Enduring (Family Justice Book 8)

by Suzanne Halliday

  She circled back to the coquette routine and simpered like a brainless beauty queen with some appropriately applied giggles.

  “It’s just so big! Should I be frightened or fall worshiply to my knees?”

  “Worshiply?”

  “Yeah, like this.” She smiled into his playful gaze and wrapped her hand around his dick. The bracelet with the ballet slipper charm twinkled even in the dim light. Pumping slowly, she breathed and sighed, huskily cooing with delight. Rafe shuddered.

  Studying the tactile exploration, she marveled when the plump smooth crown of his cock rubbed the circle created by her grip. It wasn’t hard to visualize him inside her with the fat head of his beautiful cock leading the way.

  He continued teasing her breasts. His sturdy fingers gently tweaking a nipple, and his rough grunts were making her tingle.

  “Girlfriends come with certain privileges,” he growled.

  She liked the sound of that and asked him to define with an example.

  “In this instance, your first girlfriend reward is an easy one. Lady’s choice. How would you like to be fucked?”

  Her answer was automatic and shocked the hell out of her. “I want you to make love to me.”

  He looked so pleased that she did a fast double take and then blushed from cheeks to ankles. Cupping her face with both hands, Rafe claimed her lips and slowly reduced her to a shaky, moaning mess with just his tongue and lips.

  Until she felt the mattress underneath her, she was blissfully unaware that he moved them onto the bed. The slow, delicious kissing continued. He stroked, caressed, and explored her body without getting too close to her aching pussy.

  When he sat up, she complained and reached for him. He kissed her fingers and laughed. “Hold on, honey. The background porn is distracting.” He reached for the remote and turned off the TV. She had forgotten it was on.

  An unexpected gurgle of laughter escaped her throat. Rafe looked at her with one brow arched. “Something funny?”

  “Remember that horrible X-rated mess we watched the time we stayed in that shitty hotel across the river in Virginia?”

  “You mean the desert prince who did awful things to a captive virgin?”

  “Yeah.” She laughed. “That’s the one. You’d make a good fuck hero.”

  “Fuck hero? Babe, this is how I can tell you’re becoming a Justice gal. Bunch of smart-mouthed females, every one of them.”

  She and her bald Goliath never had problems getting their kink on, but she wasn’t much of a dirty talker. He was right. The Justice ladies were audacious vulgarians, and for the first time in her entire life, she felt at ease and comfortable with women. Until now, she had not ventured far from being one of the guys. It was where she felt most comfortable—and invisible.

  “I’m glad you like them, honey.”

  Domineau heard the encouragement in his soft voice. In a weird way, his support gave her permission to trust. And share.

  “I figure any female who could stop Draegyn St. John in his tracks has to have some kind of superpower or magic elixir.”

  He stroked with a flat hand from her throat to her abdomen. She writhed like a cat beneath the hand of her owner. His voice was deep and had a sexy growl. “It will do you good to be a girl. And don’t discount what you bring to their quirky tribe.”

  The stroking continued. She put her hand on his arm and felt swoony with growing excitement. Her legs parted. She was through talking.

  He took her hand and wrapped it around his cock. “Is this what you need?”

  She bit her lip. Shit. He would keep pressing until she gave up or gave in. Mr. Romantic needed the words.

  Goddammit, but this was harder than it should be. Maybe because Rafe was different. Her feelings for him made this whole thing different. She didn’t see the point in acting, and that wasn’t what he wanted. Overcome with embarrassment, she was about to tap out when it hit her that maybe a little lighthearted naughtiness would make it easier. Not acting, just playfulness.

  It was fun to audaciously pump his manly girth and giggle like a nymphet. “Aren’t you cold?” she teased.

  His eyes glittered with laughter and lust. It was a good look for him. “What if I am?”

  This time, she not only parted her legs in invitation, but she also dug her heels into the mattress and undulated with a throaty growl. “Warm and wet. Just the way you prefer.”

  It was a relief when he chuckled. “What I like is having exclusive rights. Possession turns me on.”

  My goodness. He had never said that before. She watched him move with a grace that came naturally. Sitting on his feet between her spread thighs, he stared at her pussy and licked his lips.

  “Arms above your head,” he commanded. “I don’t want you to do anything but lie there and feel me stretch your pussy.”

  She raised her hands and crossed her wrists. Everything about the moment made her feel vulnerable and desperate. He was asking for everything. She was painfully afraid of disappointing him but pushed the crushing worry aside.

  The background became fuzzy when he moved and filled her gaze. His size affected her—deeply. She craved the sensation of Rafe’s solid heaviness pressing her into the mattress. With him—only with him—Domineau felt her most feminine, and maybe that was why when he asked what she needed from him, her answer had come so easily. Make love to me.

  “Look at me.” His voice was thick with arousal. “I know you aren’t ready for this, but we’re done with the shadow relationship. If all you can handle right now is being a girlfriend, I’m okay with that.”

  Relief coursed through her, and she exhaled heavily. Had she been holding her breath?

  “But,” he growled, “I love you, and I’ve waited long enough. Understand?”

  A jerky nod was all she had. And then she breathlessly added, “Don’t give up on me.”

  Time stood still. Their eyes locked. She couldn’t say the words—not yet—but the shaky plea came a close second.

  He lay on top of her and entered her body with a slowness that stole her breath. She automatically lifted her knees and clutched his back with her legs. Slow-moving ecstasy coursed through her system. Rafe grunted and claimed her neck with an aggressive bite that left her quivering. It took so little for him to express his dominance.

  Something shifted inside her when they began the dance of making love. Excitement made her skin prickle. The sensation was exhilarating and sexy. Her nipples became hard and ached with need. The challenge of keeping her hands up made her legs grip his body more firmly.

  His kiss was lethal. She felt her emotions unravel under the heady onslaught from his lips and tongue. Each stroke of his cock ended with a thud as he filled her completely.

  Feelings swamped Domineau and drove her to the edge of her emotions. Rafe’s kisses and his growling words of love as his cock drove her higher. She writhed beneath his churning hips. A flood followed by a tsunami of arousal enflamed her senses.

  “Oh god,” she groaned. “Rafe.”

  “I’m here, baby,” he grunted. “Making love to my beautiful woman. You feel so fucking good.”

  She was melting.

  “Hang on. I need to …” He reared back and slammed deep in a series of frenzied, powerful strokes. Blinded by lust, she whimpered and begged for all of him. It was too much. She came so suddenly and fiercely that she cried out. The pulsing throb as her pussy claimed Rafe’s cock drew loud grunts from his center.

  There were words, but she was too limp to answer. He gathered her close and slowed his thrusts. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. Rafe had taken them on a bone-melting carnal journey that left her shaken.

  After he slowly and deliciously coaxed another orgasm from her quivering body, it was time for his pleasure. He was magnificent—stroking with a rhythm that helped empty her brain. She absorbed his manly grunts and answered his desire with her churning hips.

  He rose above her. She knew the look on his face. He was going to come
. Caressing his powerful arms as his muscles quivered from the effort, she felt his thighs harden to rock and whimpered her satisfaction.

  He surprised her at the end by pulling out and fisting his swollen cock until he came on her stomach. Watching his big hand pump his arousal-covered cock was hot as fuck. Domineau moaned as he ejaculated onto her flesh. It was a claiming, and she found the act deeply satisfying. Just because she couldn’t say the words didn’t mean she wasn’t completely committed.

  Rafe’s pleasure shouldn’t have taken her by surprise, but it did. When he collapsed beside her and pulled her close, she went eagerly into his arms.

  There was no talking. He cuddled her close and repeatedly kissed the hand she put on his chest. Eventually, he took a deep breath and sighed.

  He held up her hand. The plain delicate bracelet with the ballet shoe charm lay against her wrist. “You wore the bracelet for Molly, didn’t you?”

  How could she explain something that she didn’t understand?

  “Don’t get the wrong idea,” she muttered.

  He immediately sighed. “Being prickly is the same as running.”

  “Stop being right. Unfair advantage.”

  His rumbling chuckle vibrated beneath her cheek. She pressed a soft kiss onto his warm skin. Rearranging her sprawl, she tucked in close and rested her chin on the hand she put on his shoulder. If they were going to talk, she needed the comfort of his solid presence.

  Without a clue of where or how to start, she took the first exit to appear in her thoughts and stepped into the past. He already knew about her love of dance. What she had to say was like coloring an outline.

  “Suburban kids did two things. Little League for the boys and dance classes for the girls. Dance is dance, and we learned everything. Square dances, tap dancing, the jitterbug, hip hop, and waltzes. But when I discovered ballet as a five-year-old, I was convinced I’d revealed my calling in life.”

  “Must be a chick thing because Molly is obsessed.”

  “Understandable. The elegance and beauty captivated me, and my parents were all too happy to feed my interest. The annual Nutcracker Festival was automatic on the family schedule. Dancing was my thing.”

  Rafe stroked her back. “Your parents called you Rina?”

  “Yeah.” She quickly explained and even pronounced the formal Portuguese word. “Dad was a big, burly man.”

  The thunderbolt of awareness her description unleashed didn’t make her squirm, but it did reveal a lot about her attraction to Rafe.

  “He liked NASCAR and Led Zeppelin with a side of heavyweight boxing. Someplace, amidst the shitload of stuff I keep in storage, there’s a pic of him with Muhammad Ali. Oh, and another of him and my mom posing in front of the Rocky statue.”

  Her big man chuckled and gave her a hug. “I fucking love that statue. Did he run up the steps too? Shit. That Ninja fuck St. John is the only person to ever beat me to the top!”

  She could only laugh at the visual. “What were you doing in Philadelphia? And with Sinjin in tow. Do I even wanna know?”

  Rafe paused a moment and then had a good laugh. “Oh, man. Had to think for a second but I remember. Right about the time the team first formed, me and him were in DC giving hand jobs to the Pentagon brass. Long story and of zero importance. Anyway, his folks were in Philly for some reason. I think Arthur was involved with the stock exchange. They shocked Sinjin’s trust-fund collar, and he made me go with. In case he needed backup.”

  “He made you?” She smirked. “Pretty boy St. John made you do something? Rafe, come on. You can bench press that silver-plated turd in your sleep.”

  “Be nice.” He sniggered. “I like Draegyn. The man was born with all the wrong instincts, but he was smart enough to recognize that fact and eventually learned to distinguish between dumbass and survive.”

  Wow. She’d never quite heard it put that way, but he was right. Drae had spectacular instincts. Like, scary spectacular. She’d follow him off a cliff if that were his call. When coupled with his unbeatable martial arts talents, he more than earned his ninja title. But there was no denying in certain areas of his personal life that he took being a complete shit to new heights.

  “We did the Philly tour. Ate cheesesteaks and Tastycakes until I thought we’d burst. Discovered the sugar coma joy of a black and white milkshake. The Liberty Bell? Yeah, that was the shit. Rocky was the highlight for me. I’m glad if your dad liked that sort of thing that he got to experience it.”

  Domineau fought the melancholy that accompanied memories of her parents. It took a lot of mental energy to Photoshop her brother out of the picture.

  “He did the dance dad thing too,” she told him. “Like you.”

  Rafe’s eyes held hers. She didn’t try to hide her feelings

  “Molly asked if I had pointe shoes. Little girls love all that toe crap.” She shrugged. “Got my first pair from Dad when I was still too young. He wanted me to have them early and said something about dreaming big.”

  Melancholy decided to stick around and pulled up a chair to settle in her gut. She tasted the bitterness of every word waiting to be said.

  “By the time I got to use them, I wasn’t a little kid anymore. I guess taking a bullet in the chest acted as a growth stimulant. At thirteen, I was taller than every kid in school. The ballerina dream died before my eyes, like everything else.”

  Rafe hugged her, but she wasn’t anywhere near finished with this sad tale. Not even close.

  “Ballet connected me to my mom and dad. It didn’t matter that my height stuck a fork in my dance aspirations. I wanted to keep at it because that’s all I had. My aunt turned it into a weakness and used it against me.”

  She felt Rafe stiffen. If hearing just that little bit got a reaction, wait till he heard the rest of it.

  “Judy Waite was then and continues to be a classic cunt. Not the new fangled snarky cunt of today. That’s bush league stuff. Judy came from a position of privilege. She and Mom were complete opposites. Mom called it the generation divide. Judy was Johnny Mathis while Mom was the Beatles. In Judy’s book, she was white, skinny, and stuck-up—three things a classic cunt needed.”

  Unable to remain still, she pushed off Rafe’s body and sat up. Her state of undress seemed ironic. Once she had her say, she’d be emotionally naked.

  He pushed up too and rested against the headboard. He crossed his feet at the ankles and pretended to relax, but she wasn’t fooled. Rafe was hanging on every word.

  “Bottom line—Mom and Judy despised each other. Dad hated her for being such a bitch. When the thing happened, my parents were young. Barely forty. Their will didn’t take murder into account, so Judy got stuck with me.”

  The rest of it lodged uncomfortably in her throat. She slouched over and hid in her hair.

  “Um, the thing is, Judy sorta took the other side.”

  “Excuse me?” Rafe’s growl was somehow comforting.

  “Yeah. As far as I know, she continues to visit the penitentiary. She’s a waiting room regular.”

  That wasn’t all, but she couldn’t deal with the latest bullshit her aunt was pulling.

  “I wanted no part of her charade. She tried to force the issue. Counseling, psychiatrists, lawyers. I didn’t care what she did, the answer was no. No. No. No. No fucking means no.”

  “Is it too late to kill the bitch?” He grunted.

  She ignored his reaction and hurried to say the rest. “So she blackmailed me. I couldn’t have my ballet unless I agreed to her terms. The battle was long and arduous. Lawyers got involved. In the end, I agreed to go to the penitentiary but not to get out of the car. That meant every Saturday, we drove to the state armpit where I would be left to survive in either a sweltering hot or freezing car while she played her cunt game. The result was this—I got to take one class a week. On Friday night. Saturday was spent being tortured, and Sunday was the Lord’s day. No time for friends or extracurricular stuff. That’s why I never had girlfriends.”

 
“Don’t be afraid of Marielle,” he murmured. “She just wants to know you. That’s all.”

  “Why did you tell her about me, Rafe? Why? I don’t understand. Until the team went on mission, there was a better than good possibility we were never going to cross paths again.”

  “It wasn’t about seeing you again. It was about being honest, Domineau. I knew when she was born that some day I’d be explaining why she didn’t have a mother. Why a gestational surrogate carried her. I wasn’t fucking around when I said it was always going to be you, or nobody.”

  “She wants a mother. You know I can’t do that.”

  He caressed her arm. “Sweetie, don’t do that, okay? Don’t make a sweeping pronouncement and not explain why you think that.”

  “I can’t be a parent.” She said it with swift precision.

  “Big difference between can’t and won’t. Tell me why, Rina. Tell me why this freaks you out.”

  It was unfair that she heard the endearment through a haze of memory, but she was the one who opened this can of worms.

  The words wanted out. They were clawing at her throat. The eleven-year-old who watched her parents die in front of her eyes started wailing in her soul. The agony was unbearable.

  “Do you think my parents thought that one day their son would blow their brains out? Huh? Do you? I can’t, Rafe. There’s barely enough of me left to scrape together a functioning person. If that happened again, it’d kill me for sure.”

  “Oh, baby. Don’t cry. That’s not going to happen. You don’t have to spend your whole life paying for something you didn’t do. Isn’t that what you told Remington? Don’t you see? There’s a family right in front of you waiting to welcome you home.”

  She didn’t cry. It did no good, but that didn’t stop Domineau from clutching at Rafe while a lifetime of tears drenched his chest.

  “Just give us a chance, honey. That’s all I’m asking. You and me—you, me, and Marielle. Give us a chance.”

  Coffee was a miserable choice for a three a.m. beverage, but he didn’t give a fuck. He needed the bitter dark brew to open his head.