Page 62 of Justice for Francesca

“That eight-inch rocket you’ve lined up with my lower back.” She giggled. “Better not go off before I’m ready for it to blast.”

He chuckled as he lightly thrust forward, then withdrew. “Not like you could do anything about it right now, is there? But… I think I can control him long enough.”

“Long enough for what?”

“Long enough for you to apologize to him.”

“Apologize? To your dick?”

“Mm-hmm.” He thrust and withdrew again. “He had all these plans to make you scream my name, and then you went and made him feel small. I don’t think he’s going to come throughon his original intention unless you make him feel better about himself.”

She snorted. “Why is every man a twelve-year-old boy at heart?”

“No, our dicks are twelve-year-old boys at heart.Ourage doesn’t matter. I think even if we’re married for twenty years, our dicks think every time they get to have sex that it’s going to be the last time, so when another opportunity arises—no pun intended—it can’t help but get excited.”

“This is not very Dom-like behavior.” She giggled as he continued to shift back and forth against her ass.

“Deflection, sweetheart. Apologize,” he rasped in her ear.

“If you want me to apologize, you’re going to have to turn me over,” she whispered.

He was quiet. A last kiss was planted at the curve of the small of her back. “As much as I want to continue this, we probably shouldn’t. You’re hurt?—”

“I’m fine, Ethan. It’s tender, yes. But I really would like to ‘apologize,’” she admitted.

She could hear the gears grinding in his head as he considered his next move. Hesitantly, he sat up, then again gently helped her to roll over, this time so she lay atop him. “You feel any pain at all?—”

“I’ll stop. I promise.”

She slid down to over his knees, her hands clutching his wrists down at his sides and her mouth hovering over his shaft.

“This is a bad idea. It’s not good for your?—”

A single finger reached up to lie across his lips. “Stop talking.”

Francesca licked a long stripe, starting at the base of his cock and finishing with a swirl of her tongue around the tip. She felt his body tense beneath her as he tried to prevent himself from pushing into her mouth. That just wouldn’t do at all. She wantedhim out of his mind for her. Wanted him to forget everything for just a little while when they could no longer avoid thinking about murder and suspects and reality.

When her tongue slipped between her lips to dip into the slit at the head to gather the drops of liquid gathering there, his salty taste distracted her. That singular moment allowed him to break her grip and reach for her hair. He pulled the elastic free and wrapped it around his wrist, allowing her hair to cascade down her back and shoulders. He didn’t pull her to him or push her down to meet his hips. His fingers simply threaded through the long strands, enjoying the silky texture.

When Francesca slid his shaft into her mouth, she heard him suck in air at the warm heat she encased him in. With no sense of urgency this time around, she was able to note and record each moan, hiss, grunt, and groan as she bathed his cock in her saliva. Each slide down his burning skin caused her glands to swell and spurt to make the journey to the back of her throat smooth and deep.

She flattened her tongue along the underside of his shaft as she pulled him inside, then curled her tongue as she dragged it back to the tip. She watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, categorizing each reaction, strengthening or softening her responses based on his expressions. Over and over, she bathed his cock, her only intent to make him feel as much pleasure as possible so that she could banish the ugliness of Tilly’s death to the corners of his mind, even if just temporarily.

“Francesca.” Her name on his lips was both a plea and a warning.

Instead of moving her mouth off of his cock, she worked to move down farther on it. The head buried in her throat, she swallowed against him, the action triggering his orgasm. His fingers tightened at the back of her head slightly, wanting to clutch her even tighter but clearly concerned he would hurt her ifhe did. That level of distraction simply would not do. He needed to forget. He needed to let go. For once it was Tripoli who needed full-on forgetfulness and not her.

As the final pulses of his cock emptied into her throat, he gently urged her to back away so that she wasn’t choking on him. Francesca allowed it, but only so far. His cock remained mostly hard, despite his release, and she made sure to continue to tease him with fluttering strokes of her tongue along the sides and underneath, as well as swirling the tip of her tongue around the head and through the slit, making sure all remains of his release were gone.

“Apology accepted.” He sighed.

She laughed quietly, giving the tip a chaste kiss before crawling up alongside him, her hand to his chest, her head to his bicep as her pillow.

“Please give me a reason that I will understand as to why the hell we haven’t been doing this for the past two years,” he murmured, stroking her hair.

“I wasn’t ready for you then,” she admitted.

His other arm bent behind his head, and his fingertips traced a gentle line back and forth along the top of her shoulder. “You’re ready now?”

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