Page 16 of Judge’s Redemption

His hands close around my hips and lift me onto the styling counter at the back of the salon. Bottles rattle behind me as I wrap my legs around him and pull him between them.

His tongue drives into my mouth and I bite him. He grips the back of my hair, angling my head exactly where he wants it while his other hand slides beneath my shirt. The first touch of his palm against my breast tears a moan from me.

“Still hate me?” he asks against my mouth.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

His thumb drags over my nipple, and my body arches.

Judge's mouth moves to my throat, his teeth scraping over the spot that has always belonged to him. I hate that he remembers. I hate that I remember too. His fingers close around my breast, rough enough to send heat pooling between my thighs.

“Evie?” he asks.

“At Dottie's.”

That's all he needs. He pulls my shirt over my head and drops it onto the floor. His gaze lowers to my bra, and the hunger in his face steals what's left of my breath.

“Fuck.”

“Don't stare.”

“I've waited five years. I'll look as long as I want.”

I reach for his belt. Judge catches my wrist, then presses my palm against the hard length beneath his jeans. “Feel what you do to me.”

My fingers curl around him through the denim. Control cracks across his face. I undo his belt and this time, he lets me.

The buckle hits the floor. I open his jeans and push my hand inside, closing around hot, rigid flesh.

Judge groans and drives his hips into my grip.

He drags my bra down, bends his head, and takes one nipple into his mouth as I arch into his mouth. His tongue circles, his teeth catch, and pleasure pulls tight in my belly.

“Judge.”

He releases me and drops to his knees.

The sight shocks me because this man bows to nobody. His hands slide beneath my skirt and grip my thighs as he spreads them wider.

“We don't have to⁠—”

He looks up at me. “Don't finish that sentence.”

Judge hooks his fingers into my panties and pulls them down my legs. His gaze fixes between my thighs with a hunger so raw it makes me ache.

“Five years remember?” he says. Then his mouth is on me.

I cry out and grab the edge of the counter. He licks through me slowly once, as though reminding himself of the taste, then loses whatever patience he had left. His tongue drives over my clit while his hands hold me open. There's nothing gentle or forgiving about it. He knows exactly how to make me break and proves he hasn't forgotten.

I pull his hair hard enough to hurt. He growls against me, and the vibration sends me higher.

“Don't stop.” I pant, and he doesn't.

Two fingers push inside me. My body tightens around them instantly.

“Fuck, Shay. You're soaked.”