Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) Page 3

  “So, I don’t understand. You’ve kinda changed your mind? What the actual fuck does that mean?”

  She could feel the tension radiating off him. Meghan swallowed the lump of dread forming in her throat. All she could do at this point was hope he didn’t freak out.

  “Um, well . . . you see—I didn’t begin a new pill pack after my last cycle.”

  She waited and held her breath while the ramifications of her confession sank in. A long, silent pause ensued and then, without warning, he flipped her onto her back and lodged his beefy body between her legs.

  “Are you saying we’re making babies now?”

  “I don’t know if it works like that,” she hurriedly told him. “I mean, it’s only been a couple of days. I suppose, if you wanted, I could start again and just go forward like I missed a couple of pills. Take some precautions. Stuff like that.”

  “Absolutely not!” he barked.

  “Then, you’re okay with this?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Alex laughed. “You just made me a very happy man, Meghan. I dream about seeing you big with my child. When you get pregnant, I’m going to drag you with me everywhere I go so people can see your belly and know it was me who did that. Seriously, babe—you have no idea what having a child with you means to me.”

  “Really?” Her voice cracked as a wave of love for the big man pinning her to the bed washed through her.

  “Yes, really. And no, I’m not mad. I just wish you’d told me what was going on in your head, but it’s not like we hadn’t already decided we wanted kids right away. Shit, honey. Next to saying vows together, making a baby with you is nothing short of sacred. I mean—we’ve been making love for hours. I need to know that there’s even the remotest of possibilities that I’d be planting my seed inside you.”

  Fuck. Could he be any more perfect? Sacred baby-making? Plant his seed? Did it get any better than this?

  Pulling up her knees, she wrapped her long legs about his hips and tightened. She had to give him credit—he didn’t even hesitate. With one achingly slow thrust and grind, he plunged inside her and joined them in the most basic of ways.

  Wrapped around each other, they shuddered and moaned in unison. It was always like this. Each time she welcomed him into her body, the physical and emotional communion consumed them.

  Shoving his hands beneath her ass, he rocked shallowly and ground their bodies together. A fullness that made her toes curl had Meghan whimpering as currents of exquisite pleasure raced through her body.

  “This is how we ride, my wild Irish beauty. Feel me inside you? When you come and your pussy squeezes the shit out of my cock, I’m going to fuck it deeper.”

  Oh. My. God. Maybe this making babies thing was the sexiest thing. Like ever.

  Kissing her wildly, Alex built a steady rhythm that got her clit throbbing and her sex aching with need. She was so wet, so turned on, that with each forward thrust, her juicy pussy made sounds that caused them both to moan and grunt. The way he moved her ass with his strong hands so each stroke sent her closer and closer to the edge was pure Alex. He knew what angle of penetration would have her melting down and used it to his ruthless advantage.

  “Baby,” he groaned. “Let me feel you come.”

  Meghan undulated and clutched at his hard heated cock with muscles made tense from exquisite arousal. One of his hands slipped between their bodies as his fingers sought her swollen clitoris. Rolling the tiny pearl between his fingers, Alex slammed into her over and over. The pleasure he gave was indescribable and the orgasm that thundered into her pelvis made her cry out with wonder. As her body contracted over and over, she could feel every inch of him buried deep inside her.

  “I love when you get off,” he moaned. “That rush of wet heat drenching my cock. Oh, baby. I want to fuck you like this all night long, but I have to come now. Your pussy . . . it’s too much. Too much.”

  His words enflamed Meghan. Grabbing onto his flexing buttocks, she urged him on, rising up to meet him on each fierce downward thrust.

  Grunting, he told her in a demanding growl, “Fuck me, baby. Harder. Harder!” And she did. Until her body shook and quaked from the ferocity of his lovemaking. He wasn’t kidding about planting his seed as deep and completely as he could.

  Crying out, she stared at him in wonder when he bellowed loudly, and with his cock buried balls deep, she held perfectly still while he emptied into her. She felt every throb. Each pulse as his flesh jerked and surged. Seeing him, his neck arched and mouth open on a rumbling primal groan, sent her flying.

  They stayed joined for a very long time. Alex kissed her face, her neck, and nibbled on her ear while she stroked his back and gently ran her fingers across the ridges of scarring on his hip and upper thigh.

  “Alex,” she murmured. “I’ve been thinking . . .”

  She heard his short sigh and smiled.

  “You think too damn much, lady,” he grumbled. “What else could possibly be on your mind now that we’re in baby-making mode? I mean, shit, babe. Isn’t that and the wedding enough?”

  It wasn’t all that hard to keep her Major on his toes. She was one lucky gal. Even the slightest suggestion that something was on her mind had him prepared to move mountains to make her happy.

  “Oh, hush,” she giggled playfully. “Why is it always the man-growl with you? Huh? If you’d just let me finish before going all He-Man on me, then maybe you’d be surprised at what I have to say instead of dreading whatever you think is coming next.”

  His deep chuckle curled around her nerve endings. “Are you trying to school me, woman?”

  “Well, somebody has to keep that enormous alpha ego of yours in check.”

  Rolling them to the side, he pulled her leg high on his injured thigh and rocked against her, keeping them intimately connected.

  “This oughta be rich,” he drawled as he lightly smacked her ass before caressing the curves he never failed to worship.

  He had no idea, she thought.

  “With Angie about to arrive that pretty much sticks a fork in our privacy, wouldn’t you say?”

  His grunt was so damn cute. Alex liked being able to have her on every surface and against every wall and piece of furniture. Not just in the hacienda, but in every nook and corner of the Justice compound.

  “You liked wagging your pretty bottom in my face on the steps, didn’t you?”

  “Shut up,” she gurgled, as a burst of laughter broke free.

  He snickered as he tsked. “What did I tell you about that? Every shut up from your naughty mouth gets you five spanks. Are you trying to wind me up? If you are, just say so and over my knee you go.”

  “Hmmm. What number are we up to in this spanking scenario?” Meghan felt the skin on her ass prickle at the thought of what he did to her when his big hand went to town on her naked flesh.

  “That last infraction brings the current total to twenty-one.” He drew back and landed a hearty whack on her butt that made her sex clutch his embedded cock. “Now, it’s twenty but I’m making a change. Here on out, I prefer two smacks—one for each beautiful cheek—to deduct a single point.” She groaned at his devious scoring tactic. “That way it’ll keep you honest”

  Squirming wickedly against him, she made a pout with her lips and growled, “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

  “Twenty-five it is, my lady, but I don’t think a good spanking was what you had on your mind so spit it out before you earn yourself a blistered ass.”

  Meghan placed soft, unhurried, open mouth kisses on Alex’s sexy chest. “Before your sister gets here, there’s something I want to do.”

  “Mmm hmmm,” he moaned. “Whatever you want, baby. Just tell me . . .”

  She nodded and smiled. All she had to do was ask and he’d be all over her in a Boston second.

  “I want you to strip me naked, downstairs. And blindfold me.”

  He pulled back and looked at her. “I like where this is going so far.”

  “Shut up,” she
giggled.

  “Thirty. Naked and blindfolded. Then what?”

  “Then, Mr. Thunder Cock, sir, after that, it’s alpha choice. You can tie me up, tie me down—whatever speaks to the moment. Surprise me.”

  “Hands behind your back?” he asked silkily.

  Meghan shuddered slightly. He had a need to push this particular limit of hers. Although frightened by the loss of control, she trusted him enough to give in to this command and control fantasy. She was, in fact, starting to crave the experience of placing herself totally in his hands.

  That was what this request was all about. An absolute expression of his domination over her. She’d be sightless from the blindfold. Totally naked. Helpless if he bound her hands behind her. His to do with as he pleased—in every sense of the words.

  “Yes,” she answered softly.

  Alex’s sharp inhale let her know how deeply her acquiescence to his desires affected him. Her calm consent spoke volumes to the depth of her commitment to him.

  “Thank you, baby,” he murmured before kissing her passionately. There really wasn’t anything else to say. She knew he’d come up with a sexy scene worthy of the trust she was showing him.

  “Come on, fuck goddess,” he drawled, pulling out of her body and scooping her into his arms. “There’s a tub waiting to be filled with hot water and a shit ton of those bubbles you like so much.”

  “I can walk,” she told him in a rush as worry about her weight putting a strain on his old injuries made her pause.

  “Yes, but when I carry you it says something you need to hear. You are mine, Meghan. Completely.”

  Well, alrighty then. Looks like it was bath time in the Marquez household.

  THE DRIVE FROM THE AIRPORT to the Villa was a ride Angie knew quite well, and thankfully, it was long enough for her to take a stab at getting her emotions under some sort of control. It had been more than two years since she’d felt the Arizona sun on her face. Two long years since she’d come home to the States.

  Stretching her legs out straight in front of her, she enjoyed the roominess of the luxurious limo that she learned from Meghan had been an impulse acquisition. Knowing her older brother the way she did and after having gotten to know her future sister-in-law pretty well over these past few months, Angie didn’t have any trouble whatsoever conjuring up all sorts of naughty scenarios possible in the limo’s private interior.

  Hmph, must be nice to have a man who was willing to explore the temptations of civilized debauchery within the confines of a real relationship. She had that once upon a time or, at least she thought she had, until an unexpected and particularly painful reality check had set her straight.

  And, of course, that thought brought memories of Parker Sullivan screaming full tilt boogie into her head. Pfft. Why the hell not? After all, he was the real reason she’d avoided coming home. Pretending otherwise would be more deceit than denial.

  As soon as Alex announced that he was getting married, Angie knew the years of staying away were numbered. She hadn’t been wrong. And now, here she was, on a brilliantly bright day traveling along the deeply rural ranch roads and by-ways of her beloved Arizona. She was . . . home. At last.

  Angie sighed dreamily. When Meghan asked for her help as event planner for the O’Brien~Valleja-Marquez nuptials, it was a dream come true. Sure, she did events, launches, and all of the PR for the Marquez family vineyard and winery and had entertained aristocrats and farm workers alike but a society wedding? Woo-hoo!

  Thanks to Meghan’s phenomenal vision for the uniquely old-fashioned sacrament that would join their two families, Angie had been given the rare opportunity to design an event blending two cultures that could not have been more different.

  She giggled and shook her head, reaching up to snag a long strand of soft dark hair that she twined around her fingers as she thought about the proud Irish family from Boston who boasted generations of community minded folk. Angie loved Meghan’s gruff but loving policeman dad who unabashedly adored his only daughter. As the wedding plans took shape, she’d had countless conversations with Paddy O’Brien and Maggie, his wife. They were the real deal, those two.

  The old, stately Boston church where her Uncle Eduardo would officiate the marriage ceremony was the epitome of romantic settings. The stained glass windows were magnificent and the dark wood overtones along with the gray stone walls were the perfect canvas for a planner’s dream location.

  Out of an abundance of respect for Meghan’s family, the Marquez clan was bypassing Arizona entirely in favor of congregating in and around Beantown in the weeks prior to the big day. And it wasn’t going to be just her parents and sister, either. All of the Valleja-Marquez cousins, aunts, and uncles were going to attend. Their side of the church would be overflowing once all the family friends and those important to the winery and vineyard were added to the mix. It was going to be one hell of a party.

  Her eyes turned toward the window and she gazed at the distinctive Southwest rock formations out in the distance. The low shrubs running alongside the road were every imaginable shade of an earthy tone beneath a brilliant, cloudless blue sky—a far cry from the lush, verdant Spanish hillsides where she’d been hiding away.

  A sharp pain tore through her—tears suddenly stinging her eyes. Shit. She missed this. It was her home, after all. But did she belong here after all this time? Could she stop running long enough to let her beloved Southwest creep back inside her soul?

  Parker. Oy. Every question she asked or memory she had involved him. Was it the desert she missed and yearned for, or was it him? Was this her home or was it simply where he was? Truth was . . . she didn’t know anymore.

  Wasting a year of her life engaged to Ronaldo Esperanza had shown her that saying she was over Parker and meaning it were two entirely different matters. The business-like way she and Ronaldo decided to marry had been as passionless and humdrum as the underlying relationship.

  In a last-ditch desperate attempt to wipe Parker out of her heart and mind once and for all, she’d sold herself on the cheap. Not her finest moment. Once the engagement was official, she’d dragged her feet about everything. She didn’t want a ring, but he demanded that she wear his grandmother’s ruby—a big, ugly hunk of junk she hated.

  Aldo also expected her to immediately set up housekeeping with him, away from the winery where she maintained a private apartment in an old two-story gatehouse she shared with her sister, Sophia.

  Angie didn’t want to play the role he was laying out for her and objected at every opportunity. She was a modern girl and a career-oriented woman who wasn’t about keeping house and burping babies. At least, not with him. She had a degree in International Business, spoke three languages, knew her way around royalty, and would have made a kickass diplomat. She was well versed in modern wine-making and helped run a centuries-old vineyard and winery that supported a highly respected family label.

  Cooking dinner and doing laundry for a man who basically sat on his ass all day while schmoozing on the phone just wasn’t going to happen. His proud, aristocratic family needed the infusion of new Spanish blood that a marriage would bring. The Esperanzas might need her, but she sure as shit didn’t need them. Once she came to her senses, it wasn’t long before she admitted to barely being able to tolerate Aldo.

  What had she been thinking? Simple answer. That entire year that she played the fiancée had been a direct result of feeling rejected by Parker for a second time. When his dad, her Uncle Matt, had had a heart attack, her parents immediately flew back to the States with Angie in tow to be with their friends. For two long weeks, while Angie anxiously hovered on the sidelines, Parker ignored, avoided, and generally blew off any contact with her. Not even a glance down a long hallway. There had been nothing.

  As the car made a familiar turn and started down the long drive to the Villa, Angie fidgeted like crazy while her conscience snickered. Okay. So maybe there was a glance. Well, actually more than a glance. More like an ocular screening worthy of t
he Feds.

  She’d seen him through the glass of a hospital door when he’d been deep in a conversation. Angie felt a gentle thrill race inside her recalling how he’d looked. He was so big. And oh, my god, those shoulders—that face. His posture had been straight and rigid. He had looked sad and to her remembered horror that sadness had her considering going to him so she could lend him some strength. But she had come to her senses and ran—remembering that he wouldn’t welcome her comfort.

  Rattled by the flood of memories and anxious to put her feet on the desert ground, she gathered herself—eyes drinking in familiar sites. Ah, nothing like that feeling of coming home and . . . wait . . . what the hell was that?

  Craning her neck when the car eased by, she saw another big sign. A construction entrance? What the hell? That certainly wasn’t familiar.

  And then there it was, the winding driveway with the majestic Valleja-Marquez Villa at the end. It was so postcard Spanish hacienda perfect that she laughed and clapped her hands together with unashamed glee. Home. She was home!

  As the big car came to a slow halt, she was ready to bolt the second she could. When she sensed that the car was in park, Angie was off and running.

  The Villa!

  Oh, my god!

  The trees, the flowers. It was all just so damn beautiful. And the smell. Goddamn, she loved that smell.

  She raced toward the timeworn archway with the distinctive iron gates that to her knowledge had never been closed. Angie wanted to hug the trees and caress every bloom. Smiling, she turned her face to the sky and breathed deeply. Everything was going to be all right. She was older. Wiser. Would make better decisions this time around. It was time she sorted her shit out, and coming here was the only way that could happen.

  Her reverie was stopped by the sound of the massive wood door to the main house opening and then she was running at full speed. Alex! Oh, my god! It was Alex!

  Launching into him at the last second, he caught her in an exuberant embrace and swung her around like she was a rag doll.

  “Baby girl!” her brother boomed with glee. “Welcome home, darlin’.”