Chapter 41

Justice stood in the hallway of the Conshohocken apartment building and took out her cell. She added a contact, assigned a speed dial number. The only person she’d ever done this for. She pressed that number—one.

He answered on the fourth ring, his voice fuzzy. “Justice? It’s”—he paused, probably checking his clock—“seven a.m.”

Oh, he sounded so vulnerable when he was sleep deprived. Just the thing a girl could take advantage of. “Open up. I’m outside your apartment door.”

“What? Security didn’t call me.”

She snorted. Someone doubted her stealth skills. “Still here.”

She hung up, smiling. A moment later, the covering over the peephole clicked open and then closed. The door swung wide open, his body positioned behind it, so she was offered unfettered access.

Trusting.

She walked inside. The apartment had an open floor plan with natural wood floors. Kitchen with a breakfast bar. A two-person, bar-height table by a sliding glass door that led to a balcony. A gray leather Chesterfield sofa with thick scroll arms and a high back, flanked by two equally deep upholstered chairs. And a huge flat-screen TV stationed on the wall over a fireplace with a green-marble mantel. She liked.

She turned at the sound of the door closing.

Whoa. So fucking hot. Disheveled hair. Shadow-lined jaw. That just-woken-up confusion in his bleary, blue eyes. And, hello. At least one part of him was awake. She grinned. “So, you sleep in the nude.”

He moved like a panther, grabbed her by the waist and dragged her up against his hard-on. He kissed her, skilled and insistent, as if the time they’d spent apart had been years and not days. His need, his wordless hunger, took her breath away. And set her on fire.

She arched into him. He smelled so good, like sleep and man. Warm, velvety liquid saturated her panties.

His demanding lips worked against hers. His stubble scratched against her. His hot hands traveled up her body. He pulled out her hair tie, tangled his hands in her hair, and angled her head so he could deepen the kiss.

Man knew how to kiss. Their tongues, wet and hot, and their lips, soft and needy, reacquainted themselves. Their breaths grew strong enough to force them to break apart.

His breaths ragged, his hands grasping her hair tight enough to hurt, he said, “Take your clothes off.”

That was an excellent idea. Too bad she didn’t have enough air to say that. She guided his hands from her hair, stepped back, unbuttoned her shirt, tossed it, undid her bra, freed her breasts. He groaned out loud.

Loving the stark need on his face, she unzipped her black jeans, turned her ass in his direction, and lowered pants to ankles. Without bending her knees.

“Dear God.”

What man didn’t appreciate a good thong? She took her time unlacing her boots, flicked them off, wiggled out of her jeans, and made a show of losing the thong.

When she stood, he came up behind her, pressed his hard body against her ass. He ran a hand over her breasts, squeezed and fondled them. “Fuck, Justice. I need you.”

Good to know.

He reached down to her clit, stroked her silky wetness, and grunted in male satisfaction. Two long fingers crooked inside her, nearly causing her to orgasm. She was strung that tight, so ready.

He slid his fingers in and out, the palm of his hand rubbing against her clit as his breath raged loud in her ears.

“Sandesh. That feels so good.”

He pumped his fingers faster, pressing his other hand flat against her stomach, pulling her tight against his hard-on. With him behind her, his hot breath in her ear, his arms stretched across her front, she felt enveloped by him. He was so big and warm and solid.

Her body tightened and tightened. The tension built and strengthened. She panted hard. Trembling, electric pulses rode over her, shattered her. She curled her toes, arched her head back into his shoulders, and dug her hands into his biceps. “Oh. Sandesh. Sandesh.”

He whispered to her as she came, “Watching you come. Can’t get enough.”

The aftershocks tingled through her as he slipped his fingers out. She turned to him instinctively, seeking the hardness of him between her throbbing legs. They kissed, wild fury, crazed excitement.

She broke from him. “Ride me hard,” she said.

He grinned, gazed around the room. “Lady’s choice.”

Oh, yes and yes. She pushed away from him and went to the end of the couch, draping herself over the tall scroll arm. Cushiony.

She put her hands flat against the seat, turned her head, and raised an eyebrow at him. “How’s this?”

He didn’t answer right away. He licked his lips. “Prettiest sight I’ve seen in my entire life.”

He moved behind her, rubbed a hand along the curve of her ass, squeezed, spread her cheeks, and thrust into her wet and throbbing core.

She cried out at the insistent pull and stretch. Deeper and deeper he went, until the tip of his cock pressed against the wall of her cervix.

With a steady exhale, he began to pull out. Slowly.

He was torturing her.

She was about to tell him so when he slammed himself back inside her, fast and rough. She gasped. Her hands slipped. She re-braced against the cushion, panted at the increase in speed and friction.

Her core trembled and tightened around his thick thrusts, and she watched him, the beauty of him, reflected in the glossy blackness of the TV screen.

His long, muscular frame with one palm pressed flat against the curve of her back. His head tipped down to watch where he entered her, a look of exquisite need on his handsome face. His perfect ass tight and hard as he pumped into her.

He thrust so rapidly her clit began to rub against the couch. Still sensitive from what his fingers had done, this caused an intense reaction. “Oh God.”

Caught between him and the couch, the friction so delicious it took only a moment of pure bliss for her to come again. She cried out as electric pulses crashed into her. The tremors obliterated awareness of everything but the overpowering, exquisite release.

Panting, the muscles in her arms tense, the jolting aftershocks of the orgasm made her wiggle and squirm under Sandesh as he pumped hard into her.

She pressed the tips of her toes against the floor, raising herself up, giving him greater access.

“Justice,” he said. And there was no doubt that he meant it as a warning. He wouldn’t last much longer.

She’d already had two orgasms, but he was angled just right. And the walls of her body tightened and squeezed as the pressure of his cock rode into her, stroked and pumped, rubbed against her G-spot.

The thick width of him plunging with frantic abandon…the feel of him… So good. “Yes. Yes. Don’t stop.”

Greedy, sure. But it felt so damn good.

He grunted something that might’ve been, “So fucking beautiful,” then slapped himself into her again and again and again.

She whimpered and moaned and shuddered beneath him as another wave of pleasure rose and rose and crashed through her.

Nearly on top of her shout, he came inside her with a drawn-out groan so scorching hot it singed her ears.

The rub and tug of her final orgasm slowed with his pace. Breathing like he’d run a four-minute mile, he slumped over her, kissed her on the back of the neck. Her body was so charged with energy, so tender to the touch, that she jerked.

He smoothed a knuckle across her cheek. “You okay?”

Was he kidding? “I love this couch.”

He barked a surprised laugh, helped her up, turned her to face him. He kissed her long and deep, then put his hands on her shoulders, pulled back from the kiss, and turned her toward what she assumed was the bedroom door.

He bent to her ear, smacked her on the ass. “Get going. I’m going to teach you what getting up at a decent hour means.”

Her ass tingling, she looked back at him. “A little bossy now.”

“Get into my bed, Justice.”

She shrugged. Turned out, right now, she liked bossy.