Page 40 of Judge's Justice

I lean forward and take him into my mouth.

The taste explodes on my tongue. He’s salty and musky, and I wrap my lips around the head, sucking gently. Judge's hand fliesto my hair. Not pushing. Not forcing. Just threading through the strands like he needs something to hold onto.

"Fuck," he breathes. "That's… Nora—"

I take him deeper. Or try to. He's so thick I can barely fit half of him, my jaw stretching, but I keep going. Keep pushing myself because if he could put his life on the line for us, the least I can do is this. The least I can do is make him feel half as good as he makes me feel.

I gag slightly as I push deeper. My eyes water. Saliva pools in my mouth, dripping from the corners of my lips, making everything wet and messy.

My ex hated this. Hated when I was messy. Would complain if I got too wet, too loud, too anything.

But Judge—

"Jesus, you're incredible," Judge groans. His head tilts back against the couch, his mouth falling open, his hand tightening in my hair. "So fucking incredible."

I look up at him through my lashes. His eyes are dark, glazed with pleasure, completely focused on me. On what I'm doing to him. And something in me unfurls. Something that's been locked away for so long I forgot it existed.

Power.

I have power over this man. This enormous, dangerous, capable man is falling apart because of me.

I keep sucking him, hollowing my cheeks, using my tongue along the underside where I can feel a thick vein pulsing. My hand comes up to cup his heavy balls and I massage them gently while I work my mouth up and down his length.

Judge makes a sound like he's dying. "Nora, shit, I'm close—"

I don't stop. Don't slow down. I want this. Want to taste him, to feel him lose control, to know I made him feel this good.

But his hand tightens in my hair, gently pulling me off him. "Stop. Please. I need you to stop."

I pull off immediately, panic flooding through me. "Did I hurt you? Are your ribs okay? Your shoulder? I'm sorry, I should have been more careful!"

"No." Judge's voice is strained. Breathless. "You're perfect. Too perfect. I was about to come, and I don't want to. Not yet. Not before I give you everything back."

"Give me… What do you mean?"

"I mean—" Judge shifts on the couch, wincing slightly. "My whole body still hurts like hell, so I can't give you everything I want to. Can't fuck you the way you deserve. But I'm going to try. I'm going to give you everything I've got."

Heat floods through me. Between my legs. In my chest. Everywhere. But I see the pain in his face. See how he's holding himself. See the bruises still covering his torso, the way his shoulder is wrapped tight.

"No," I say. I stand, placing my hand on his chest over his heart. "Today, you let me help you. You just sit back and feel good. Can you do that?"

Judge stares at me like I just said something in a foreign language. "Nora—"

I don't let him argue. I hook my thumbs into my jeans and push them down, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side. My underwear is plain cotton. Nothing sexy, nothing special, but Judge's eyes darken like I'm wearing the finest lingerie.

"You're gorgeous," he breathes.

I take off my top and then reach behind me, unhook my bra, let it fall. My breasts spill free: large, heavy, pale skin marked with faint stretch marks. I've always been self-conscious about them. Too big. Too soft. My ex barely touched them, said they weren't his type.

But Judge is staring at them like they're the most beautiful things he's ever seen.

"Fucking gorgeous," he says again. His good hand reaches out, cupping one breast, thumb brushing over the nipple. I gasp at the contact. "Every inch of you."

I climb onto the couch, straddling his lap gently. Trying not to jostle his injuries. His cock is right there between us, hard and throbbing, and I reach down to guide him.

I press against him, and his cock slides through my folds. Coated in my wetness. I'm soaked. Dripping. More wet than I've been in years.

"I'm ready," I whisper. "Feel how ready I am."