Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) (59 page)

“Let me do that,” he husked, pushing her little hands away. Her tits were
his
job.

As gently as he knew how, Parker pulled the adhesive edge off her soft skin, both of them watching intently. She moaned a little, and he jerked to a stop.

“Did that hurt?”

“No,” she assured him, her hand resting on his arm.

“Why the moan then?” he asked sharply.

“Because I like seeing your hands on me.”

Her answer was so quiet—so earnest. Parker’s heart thudded.

Uncovering her beautifully puckered nipple, he cupped the full, firm breast and squeezed; then in a swooping motion, he leaned down to suck the dainty nub into his mouth.

Her hands went immediately in his hair, soft groans rumbling in her chest, and a leg in its naughty thigh-high boot wrapping around his. Greedy for more, he tore the cover off her other breast.

Bending his knees for perfect access, he cupped and kneaded both voluptuous breasts, alternating between licking, nipping, and sucking on the delicious mounds until she quivered head to toe.

In the distance, her name was called. Dammit. Sounded like Tori was looking for her. Their time was up.

Covering her, he pulled the dress into place and smiled into her eyes. “You please me very much, baby girl.”

Parker didn’t know where those words came from. The thing was that she looked . . .
delighted.
When had any woman ever given a shit about whether he was pleased or not?

Taking her small hand in his, he raised it to his lips for a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he drawled. With her other hand, she ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his face.

“For?

“Caring what I thought.”

She laughed at him. “Fat lot of good it did me. Now when we leave this room, my headlights are on high for everyone to see.”

“Yeah,” he smirked. “True. But you’ll be right by my side and believe me, no one in their right mind will as much as look twice. Not if they want to keep on breathing.”

She grinned but chuckled. “Promises, promises.”

Pushing her against the door, Parker shoved a thigh between her legs, pulled down one side of the dress, cupped a breast and sucked on it till she cried out. An instinct, something old and primal, made him mark her skin. Satisfied, he looked at her flesh in his hand.

“Remember that time I made you come just from sucking your nipples?”

She gasped and slapped him on the arm. Hard. “How can you tease me so when you haven’t even kissed me?” she pouted.

Parker roared with laughter. “Easy. Because you and I both know if I kiss you, neither one of us is getting out of this room with our clothes on.”

He rearranged her dress again but spent a good long time massaging her boobs through the fabric. My god, she had the sexiest tits ever.

“There,” he drawled, tweaking a nipple. “Perfect.”

“Men!” she growled, shoving him away with a laugh and yanking open the door scant seconds before Tori tried the knob.

“Oh, there you two are,” she jeered. “No time for the pantsless intermission, kids.”

Angie sputtered, but nothing came out, so Parker did the honors. “Something you would know about, Mrs. St. John. I’ll bet fifty bucks your fingers have been all over someone’s zipper.”

Tori giggled outrageously and nudged Angie with her shoulder. “Performance high. Stage adrenaline.” Gesturing, she said, “I heard the stagehand say they’d be ready for y’all in about ten so you better get out there before they send a search party.”

Right.
He still had a short set to play. Looking down at the beautiful señorita at his side, Parker knew just how that part of the night would pan out. She’d be his in the most public way and Aldoriffic and any other buttfucker eyeing her up could eat shit. After tonight? To get to her, you’d have to go through him. Good luck with that.

Alex grabbed him the second he reappeared in the bar. “Well?” he barked. “She packing her bags or can Uncle Eduardo pencil you two in?”

“I’ve got this,” he assured his friend. “Buttfucker Yellow Socks over there is complicating things, though. What’s his deal? Why is he still here?”

Alex laughed, but the sound was more malevolent than reassuring. “Ignore him and focus on the set.”

“What do you want me to do?” Parker replied. Alex was right. Time for music.

Alex grinned. Big time. “Mmmmm,” he drawled. “Obviously, we open with
Coming of Age.
After that? You lead, I follow. And seriously . . . if you can’t make that song work, you are one sorry fuck.”

Parker threw back his head and roared with laughter.

“Team Justice!” Alex hollered. “Assemble, gentlemen.”

Game on.

S
HE HADN’T CHUGALUGGED A COLD
beer since college when stupid shit like that happened all the time, but that was exactly what she did while Aldo ran off at the mouth, rather belligerently scolding Angie for what he described as a
poor showing
that he declared slutty.

Oh, my god. The nerve of him. How many times had she bit her tongue while he gallivanted all over Europe with a tribe of questionable celebrity types who were essentially sluts for money. What a dick.

Angie was sure she’d completely lost her mind when, after draining the bottle, she slammed it onto the table top then expanded her gut and gave power to a mighty beer belch that deserved an award.

Aldo looked at her in horror. “What is wrong with you, querida? Has this place made you forget who you are?”

The subtle insinuation that her behavior was somehow off was shot to hell before the words left his mouth when two guys and a woman walking by gave her a thumbs-up like a lady burping one out in public was an everyday occurrence. Tori and Lacey shouted from a few tables away with approving hoots, claps, and boisterous laughter. So, what exactly was
this place
doing to her?

“This is about that cowboy lawyer, isn’t it?” he goaded her. “I understand,” he added silkily.

Ewww.
Was he kidding? Angie shuddered.

“These things happen all the time, my dear. The allure of something so different. If you must fuck him, please get to it so we can go home to the life we planned.”

That sleazy comment was so far over the line that she, well . . . she knew exactly what she was doing and couldn’t blame the adrenaline or the beer for what happened next.
Nah.
That was all her.

In a major league move, her arm bent back then arced forward as her small hand flattened and tightened—aiming directly at Aldo’s smirking babyface, she walloped him good. Hopefully, the hand mark she left would be more visible than a tattoo.

Damn proud that she was now a true Whiskey Pete’s gal, having slapped two different men on two separate occasions, she stowed her smacking hand, and tried to hide a smirk.

Like fruit flies descending on an overripe peach, Family Justice was all over them in the next heartbeat. Angie knew there was no way she could haul off and whack Aldo without them seeing. And reacting. But she wasn’t quite finished yet.

Sizing Ronaldo Esperanza up for a burial suit was looking easier and easier.
Little man.
He’d always been pompous, but he’d never pulled this holier-than-thou nonsense—she wouldn’t have put up with it. Angie guessed what she was seeing was the real Ronaldo. Gone was the practiced gentleman with the continental airs. And in his place was a small-minded cynical sack of shit. She sensed he still wanted something, this trip had a purpose, but she was done being nice.
Fuck that.

“Your language is rude and offensive,” she ground out. “And your insinuation that fucking a cowboy was something you’d ALLOW is beyond disgusting. You are a pig, Aldo, and I demand an apology.”

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Lacey asked as her arm snaked around Angie’s middle.

Little Tori came and stood right in front—between her and Aldo—crossed her arms, and stared at him. Behind them, she could feel Cameron and Draegyn’s ominous presence. Angie knew with one word she could have the man gawking at her ripped to shreds.

The house lights dimmed and the air came alive with the hum of guitar amps. The crowd moved closer to the stage.
Alex and Parker were going on.

Since Aldo didn’t seem in a hurry to apologize, she threw up her hands and stomped away in a huff, supremely conscious the whole time of her bouncing breasts and the way her nipples peaked.
Great.

“Angelina,” Aldo squawked. “Do not walk away.”

Angie whirled around as Tori gave him a hearty shove and walked past. Knowing or rather hoping that her parents understood, she flipped him the bird then went to find her man. If Aldo tried to mess with her through the winery or her folks, she’d deal with it but more than that? He really could go fuck himself.

They found Meghan where she always was—right by the stage ogling her Major and making sure he wasn’t overdoing it. Parker, of course, was right where he always was. Up front. In the spotlight. Larger than life. Hotter than a dozen heart-throb country singers rolled into one very sexy package and staring right at her.

Adjusting his guitar, he grinned and started talking to the crowd while his fingers picked out a chord. “Helluva show earlier.”

His meaningful leer and the wink that followed got her all tingly and way too giggly for her own good.

The crowd cheered.

“Heard some good shit tonight, right?”

More cheering.

“Well, me and the boys are here to close out the stage and you know how Pete is about sending a bunch of rowdy motherfuckers onto the roads after a night at Whiskey’s.”

Now the cheering was raucous and over-the-top.

“So,” he drawled with a sneer as he fiddled with a guitar pick, “that old fucker made us promise no head banging. Ballads and soft rock only.”

A smattering of, “Boos,” were heard, but for the most part, people laughed and nodded like it was a good idea.

“Now most of you know our part-time drummer . . . another old fucker, my good friend Thunder Foot of the Justice Clan . . .”

A titter of good-natured laughter rippled through the room.

“But what you might not know is that one of tonight’s performers is Thunder Foot’s little sister.”

Oh shit.
Angie wondered if she’d get arrested for throttling him.

Tori nudged her playfully and Cameron whispered, “FYI, little sister. Grown men play for keeps.”

The color started creeping up her neck.
Little sister.
Someone was going to die.

After a bit more boisterous applause and shouts of, “Who?” Parker nailed her with a look that was all challenge.
Grrrrrr.
Damn him. She never could say no when he did the taunting. Alex’s smirking, know-it-all expression made it clear he was in on this little performance.

“What do you say we get her up here to share the stage—make it a family affair?”

People went nuts with applause. She was doomed.

In full smirk, Parker locked eyes with her and called out, “Desert Angel! Get your ass up here and sing with me, sweetheart. Let’s show ’em how the big kids do it.”

Aww, shit.
She absolutely couldn’t hold back her laughter. Lacey smacked her butt and said, “Come on, sister! Get up there in those nasty boots and wipe that smile off his face.”

Tori rubbed her back. It was like they were in her corner, psyching her up to enter the ring.

“Uh, Angie?”

“Yeah?” she answered.

“What happened to the pasties you had on earlier? Your high beams are lit up, Angel baby.” Tori giggled.

Angie quirked a lopsided grin. “Yeah, about those,” she drawled. And then she walked to the side of the stage and took a deep breath, hearing Lacey and Tori’s shrieks of laughter as she walked.

Parker immediately came over and extended a hand to help her up the short stairs, then pulled her to center stage where he put his nose in her hair and breathed deep.

“Tell me something,” he asked sounding serious. “Did you mean what you said about me being your boyfriend?”

She snickered. “Who knew you were so needy, counselor?”

He swatted her behind for not answering and left her standing in the spotlight. Angie didn’t need to ask what song was coming. Alex’s ridiculous gotcha smirk only confirmed what she already knew. Spying Meghan’s fancy tambourine near the drum kit, she grabbed it so at least she’d have something to do.

Back at the mic, Parker riled up the crowd a bit. “If you like eighties rock, you’ll know this one. It’s our all-time favorite little sister song. Another playlist standard! Check it out—
Coming of Age
from Damn Yankees.”

A whoop of approval rose from the crowd when he soberly added, “Please observe a moment of silence for all that awesome eighties hair.” The mocking reference brought the house down.

Proving she was up for anything he threw at her, Angie rocked out with glee. This time when she heard the song, instead of it igniting memories and yearnings she’d rather not face, she let it seep into her senses until a huge bubble of joy grew.

Yeah.
She absolutely was the little sister and glad for it, too. And now that she actually had come of age? Parker Sullivan, Esquire belonged to her. All that other noise? The years of self-doubt and confusion? Even letting herself believe she could ever replace Parker with . . . well, with anyone? All that was the past. It was him or a life of yearning and regret. No in-betweens.