Page 41 of Judge's Justice

Judge's eyes flutter closed. "Fuck. You're… You're dripping."

"For you." I position him at my entrance, the thick head pressing against me. "Just for you."

I whisper in his ear, my breath hot against his skin. "Relax and enjoy."

Then I sink down onto him.

Oh God.

He's so thick, filling me completely, reaching places my ex never touched. I have to go slow, taking him inch by inch, my body adjusting to it.

Judge's hand grips my hips. His fingers dig into my soft flesh, and I can already imagine the bruises they'll leave. My skinmarks easily, always has. By tomorrow I'll wake up with the imprint of his fingers on my body.

And I'm going to love every single mark.

I bottom out, taking him completely, and we both groan. He's so deep. So perfectly, impossibly deep.

"Christ," Judge breathes. "You feel—I can't—"

I start to move. Grinding first, getting used to the fullness, then lifting my hips and sinking back down. Finding a rhythm. My hair falls around us like a curtain, my breasts bouncing with every movement.

Judge's hand moves from my hips to my breasts, cupping them, squeezing, his thumb brushing over my nipples until they're hard peaks.

"That's it," Judge groans. "Ride me just like that. You look so fucking beautiful taking my cock."

I bounce harder. Faster. My thighs burning, my core clenching, pleasure building with every stroke. This is nothing like sex with my ex. Nothing like the quick encounters where he'd thrust a few times and finish without caring if I did.

This is everything.

But then Judge is moving. His good arm wraps around my waist, his hand supporting my ass, and suddenly I'm lifted. He's standing, actually standing, with me wrapped around him, his cock still buried inside me.

"Judge, what are you doing?" I gasp. "Your ribs, your shoulder, you shouldn't be—"

"There's no way I'm letting you do all the work," he says roughly. He carries me across the small room. Three steps, four, until myback hits the wall. The cold surface is a shock against my heated skin. "Not for our first time."

Our first time.

Like there will be more.

Like this is the beginning of something instead of the end.

Judge adjusts his grip, his hand firm under my ass, and starts to thrust. Really thrust. His hips flexing, driving up into me, hitting that spot deep inside that makes everything feel even better.

"Oh God," I moan. My head falls forward, resting against him, my hands scrambling for purchase on his back. My nails dig into his skin through his shirt. "Judge—"

"Say my name," he demands. His voice is rough, strained. "My real name. Warren. Say it."

"Warren." It comes out breathless. Desperate. "Warren, please—"

He's fucking me with a smile on his face. An actual smile. Like this brings him joy. Like being inside me, making me feel good, is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

My ex never smiled during sex. Barely looked at me. Just used my body and rolled over when he was done.

But Warren, Judge, he's looking right at me. Watching my face. Reading every expression, every gasp, adjusting his angle until I'm moaning with every thrust.

"I want a future with you," he says suddenly. His eyes lock on mine, intense and sure even while he's buried inside me. "I know it's fast. I know we barely know each other. But I want this. Want you. Want Grace. Want to be part of your family if you'll have me."

Tears spring to my eyes. "I want that too. God, Warren, I want it all—"