Overwhelming the Girl

 

Juliette’s in full-blown meltdown, pacing back and forth in front of me in her great room.

“You fucking had me investigated?”

“Not investigated. I wanted to tie up a loose end.”

“So you had Dixon dig into my background.”

“Not so much your background as your ex’s.”

She stops in front of the sectional where I’m sitting, her hands on her hips. “Leo, I can’t tell you how violated I feel right now.”

“Dixon needs to know as much as possible to provide for your security.”

“I trusted you with my private information. I fucking trusted you!”

Yeah. That’s a problem. I don’t regret it, I’d do it again in a heartbeat to keep her safe, but I knew I was playing with fire when I shared that info with Dixon.

“I know, Juliette. And I’ll apologize if you really feel like I compromised you. But, sweetheart, it led to our finding out that Briggs is here, and he’s using a false identity. Dixon thinks he’s probably behind the vandalism and other incidents.”

She ignores my logic. “I trusted you.” Her voice is a little calmer.

I rake a hand through my hair. “Just not enough to tell me these things yourself,” I mutter, then wince.

Yeah, maybe not the smartest utterance I’ve ever made.

She points to the vestibule. “I want you to leave, please. Leave now.”

She doesn’t know it yet, but I don’t plan leaving her again until Briggs/Miller is under arrest. “Juliette, let’s talk about this, please.”

“Talk? Talking with you is what got us here in the first place.”

“Juliette, please.”

“Juliette please? Don’t. Don’t even try.”

“You can kick me out, but I’ll sleep in my car in the garage. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I have a security team.”

“Let me fix you a drink, and let’s calm down.”

Her hands are back on her hips and her toe is tapping on the stone floor. “You won’t leave? Fine. Since I don’t need extra security, I’ll find another use for you. The use I originally intended.”

She grabs my hand and practically drags me up the stairs toward my room.

“I sure hope you’re hydrated, mister, ‘cause it’s going to be a long, hard night for you.”

 

*****

 

Juliette's finally asleep.

It took her a while to succumb. She had to wear herself out on my body first, over and over. I let her have her way with me—like she had on our first night together—to give her back a sense of control she doesn't feel she has over her life right now.

She's huddled in a tight ball, smashed up next to me. I sweep back a lock of hair covering the side of her face; she doesn't stir. She must be exhausted. I'm glad. If I can be a lightning rod redirecting any frissons that frazzle her air of self-possession, then I'm more than happy to volunteer. If working my cock like it's going to save her life does the trick, then raise my hand twice.

This woman is bright and cultured and creative with enough quirks to keep things interesting. I want her, in every definition of the word. And I want her to want me the same way.

I was making headway before tonight. From being adamantly opposed to a relationship, she'd come around to letting me spend every night with her. When I mentioned tonight that I was going to stop by my place to pick up a few things to bring with me over to hers, I read the panic in her eyes before she could shutter them. But she didn't tell me not to come. She let me bring a hanging bag into her house. She adjusted. Until I told her about her ex and she freaked the hell out. Hauled me upstairs for sex.

And then she attacked me. Wrestled every scrap of clothing off me, shoved me hard so I fell onto the bed, and ordered me to grab that infernal pillow. That's when I knew what I was up against. That no matter how many ways she used me and how many times we brought each other to climax, she wasn't going to let me close enough to give me what I really desire.

Her.

The fact that we always use the guest bedroom clues me that trust issues still stand in the way. Which I know is why tonight hit her doubly hard. She continues to want distance—the illusion she's not in a relationship, that she's just having sex with a guy. Given enough time, I hope she'll realize she's letting someone in and surviving it.

In the meantime, her feeling like she has a target on her back bothers me. No wonder she’s unsettled. I'm shaking her up emotionally, and vandalism is shaking her up professionally. Dixon and the police are working that side of things. But it leaves me playing a waiting game on both fronts. I hate limbo. I like being the crusader knight, springing to action.

I glance at the clock, in need of hydration, and creep off the bed, careful not to wake Juliette. There's a kitchenette behind the wall paneling that contains a mini-fridge with beverages. I grab a bottle of water, walk up to the picture window and twist off the bottle cap. One of Dixon's men is making his rounds on the grounds below.

I down the bottle of water, use the urinal in the little bathroom-within-the-bathroom, wash my face and hands, and climb back into bed with Juliette, pulling her into me. She uncurls to snuggle, but doesn't wake up. I drift off relishing the contentment of holding her tight against me, stroking her silky hair, and inhaling her sweet scent.

 

*****

 

Oh. My body. It’s sore all over. I glance at the man sprawled on his back beside me, his left arm bent under the pillow, his right resting over his heart, left leg hiked up and out to the side away from me. The sheet bunches around his waist, struggling to provide modesty for the flesh underneath. Even flaccid, it makes a very nice bulge.

Poor Leo. Man, was I angry at him. I knew, in my heart of hearts, that he wouldn’t let my information alone. Knew it as I told him about my marriage. It still stung, though, that after I opened up to him, he’d go behind my back instead of talking more to me about it. Of course, I wasn’t exactly as forthcoming as I could have been. He did try to call me on that. That’s why I’m not as upset today. But I wasn’t in a mood last night to hear it. Last night I was fucking furious.

Last night.

Last night I was out of control scrabbling for control. I went down on him so many times, the inside of my cheeks and the inside of my pussy know him almost equally well. I'm embarrassed to remember how many times I crawled up and down his body and how many ways I availed myself of its use. He stayed right with me, though, never complained, never argued. Let me have my way with him.

It’s a good thing I put balm on my lips before falling asleep. They're swollen, but not dried out or completely chapped, so they'll recover. Walking may be a different matter. Every muscle in my lower body feels stiff, and I'm afraid they'll scream in protest if I actually try to move.

What was I thinking? Why didn't Leo interfere?

Hmm…that's a good question. I remember using my teeth on his cock at one point. Even then he didn't intervene, though I had the impression he came close with that one.

I lift the sheet gingerly. Oh, my goodness. Is that…a hickey? Is that even possible…there?

"Yep. You gave me hickey dick."

I yelp and drag my horrified gaze up to his amused one.

"Oh, my, what a pretty shade of pink your cheeks are wearing this morning, Princess."

He's smirking at me. That probably means he's not too mad.

"Does it hurt?" I ask timidly.

He pokes himself. "A little chafed maybe. Nothing serious."

I clamp my eyes shut, cringing through a wave of shame. "I'm sorry, Leo. You should have stopped me."

He shrugs. "I would have if I thought you were really going to hurt me. You were harder on yourself, if possible."

I sort of nod, accepting this notion. He's a big boy, well able to protect himself. But he shouldn’t have had to. I give the broad flaccid tip a tiny chaste kiss. "Better?"

His smile is warm, not sexual. "It's all good, sweetheart. How’re you feeling? Still mad at me?"

“I’ll survive.”

"Let's shower," he says, rolling off the bed to head for the bathroom.

"Uh…my things are over in my room. I'll go shower over there and meet you downstairs for coffee."

He turns and peers at me. "Okay. Sounds good."

Sounds good? He's fine with my not joining him in the shower?  I'm confused, but get up and stumble painfully across the house to my solitary ablutions. Thank goodness for hot showers. By the time my hair is dry and I'm dressed for the office, I'm centered again and mostly pain-free.

Leo hands me coffee when I arrive in the kitchen. He wears another of his dark, body-skimming suits, chestnut hair gleaming and loose around his shoulders. The cliché ‘eat him with a spoon right now’ pops into mind, he looks so yummy.

"You aren't sore enough from last night?" he asks archly.

My eyebrows rise in question as I sip hot coffee with cream.

His smile is frustratingly knowing. 

"You think you can read my mind, DePaul?"

"No need."

I glare at him. "I was admiring your suit."

His eyes shine and lips curve up. "You like this one, do you?"

The beast. "It makes you look very powerful. I hope you appear in court today so the jury can be as impressed with your suit as I am." 

I skim past his laughing eyes as I set my empty cup in the sink and turn to go down the stairs to the garage. Leo follows behind, chuckling. "Admit it. I'm getting to you."

His car is in the bay next to mine. I gave him the passcode yesterday. Another breach in my defenses. Literally. "Humph. We can discuss it later when you come for your final fitting."

"Oh, goody. Will you be putting your little hands all over me again?"

"Elizabeth does all the final fittings, sorry." I shut my car door, start the engine, and back out of the garage.

Leo watches me, not one bit daunted, a smile plastered across his face.

Hmm…I press a button and lower the garage door on that cocky smile.