Always (Family Justice Book 1)

by Halliday, Suzanne

  Jesus. She had no idea how spot-on that observation was.

  “FINALLY! TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH.” Meghan’s waspish tone sounded an awful lot like a challenge.

  Alex felt a crooked grin spread across his face as a hearty chuckle exploded from his throat. His eyes had taken in the entire scene playing out before him the second he stepped into the master suite. Judging by the ample evidence, his naughty fiancée had outdone herself this time.

  His bedroom, which until her appearance in his life had always been rather bland and austere, had been transformed over time into a soft, sexy sanctuary. Now, instead of empty, boring spaces, there were twin easy chairs and a side table situated in front of the arched, Spanish doors leading to their private patio. Meghan insisted that he took occasional breaks from the endless projects and technical stuff clogging his brain and the comfortable seating had become ground zero for those quiet times. He loved sitting there with her, watching a sunset or just silently being in the moment. It was all good.

  Today, though, the chairs had been shifted away and her massage table was set up in front of the open doors. A slight breeze made the sheer curtain panels ripple and sway. A large candle inside a deep hurricane was flickering, and the music system pumped soft ambient sounds into the background. His nose caught a myriad of scents—there were always fresh flowers in their room plus he detected a slight familiar aroma that made him smile. His fiancée was adopting Southwestern habits, and unless he was mistaken, she’d cleared the room by burning sage.

  It was all so perfectly seductive. A feast for the senses. The irrefutable pièce de résistance, however, backlit by the late afternoon light streaming through the open doorway, was his beautiful Meghan. She stood perfectly framed by the desert vista beyond, and so beautiful he felt the inevitable tightening in his groin.

  His naughty masseuse was in uniform—a short stretchy cotton skirt that allowed for ease of movement, and a thin white tank top with a low-scooped front. It showed off a pink satin corset underneath, one of his particular favorites. Her luxurious mane of auburn curls had been tamed into a long, thick French braid that lay over one shoulder.

  Alex was a visual guy, or at least he was where Meghan was concerned. He could easily just stand there the whole damn day and just lose himself in her presence. She sent all his senses to their highest setting when she was like this. A woman on a mission. An erotic one. This was a scene they played well. The regular massages she gave him were completely doomed from the start. As far as staying in the therapeutic zone, they didn’t even try to pretend that each time wasn’t going to end up a fuck fest of epic proportion. Everything about how she stood, the way her hair hung, the choice of clothing, even the glow shimmering in her eyes—it was all designed to entice and seduce.

  She pouted at him and rolled her eyes, mock-annoyed. “I texted you over half an hour ago, Major. You’re expected to be prompt for your scheduled massage. I’m not sure we have enough time now to, uh…get real deep.”

  Holy fuck. The bitchy, throaty growl and the way her voice shook on the word deep almost pushed him over the edge. Grinding his jaw, he drank in every detail of Meghan trying to play the controlling mistress. He goddamn loved that she tried.

  Chuckling low and deep, he strode further into the room with what he hoped was his very best lord-and-master swagger, loosening his tie and undoing the top buttons on his shirt.

  “Well, make time, woman,” he snarled with a humorous lilt. “I’ve told you, patience.” He whipped the tie from around his neck and snickered as he tossed it aside.

  “Sorry you had to wait, darling. But when I get a text out of nowhere that says, Bring me your ass, it can sometimes take a few minutes to get out of whatever I am engaged in. After all, it’s not like I can just stand up in a crowded room, point to my phone, shrug, and say, Sorry, my lady wants to fuck, and have that be it.”

  She gasped in mock outrage and planted her fists on her hips. “Major Marquez! Behave yourself. You have an appointment for a massage. I don’t know what you’re talking about with that other.”

  “What,” he grinned, “you mean the fucking?”

  “Sir,” she sniped, “I’m going to have to ask you to mind your damn manners. I have three badass brothers who won’t take to having their sister subjected to such coarse language.”

  He’d been stalking closer as she spoke, pushing her into a corner before she realized what he’d done. With the wall at her back and nowhere to go, she flinched, tilted her chin, and looked up at him. She always crumbled when he used the power of his physical presence to control her. It was his ace in the hole and could change their dynamic in a heartbeat. Meghan might want to play, but she was also hard-wired to yield to him when he used his dominance to subdue her.

  Alex let several long moments drift by as he loomed over her, one of his hands on the wall above her head and the other tracing the armhole of her t-shirt. His face was mere inches from hers, listening to the panting breaths she was taking. He could feel the heat radiating off her sweet body.

  “So, now that you’ve made time,” he drawled silkily, smirking for emphasis, “I’ve brought you my ass as requested. Do with it what you will, my beautiful Irish fuck Goddess.”

  Meghan smiled. It would have been so easy for Alex to take her right then and there. Hell, she was always ready, but the fuck goddess comment was her green light to call the shots. For now.

  Slipping her hands inside his suit jacket, she slid it slowly off his broad shoulders. She was thrilled with the feel of his custom-made shirt and the way his body heat warmed the normally crisp, cool fabric. He was so damn yummy she forgot for a minute what she was doing, letting his expensive jacket fall to a heap on the floor as she stroked his muscular chest beneath the soft cotton.

  Getting him to add a couple of expensive custom-made suits to his wardrobe had been easy once she let him know that she really liked the clean-shaven badass businessman look. She also liked the scruffy, absentminded professor look. The sexy-as-fuck rock-n-roll drummer look. The blue jeans and chambray shirt look or what she called her Sexy Cowboy. On Alex, they were all good.

  Murmuring softly, she told him, “You know…I like these shirts very much,” as her fingers mapped every inch of his chest. “Plus, you look hot as hell in a suit, Major. It pleases me whenever you wear one,” she added in a throaty murmur.

  She felt a finger drift down the side of her face as she continued staring at his gorgeous torso in the fitted white shirt while her hands kept busy stroking him with hungry hands. No matter how many times she touched him, it still stole her breath when she could feel every muscle, every curve, and every ridge of his manly body.

  “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. The way your eyes glow whenever I suit up my inner gentleman makes me want to fuck you on the spot until that glow turns smoky and dazed.”

  Meghan flicked her tongue briefly on the center of her lips in an attempt to restore moisture to her suddenly bone-dry mouth. “Glad you left the gentleman at the door,” she whispered.

  He growled in response and dipped his head to capture her lips, but she pushed on his chest to stop him while starting to slip the buttons through their holes. Her sexy-as-fuck Major allowed her to undress him, even holding up each wrist while she concentrated on removing his silver cuff links. After the shirt was off, she stooped and picked up his jacket and put both garments over the back of a nearby chair, slipping the cuff links into his suit jacket pocket.

  A wry smirk flashed on her face. Shit, even his cuff links were sexy. Button on the cuff? Hell to the no! Alexander Valleja-Marquez had cuff links and tie tacks, lapel pins and collar bars. He might rock a pair of worn jeans like a panty-creaming god, but when he did the suit and tie thing, well…Justin Timberlake started singing in the background of Meghan’s imagination, and it was usually all she could do to refrain from jumping on him and climbing the man like a tree.

  And as if her thoughts weren’t hot enough, when she turned back, Meghan felt the
oxygen leave her brain. He was so goddamn gorgeous it melted her insides. Bare chested, his dress pants had a highly evident bulge under the zipper and were held up by a thin leather belt with a small buckle that her fingers itched to undo.

  Stalking around him in a slow circle, her fingers drifted along his waist from the front to back where she stopped and stepped closer. Running her fingers down his spine, she murmured close enough for him to feel her breath on his skin, “You have such a beautiful posture. Strong. Confident. Powerful. I like that.”

  He half groaned, half growled an “Unf,” but said nothing else.

  She put her hands on his waist and slipped her fingers inside the band of his pants so her fingertips caressed the top of his hipbones.

  “You’re carrying stress in your hips. I see it when you walk.” She stroked his flesh and let her fingertips drift closer to the trail of hair that led from his navel to his staff. Meghan loved Alex’s body. It excited the shit out of her. He grunted when she whipped her hands out of his waistband and began attacking the belt buckle from her position behind him.

  Before she knew what was happening, he’d swung around, grabbed her hands in his, and slammed her against the wall with her arms held overhead. The whimper she let loose was pure reflex from having his erection pressed into her belly as he pinned her in place with his hips.

  No! She really needed to put her hands on him. Seek out the areas that needed relief and work her special magic to help ease his pain. “Oh, Alex. Please, baby,” she cried, “I need to touch you.”

  “I know,” he growled low and deep as he ground against her. “And you can. After you tongue fuck me with that sexy mouth of yours.”

  He crushed her lips under his, demanding everything as he ferociously kissed her. Oh, my God. His hungry, devouring mouth tasted so damn good.

  Meghan whimpered under the onslaught, kissing him back, swirling her tongue with his, giving as good as she got. With her hands pressed against the wall, all she could do was squirm as he ground his hips into her.

  What he was doing was pure Alex. He was going to let her indulge in one of her sexy massages. He was even going to go along with her little topping fantasy where she was the mistress and him her compliant lover, but first, he was going to remind her who was really in charge. Seriously, she wondered. Does it get any better than this?

  All that macho, chest-thumping, primal domination was just so damn sexy and hot. Tongue fuck him? Jeez. That expression was new. She wasn’t entirely sure which of them was the most desperate one as the kiss rocketed further and further out of control. Feeding her desire for his taste, Meghan let the carnality of the kiss sweep her away. Mmmmmm.

  He let go of her hands, which immediately moved to clutch at his head. The feel of the slightly shaggy hair soft against her fingers brought her slowly back to earth. She sensed his reluctance to let her end the kiss, but he did.

  “Tongue fuck, hmmmm?” she teased softly. “Might be something we have to add to our vows. Love, honor, obey, and tongue fuck.”

  Alex growled and pushed his hips into her. “Damn straight. Sounds perfectly fine to me.” He fisted her braid and yanked her head back. “Especially the obey part.”

  Feeling mischievous she smirked, “Why, sir. I believe obey is a two-way street.”

  Meghan moved her hands to his waist, so when she felt him shift his stance, it reminded her what she was supposed to be doing. The stress from Drae and Tori behaving strangely, having family visiting in the compound, planning a wedding, and just generally being Big Daddy to so many people was grinding away at him, and she couldn’t have that.

  Sliding deftly from his grasp, she went to a side table and started fussing with a bottle of massage oil as she told him, “Okay, Major. You know the drill. Naked. Empty bladder. Face down, sheet draped over your, uh…over your backside.”

  “Meghan,” he groaned. She loved that sound. Ever since her jubilant return from Boston, they had been living a sensual, erotic indulgence of the senses morning, noon, and night. It was a heady time. They’d been apart most of the day with her taking care of Villa details while he made the airport run to pick up Tori’s mother. After that, he’d been sucked into some Justice business. The tension in Alex’s voice told her of his need.

  Viewing him through shuttered eyes, she flipped open the cap of a bottle of oil and inhaled deep. Mmmm. Just a hint of warm amber. It was her favorite scent and what the velvety liquid did to his skin was hot and sexy. Walking toward him with a rolling sway, she held out the bottle for him to smell.

  It was a sensory trigger, one that hit him broadside. She saw it in his eyes when the amber scent reached his nose. Now she had his attention.

  Stepping back, she hastily admired his bare chest one more time then rocked him with an ‘I’m in control here—do as you’re told’ attitude. “You. Naked. Now.”

  Okay, then. That certainly got him moving. She had to remember that tone and work on perfecting it. Sort of her hard-ass mistress voice. Not that she’d get many opportunities to use it. Alex was such a complete dominant in the bedroom. He took that lord-and-master shit to an eleven, and she loved every second of it.

  The old saying, Happy Wife—Happy Life only told part of their love story. For her, the happy wife part depended entirely on how thoroughly her hunky Major had been loved. Their saying would have to be—well-fucked husband, satisfied and happy wife then hell yeah, a happy life.

  Her eyes lit up with female appreciation when he sauntered completely naked from the en suite. Holy fuck. He was just so friggin’ big. Everywhere. Big chest, big arms, big thighs, big, uh…yeah. That was big, too. And right now it was fully erect and jutting from his body in a way that was impossible to ignore. He just stood there and let her drink him in. The man was 110 proof intoxicating.

  Slowly raising her eyes to his, she enjoyed the way he carried his pride, completely unashamed by his nudity and clearly reveling in her response.

  “Major. I love your cock,” she murmured, licking her lips for naughty emphasis.

  He smirked at her and chuckled. “I thought you said this was just a massage and nothing else.”

  Pointing at the table, she held up a sheet to drape over his hips once he was facedown and primly told him, “It was a therapeutic assessment, sir. Plus, I think your cock is pulling to one side. I’ll have to work on that, don’t you think?”

  Alex’s bark of laughter filled her with joy. He liked hearing dirty talk from her, and she’d been working on ways to satisfy his need creatively. Blunt, straightforward cock talk she found a thousand times more seductive than screaming ‘fuck me.'

  As soon as he was in position, she went to town. He was full of tension knots; his neck felt like a concrete block, and all kidding aside, his hips were out of whack. Meghan sighed as she worked her hands, prodding, pushing, and kneading his muscles. This time it wasn’t his old injuries causing the problems. It was everything going on in their world, all at once, slowly taking him down.

  She spent a good deal of time at the base of his spine along his waist and just below, releasing the energy from his hips and upper thighs. The oil gave the things she was doing to his body a sensual edge. With his backside uncovered, she ran her hands, scoring her fingers into his flesh, from shoulders to ass with sure, firm strokes. Then she reversed course, pressing the heel of her hand into his skin, ending with her fingers sinking into his hair. The part where she rubbed his scalp and tugged on his hair was for her. Plain and simple—it turned her on.

  When her hands needed a break, she tapped him on the shoulder and instructed him to turn on to his back whenever he was ready. She was so thorough at what she did that Alex was generally jelly by this time. Excited, aroused jelly for sure—but jelly none-the-less.

  Flexing her hands while he slowly turned, she watched for signs of discomfort or pain and was glad to find none. He did so much for everyone else, just by being Alex. Seeing to his physical needs as well as his emotional, sexual, and intellectual ones gave
Meghan a deep-seated contentment. This man was her everything.

  Once again, she worked on him from skull to toes while he lay there totally compliant, uttering only the occasional groan or hiss. The afternoon heat had faded with the sunlight, but a fine sheen of sweat covered both of them. It went well with the oil and brought a hedonistic element to the proceedings. At some point, the flimsy t-shirt she wore came off. The satin and stretch lace corset she wore underneath clung from the heat and sweat.

  When there was nothing else for her to do but focus her attention on his hips and groin, she quietly slipped out of her skirt. So all she had on was the pink corset and a pair of blush silk sheer panties. The kind that covered her flesh but afforded a seductive view of what lay beneath. They were so delicate and he tore them off her with such regularity that UPS might as well set up a fast drop zone at the Villa to handle the number of times he’d ordered a dozen more pairs.

  She leaned down close to his head and murmured, “You good, baby?”

  He let out a deep, satisfied moan.

  OH CHRIST, SHE WAS KILLING him. Honest to fucking God—what she did with those hands was a fuck-ton more than a simple massage. She reached so far inside him with her energy that he could sense her rearranging the bits and pieces of his soul. It was intense, healing, calming, and deeply, deeply energizing on a primal level. Maybe that was why they tended to fuck like animals after one of these sessions. The white-hot sexual power she unleashed with those clever fingers was hard to control. Even for him.

  Keeping his eyes closed fed his other senses, making them more vibrant, better able to pick up small nuances like changes in temperature, scent, and position. He knew the minute she removed the stretchy little skirt she wore when the smell of her sweet body washed over him. The amber oil enhanced her natural scent and invaded his senses.

  He felt her breath close to his face, heard her voice, husky and full of care, “You good, baby?” Ah shit. He fucking loved that she called him baby. Such a simple thing, really, but hearing her say it always rocked his world.