Mr. Judge: A Man Who Knows What He Wants - Page 31

A thrill shoots through me. “You really are a crazy boyfriend, aren’t you? Would you get that jealous?”

He stares at me, his gaze unflinching, his ice blues consuming me. “Yes, I am. When it comes to you. Is that a yes for the date? I can look into a few places and book a table for tomorrow.”

“What about tonight?” I ask.

He tilts his head, much the same way Bones does, as though confirming there’s a hint of an animal in him.

“What about tonight?”

“Aren’t you going to want…”

He smirks tightly, his eyes glinting. “I want you every second, Piper. Every single one. I should be able to wait…”

He trails off, not naming a specific amount of time.

We both know I didn’t give him one.

Even I don’t know how long I’ll need.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Pearce

“Are you sure he’s okay in here?” Piper says as Bones hugs closer to her ankles.

We’re standing in the lobby of a high-end restaurant, friendly to dogs, and Bones looks ready for the part.

Today – after a night of sleeping tantalizingly close together, Bones nearby as though to make sure we didn’t try anything – my woman drove my spare car into the city and had Bones groomed.

He went crazy at first, running around the house, trying to get the smell of perfume off him. But then he settled down and smiled at me in that way he has, all happiness, no judgment, never able to hold a grudge. It felt like looking at my child and made me think of what it’s going to be like when Piper gifts me with a family.

“He’s fine, madam,” the host says to Piper, his accent deep French.

He bows shortly, a man with a black vest and black pants, his goatee groomed and sharp. “If you will follow me…”

Piper shoots me a smile behind his back.

She’s radiant in a midnight dress. I told her to treat herself while Bones was at the groomer, and she indulged in this mouth-watering dress. It hugs her curvy body closely, outlining the shape of her with the surface of the night’s sky, glittering and alluring.

I smirk, my mind returning to last night when Bones leaped down from the bed and I shuffled closer to her.

I couldn’t help myself then, my hand slipping into her panties. I strummed her warm pussy expertly, as she bit into my neck, not wanting to make any noise.

She gushed all over my hand. The little minx can’t help it. She’s so hungry for it, always, her tight pink hole soaked at the slightest touch.

As we walk across the restaurant – Piper holding Bones’ leash – I try to still these kinds of thoughts. It’s so difficult when her thighs look so damn juicy, and I know how wet she’d be if I slipped my hand between her thighs.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I grin shakily. “Yeah, all good.”

It’s the only answer I can give that doesn’t involve a deafening chorus of madness and compulsion and possession. It’s the only answer I can give where she doesn’t brand me insane and tells me she never wants anything to do with me.

But it’s more than fate, than the cold hard fact that she’s mine.

It’s the sight of her, the shape of her thick and juicy body, the way the dress hugs that round ass.

She deserves to be bent over, her creamy flesh spanked – but not hard just enough to make it a sweet shade of red. Drive right up inside of her, my cock disappearing between her thighs, slipping deeper, deeper until she clings onto me tightly…

I sit down, forcing those thoughts away. Trying to anyway.

Every second with Piper is like a war against my resolve.

To distract myself, I reach under the table and give Bones a pat on the head. The restaurant is half full, a few handbag-type dogs sitting daintily at their owners’ feet, but Bones is shifting around, grumbling.

“Can we get him a snack?” I ask the host. “A bone if you’ve got one. Something to distract him.”

“Certainly, sir. The waiter will be over presently to take your order. In the meantime, a drink?”

I look at Piper and she grins widely, showing me her teeth. She’s got some faint freckles on her cheeks, showing in the light. I’m so damn relieved she’s not wearing makeup.

There’s nothing to hide her beautiful face.

“I can’t drink,” she says, laughing lightly.

I chuckle. “I’m not much of a drinker, either. Shall we get water?”

She nods and the host leaves. Our drinks come, along with Bones’ treats and the menus. My woman sits back, her hands resting in her lap. I press Bones’ leash into the floor with the heel of my shoe, but the little man is obsessed with his bone, forgetting about us.

“Thanks so much for doing this.”

I quirk my lips. “You don’t have to thank me when you look like that.”

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