his body.

  Justice was ruined. Dismantled. He’d had more pleasure in her arms than a lifetime of sexual acts put together.

  There was no one for him but Charlee.

  No one.

  * * *

  The day had warmed and the wind blowing through the pine trees was more seasonal. They’d checked the sinkhole after he’d fed her. The intimacy they’d shared flowed into every step they’d taken since them. He’d cooked her breakfast, feeding her bites of bacon and forkfuls of egg. She had prepared his coffee just the way he liked it and stolen kisses as they’d saddled their mounts.

  Laughter rang through the copse of trees, and Justice knew he hadn’t been this happy in a long, long time. Now they were riding west. She had a map open on her phone, and they were looking for evidence of a burial mound. “I remember playing around it when we were kids, Justice,” she told him they watched for any differentiation level of the ground.

  “I do too. Dad always told us not to climb on it or dig around it. He said we had to show the place respect because it was the resting place of a great people.”

  Charlee’s heart warmed to hear him say that. “I know we didn’t think this way. As far as you and I were concerned, we were just Charlee and Justice, but I appreciate the reverence. When I was in South Dakota, on the reservation, I learned that the government confiscated almost eight million acres of the Black Hills, Sioux land, in 1889 and put them on the Pine Ridge reservation of less than three million acres. A year later, troops slaughtered three hundred people, mostly women, children and the elderly, at Wounded Knee. The reservation is one of the poorest areas in the US, with no natural resources and no industry. I met people who traveled a hundred twenty miles one way to work and only one in five has a job. There’s very little medical care. When I…” Charlee covered her mouth. She’d almost told him about losing the baby and having to wait days for a real doctor to visit.

  “When I…what?” he asked, listening.

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “It was just an eye-opening experience. Housing was inadequate. There wasn’t a dentist for miles and miles. The schools were sub-standard. Yet, I felt welcome and loved.” Which was true. The people had made her feel at home.

  “I thought the Supreme Court ordered the government to pay the Sioux a bunch of money for stealing the Black Hills.”

  “They did,” Charlee agreed. “But the Sioux wouldn’t accept it. They want the land, not the money. The Black Hills is sacred to them.”

  “So much injustice,” he breathed.

  “Look, is that it?” Charlee pointed to a small rise in the landscape. They headed their mounts toward it and slid to the ground. “The El Camino Real followed existing Indian trails and settlements, and missions were built along the route.” She stepped gingerly over fallen branches and waded through clumps of grass to get to the ancient mound. “I’ll mark this one, and we can note the two places where the wagon ruts still remain, and we can connect the dots—sort of.” She smiled at him. “Then we’ll know how far the road can be curved out to miss any unstable ground. What we want to do is study the graphs we’ll get from the crew coming this afternoon and find a place where there is solid rock underneath and not honeycomb caverns.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll admit, the wagon ruts don’t sound like much. But knowing we can see the actual evidence of pioneers, soldiers, and settlers indelibly etched in the earth fascinates me.”

  Charlee nodded her head. “Me too. Countless journeys over the same path wore down the earth and the fragile topsoil retained the mark. It’s haunting.”

  They walked a circle around the perimeter of the mound, letting the fact that people could be buried there sink in. “Speaking of haunting, do you remember when we decided to dig for buried treasure in Lavaca Creek?” Justice asked as he held Shasta still for her to climb back in the saddle.

  Charlee moaned. “I do. We would have been wiser to wait for one of the drier months. Instead, we sloshed and splattered and ended up swimming. Our excursion turned into a picnic. And we sat up and waited for the ghosts to come.”

  “We had a good time and look at this.” Justice stood up in his stirrups and dug in his pocket. “I found Spanish gold in that very spot a few years ago.”

  Charlee edged Shasta closer and took the coin from his palm. “Oh, my goodness!”

  “I want you to have it.” He offered.

  “No, I couldn’t take it.” She gave it back to him after examining it.

  “I never really cared about finding the gold, I just wanted to be with you.”

  Justice grabbed her reins and pulled Shasta close enough for him to kiss Charlee. “I should have known. But we had a good time.” He snorted. “I can remember telling you the story about how Spanish mule trains were attacked by bandits. They’d fought them off but couldn’t transport the gold, so they buried it along with one of their wives who’d been killed in the attack. No one to this day has found the gold, but many have seen the filmy white glowing figure of the woman gliding toward them over the surface of the water.” He’d made his voice deep and mysterious, yet he was surprised to see Charlee shiver. “What’s wrong? Am I scaring you, precious?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “It’s just that since I’ve been living in Austin, I have a neighbor who told me the legend of La Llorona, the woman who weeps for her children and suddenly it all makes more sense.”

  “What do you mean?” They were letting the horses pick their way through the underbrush, moving farther west, charting the route of the trail that lay somewhat parallel to Highway 21. He could tell something was disturbing her. “Tell me, I know you don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “Actually, I’m not so sure.” She began to explain. “Many have seen her. She doesn’t haunt just one river or one waterway, she seems to be wherever there are those of Hispanic descent. The legend says that this beautiful Mexican girl was loved by a noble rich man. She gave him her heart and her body and bore him three children. But he never married her. He would visit her and the children, care for them monetarily, but there was no hope he would bring them from the village to his home. One day, when the woman and her children were at the river, the noble man passed by in a carriage. He was not alone. A noble woman was with him. When La Llorona ran to the carriage, she was told this woman was to be his wife. He would not recognize or claim La Llorona. In her great despair, she killed her children, drowning them in the river. Upon coming to her senses, she realized her horrific act and killed herself. When the noble man came to visit, he f
ound out all of them were dead.

  “Not a pretty story,” Justice said, but he looked at Charlee with interest.

  “No, it’s not. And it’s not the end of the story either. The woman was seen again and again, crying for her children. ‘O, my children. They are lost,’ she would cry and mourn. Since then, countless times the woman has been heard or seen and shortly thereafter, someone will drown or almost drown. It’s a widespread tale told to children to keep them from wandering at night.”

  “I’m glad we never saw La Llorona at the buried treasure sight,” Justice admitted as they rode along.

  “I think I saw her the day my mother drowned,” she said quietly. “My father was Hispanic, you know.”

  “What do you mean, you saw her?” Justice stopped his Appaloosa to listen better to Charlee.

  “My mother and I were swimming in the river. She told me to stay near her, but I paddled off after a floating leaf or something. I heard someone calling my name. When I looked up there was this lady in white with long dark hair. She was holding out her hands, and I started to go to her. The water was over my head, my dog-paddling wasn’t strong enough to stay afloat, so my mother swam after me. But she had a seizure and although she pushed me back to shallow water, she drowned and there was nothing to do, I was too small to lift her or turn her over.” Charlee began to cry. “When I tried to tell my father and the others about the lady in white, they all said it was my imagination. There was no one there but us.”

  “That’s strange,” Justice began. He’d discounted another story that now seemed to make sense. “I told you about Cade nearly drowning.” She nodded. “Well, we were all told that little Harold followed Scout out across the pond. But that night, when they were talking to him and reiterating how he was to never do anything like that again, he told his mother that the dog had gone out onto the ice ahead of him because there was a woman in white beckoning them both.”