SOMETHING ABOUT AN East Coast sunset hypnotized Alex. Maybe it was because of the city they were in and the centuries of history all around or maybe it was as simple as just knowing they were back on U.S. soil and heading home soon.
Leaning against the balcony doors, he levered off and shut them to prevent the air conditioning from escaping. Where the summer weather was concerned, D.C. was one brutal city. Hot, muggy, and still—the place always reminded him of a sauna. He never understood how Parker put up with it for so many years. For Alex, give him the dry and sometimes brutally hot heat of the desert and he was good.
Pouring two shorties, one Glenfiddich and one Jameson, he took them to the piano and set them aside. Meghan was still on the phone with her folks, and he didn’t want to rush their good-byes, so he whiled away his wait by giving his fingers a keyboard workout.
Obsessed with a piano composition called “When We Met,” he worked out the fingering to the Ryan Stewart song whenever he had a moment. Knowing his wife’s predilection for a good piano tune, he fixated on this one after finding her one afternoon, lazing in a hammock at their Spanish finca, staring dreamily at nothing while this song came up on a playlist.
There was something about the look on her face. Meghan didn’t just listen to music. She absorbed it. Seeing her far-off expression, he knew in his gut she remembered how they met and all the twists and turns they took along the way to get them where they were. Losing himself in the melody, Alex’s spirit filled as his fingers moved across the keys.
He became the man he always wanted to be during their extended honeymoon. She’d changed him. No doubt about it.
Didn’t matter how much pain and suffering he’d overcome after the bomb blast that nearly ended his life. Or how successful he was. None of it made a difference because he was little more than an empty husk of a man. Not even halfway living, mind-numbing data streams and a level of technology that would make anyone else’s face melt filled his days.
That was his life. He was everyone’s favorite nerd king, yeah. But he rattled around the Villa with no particular enthusiasm or with any sort of a future in mind. He was among the living, but he hadn’t been … living. Not for a very long time.
And then a vivacious redhead with a dreamy ass and a set of bodacious knockers that rendered him stupid came to his door and showed him just what he was missing.
As the last remnant of that thought faded from his mind, he felt a soft, warm hand caress his neck and slide back and forth across his shoulder. Tranquility spread through his body. This was what he meant by her changing him. Alex never knew what serenity was. He was a trained warrior. As a wartime commanding officer, he’d sent good men into desperate situations. Not all of them came back, and some came back in pieces. He’d live the rest of his life seeking personal redemption for the actions his oath of honor led to.
But if Meghan was near? When she touched him? Alex was sure the contented peace of mind she brought to his world saved his life. In many ways, he’d found a good portion of the recompense he sought with his Irish wife and her open, giving heart.
She kept her hand on him as he played. They were really, really good at silent communication. Being connected as they were, each of them only needed to come close, and an unspoken conversation began.
When the final notes played, his hands lifted off the keys as the melody hung in the air before eventually fading away.
“What the hell did I do to earn a hot husband with rock-hard biceps who’s nice enough to pour his wife a drink and then serenade her fat ass with a beautiful song?”
Fat ass. Oh, my god. When she taunted him this way, it was all he could do not to haul her fantastically curvy derrière over his knee for a sexy whacking. He snickered. Probably why she said it, you stupid fuck.
Alex swung around on the bench and wrapped his arms around her waist as she stepped between his open thighs. Staring up into her beautiful face, he thanked his lucky stars for the millionth time for bringing this magnificent, gorgeous big-hearted woman into his life.
“The folks get off all right? Wish they would’ve let me fly them home.”
“Oh, don’t grumble,” she teased. “Ma loves the train, and you know my dad. He loves anything she does.”
“I know, but come on,” he continued to gripe. “What good is it to be a big-time CEO with an agency jet if I can’t use it to impress the in-laws?”
She snickered and ruffled her hands through his hair. “Settle down, Zorro. My parents are impressed enough without you unleashing Captain Sawyer and the Gulfstream on their blue collar butts.”
Zorro. Good lord. Meghan’s older brother, Deval, finally stopped referring to him as a desert rat. About time too, since he’d done the right thing and married the guy’s only sister in front of half of Boston. And with Alex’s uncle, the priest, doing the deed! Backing off with the snarky nicknames seemed the least Dev could do.
In a moment of brother-in-law solidarity, desert rat was retired, but in its place, a new snark-name was inaugurated. Zorro—because Dev considered the moniker to be a tip of the old Irish Paddy Cap to Alex’s Spanish ancestry.
“Your parents pulled out every trick in their entertainment arsenal when mine went to Arizona. I think if I have to hear about the five-star treatment they received at the Villa one more time, I’m gonna hurl.”
He chuckled. Without knowing any details, he didn’t doubt Carmen stood on her damn head for the O’Briens. Not that it was necessary. A fast friendship formed between the new O’Brien and Marquez branch of the family tree and included Parker’s folks and even Calder and Stephanie. Far as grown-ups went, those eight people were an interesting and diverse tribe.
Hearing Meghan mention the Villa reminded Alex of the things he needed to say—stuff she needed to know before they went home.
Pressing his face into her chest, he held her tightly and listened to the steady rhythm of her heart. She wasn’t going to be happy with him about any of it. And not just because shit in the desert was clearly off the fucking hook and speeding toward a ditch.
His wife gave him full control when it came to all contact with Arizona during their honeymoon. How could she not? In the context of their relationship, she deferred to him when it was just the two of them.
But had she been happy with his heavy-handed decree that she only touch base with the girls occasionally? No. And she still didn’t know the half of it. Not only had he carefully monitored the information flow, but he’d also made sure through Cam and Drae that neither Lacey or Tori let any of the dozen or so cats out of the bag that were currently causing a ruckus at home. Meghan would have plenty of time to play Lady of the Manor. She didn’t need to involve herself while they were honeymooning because all the bullshit would still be there when they got back. Plus, he wasn’t so blissed out that he didn’t realize his brotherly posse in Arizona was keeping things from him, too.
But following the exhausting run up to the wedding and the endless hoopla of their weeks in Boston, he wanted his wife to relax. To unplug and just be. Their quaint and cozy Spanish finca was so far off the grid that he’d easily found the unspoiled togetherness he had hoped for—as long as Justice or their parents didn’t interfere.
He had to hand it to his parents. After they had returned to the vineyard following the group visit to Arizona, they’d kept their distance even though they were just a few hours away. It was because of his intense desire to carve out as much quality privacy as possible that he’d reluctantly given in and taken his excited bride to the family winery for a quick and very perfunctory visit.
His parents understood. This time, when it was just the two of them, it had sacred overtones. What they’d started to build during their time in Arizona and what they’d brought to their first months of married life was the foundation they’d need for a long, happy life.
But the time had come, he groused, to start dropping breadcrumbs. Their business in Washington would eventually wrap up, and it was almost time to go home. He needed to prepare her for what awaited them on the Justice compound.
Her stomach picked that moment to rumble. He’d better feed her before they had those drinks he poured. The last thing he needed was a drunk wife with an overly lively sex drive.
Actually, maybe that was exactly what he needed. What they both needed. A bit of letting their hair down and turning the filters off before life came crashing down around them.
Snickering as he guided her onto his lap, Alex brought her hand around his neck and squeezed her fingers. When they wrote the definitive book on sex positions—this one would be his favorite. Fully clothed, focused entirely on each other and his Irish Fuck Goddess settled comfortably on his lap. He didn’t need to get inside her to be inside her.
Giving his inner dialogue the finger, he thought, Yeah, whatever. Makes perfect sense to me.
“Why, Mrs. Marquez, I do believe your stomach is growling. Have I neglected your gastronomical needs?”
“Oh, for god’s sake, Alex.” She laughed as her whole face lit up. “Gastronomical needs? No wonder Da thinks you’re some kind of Spanish royalty. Cut it out, would you?”
After a quick palming of her butt, he pinched her through the flimsy cotton dress she wore. “Getting too clever for your own good, you’re spoiling all my fun.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Her lush smile was enchanting.
“I just mean,” he drawled, “that you’re getting better at avoiding saying shut up. Cut it out? Isn’t that just a smarter-ass way of cutting me off?”
Batting her eyelashes, she feigned a simper with a lip bite to stop from giggling. He’d taught her well.
“Major Marquez. Sir.” The wicked way the taunt sparkled in her expression made him instantly hard.
Yes. It really was that simple.
She continued with a naughty wiggle for emphasis. “I have to insist you shut up.”
He liked this game they played. And so did she. It was their trademark. Everyone knew about it, and that only made it more fun.
Drawing his brows together in a mock scowl, he grabbed a hefty handful of her hair and took control of her head. “Are you mocking your master, wife? I’m serious y’know. Every time you tell me to shut up, you earn spanks. Am I not pinking your ass hard enough? Maybe I should practice more.”
He yanked and pushed until she rolled on his lap in a sprawl of arms and legs where he proceeded to hold her head down and pull the dress up over her bottom.
“Shit! Alex,” she yelped in surprise as she frantically struggled.
“Now, now.” He chuckled. “Suddenly realize what being a smartass earns you?”
After peeling her panties away, he caressed the firm, fleshy globes of her mouthwatering ass and expressed his appreciation with a low, rumbling groan. She quivered slightly. Knowing she was turned on excited him.
“Since this is a practice session,” he growled with a full-handed squeeze of ass, “you get no warm-up. And no mercy.”
She went limp, and a deep-throated whimper escaped her mouth.
“That’s right, baby.” He circled her ass as if he was drawing a bull’s-eye, and then he pulled back and smacked her hard. Her sexy gasp and the sound of his hand connecting with her flesh filled his senses.
He’d promised no mercy and no warm-up. Five minutes later, he’d met his objective, and his wife’s ass was a warm red. Sliding his hand between her legs, Alex’s fingers found plentiful evidence of Meghan’s reaction to the ferocious spanking.
“So wet.” He grunted. “So begging to be fucked.”
Finding something to eat and having a drink quickly evaporated from his mind.
“Up,” he urged as she rolled off him and landed on her knees at his feet. It wasn’t until he saw her flushed face and tears sparkling in her bewitching green eyes that he realized she wasn’t going to be sitting anytime soon.
Acting on impulse, Alex grabbed her face and dove onto her mouth with greedy abandon. She responded instantly as he furiously kissed her until she was shaking like a leaf.
If he had any finesse after the incendiary kiss, he didn’t know how to access it. His cock was full to bursting, and the beast demanded to feed.
“Facedown right where you are.” The demand was heavy in his voice. She looked into his eyes. Hers were dilated and heavy with lusty desire.
Alex stood and began to unbuckle his belt. His hands picked up speed when he saw her tongue swipe lips still swollen from his possessive kiss. He fucked with her because it was part of their dance of love.
“I said facedown, woman.”
Alex remembered at the last second to suck in his gut and protect his inflamed cock from potential harm as the zipper started down on his slacks. This time, his sexy wife licked her lips on purpose and gazed at him with a plea in her expression.
“Okay, fine,” he grumbled making sure to load his delivery with mock exasperation. “Release the beast yourself, if you must, but then you get that beautiful face on the carpet and your ass up. Oh, and spread your knees wide. I need room to fuck your pussy—hard.”
Her hands moved with lightning speed, shoving his aside as she took over with the zipper. In a deliberately naughty way, she reached into the back of his slacks and helped herself to his ass before deftly pushing the tailored pants to the floor.
Meghan had a thing for his thighs. She’d told him once that touching the dark hair on his legs was an instant aphrodisiac, so he fully expected her next move. Only she surprised him with a purposeful detour ending with her lips on the scar-ravaged skin marring his left side.
His emotions kicking into overdrive, Alex’s legs started to tremble as his wife’s loving attention to his wartime injury warmed his heart.
Sitting back on her feet, she looked up at him. This was Meghan’s way. She found subtle ways to draw a line around certain feelings. Pausing between honoring his past with her kiss on his damaged body and undressing him so he could follow through with fucking her, she reminded both of them of who they were.
She almost said something—he could see it on her face, but sometimes, her silence, when he was so dominant, was one of the several fuels feeding the fire of pleasure he was building.
First, he smiled into her eyes, his nod of acknowledgment almost infinitesimal. Then unleashed her favorite hooded smirk. The one that said Are you ready for my cock?
Like an Irish cowgirl geisha, she rather boldly smirked right back, deliberately wet her lips, and then studiously made short work of removing his briefs and tossing them and his slacks on the sofa. His freed hard-on wasted little time unfolding in all its hard, throbbing glory.
Her appreciative leer emboldened him further as he stood there in nothing but a button-down shirt with his cock set to stun.
Grabbing his hungry dick, Alex used both hands to stroke the length and massage his balls. Her breathing was getting choppy as she watched with avid interest.
“Locked and loaded with come, just for you, baby. Now, do as you were told unless you want that ass to be even redder. Facedown, Meghan. Ass up. Knees wide.”
It was all kinds of thrilling to see how quickly she complied. Turning around, she pushed her knees wide, arched her back, and put her chest on the carpet.
“Look at me,” he growled in a demanding voice.
She tilted her head and looked back at him. Her eyes were feverish with a heady blend of arousal and desire.
Keeping his eyes locked on hers, Alex lifted the hem of her dress until he’d pushed the fabric up and over her ass. When he finally looked away, he saw the beautiful sight of his handprint on her skin.
When he dropped down behind her and rubbed the head of his cock around her glistening wet opening, she whimpered sweetly.
Was anything better than a wife who craved her husband’s cock? He didn’t think so. Not when her pussy was open and inviting him to ravish her.
“More arch, baby,” he instructed as he helped move her into position. “That’s my good girl.” Stroking the reddened marks on her ass, he shifted his hips, sliding his hardness along her wet slit. Every time he moved over her clit, she moaned.
“Watch while I fuck you, wife,” he demanded. Her gaze never wandered away. She was totally focused on what was going to happen.
Guiding the wide, fat head of his cock to her pussy opening, he fed the tip in as he spread her lips with his other hand.
“No mercy,” she murmured with a husky groan.
His eyes swung to hers. Message received. Gripping her hips at the top of her thighs, Alex held his wife in position as he rammed his cock deep in one ferocious thrust that made them both grunt.
Instantly, her pussy quivered, and he felt a rush of heat encase his cock. Before retreating to initiate another harder, deeper thrust, he ground his manhood in the hot, wet heaven of her glorious womanhood with a barrage of hip rolls that kept them groaning out loud.
God. They fit so perfectly.
“Rub your clit,” he demanded with a throaty growl.
He waited until her fingers went where he instructed. She ran them around the base of his cock and touched where they joined. That was all it took for his beast to take over.
Rearing back, his hips flexed and began slamming her brutally hard, over and over. He grunted like an untamed animal each time he sank into her. Arousal flooded her pussy. He liked it when she got crazy fucking wet. Liked it when her juices drenched them. It was sexy as fuck and just made him thrust harder. Keening softly, she was trembling all over when a jolt of wet heat and the sudden clutching of her pussy muscles told him she was on the edge of a tumultuous orgasm.
He looked at her red ass. Watched his cock, glistening with her arousal, as he pounded her sweet body. Listened to her husky cries and his primal grunts.
“Come for me, wife. Give my cock what it wants.”
He felt her fingers explore his thrusting cock as she arched even further and rubbed her clit. She came in a groaning completion that nearly exploded his brain. Feeling every pulse as she orgasmed on his cock sent Alex higher than he remembered ever being.
In no time at all, his furious strokes and the way her body demanded everything he had, Alex exploded inside her. Thrusting, grunting, and emptying deep, he marveled at the power and length of his orgasm.
When the last of his seed was sucked from his balls, he stroked her well-spanked ass and pulled out. The sight of her bent over with her pussy inflamed and red from the powerful mating gave Alex pause. It humbled him how well matched they were and how perfect his come looked as it leaked from her body.
Bending, he kissed her tender ass and stood up.
“Come on, Fuck Goddess,” he murmured as he gently helped her move. It took a minute, but eventually, he got her up and standing with everything back in place except her panties.
She stood there meekly, still trembling and probably in a little bit of shock, as he slid on his briefs and slacks. Shoving his shirttails into the waistband of the pants, he quickly finished dressing.
Some sort of aftercare was always necessary when he used her so fiercely. Reaching for the drinks he’d poured earlier, Alex handed her the Jameson and watched as she carefully sipped. He followed suit and after a couple of swallows, some calm washed over them until he saw a flash, something like a shocked grimace, move on her face.
“What’s the matter?” he immediately asked.
Her eyes lowered, and he saw a blush burst to life on her face. With a finger under her chin, he tilted her head to force her to meet his eyes. He was astonished to see the embarrassment in her expression.
“Meghan, baby. What’s wrong?”
Wrinkling her nose, she shifted a few times on her feet and cleared her throat. “I can feel it.” Her voice sounded half amused and half flustered.
“Feel what?”
“Um,” she murmured before taking a small sip. Irish courage? Maybe. Whispering as though she was sharing a treasonous secret, she leaned into him and said, “You. Dripping down my thigh.”
Well, goddammit. He didn’t think she could possibly say anything sexier than that. Grinning like a damn fool, he sipped the Glenfiddich and leered at his wife.
“Well, there’s more where that came from,” he teased with a wink. “But I think feeding you is next up on the agenda. Gotta keep my woman’s strength up.”
She shook her head, tsk’ed, and rolled her eyes.
“You’re gonna need it later when you suck my dick for dessert.”
Meghan let half a giggle out before she looked at him as if he was a naughty kid.
“Dick dessert? I didn’t see that on the room service menu.”
“No?” He smirked in reply. “It’s a Double M specialty. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
She balls-out starting laughing. “Double M!” She shrieked with laughter. “Yep. That’s me. Meghan Marquez.”
Wiping away tears of amusement, she sniffed and ended with a bratty pout. “Well, I’m glad to hear it’s a specialty. Would suck for you if it was just some run-of-the-mill thing.”
Alex stopped and took in the moment. Glenfiddich in hand. A sexy, adorable wife by his side with his come slowly leaking from her well-fucked pussy. And the promise of a gagging Double M hovering in the immediate future.
Yeah. Ya know what? It was fucking great to be alive. And maybe, just maybe, if he made a real effort, he’d manage to tell her a few of the things she needed to know before any more time passed.