“Relax,” I tell her, giving her a moment to catch her breath but not pulling out fully because her tongue on my cock is doing things to me. “Just relax, little monster. Relax and take it. Because if you want to play this game with me, you’ll need to learn to swallow my cock.”

Her response is a deep moan.

I grip the footboard, and it takes all I have not to fuck her face the way I want to, the way I would anyone else. But I have to go slow with her. As slow as any man can when she relaxes enough that I can guide myself down her throat, and I don’t last long then. It feels too fucking good when we lock eyes, and she swallows me whole.

28

Judge

Guilt burns my gut.

One time has become two. And Mercedes is standing behind me now tracing the tattoo on my back, the broken sword with the elegantly drawn yet inelegant message Crede Nemini.

“Trust no one,” she says, then finds the raised scar beneath.

I grab her wrist and turn to her.

“The sword is your coat of arms. Sword and scales.”

“Finished?”

She looks down, gives me a half-grin, and runs her fingernails up along one thigh before cupping my dick, which is hard again.

I grip this wrist too, switch them into one hand. I turn off the water. “No.”

Her forehead furrows. “Why not?”

I release her, then step out and grab a dry towel. I toss it to her. She catches it but looks affronted. I need to put distance between us. This is too fucking hard with her. I walk out of the bathroom and into my closet. She follows me, her towel wrapped around herself, and watches me pull on clothes.

“You know, you give a woman whiplash, Judge.”

I exhale, slip my arms into my shirt, and turn to her. “This can’t happen again. It shouldn’t have happened this time.”

“Well, it did. And who cares? We’re adults. If we want to fuck, why can’t we just fuck?”

“Mercedes.” It comes out a groan. “You’re a De La Rosa.”

“And you’re a fucking Montgomery. We’re well matched.”

That stops me. Takes me by surprise. I step toward her, and in a rare moment, she looks uncertain. “I won’t marry, Mercedes. You know that, don’t you?”

Blood rushes to her face, and she falters. “I’m not asking you to marry me. Just fuck me.”

“No.” I buckle my belt.

“Why won’t you marry anyway?” she asks, following me when I leave the closet.

“That’s personal.”

“I just swallowed your come. I think we can get personal.”

“Watch your mouth, all right? I don’t think Santiago would appreciate you talking like that.”

“I don’t think Santiago would appreciate your dick down my throat.”

“That’s enough, sweetheart.”

“That’s what your brother called me.”