Enduring (Family Justice Book 8) Page 2

  Alex burst to consciousness with a rough grunt and sat up. Clutching his chest, he willed the heavy thumping of his heart to calm. The bitter taste in his mouth made his stomach wobble.

  Beside him in their enormous bed, his wife slept peacefully with her auburn hair spread across a satin-covered pillow. Naked, she lay flat with her hips half turned on one side and the sheet draped low.

  Her presence helped soothe the tense and anxious aftermath from the unwelcome nightmares that continued to plague him.

  From a combination of habit and reflex, he reached for a curled lock of her hair and rubbed the soft ringlet between his fingers. She was his physical and emotional touchstone—in much the same way that Drae had been during the years before her arrival.

  Inside him, the middle of the night dread began to dissipate. A couple of deep breaths helped push away the icy grip of the all-too-familiar bad dream.

  Goddammit. Why now?

  Angrily shaking his head, he felt a scowl move on his face. What did Uncle Ed tell him about reliving nightmares? Alex thought for a minute. Something about the subconscious re-examining a moment in time.

  Well, shit. He was sick of this particular moment in time and had no desire to keep those fucking memories alive. At some goddamn point, enough had to be enough.

  Quietly sliding off the bed so as not to awaken his sleeping beauty, he stood slowly and went to the terrace doors. Pushing them open, he was immediately engulfed by the arid warmth of a desert night, deep in the heart of summer.

  Stepping onto the stone terrace, he scraped the hair off his forehead and stared into the inky night sky. The sound from his heavy exhales lingered in the darkness.

  Dreams like his—disturbing images from the past playing on a loop in his subconscious –didn’t happen for no reason. His thoughts either drew the memories into the present, or the past was trying to tell him something.

  He leaned with both hands flat on the stone balustrade and contemplated the situations troubling him.

  Yeah, that was right. Situations—plural.

  A heavy, troubled sigh went hand in hand with the disturbances he felt coming from within and outside of Family Justice. To be honest, it was a little bit ridiculous that this shit kept happening.

  There were a couple of red flags mixed in with the usual fuckery his crew of desert rats exceled at.

  A mystery situation came courtesy of a concern Alex shared with his security chief. He and Duke were more than a little bothered by reoccurring anomalies in the technical sweeps of the elaborate security blanket thrown over the Justice compound and family zone.

  Those algorithm blips and drops, random and dissimilar, taunted him. For weeks, his only thought had been, How dare someone fuck with him? After all, it was his damn program, and he doubted anyone poking around in his business was unaware of that fact.

  And then a few days ago, he detected an incursion attempt into the system. The data point was small and insignificant. If he hadn’t been looking for irregularities, he might not have even noticed. Ever since, he’d had a bad case of hyper vigilance.

  When he wasn’t obsessing over those fun facts, he was juggling half a dozen unfolding, semi-crisis matters spread evenly throughout the family.

  Maybe the meeting he’d called that brought the Marquez clan together for a serious chat triggered his latest bad dream. It was hella difficult to keep his cool and act rational when his family faced murky threats.

  The blind item in a publication of dubious integrity seemed to imply Angie was mixed up in things so heinous and outrageous he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. These involvements were European based, which opened the floor to countless possibilities, and the most glaring centered around his sister’s former fiancé, the unctuous Ronaldo Esperanza. On that topic, both his dad and Sophie had quite a bit to share.

  It turned out that Esperanza was one of those dickheads who thought of celebrity as a profession. Alex wasn’t surprised to learn that Sophie kept a close eye on the creep both during his and Angie’s short-lived association and after he’d crawled back to Spain following being publically kicked to the curb. Ronaldo was, hands down, suspect number one.

  When his father offered an opinion, his words were chilling and caused a blanket of concern to descend upon them. In a nutshell, what he’d pointed out was that Esperanza’s so-called career as a celebrity handler found him consorting with models, prostitutes, film and music celebrities, and wealthy, powerful men, some who were super shady. In Cristián’s mind, the continent-hopping, jet-setting lifestyle lent itself well to sex trafficking and a dozen other unlawful, dangerous, and repugnant practices.

  He’d talked things over with Parker and decided to put someone from the agency on the ground in Spain. They needed real-time information—not blind gossip. Unfortunately, nothing was turning up. Esperanza was a criminal indictment waiting to happen, but he wasn’t coloring outside the lines—yet.

  The whole thing started feeling like a wild goose chase. A very deliberate and distracting goose hunt.

  Thankfully, another red flag over Rafe and Domineau’s bizarre personal situation was a nothing burger.

  Alex wasn’t blind. Playing matchmaker for those two idiots was earning results. It was obvious the two were involved and doing it. For that part of the equation, he was good.

  The information he squeezed out of Sawyer was a lot of things like interesting, annoying, and somewhat worrisome but nothing he needed to get involved in. He wondered why it took years to learn that Rafe had been compromised or that it was Domineau who shut down the situation.

  Murky clues that Sawyer dropped seemed to suggest that Rafe might not know. Considering this happened years ago, he pushed the information aside.

  Arms crept around his waist and a soft body pressed into his back. Meghan.

  Splaying her fingers wide on his torso, she kissed his shoulder and murmured, “Peso for your thoughts.”

  Alex put his hands on top of hers. His wife’s presence instantly grounded him. She was solid and real. The sensation of her lips on his shoulder brought him into the present. He closed his eyes for just a second while envisioning them cocooned inside the bubble of her enormous love. For him. For their children. For the life they were creating together. Meghan was his reason for everything.

  He turned to face her. There was something natural and right about the warm night breeze, the moon and stars, the subtle scents hanging in the air and the perfect way their naked bodies fit as they held on to one another in a long embrace.

  After a while, he squeezed her one last time, buried his nose in her hair, and dropped a kiss. He drew back just far enough to see her face and smiled. Her hands at his waist and the way her breasts pillowed against his chest acted as anchors for his scattered emotions.

  Brushing aside a wayward curl, his finger stroked the side of her face. Her bewitching green eyes sparkled in the moonlight as she gazed up at him.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “I’m sorry if my being restless woke you up.” Alex offered a lopsided grin as assurance that he knew his nighttime bullshit was a bit ridiculous and getting old.

  “You need your sleep,” he drawled. His hands gently stroked her shoulders. “My spawn will be up and at ’em by daybreak.”

  He intended to add a bunch of husbandly get-out-of-jail-free platitudes, but his wickedly sexy, badass wife started giggling, and next thing he knew, his unfortunately timed bad dream was swept away by the pulsing throb of seduction.

  Her jiggling tits, a result of some massive giggles, tantalized his chest. Plus, there was the undeniable fact that laughter easily triggered Meghan’s naughty side. Alex made no effort to disguise the slow, lecherous smile forming on his face.

  Through wheezing sniggers of laughter, she growled, “Did you just call my beautiful babies your spawn?”

  Without thinking, he gave her ass a hearty swat that made her jump and gasp. His Irish bombshell rather enjoyed a good spanking, and considering how outrageous h
er ass was, he was more than happy to oblige.

  “What if I did?” he taunted with a good deal of manly arrogance.

  Meghan got off on his lord and master routine. The gift of her submission, lusty as it was, made them well matched. He growled, and she quivered.

  “Excuse me,” she snidely groused, “but was that necessary?”

  The snotty, tight-assed teacher tone that she knew damn well was a one-way ticket to a furious fucking sounded the starting gun for his libido.

  “Maybe not necessary but definitely fun,” he informed her through a winking smirk. “But back to my spawn.”

  “Alex!” she exclaimed with even more snootiness.

  He shifted his hips just slightly. The adorable blush that bloomed on her cheeks was confirmation that she was aware of his hard-on.

  “I looked it up, ya know,” he told her with a serious face. “Spawn. It means to produce offspring with a secondary meaning of spawning in large numbers.”

  She laughed because there wasn’t any doubt where this was leading. He loved that about her. Whatever he saw fit to dish out, his sexy wife was willing to take. Usually with a demand for more.

  Employing a spine-tingling shimmy on his rapidly swelling dick, she made a mockingly petulant moue with her enticing mouth and gave him a practiced smirk beneath deliberately lowered eyes.

  Damn, she was good!

  “Is that your way of saying …”

  He cut her off because the hysterically funny look on her face when he spoke was worth the price of admission. Sometimes blunt carnality with a side of edgy was the best tool a confident Dom had in his arsenal.

  “That I’m going to breed you?”

  Her mouth moved as she tried to form a response, but nothing came out.

  “What?” he asked with boastful and purposely insufferable aplomb. “Too direct? I don’t see how,” he growled. “After all, wasn’t it you and your inclination for topping who rather boldly demanded another baby tout de suite?”

  She sputtered adorably. “Well, yes. But can’t you find another word?”

  “No,” he proclaimed. “I like the subtext. Mating and production of offspring. Short, sweet, and to the point.”

  God, he loved fucking with her like this. He imagined a time far in the future—when they were grandparents—and inwardly chuckled, thinking about the sexy shenanigans they’d still be engaging in.

  “How did we go from penny for your thoughts to this?”

  Her pouty snarl turned him on. Instead of swatting her butt, he gave the delightful curves a leisurely caress.

  “Easy.” He sniggered. “You tried to ease my restlessness with your naked body, and I took up the challenge.”

  Grinding his fully awake and ready dick into her womanly softness, he enjoyed her unmistakable response.

  “Bottom line, Mrs. M. I couldn’t sleep, and you want me to put another baby in your belly. No time like the present, hmm?”

  “Oh, Alex,” she said with a laugh. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Seriously?” he answered with a deep chuckle. “You need me to tell you? Meghan!” He tsk’d. “Shame on you, woman!”

  Her mocking sigh struck him as deliciously funny. To be long suffering also meant to endure and his wantonly greedy mate had a black belt in endurance.

  Pushing off him, she stepped back and gathered her hair in a thick tail that she draped over her shoulder. She put her hands together like a supplicant and made a phony bow of submission. Amusement and lust raced through his system.

  “And where would Master like me?” she purred.

  Gesturing at the terrace where they stood with the wave of one hand and the inviting coolness and comfort of their bedroom with the other, she stood proudly, though mockingly, and waited for him to state his pleasure.

  He grinned like an idiot as he made up his mind. Always best to start with the basics and go from there.

  Stroking his erection, he wagged his eyebrows and pointed down.

  “Suck,” was all he had to say before she offered a brilliant smile and quickly got in position on her knees.

  “Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

  When she complied with a smile that never wavered, he went for broke.

  “Now, open wide and show me what that talented mouth is capable of.”

  Her mouth opened and out came her naughty tongue as she mimicked licking him. When she raised her eyes to lock on his, Alex was sure he’d fallen asleep only to awaken in heaven. The look of naughty amusement, mixed with total adoration, and coupled with Meghan’s special blend of submission moved him beyond belief.

  The minute she licked him from root to tip as he angled his cock to make it easy, he shuddered. Knowing what brought her the most pleasure, he allowed the greedy, decadent sucking until his sanity was in question.

  Wrapping his throbbing dick with one hand, he gently removed it from the wet warmth of her mouth. When she stopped the slow withdrawal by suctioning the plump head and swirling her tongue, he grunted and groaned into the quiet stillness of the night.

  Blind with lust, he somehow wrestled control of the situation away from her and replaced his dick with his thumb. She wholeheartedly switched gears and mouth fucked it with randy abandon.

  When he simply could not take any more, he grabbed her chin and tilted it so he could look into her eyes. The scorching heat meeting his gaze pleased him very, very much.

  “Such a good wife,” he growled.

  She sat back on her feet and smiled.

  Plucking at a pouting nipple, he tweaked the sensitive nub, caught her hushed moan, and smiled knowingly.

  “You please me very much, Meghan.”

  Her eyes told a story—a triple X-rated and very erotic story.

  “I defer to your pleasure,” he told her. “Where would you prefer to be fucked? Here? On the terrace? Or inside.”

  Her eyes flared, and he quickly added, “Not on the bed, though. I had something a bit more challenging in mind.”

  The husky laugh she gave when he gallantly put out his hand to help her rise held the top spot on the soundtrack of their love affair.

  “My choice, you say?” she cooed while audaciously fondling his cock. “So many options.”

  He laughed. Had to. She was something else.

  “Make up your mind, woman, before I embarrass myself.”

  The giggling redhead knew how to touch him for maximum benefit. He held his breath and silently prayed for control. They both knew how close he was to coming.

  “Will you punish me for making you come?”

  Yep, yep, yep. His Irish fuck goddess was also a witch.

  “No,” he husked in a warning tone, “but you will be feeling the sting for asking.”

  She stopped stroking and grinned from ear to ear. Having gotten what she wanted—the promise of some spirited punishment sex—his shameless mate instantly morphed into the perfectly submissive wife.

  Even though he said it was her choice, she wrapped around him like a sexy clinging vine and artfully handed him control.

  Licking his neck like a cat, she bit him and then whispered in his ear. “My pleasure is your pleasure, husband.”

  He chuckled. “You’re yielding?”

  Her smile lit up the night. “Yes, Master.”

  One night after the twins were weaned, they’d gotten shit-faced drunk and ended up in the drum studio for some memorable hanky-panky that included an amusing game of strip poker. That she lost in epic fashion.

  They were playing off a dare, and he honestly couldn’t remember what her side of that contest involved. All he knew was that when she lost, along with a winner-takes-all fuck, she also had to call him Master when they played.

  Once they sobered up and found the handwritten pledge spelled out in drunken English, he did not know which of them was more startled. Him because that sort of thing didn’t really appeal or her for having to do one of the things she vowed was never gonna happen.

  In the sp
irit of fair play, though, she refused to be a crybaby about it and merely filtered the pledge through an ass-ton of teasing scorn so that every time she called him Master, the word held loads of extra meaning. In this instance, he detected playful submission and the suggestion of a challenge in her voice.

  He’d said he had something more challenging in mind than the bed, and she’d just let him know she was up for whatever he wanted.

  And she also knew he liked rewarding her for pleasing behavior.

  His naughty wife!

  Kissing her soft lips, he tapped her nose and said, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  The warm night air made Meghan shiver. Fluffing her long hair, she looked at the heavens and embraced the moonlit night. Feeling powerful and very, very female, she breathed in the intense sexual energy that filled the stillness.

  Leaning on the stone balustrade, she stretched to look down and ended up bent over, resting on her forearms. An ancient bougainvillea grew below the private terrace, and its sweet aroma mixed with the warm night, giving off a sultry scent that she found enthralling.

  The stone she leaned on gave off sunbaked warmth. It felt as comforting and familiar as her life in this beautiful old villa planted in the red earth of their less than tiny corner of Arizona.

  Boston seemed like another life.

  A hand snaked up her inner thigh. Alex’s deep, sexy growl made her tremble with need.

  “Now see? That’s how I like to find you. Bent over with that beautiful ass begging for attention.”

  She laughed softly and wiggled her butt. When his sturdy fingers traced the tattoo marking her as his, she sighed happily.

  “I have something for you,” he husked in a throaty growl.

  His hands on her legs let Meghan know he wanted her to widen her stance. She moved until he grunted and then waited for his next move while her pussy grew heavy with desire.

  Unsure what he was up to, she jumped slightly when his fingers moved between her legs and spread her open. Her legs started trembling when she felt him rub something in the creamy evidence of her need.

  Oh god. The ball harness. He knew she was a goner whenever he inserted those wicked weighted balls in her pussy.