Page 83 of Judgment Day

Leo had taken over the safehouse in Tennessee, along with the girl who had once called me her savior. Mrs. McTavish moved to the Knoydart house yesterday. We would move five girls in with her in a matter of days. If anyone had the heart to run one of our safehouses, it was her. The woman was a diamond in a sea of coal. I was thankful she was only thirty minutes away.

There was no elaborate memorial service for Winston nor Sadie. They weren’t praised for being great leaders. We didn’t hide the truth from the media this time—well, notallof the truth. As far as the world was concerned, they’d been caught in a human trafficking ring and committed double suicide to escape the consequences. Their deaths were acknowledged, then forgotten. Just like they deserved.

Ayelswick needed healing. They needed a true queen. They needed Anniston.

Today was her coronation. We were supposed to be at the cathedral within the next thirty minutes.

We spent the night at the same bed & breakfast I always stayed at when I was here. Imogen had smiled when she saw me walk in with my wife. Then she paled when Lincoln walked in behind us. I laughed to myself. His presence could be a little intimidating. He took his own room in order to avoid unnecessary rumors—not that we gave a fuck about rumors, but with status came certain expectations. People had their own ideas of what love wassupposedto look like. I would hate to have to kill every single person who said one negative thing about my wife. What we did in private was exactly that. Private.

Lyric walked out of the bathroom as I fastened my cuffs.Her hair was pulled up, but a few loose strands framed her face and wisped over her neck. Her blue dress complemented my gray suit and blue tie. The silky fabric fell over her body, draping loosely over her breasts in a cowl neck and again down her back. The thin straps exposed her shoulders, making me want to mark them with my teeth.

“You’re lucky we’re running late.” I grasped her chin, lifting her face to mine.

Her eyes were hooded, lips parted. A man could easily get addicted to that look.I was.

I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me. My cock dug into her hip, rock-hard and aching to be inside her. Always aching to be inside her.

She slid the lapel of my suit jacket between her fingers and bit her lip. “We could stay here. Send flowers and a card.”

I knew what she was doing. She was afraid of walking into a church, any church, worried what memories it might stir up.

I cupped her face in my other hand. “I’ve got you, dove.” My thumb swept her cheek. “You’re safe with me.” I would kill anyone who dared touch her. I pressed a kiss to her mouth, and her lips parted, inviting me in. She tasted like mint and honey and sin. The way she moaned into my mouth and arched into me as I fucked her with my tongue made my dick throb. I dragged her bottom lip between my teeth, pulling away from our kiss. “You are the sweetest fucking drug.”

I bent down, grabbed one of her shoes and kneeled before her. Fucking bowed. Worshipped beforemyqueen. My goddess. I slid her tiny foot into the high-heeled shoe, then fastened the strap around her ankle. Her skin was so soft, so smooth to the touch. I lifted her leg and brought my mouth to her ankle. Fuck time. I’d stop the clock for her. The coronation would wait. I needed this. Just this.

“Let’s see how wet you are, sweet girl. How hungry this pussy is for me.”

She whimpered, a hushed little sound dripping from her lips. I wanted more of those sounds. I wanted her to cry. To scream. To plead.

My hands slid up her calves, her thighs, pushing her dress up as I went. Goosebumps pebbled on her skin. Jesus, she was soaked, right through her panties. The thin fabric outlined the seam of her pussy, the swollen lips, the wet spot right where my fingers were about to be.

My throat rumbled with a growl. Primal and territorial. “So fucking wet.” Always so wet. Always eager to please. “You want my fingers, little dove? Or my mouth?”

She gripped my hair. “Everything.” She rolled her hips, and her pussy clenched. Right here, in front of my goddamn face. “Give me everything.”

That. Jesus,that.That was why she had me on my knees.

I pulled her panties to the side and breathed her in. Then blew back out. My breath on her cunt was a promise.I’m going to make you feel so fucking good.I owed this to her. To me. To us. We’d tortured ourselves for four fucking years. I had so much time to make up for, and I would spend every day for the rest of my life doing just that.

“Grey…” She arched into me, her voice a stuttered plea.

I trailed the pads of my thumbs over her lips, then pressed one against her clit. Her fingers tightened in my hair.

“Lift your leg. Put your foot on my shoulder.” I didn’t care that her heels dug into my skin. I’d had worse pain. “Fuck yeah.” The movement spread her more open for me. I dragged my thumb to her center, gliding it down her cunt, then back up. She was nothing but soft, ragged pants and fucking heaven. I slid one finger inside, then two. “Beg for me, sweet dove.”

“Please, sir. Make me come.” She whimpered. “I need it so fucking bad.”

Fuck.

I plunged my fingers deep inside her, loving the way she felt around me. So hot. So wet. She worked her pussy against my fingers. I fucked, fucked, fucked her harder. I was lost in it. Nothing existed but the sloppy, wet sound of my fingers in her cunt and her moans growing louder by the second. My beautiful girl liked it deep. She loved it rough. She rode my demons.She owned them.

“Fuck, Grey. Holy fuck.” She was tight, so fucking tight around me, clenching my fingers. I added a third, then brought my mouth to her clit right as she tipped over the edge.

The cry that came from her lips was pure fucking perfection. It was atonement and forgiveness and redemption. And it wasmine.Idid that to her. Maybe I didn’t deserve it. I was certain I didn’t. But I took it, anyway. Every time she came, that was what it was. That was whatshewas. Lyrics in the song of a fallen angel.

I eased my fingers out of her, knowing that was exactly how I would attend the coronation. Marked by her. Covered in her juices. Smelling like her. I had no intention of washing her off of me.

I righted her panties, dropped her dress, then stood. Her face was flushed, her eyes still dark and glazed over with that post-orgasm bliss.

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