Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) (38 page)

As she hooked her fingers into the sides of her panties to take them off, he stopped her with a deep growl.

“Turn around when you do that. Show me your ass, honey.”

Her eyes blazed at his command.

“That’s right, wife. Turn the fuck around and let me see that fine ass I married.”

With her fingers still grasping the sides of her panties, she dropped her gaze to his cock and a small, wicked smile curled her lips.

Cam grabbed his swollen shaft and surged his hips upward. “All yours, darlin’.”

Like a delicate ballerina, Lacey pirouetted gracefully until her back was to him and her pink silk covered bottom squarely in his gaze.

She bent forward slowly pulling the scrap of pink down her legs. There, right before his eyes, was his very own erotic pin-up girl on full display.

Holy. God.

Since Dylan was born, she’d surprised him, this innocent wife of his, by keeping her pussy bare. As much as he liked the natural look, he had to admit that her sweet mound was sexy as fuck when he could see all of her. And right now she was intimately exposing herself to his view with the naughty way she bent over.

Cam squeezed his cock and slowly stroked as he got an eyeful of the pouting pink flesh glistening with the evidence of her arousal.

When she turned back to him, his eyes stayed fixed on her mound. He fucking loved Lacey’s pussy. He liked looking at it as much as fucking it. One of his favorite pastimes was to sit on his feet and pull her ass up onto his thighs, spread her sexy legs and feast on her perfection. Playing with the sensitive flesh, running his fingers everywhere, tracing the puffy lips, watching as her clitoris swelled, spying the creamy evidence of her arousal as it leaked from her opening—nirvana, man.
Fucking nirvana.

Right now though, he watched, mesmerized as she stepped close, and took up position, straddling his hips so he really did have a beautiful view of her dripping pussy.

And all the while? She was massaging her tits. Balls out playing with them. Even tugging on her nipples as she bit her lip and took shaky breaths. Damn, but he was a lucky man.

When she reached a hand between her spread legs and stroked her pussy, he’d had enough.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” he gritted out.

With a hand kneading one tit and the other cupping the mound he’d been leering at, she looked straight into his eyes. Searching her face, he saw a wildness in her expression that excited him.

Putting one of her dainty feet on his chest, she pressed him against the floor, and then much to his dismay stopped fondling her sweet nubile body and told him in no uncertain terms. “Yes. And you’re going to do nothing.”

He smiled. “So, it’s just this cock you want,” he taunted as he stroked.

Straddling him once again, she knocked his hand away and slid to her knees. His dick throbbed as she ground her wet pussy back and forth along his length, anointing him with her pleasure.

With her hands planted on either side of his head, they locked eyes as her pussy continued to drive him wild.

Her voice was deep and husky sounding. “Oh, make no mistake about it, husband. I want more than just your body. This is my choice,” she murmured. “You.
Us.
I made my choice before all of this,” she told him with an edge of fierceness that held his attention. “Before the baby. Before the wedding. Before seeing this beautiful house. Before we even made it to Arizona. You were my choice, Cameron. Before all of this—what we have now—my choice.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what she was getting at or where all this was going and he knew he’d be asking later, but right now, he wanted nothing more than all she had to give.

Wrapping his arms around her, he asked, “What do you need, baby?”

“I don’t need anything but you.”

She reached between them and fondled his twitching sex before guiding him to the entrance to her sweet body.

Rising, she spread her knees wider and began sinking inch by throbbing inch onto his shaft, her hands on his biceps in a death grip. The intensity with which she looked at him seared his soul.

“I loved you first . . .”

Staring up, everything blurred except her. She was magnificent. His heart hammering like a bass drum, Cam watched, panting as she rode him with a sensuality that belied the fierceness she was giving off.

They were wild. Uninhibited. Ferocious. Earthy. Untamed.

Fondling her breasts, neck arched, head thrown back—her hair long enough that the ends tickled his thighs—she moaned with each movement. Undulating and writhing as he fought for sanity.

The demons chasing her were mighty and it took a while for his wife to cast off everything except what they were doing. He felt when it happened. Groaned at the way her body softened, melting into his.

Kissing him fiercely, his cock buried deep while she ground her wicked ass on him, forcing him as deep as possible, she became wild and demanding. By that point, Cam was so overstimulated and downright drooling with a thundering lust demanding satisfaction that all he could do was try to hold on.

She was drenched in sweat after having quite actually done all the heavy lifting, when he felt her begin to falter. The muscles in her thighs quivered and she dropped onto his chest unable to stay up any longer.

His wife’s desperate groan made him shudder. Taking hold of her hips, he shifted, spread his thighs and dug his heels into the carpet for leverage. She groaned again and writhed on top of him. His body heard the plea in her sweet, sweet whimpers, and his cock answered her need.

Surging into her, he set an energetic pace—enough with the build-up. She was finally in the moment, dripping with arousal, their hearts pounding out a rhythm.

“You are my only love,” he growled.

“Oh, Cameron,” she cried.

He felt her tighten. Heat flooded her core. Arousal leaked from her body and covered him.

His thrusts became mighty. She ground her pussy on him and his heart did a double beat. Pushing her up so he could play with her tits, Cam tugged and kneaded while his Ponytail moaned with abandon. The sound of her pleasure was music to his ears.

And then she began to fall apart. Her eyes went blank, she cried, “Love me, Cameron. Please love me.”

His heart seized.
I loved you first.

Oh Ponytail,
he thought.
My love for you is so big it’d scare you if you knew.

Pulling on her hips with a ferocious grunt, he slammed into her a final time as she screamed and shook head to toe, her hips jerking as she came.

It was so fucking beautiful that he surrendered to the skin-prickling pleasure and released inside her. His beautiful wife’s magnificent pussy demanded all of him and he gave until there was nothing left.

S
HE WISHED THEY COULD CONTINUE
to lie there forever, staying in this wonderful place of quiet bliss, but Lacey knew that wasn’t going to happen. As the heat of their passion cooled, the air chilled her sweaty body and though Cameron had eased the pressure on her hips by shifting her into a sprawl, she was uncomfortable and suddenly conscious of where they were.

Some of her reluctance to move came from not wanting to confront the questions she knew were on his mind—the ones he’d ask the moment the cuddling ended.

Earlier, after the girls left and Dylan had gone down for his late day slumber leaving her with nothing to do, she felt restless and not just a little frazzled. Falling back into old habits if something was bothering her, she got busy. One, because doing something helped burn off excess energy, and two, because she did her best thinking while on task. Any task.

So . . . off she went to the laundry room. Always something that needed doing in there. After starting a load, she impulsively pulled off her dress and tossed it into the washer.

It was while she’d been folding a stack of her husband’s things that she started churning mentally. Though glad she’d told the girls what was going on, doing so had ripped the lid off the containment she’d fooled herself into thinking would take care of the problem. Emotional lockboxes, once opened, could be a bitch.

Lacey had survived years on the street, totally alone, vulnerable and always fighting. Fighting for a chance to get out of the bottomless pit her father and uncle had dropped her into. She was damn proud that she never let anything knock her down. One of the ways she managed that was realizing early on that she couldn’t waste time, energy, or resources on the past. Regrets, thoughts of revenge, the endless what ifs . . . all of that was useless. She didn’t have the time for such things.

Letting her father clog her thoughts was inviting problems. She was losing her way inside a maze of endless
if only’s
and didn’t know how to get out.

Knowing her husband would be home soon, she thought running upstairs for a quick shower to relax would cut off the anxiety.

Switching off the light to the laundry room, she pulled the door shut and remembered that she didn’t have anything on except her panties. While not a prude, Lacey had a reputation for being quaintly modest. She found vulgarity amusing but not something she was comfortable with coming from her own mouth. And she was always the one to suggest at least
some
restraint when hijinks and off-the-wall stuff happened.

But in private? Cameron had encouraged her to feel totally at ease with being naked in her own home. Having a home sanctuary of comfort and total seclusion was important to him. Didn’t matter why; whether a result of his abysmal childhood, the miserable years that followed or the ones spent trying to survive in an unending war—the end result was evident in every inch of the home Cameron designed and helped build. Everything was open but private at the same time. The walls of windows and sliders opened to miles of natural open spaces in a heavily secured location. There was also an unwritten protocol that was the rhythm of daily life for Family Justice.

Early mornings were more or less sacrosanct and uninterrupted for each of their households, but once the day got started and people were working, they had an open door habit. Everyone came and went with nothing but a courtesy, “Howdy Do,” shout-out. If you got caught with your pants down, so to speak, it was your own damn fault.

This being the Southwest and all, the Villa also customarily observed a late afternoon siesta. She snickered.
Uh-huh.
More like an opportunity between the workday and when dinner happened for the alpha patrol of Justice men to recharge and refresh for the evening.

It was that time of day so she didn’t have to worry about anyone just barging through the front door. Feeling no reluctance whatsoever about walking around undressed, she headed to their bedroom. No big deal.

Plus,
after all,
she thought. I
am
wearing undies.

Her sexy brooding man might have taught her to be unashamed of being nude in front of him, but she made sure to put her own signature spin on it. It started one day when she’d strutted bare ass naked down the steps with a tie slung around her neck. He’d enjoyed her droll embellishment and teased her endlessly about it. From then on, a private joke was born and Lacey made it a point to always have
something
on. Anything! Just one thing and it didn’t matter what it was since she was essentially playing for laughs.

She’d tied a ribbon around her neck. Worn a belly chain. The apron, of course, was a warm memory. One time she wore only a belt. Nothing but fluffy socks happened frequently and was her every day go-to. For important occasions, she wore lace top thigh-high stockings. On Halloween, she switched things up with a witch’s hat. Christmas? Santa panties. She just got a couple of beautiful garters that she’d bought off Etsy that her husband hadn’t seen yet. It was all good.

Plodding along the hallway, she heard the front door open and quickly close, and then keys dropped into the bowl, followed seconds later by the thud of Cameron’s boots hitting the floor.

The delayed detonation of all that anger and regret toward her father suddenly exploded inside her.
That motherfucker.
She might not want to say the word out loud, but she had no trouble thinking it in her head.

No!
She didn’t want him there. In her head.
Fuck him.
Frank Morrow was entitled to no part of her. Not even her wayward thoughts.

A sudden desperation took hold. This was
her
life now and that dumbass wasn’t going to mess up what she had.

Seeing Cameron at the end of the hallway as he turned toward the steps, she made a sharp detour to head him off. The minute she saw him, something inside her snapped.

Lacey wasn’t the type to initiate—mostly she didn’t need to. Their marital life was quite satisfying and full and her husband kept her occupied. But seeing him and then having all those crazy conflicting, unsettling feelings swirling inside her—the combination pushed her to action. Impulsive action. The sort that led to manhandling one’s husband and demanding that he satisfy you. Not something she did every day.

She understood what was happening. Just didn’t know how to explain it. How did you tell someone that they saved you—from a dark and dreary hell that stretched out ahead and had no end? And not because he’d physically rescued her and brought her to this beautiful place, giving her an opportunity to start a whole new life.