Page 100 of Justice for Radar

Justice…

The rumble of pipes in the driveway made me sit up at my workstation in what used to be Radar’s den but what had become a shared space of half his den and half my home office. I got up from my Mac and barely had the presence of mind to save my progress before I rushed to the garage door. I hit the button to raise the main garage entrance and bounced on my bare feet, breathless with anticipation.

The door rose painfully slow, and I bit my bottom lip.

Radar walked his bike into the garage past his Escalade in the driveway and parked it beside my little Kia.

He insisted I park in the garage, and for a time, also insisted for safety that I never get out of my locked car until the main garage door had finished closing.

I squealed in glee when he shut off the bike and I rushed forward.

“Watch the pipes!” he cried and I stopped and leaned way forward, throwing my arms around him and kissing him as he laughed.

“I missed you!” I cried and he helped me to lean back so he could dismount and come to me properly.

“I wasn’t even gone a week this time!” he cried.

“I don’t care,” I murmured. He kissed me much better this time, growling into my mouth and making me swoon.

I giggled when he attacked the side of my neck with his lips and teeth.

“Mm! Bedroom, now,” he ordered and who was I to argue?

I led him into the bedroom and delighted in how he walked me right up to the bed, wrapped his hand in the back of my hair and ordered me, “Bend over.”

I bent at the waist, as he kicked my feet apart, and he held me down atop the mattress. I breathed deep, already glowing, already sliding into that space where I could unwind and let go and let him use my body to my heart’s content and Ilovedthat. I loved giving myself over to him and letting him use me. Loved listen to him as he softly praised me in that deep and sultry voice. His Cuban accent to his Spanish so sexy and smooth as he told me suck deliciously dirty things.

Like how he loved me, how he couldn’t wait to be inside of me, how much he loved my tight little pussy snug around his cock and how he was going to make love to me for hours.

He wasn’t always so gentle, but then again, I didn’t always want him to be. Now, though? Now it was perfect.

He worked his jeans open and slid his hand from my hair, down my back, using both hands to ruck up my long skirt and groaning in appreciation as my pussy was bared to him.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, my good little girl,” he muttered, and he slid the head of his cock up and down my pussy lips, teasing me.

“You like the thought of that?” he demanded.

“Uh-huh,” I said faintly, and he smacked my ass. I yipped and he chuckled.

“You like the thought of that?” he asked, and I smiled and like the brat I had been evolving into, I said, “Mm-hm!”

He smacked my ass again and I laughed, a full-throated thing.

I had loved this part of our relationship, working through some of my likes and wants in therapy, understanding that the things I liked were normal and to enjoy growing into them and understanding them. It helped that Radar not only enthusiastically was willing to explore with me, but that he was patient, sweet, loving, and kind.

He communicated clearly, he held me when something didn’t work for me and I wept, and absolutely nothing was a deal breaker or off-limits. If I wanted to try it, even if it wasn’t his thing, he obliged me.

If I didn’t like it, even though it was sort of his thing, he never begrudged my not wanting to do it and I never begrudged him when he was really in the mood for it. We talked, and it was a beautiful give and take and every time I shared my body, my hopes, my dreams with him we grew that much closer.

He was more than just my lover. He was my best friend… and I know, I know, so many couples said that, but this was the first and last time I wanted to experience it.

“You tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll give you what you want,” he said, bent over my body, his voice low and rough in my ear.

I giggled and he slipped against me, and oh fuck I wanted it. I wanted what he was offering so fucking bad, but the game we played was a fun one. His domineering nature so sexy and so in control and my need to test, to feel safe and understood dynamic in my occasional bratty-ness.

“Tell me what I want to hear, baby…” he murmured playfully.

“I want your cock inside me,” I said breathlessly. “I want to feel you –please?” I begged.

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