Hands on Justice [The Service Club 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) Read Free

them to show up at her door with a bucket of fried chicken and all the trimmings expecting to have this dinner meeting in her house.
    They would take you to their house instead.
    Memories of her only visit to Cade’s bedroom swamped her as she slid into the garter belt and fastened the tops of her hose. His master suite was larger than any she had ever seen. The ultra king bed had caught her attention first, the rumpled silk sheets tattling on the cardio-pounding activities that could be performed there. She had noted an oak dresser and matching nightstands, a high-back chair, and a floor mirror also in that area of the room.
    As her gaze had slid to the far side, her blood had heated to the point of molten lava. Sex toys in every size and variation had been easily within his grasp. He had a wall dedicated to floggers, belts, whips, chains, and ropes that had sent her flesh tingling in a torturous longing to feel the stings. She had seen spacer bars, stocks, ankle straps and handcuffs, suspension racks, and other items that had made her want to turn tail and run even as thick juices of anticipatory desire had seeped from her pussy lips.
    Echoing juices slickened her pussy now, threatening to trickle down her inner thighs as she stepped into her skirt. She had to get the visions of the things she had seen, the evil flames of need they had ignited in her body, out of her mind or she would be forced to masturbate before she finished getting dressed.
    She shot a glance at her bedside clock as she reached for her blouse and pulled it over her head. Cade and Grant wouldn’t arrive for another half hour. She had time. Maybe if she got herself off before they showed up, her resistance would be stronger.
    “You’ll also smell like sex and you don’t have time for another shower,” she told herself, nixing the idea despite the ache in her clit to be touched.
    Dammit, she would smell like sex anyway if she didn’t calm herself down. They would smell her arousal, and it wouldn’t be the first time. Grant had a sense of smell like a grizzly bear, and the look in his eyes when he caught her scent was always just as ferocious. Cade’s senses weren’t far off either. He had even called her on it outside the courtroom one day, telling her he could smell how hot and wet she was, how he knew her panties were soaked with cream.
    “You can’t win for losing with them.” The trouble came in not knowing what she would truly win or what the stakes really were if she actually lost.
    “Maybe it’s better not to know.” She sighed, straightened her blouse, and picked up her suit jacket just as the doorbell chimed.
    Twin blades of excitement and apprehension sliced through her belly. She took a moment to slide her feet into a pair of navy-blue three-inch stilettos and paused at the mirror before heading for the door. The reflection that stared back at her could have been a deer caught in a set of headlights. Wide blue eyes swirled with a fear she couldn’t tamp down. Her skin was flush, heated by the erotic thoughts and hopes she couldn’t push to the back of her mind. Was she trembling, too? It sure looked like it. God knew, her insides were quivering like mad.
    “Get a hold over yourself, dammit,” she scolded herself and took a deep breath. “They will pick up on every bit of it and more.”
    Resigning herself to her fate, whatever that turned out to be, she walked slowly out of her bedroom and down the long hallway to her front door. Her gaze slammed into Cade’s first, his rich brown eyes unreadable as they slid down her body. She let her attention do the same, taking in his syrupy brown hair that curled slightly from beneath his black Stetson, the faint lines around his all-too-kissable mouth, the square line of his jaw that she craved to trace with her tongue. Broad shoulders hugged by a dark gray shirt led to a solid chest, rigid abdomen, jean-clad narrow hips, and powerful long legs.
    Her heart rate climbed with her gaze as