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“You sneaked out on me,” he says, voice tight. “You made me worry. Made me think something happened to you.”
I can’t respond, but my eyes meet his, and something passes between us. Understanding. Forgiveness. Need.
“So now you’re going to kneel here and take what I give you.” His rhythm increases, hips snapping forward. “And you’re going to remember who you belong to. Every time you swallow.”
His words are filth, but his touch is reverent. His thumb traces my cheekbone, the gentleness at odds with the brutal pace of his hips. That’s Walker. Contradiction wrapped in leather. Violence wrapped in devotion. He claims me like territory and touches me like treasure.
“You like this,” he observes, his voice strained. “Don’t you? Being on your knees for me. Being used.”
I hum my agreement, and he hisses through his teeth. His hand shifts from my hair to my jaw, holding me in place as his movements become erratic, desperate.
“Fuck, Poppy. I’m going to...”
He pulls back, and I gasp, lungs burning, mouth empty. He holds himself in front of my face, stroking hard and fast, and I watch, transfixed, as his jaw clenches and his body goes rigid.
“Open your mouth,” he commands. “Tongue out.”
I obey. Instantly.
He comes across my tongue, hot and thick, and I take every drop, holding his gaze as he shudders through his release. The sound he makes, broken and raw, is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
When he finishes, I swallow, licking my lips, and his breath catches. He reaches down and unwraps the belt from my wrists, then pulls me to my feet. My knees ache, my jaw is sore, and I’m so turned on I can barely think.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, cupping my face. “Such a good girl for me.”
“Judge, please...”
“Please what?” His thumb traces my swollen lips. “You want more?”
“I need...”
“I know what you need.” His hand slides down my body, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of my jeans. He finds me soaked, and a dark laugh rumbles from his chest. “Christ, woman. You’re dripping.”
“Your fault.”
“Damn right it’s my fault.” He pushes two fingers inside me, and my head falls back, a moan tearing from my throat. “You were so good for me, taking your punishment. Now let me reward you.”
He withdraws his fingers, and I whimper at the loss, but he’s already spinning me around, pressing my front against the rooftop’s low ledge. The concrete bites into my palms, the Vegas lights spread out before me like a buffet of sin, and I feel him behind me, hard again already.
“Been wanting to fuck you up here since we climbed up,” he growls, yanking my jeans down. The night air hits my bare skin, and I shiver. “Ass up. Show me.”
I arch my back, presenting myself to him, shameless and desperate. His palm cracks against my ass, sharp and stinging, and I yelp.
“That’s for making me worry.” Another slap, harder. “And that’s for sneaking out.”
“Are you going to fuck me or just spank me?”
“Oh, I’m going to do both.” He rubs the spot he just struck, soothing the burn. “But I’m going to take my time. I want you desperate. I want you begging. I want you so wrecked you can’t remember anything but my name.”
He drops to his knees behind me, and I feel his breath on my thighs. His hands grip my hips, holding me still, and then his mouth is on me, hot and relentless. His tongue drags through my folds, circles my clit, and I cry out, fingers scrabbling against the ledge.
“God, Walker...”
“Not God,” he murmurs against me. “Just Judge. But I’ll take the worship.”
His tongue pushes inside me, and I buck against his face. The piercings, the ones I felt in my mouth moments ago, I feel them now against my leg, cool metal contrasting with his burning mouth. He devours me like a man starving, all technique abandoned in favor of raw, desperate hunger.
I’m already close. The punishment, the submission, the taste of him still lingering on my tongue, it’s all wound tight inside me, a spring ready to snap. He feels it, feels my thighs trembling, and pulls back.
