The Price of Grace (Black Ops Confidential 2)

Warm liquid. So sweet the choir lifted their voices. He lapped her up, his johnson hard and full between his legs, so ready for her he nearly came.

When her tremors slowed then stopped and he could tell by the way she braced hands against his head that her legs were ready to give out, he scooped her up, carried her to the bed.

Chapter 34

Gracie’s head still spun from the intensity of that orgasm, her body singing with how he’d touched her, played her with his tongue and fingers.

Dusty lowered her onto his bed. She hadn’t even been aware that he’d picked her up. She was boneless and her legs naturally spread wide for him.

He was hard, rigid, as he stood there and took a long, lingering look. “You are so beautiful. So perfect.”

Bending over her without dropping onto the bed, his hands explored, caressed, appreciated her curves, her breasts. His touch was a hot worship. She pushed her chest up and he answered her, fondling her sensitive breasts, lightly pinching her nipples.

She groaned and he took one pink bud in his mouth. He sucked on it, moaning as if he had just tasted the best dish in the world. And she thrilled with the sensation, writhed with joy and need as he sucked, squeezed, and teased.

“Dusty…Dusty…now.”

Lingering for a moment on her breast, he let the bud pop from his swollen lips with a hotly whispered “Perfect,” then crawled onto the bed. His hard body aligned over her soft one. They kissed. Hungry. Demanding. Imploring. Her lips tore at him. Her hands dragged at him. His cock throbbed against her, begged to move into her.

Wanting him inside of her, she arched into him.

“It’s okay?” he asked and thrust just a little.

She meant to say yes, meant to say hurry, but she hissed, a sound of both pain and pleasure, at the size of him.

He groaned. His breathing ragged, he gave her a minute. Sweat slicked his skin. She could see his pulse working in his neck. Hear his heart pounding. He put his lips by her ear. “Gracie, if this is too hard on you…”

She laughed. “Pun intended?”

“Nope. Not enough blood in my brain right now for puns.”

She wrapped her legs around him, tightly. Tight enough that he pressed deeper into her body.

His eyes sprang open, mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. He looked down at her, visibly battling for control. “Grace.” His voice was strained, awed. “So hot. So fuckin’ tight.”

She was pretty sure her tightness had more to do with his size. She pressed her legs against his ass and arched into him. Given the green light, he kissed her again, the scent of her own body on their lips, and pushed all the way inside her.

She grunted. He grunted. Her slick warmth locked around him. This time he didn’t stop. With his body shaking, he pulled out slow and thrust deep. And just like that, she began to come. She cried out. “Faster.”

With a deep chuckle, he whispered, “Yes, ma’am,” and pushed fast and hard, sending fire shooting through her body and electric tingles bursting across her nerves.

His large cock rubbed against the sensitive zone outside her body, hitting her just right, causing powerful shocks to explode through her. She dug nails into his back, bit wherever she could find skin, on his shoulder, bicep.

Each of his deep strokes met the desperate encouragement of her rising voice and rising hips. She cried out, “Yes. Dusty. Yes. That!” as she came apart around him.

She rejoiced in the power of him, the way he filled her, took her like he was making a point, like he’d found his home, like this would be the start of something that continued every day from here on out.

He lost his rhythm. Thrusting madly, he cursed and broke inside her with a warmth she could feel pouring into her as he whispered a pleading “Grace, Grace, Grace,” into her hair.

After a moment, he rolled from her, palming her hip, the wetness of him dripping between her legs, the feel of him spent, warm against her. Nothing could’ve prepared her for how good that had felt, how quickly she’d climaxed with him. It was just something about the way their bodies fit together. Perfect.

It took him a moment to catch his breath, then he kissed her ear. “I have no words for you, Grace. None.” He kissed her, open-mouthed and deep, sending her blood to boil again, then pulled back. “Thank you.”

She couldn’t help but grin up at him. She wanted to say a thousand things. Two thousand, but all she could manage was “You took my breath away.” And then, “Are those cartoon ducks on your ceiling?”

He laughed, wiped the tear that had slipped from her eye but didn’t mention it. Not one word. “Ignore the judgy ducks.” He dropped his hand lower, traced the barely visible—thanks to the lack of lighting—tattoo on her hip, the apple, the hand holding the apple. “When’d you get it?”

Her tattoo. It had been a long time since she’d thought about the crazy two weeks that had led to it. She and Justice had run away. “I was young. Fifteen.”

“Fifteen?”

She smiled as he nuzzled her neck. Dusty, it turned out, liked to cuddle after. Usually she wasn’t a cuddler, but with him it was different. She really didn’t want to think too deeply about how wonderful his attention felt right now. “I’d snuck out with Justice. We were wild. And I wanted something that symbolized how dangerous I felt, dangerous enough to change the world with one bad decision, with one wicked offer.”

She turned to meet his eyes, which were filled with wild need and honest interest. They lay face-to-face. “And since, in fairy tales, a hand offering someone an apple always seemed to start the most trouble, that’s what I wanted for my tattoo.”

He kissed her nose. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Grace.”

Grace. Not Gracie. She’d noticed the change. “I like when you say Grace. It sounds…warm. But why the change?”

He exhaled a steady stream, causing a fan of her hair to play across and tickle her cheek. She tucked the strands behind her ear. If it was possible to be completely comfortable and utterly nervous all at once, that was how she felt.

“Because I don’t know any other way to show my gratitude for the bounty you shared with me than to say Grace.”

Oh. Wow.

“Except, maybe, to also give you the truth.”

The truth? Her mind perked up and began pacing the inside of her skull. She knew what he was going to say. And she didn’t want to hear it.

Chapter 35

Gracie wasn’t sure how to get Dusty to shut up. Had his room gotten hotter? It felt stifling.

“Some time ago, I received an email at the FBI,” he said. “An email I’m fairly sure you wrote.”

She held her breath as her mind screamed for him to stop talking.

Oblivious to her tension, or maybe because of it, he ran his hand affectionately up and down her arm. “Read that thing a thousand times. Got it memorized.”

Oh. Her throat grew tight. She’d sent that letter in the hopes of reaching someone, sharing a pain that seemed too great for herself. And he’d gotten it. He’d gotten it and come to her.

And that was so sweet. Except it put everything in danger. Whatever this was between them. Her relationship with Momma. Her siblings. The Mantua Home. The work the League did. The important work. All in danger.

“I guess you can say I became a little obsessed with taking do

wn the woman who would train children to be vigilantes.”

Her eyes widened. Her heart lurched. What? Momma wasn’t just that. The letter was unfair. Stupid and unfair.

“I worked on the case for a few months. Set myself up with Tony, gained his trust, and tried to work my way inside.”

He’d suggested he hadn’t, but Dusty had used Tony.

“When Tony asked me to help him take down sex-slavers, I figured it would be the perfect cover and gain me the access I needed to get to Mukta. Didn’t work out that way.”

Of course not, because I’d bet my last dollar Tony had known what Dusty had been after. But he’d needed someone at the compound in Mexico who wasn’t family. He’d used Dusty back.

“Grace? Say something.”

Gracie exhaled. Inhaled. Her heart beat an anxious rhythm in her chest. Terror. Dread. Loss of control. Was this what a panic attack felt like? “You’re after Momma.” Heavy breaths. “You’re trying to lock her up.” Panicked breaths. “Take her away from my sisters—from me—based on the email I sent?”

“Whoa. Hold on now.” He slid his arm across her stomach. “Grace, are you okay?”

Okay? She wasn’t okay. Her vision started to dim. Of course she’d known he was investigating her family, but that he was specifically after Momma felt like a punch to the gut. She’d been lying to herself. Thinking she could control all the horrible things that could result from that stupid email. And now she realized she couldn’t.

She’d risked her family. Momma. And if that wasn’t bad enough, slept with the man who was after them. Would she ever learn? Forget about trusting someone else, she shouldn’t trust herself.

She had to leave.

She tried to slide out of bed. His arms tensed around her waist. He let out a breath, this one troubled. “Grace, don’t leave. I want to share things I’ve uncovered. About your dad. You know him, right? Rush?”

He knew about her father? Of course he knew. He was investigating her to get at Momma. She nodded, waited to hear what he had to say.