Make Me, Sir

He drove into her harder, until she felt the jolt of each thrust deep in her belly. And then he slowed, leaving her teetering on the precipice of an orgasm. “Answer me now, Jessica.”

Her vision blurred as she only clung to this world by her fingertips. Oh God. “Yes. Yes, yes.”

“Excellent.” His rhythm changed. His thick cock stretched her with each deep plunge, and as he withdrew, his finger would slide up and over her clit. Her engorged nub tightened more and more, and her pussy clenched around him. Her orgasm rolled toward her as inevitable as the turning of the tide.

She poised on the crest for one agonizing second, and then her insides exploded into pleasure so intense the room blurred and only his hard hands seemed to hold her in this universe. She convulsed around him, wave after wave consuming her until even her fingers tingled with the sensations.

As she gasped for air, he murmured into her ear, “However, when we’re old, I will still keep the cane.”

Her choked laugh turned to a yelp when he pinched her clit…and she came again.

A second later, he drove into her far enough to bump against her womb. His hands tightened on her hips. As he pulsed inside her and his heat filled her, she realized what had changed.

She’d heard no crinkling sound of a condom wrapper. His cock felt different-velvety and hot and real.

His big hand splayed over her abdomen, and in a dangerously low voice, he murmured, “We’ll get started on those children right away.”

* * *

“Good morning, Mr. Atherton.”

Marcus forced his eyes open. A figure blurred, then came into focus. A gray-haired nurse, wearing green scrubs with pink dancing bears. She pulled his covers down to his waist. White gauze dressings covered his shoulder, and it hurt.

Some of the fog cleared from his brain. He’d been shot. Had surgery. His mouth felt like it had the day after he’d discovered tequila. “Uh.” He swallowed and tried again. “Good morning. What time is it?”

She nodded at a clock on the wall. “Still early. My name is Mary, and I’m your nurse today. Your doctor should be in soon to do the first dressing change. Can you give me a number for how much pain you’re in-on a scale of one to ten, where one is almost nothing?”

His shoulder hurt like hell. “About a three.”

She gave a gravelly laugh. “You men. Try again and be honest this time.”

With a wry smile, he admitted, “Seven.” She’d make a good domme.

“’Bout what I figured.” She held up a little device attached to the IV. “I showed you this yesterday, but I doubt if you remember.” She pushed the button. “I just gave you a dose, and you should feel better in a minute or two. Next time, when your pain hits around four or so, push the button. It won’t let you punch it too many times, so you can’t overdose. Got it?”

He nodded and realized his head hurt too. Damn pipe-wielding bastard.

“Breakfast will arrive shortly. And your grandparents said they’d visit this morning, if you don’t remember.”

He frowned. Had Gabi been with him? “Was anyone else here yesterday?”

“Oh yes.” She smiled. “A very beat-up and exhausted young woman kept you company from the minute your grandparents left the room until they returned.”

The pleasure that she’d cared enough to watch over him was swamped by his concern. “She should have been in a hospital bed herself.”

“She wasn’t about to budge. She even dodged the Feds looking for her.”

“Stubborn little brat,” he muttered.

The nurse smiled and turned her attention to getting his temperature and checking his lungs. By the time she left, the pain medication had kicked in, and he sighed in relief. Nasty things, bullets. They’d been lucky though; he and Gabi could easily have died. Instead she was battered but alive. And this hole in his shoulder would heal up fast enough.

For a few minutes, he worked on separating his anesthetic-induced dreams from reality. Too much of yesterday seemed like a nightmare-his fear that they’d arrive too late, that Gabi’d be hurt. The box sliding off the dock. Hell, it had all been too close. Another couple of minutes and the boat would have left with her on it. The thought darkened the room for a moment.

He touched the side of his head, fingering the tender lump. He owed his little trainee his life. Instead of giving up, she’d not only gotten free but flung herself to his rescue. He chuckled, remembering how the bastard had toppled when she tackled him. So brave. No cringing on the ground for his spitfire.

Or going into hysterics afterward. He still couldn’t believe she’d snuck in here to check on him. She had incredible loyalty and courage-qualities he’d not considered essential in a lover-but perhaps his vision had been narrow.

He glanced at the door. Dammit, he wanted to see for himself she was all right.

He frowned at the memory of her in his room. Blood on a swollen lip, her cheek scraped and raw. Whispering to him, asking him to wake up. “Sorry…” Had she said she was sorry? For what?

“It should have been me.” His mouth tightened as her low husky voice sang through his memories. What the hell did that mean? His eyes narrowed. She’d kissed him…and said good-bye. Not See you later. Not I’ll visit tomorrow. “Good-bye.”

An ominous feeling took up residence in his gut. Spotting a phone, he reached over, stifled a groan when he jarred his shoulder, then dialed. Her number rang and rang before a recording stated it was no longer in service.

He scowled, trying to think despite the fogginess from the pain meds. Her phone… Ah, she’d probably received it for the decoy job. He stiffened. What about her apartment? Was she even in Tampa?

“Hey there, boy.” His grandfather stepped into the room and stopped for a thorough scrutiny. A smile creased his leathery face. “You look better today.”

“Thank you, sir.” Marcus smiled and held his hand out to shake.

His grandmother followed, bending to give him a gentle hug and kiss. Her eyes teared up. “We were so worried,” she said, smiling at him. “Your mama called.”

“I hope you told them not to come. Marissa needs them more.” On complete bed rest in the last month of her pregnancy and with two children under five, his sister needed all the help she could get.

“They agreed only if we both call them daily.”

“That’ll work.”

“Since when do attorneys involve themselves in shoot-outs, boy?” Ex-Judge Atherton pulled up a chair, obviously preparing to show he hadn’t lost a jot of his cross-examination skills since retirement.

“Complicated story.” How to explain his relationship with Gabrielle? “A woman I…know…was kidnapped, and a friend and I assisted in locating her.” Not a bad summary, he decided, then screwed it up by adding, “A bullet is a small price to pay to get her back.”

His grandmother’s eyes widened. “Really? Is she the woman we met last June? Celine?”

Marcus smothered a smile. When Celine had joined them for dinner one evening, his grandparents had been… polite. Their reaction to her had added weight to his decision to step back. He didn’t want a surface-sweet, manipulative woman; he wanted one who’d yell at him to his face, one who could keep him as fascinated as Gramps was with Nana.

In the lifestyle, his grandmother would be known as a brat. “No, Nana, you haven’t met her.”

“Are we likely to?” she asked bluntly.

He smiled at the thought of a meeting. Gabi had an effect on others like the spring sun on flowers, and it wasn’t because she was a pushover, but because she liked people. Despite her sassy mouth, she cared, and they could feel that. The little brat would probably give his domineering grandfather a rough time, and Gramps would love it. “I very much hope so, yes.”

“Was she the woman in here yesterday?” Nana asked.

“No one was in here with him,” Gramps said.