Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) (22 page)

He grabbed her arm and let go of her mound, yanking her toward the bench. Sitting, he adjusted his body then pulled her into position with her back to his chest. Keeping a hand wrapped around her bound wrists, he pulled her down until she felt the fat head of his cock at her opening.

“You will fuck.
Now,
” he demanded and forcefully impaled her with his entire length.

She screamed into the gag and squeezed her eyes shut. Holy shit. In this position, he had her at an angle that made her toes curl. The exquisite sensation of being filled completely made wet heat gush along his staff.

He lunged upward, and she saw actual stars as indescribable pleasure ripped through her.

“I said—
fuck.
Do it now! And fuck hard. I want your pussy to explode when you come. Drench me, woman. Now!”

If it weren’t for his strong grip on her wrists and the way he’d banded his arm about her middle, Meghan wouldn’t have been able to go as wild as she did. Pounding on him, her legs spread on either side of his, she rode his cock, writhing and undulating in a frenzy of need.

He laughed and bit her shoulder when her pussy tightened. “You fuck good, woman.”

It didn’t take long.
Oh, god.
She’d needed to come. Senses on overload, she grunted into the gag and shook from head to toe when her inner muscles starting contracting wildly. This wild release felt like no other.

“Good girl,” he cried huskily as her pussy throbbed. “You come so hard. I’m going to enjoy fucking you until my balls are drained.”

Before the last pulses from her orgasm died away, he lifted her off and grunted, forcefully pushing her to her knees with her ass in the air.

“Again,” he commanded and entered her with a ferocious lunge.

In their special spot, alone in the desert, her sexy, alpha Major was imbued with lust-fueled superpowers—subjecting her to every imaginable ravishment, pounding her till she actually cried for mercy. Licking her until, overcome with emotion, she cried.

He’d taken her from behind. She’d ridden him with abandon as he growled and played with her bouncing tits. When he’d pounded into her while standing with one of her feet up on the bench seat for leverage, she’d screamed in ecstasy. Finally, when she was barely able to function, they’d been chest-to-chest on the soft blanket, her legs resting on his shoulders, gag discarded and ropes undone, as he literally fucked her into complete submission. Sure, there was nothing left, but her alpha Major had one last surprise. Something she still needed time to process. When he was finally finished, she’d come so many times—had been pleasured and given so much pleasure—that she was completely spent.

With her in a post-orgasmic trance, he dressed her afterward, like he’d said he would. Pulling the teal panties into place, Alex gently cupped her mound and kissed that spot low on her belly just where the auburn curls of her womanhood began.

“You smell so good after we make love,” he told her with shining eyes.

That right there was why she adored him. He’d done just as he promised. Kidnapped her. Fucked her without mercy and then palmed her aching mound at the last making sure her panties got soaked. Calling what they did making love was a reminder that everything they did, no matter how free-spirited or wicked, began and ended with love. All that for just ten points? She wasn’t entirely sure, but Meghan certainly believed she’d gotten the best part of that bargain.

T
HEY’D CHECKED IN AT L’AUBERGE
and were settling in when Meghan texted.

Can you come to my cottage in 10 min?

Sure. What’s up? she replied.

Making dinner plans and confirming appts for tomorrow

Understood. I’ll bring my computer.

Tossing her phone aside, Angie twirled in a circle like a kid, and took in the spinning room. My goodness! This place was seriously awesome. From the humongous wood framed bed to the crackling of the fire in the stone hearth. And the splendid creekside view made her feel like she was in her own little corner of nature.

Thirty seconds after coming through the door, she’d been perusing the list of treatments available and all but salivating at what was offered. In all honesty, there was so much going on at the spa that she didn’t know where to start.

But it wasn’t all about her—this was really Meghan’s weekend. When Alex had told her about the surprise getaway, she’d gotten the distinct impression that Red was having a hard time and her brother wasn’t the type to sit back and do nothing if she was out of sorts.

Gathering her laptop and a binder full of notes, swatches, and scraps of paper, Angie set them by the door and went to freshen up. She had a ton of wedding things to show Meghan and one particular surprise she couldn’t wait to share. Hopefully, the relaxed atmosphere and some serious pampering would help bring the bride back from the edge.

The walk between their cottages was short—too short. She would have liked to keep on walking, listening to the nearby creek, and breathing in the beauty.
Mental note to self,
she thought.
Early morning stroll.

Tapping on the cottage door, she nudged it open with her hip and called out, “Hey, Red! Here I am—wearing my wedding planner hat. Get out here!”

Meghan came around a corner looking completely flustered. “Shit, Angie. Parker’s coming and I can’t see him like this!” She was waving her hands indicating something, but Ang didn’t have a clue what. “I have to take a shower. Right now. You’ll have to deal with him, okay?”

“Meghan, hon. You look fine. Settle down. What’s really going on?”

The frazzled redhead looked at Angie wildly for a moment and then burst out laughing. She covered her face for a second as loud snorting giggles ripped from her mouth.

“Oh, my god!” she choked out between wheezing laughs. “I can’t even!”

Angie started to laugh, too. Uncontrollable giggle fits had a way of becoming contagious.

“Blame your damn brother,” Meghan hooted.

“Does this have anything to do with the rather fresh set of bite marks on your neck?”

“What?” Meghan screeched, her hand quickly covering her neck. “Oh please, tell me he didn’t!”

Angie bent over and grabbed at her stomach as great guffaws of hilarity filled the air.

“Go clean up, Irish,” she finally managed to get out between hiccupping giggles and wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’ll handle the lawyer with the shitty timing.”

“You sure you don’t mind? I’m sorry Angie, but there was no way we were going to be able to sashay in and out of Sedona without Parker making an appearance. Alex would murder the guy if he didn’t step up while we’re away from the Villa!”

“I know, I know, and don’t worry. Go take a bath and relax. I’ve got this.”

Ten minutes later, she regretted the pretense of acting like she was in control. She also regretted her wardrobe choice. Looking more like the clothing of a teenager than a grown woman, her black skirt was too short and the oversized sweater with a long scarf wrapped several times around her neck, made her look dumpy. She’d been dressed for a car trip, not a date. The black tights and comfy ankle boots she wore completed an outfit that made her look like she should be carded at the bar.

Angie paced back and forth, waiting for their guest to show up, wishing Meghan would somehow take the shortest shower in history and get the hell out here. Counting on Parker’s impromptu visit being a quick courtesy call, she decided to play it cool when he arrived—like him being there was no big deal. She’d be pleasant and civil. Say all the right things and play the hostess till Meghan reappeared.

Simple was always best. No need to overreact just because there was that little matter of his fingers in her pussy the last time he’d seen her.

Uh, yeah right.

“Knock, knock,” a deep voice called out. “Stressed out bride in da house?” The screen door opened and the cottage door flung wider as Parker stepped into the bungalow. Damn, but he really was big. Like
big,
big. And it wasn’t an optical illusion. He took up the entire doorway.

The awareness his arrival triggered freaked her out. Nervously pulling on the sleeves of the sweater, she twisted her fingers together as playing it cool was no longer an option.

A devastating smile appeared beneath a pair of dark sunglasses that obscured his eyes from view.
Er, crap.
When he smiled like that she forgot her name.

“Oh, hey Angel.” He chuckled with mild surprise as he removed the glasses. “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Um . . . Meghan’s taking a shower,” she mumbled. Oh, my god! What the hell was wrong with her? No hello? No calm, cool disinterest that he was there?

Turning away as if she wasn’t even there, he headed for the welcome basket and dug through it. “Any chocolate lurking in there or did you already snag it?”

“What?” she barked. “No! Of course, not. That’s Meghan’s basket.”

Seriously. What the fuck was wrong with her? He was just being Parker. Teasing her about stealing sweets. She should have laughed off the comment instead of reacting like he’d accused her grand theft.

“Whatever,” he replied with a dismissive shrug. Tuning her out, he dropped into an easy chair, reached for the remote control to the TV, and started channel surfing while Angie stood there gaping at him. He was acting like she was of no more interest to him than a commercial about Pampers.

With a news program set to mute, he glanced nonchalantly around the cottage. “What’s all that shit?” he asked, nodding to her overflowing binder. “You still carry a slam book?” The snicker accompanying the sarcastic jest was like fingernails on a chalkboard.

A slam book? Really? Was there some reason why he was treating her like she was ten?

Maybe because that’s how you’re acting, you stupid shit,
her inner voice scolded.

Glancing down, she saw her fingers clutching the ends of her sleeves until the fabric almost covered her hands. Standing there in the huge sweater and short skirt, Angie felt like someone playing dress-up with the wrong clothes.

Feeling completely put off and awkward as hell, she unwound the scarf from around her neck and pointed at the notebook with the wide Velcro flap stammering, “Um, wedding stuff.”

“Oh?” He considered the sloppy binder for a moment and said, “Let’s see then. Show me what you got, Angel.”

His devilish smirk cut through her nervousness. Say wha
aat?
Arching an eyebrow, she crossed her arms and cocked a hip, trying very hard to make it seem like she was looking down her nose at him.

“Fat chance of that, counselor. I
could
show you, but then I’d have to, uh . . . hurt you. Very top secret stuff.”

He grinned and tossed the remote aside. When she shifted away, he reached behind her and grabbed the binder with a theatrical laugh.

He chuckled. “Better luck next time.” When she tried to grab it back, he swatted her hands away and said, “
Uh-uh-uh.
Best man’s prerogative!”

“There’s no such thing!” she shrieked, the arms of her baggy sweater flapping like batwings.

He ripped at the Velcro and the book fell open to a section loaded with pictures and clippings. He looked at the unorganized mess for a minute then gave an appreciative whistle and drawled, “Whoa.” Looking at her with wide, surprised eyes, he added, “Is that what I think it is?”

“Shh! It’s still a surprise,” Angie squawked in alarm, looking over her shoulder to make sure Meghan wasn’t around.

Parker nodded briefly, watching impassively as she snatched the binder away from him and rather dramatically shut it.

“Hell of a surprise.”

His voice gave nothing away, but she had the distinct feeling he was impressed with the tiny view he stole of Alex’s upcoming wedding.

“Meghan will love it,” she defended.

He chuckled. “Hell, baby girl, I love it.”

Oh. He loves it?
Sweet tingles of excitement took hold of her. “Really?”

“Yeah. And you’re right. Irish will, too.”

Hiding her flustered expression, Angie lowered her head and let some hair fall around her face. She didn’t want him to know how pleased she was by his reaction.

From the moment she’d taken over the wedding plans, Meghan easily approved every suggestion and had actually brought very little to the table beyond her insistence that the event be dignified. The spiritual aspect held more significance than the romance, and despite the fact that she could afford to have Elton John sing at the reception if that was what she wanted, she was far more interested in the actual ceremony than the party afterward. Made being the planner a walk in the park.

So, with the help of Meghan’s hilariously kickass mother, Angie had come up with a wow factor that was going to blow the former teacher’s mind, which in turn would make Alex a very happy man. Win-win.

After a long minute of silence, he looked at her sideways and winked with a grin. “Fuck me, Angel! That’s some impressive shit. Hell, honey—you can plan my wedding if that’s the kind of ideas you have.”

You know what? She wasn’t a kid anymore and she wasn’t stupid. He was totally fucking with her and having a good time doing it. Ignoring her? And then saying,
Fuck me? Plan my wedding?
Unbelievable, this guy. Would kicking him in the shins be overkill?