I've never been ashamed of my curves or felt like I was somehow less because of them. They don't make me self-conscious. I don't care what anyone thinks about my body except Justice, and I know he likes it. I've seen the way he looks at me.
He stays where he's at for a long moment, letting me see what he hides behind those suits. I never imagined…I never knew…. New tangles join the old ones in my mind, leaving me trembling as a thousand questions crash together like cymbals somewhere between my brain and my throat.
"You have tattoos of me," I manage to say when he turns back around.
"Mmhmm." He resumes undressing as if he didn't just completely knock my world off its axis.
"Don't your…partners get jealous when they see all of that?" I wave a hand in his general direction, fighting not to cry. He's the one who is half naked, yet I'm the one who feels exposed. No one has ever done anything like that for me before. He did. And I'm not even sure if he ever planned on me seeing them or if they were supposed to be just for him.
He cocks his head to the side, his hands falling still on his fly. "You think I'd have another woman when you're mine, Milan?"
"I'm not…yours." I swallow hard, not sure which terrifies me more: the fact that I'm pretty sure I've always been his, or the fact that he knows it too. My only defense against him was always my attitude. Fighting him was the only thing that ever kept me from throwing myself at him. That's gone now, in tatters at my feet.
"No?" He quirks a brow. "You sure about that, baby girl?"
"Justice…dammit." Every time he calls me his baby girl, my resolve weakens. I don't even know what I'm fighting for anymore.
"There are no other women, Milan," he says, sobering. "There hasn't been a woman since Ainsley was a kid, certainly not since you. You think I'd hurt you like that? I'm your daddy, baby girl. Even before you were…well, even then, I was faithful to you."
I hear what he doesn't say. Even before I was legal. Even before we were possible. He never touched me until today, never even looked at me before last year, really. But even then, he was loyal.
How am I ever supposed to deserve him? He's a literal billionaire, one of the world's most eligible bachelors. And I'm just a messed-up girl with more issues than Cosmo magazine. But still, he wants me. I think…I think he may even love me.
I tip my head forward, hiding my face from him as I fight tears. I don't cry in front of people. Not even Ainsley has ever seen me cry.
Justice makes a pained sound in the back of his throat. Within moments, he's at my side and I'm in his arms, my face tucked into his throat as he holds me.
"Shh, baby girl," he croons, rubbing my back. His voice is gritty, rusty, as if soothing someone is foreign to him. It probably is. He hasn't had much reason to do it since Ainsley grew up and stopped needing him to slay her demons for her.
"Please don't break me," I plead, clinging to him. "Don't…don't make me need you if you're just going to run again."
"Pretty baby," he croons, shifting around until we're lying on the bed, face to face. He crooks a finger under my chin, tipping my face up to his. "Don't you know? You already need me."
I think he's right.
"Justice," I whisper, staring at him…trying to figure out exactly when he figured me out. All this time, I thought I had the upper hand, that I was doing a good job keeping him from discovering too many of my secrets. Turns out, he just let me think I was winning because he knew I needed to think that. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
Part of me loves him a little more for it. Part of me wants to flee into the night. And another part, the part that's always wanted to be his baby girl, that part wants to deny him. That part wants to needle him like always, piss him off just because I know I can. Just to see what he does about it.
Maybe I am a brat. The thing is though…I've only ever been his brat. No one else makes me want to defy them like he does. No one else makes me want to be bad like he does. It's always, always him. Because, God help me, I need this man to please me and punish me. I need him to fight me and let me push his buttons. I need him to be my daddy.
"I'm going to kiss you now, Milan," he murmurs, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb. "Been dreaming about it for so goddamn long."
I give him the only answer I can give him.
"Yes."
His lips meet mine in the barest of touches, so much softer than I expected. Justice is forged-in-fire, tempered steel. There's nothing sweet about him, nothing soft. People respect and fear him in equal measure because he commands respect and fear. That's just who he is. But he kisses me like I'm priceless, breakable. I taste the brandy on his breath as his tongue touches my bottom lip, demanding entry.
My breath trembles on my lips and then on his. His tongue touches mine, and I lose part of myself to him. No, I don't lose it. I hand it over willingly, eagerly giving him the key to parts of my soul no one else has ever touched. Our tongues slide together in a sinuous dance that's part instinct, part long-denied need.
"Milan," he groans rolling until he's on top of me, his powerful thighs wedged between my softer ones. He holds his weight off me on one forearm. He slides his free hand into my hair, gripping it tight to angle my head where he wants me.
He doesn't kiss me then. He devours me. This is the man I know, the bossy bastard who takes what he wants and dares anyone to tell him no. He kisses me like I'm his, plundering my mouth and leaving me wrecked beneath him. The way he growls and bites my lip, the sting where he grips my hair, the feel of his body over mine, pinning me to the bed…there isn't a single part of this that isn't somehow a million times better than I always dreamed it would be.
"My god, little girl," he growls, biting my lip hard enough to make me cry out as my clit pulses again. "I knew I was going to hell, but that mouth alone is worth the trip."
"Justice," I moan, wrapping my arms around his neck when he tries to pull away. I'm not ready for him to stop kissing me yet. I want more, more, more. Until I burst apart at the seams. I'm already addicted to him. If he's going to hell, I think I am too. Isn't gluttony a cardinal sin?
"You want more?" he asks.
I cry out when we roll all of a sudden. I barely have time to register that we're moving, and then he's beneath me on the bed, with me straddling his lap.
"Bounce on daddy's lap, baby girl," he demands, his onyx eyes at half-mast. His hands dig into my hips. "Use me to get yourself off."
I whine his name and then give in to the urgent need lashing me like a whip. I rock my hips, trying to find friction and pressure. His erection presses against my center, seeming huge and so hard. I grind against it, sobbing his name.
"Good girl," he croons, arching beneath me. He sets me on fire with those eyes, watching me like he can't look away. Like I'm a meal and he's starving for me. He pants, his chest rising and falling as I writhe on his lap, mindlessly chasing the release I desperately need.
He releases my hips long enough to grab my t-shirt in both hands. The muscle in his upper arms and chest flex and bulge. My shirt rips right down the middle, baring me to his greedy gaze. He fixates on my chest, cursing under his breath.
"Goddamn, those little nipples," he growls, baring his teeth at me. "Were you thinking about daddy sucking on them when you were touching your pussy, princess?"
"Yes."
"Fuck." He sits up suddenly, latching onto my right breast.
"Justice!" I shout, clawing down his back as he bites me. It hurts and doesn't hurt enough at the same time. My entire body clenches, arousal flooding between my legs. I cling to him, grinding against his erection and sobbing his name.
He moves from breast to breast, biting and sucking and snarling curses against my skin. He's wild in a way he never has been before, as if seeing me like this ripped away all that self-control he prides himself on. He's not controlled now. Oh, no he's not. He's ravenous, his mouth and hands all over me as I sob his name, louder and louder.
It echoes off the ceiling.
My sharp scream splinters those echoes in two as my body locks up and I come. It hits me like a truck plowing into me so hard it knocks me breathless. For a long, heavenly, torturous moment, I hang suspended in some state that's not quite life and not quite death. And then the dam breaks and waves of pleasure crash over me. The world grows dim. Blood rushes in my ears in a torrent of sound. I lose touch of everything except Justice as he croons praises to me.
Somehow, he's more real than ever. More there than ever.
And I know I am completely, totally, irrevocably…fucked.