Chapter 122: Let Me Help You Relax

“I am so sorry,” I whispered, feeling tears welling up. I sat up in bed; the pain radiating through my body was real. My side hurt from my bruised ribs, and my breathing was ragged as I leaned back against the headboard, looking at both of them. Lustin’s eyes were filled with mushy tenderness as he watched me, and as he reached for me, I flinched unconsciously. The hurt in his eyes was noticeable, and I wasn’t scared of him. I knew he would keep me safe, but my brain didn’t seem to connect that to my body.

“I am sorry,” I said again, my body shaking. He came closer slowly and pulled me gently into his arms.

“I am sorry, babe. We should have been there with you,” he said, almost tearfully, and I shook my head against his chest.

“No one could have known this would happen,” I said, trying not to wince at the bruising on my ribs. Donald and Justin exchanged a look.

“Love, we should take you to see the doctor,” Justin said, and I shook my head.

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” Donald added, moving closer. I wanted them near me, but I was having a hard time not being jumpy.

“I was taken to the hospital in Maryland; my ribs are bruised but not broken, and everything else is just…visible,” I said to them.

I saw the look that passed between them. There was so much anger in Donald’s eyes, and I knew he wasn’t mad at me, but I could never tell him who did this. He had too much to lose if he lost control.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, trying to control his voice. I looked away from his face; I couldn’t lie to him if I was looking into his eyes.

“I don’t know. It was dark, and they never gave me a chance to see them,” I said softly, looking at my hands.

The room was quiet as my words sank in, and I didn’t dare look up. I felt a soft hand on my chin, and my face was raised until my eyes met Donald’s.

“If you’re not ready to talk about it, say so, but baby girl, don’t ever lie to me,” he said so softly that chills ran through my body. He held my gaze for another second before climbing off the bed and going into the bathroom. He was mad—really mad—and now he was mad at me. Justin held me silently, not saying a word, not moving, just being there. I don’t know if he was mad, but I found comfort in his arms. Donald walked out of the bathroom and out of the room, not looking at me. I wanted to cry. I am so used to fighting my own battles that I didn’t want to drag others into my mess. Would he even want me to work for him anymore? There was no way his daughter would be safe until that man was gone for good, and the realization that I would probably be jobless and thrown out hit me so hard that I felt physically sick. My men would no longer be mine.

I felt Justin’s hand brush over my shoulder before he kissed it. The smallest spark of arousal hit me. Now wasn’t the time, but I had missed his touch so badly. His touch made my pain fade as if it were medicine. The kiss moved to my neck, and then his lips grazed softly over the bruise on my cheek. The gentleness surprised me.

“Let me help you relax,” he said softly, turning me in his arms with extreme care. Our eyes met, and I nodded softly. He laid back, pulling a pillow under my hips and back, and it definitely made lying down less painful. He kissed me long and slow, keeping all his weight on his arms. I wanted desperately to feel the weight of his body on mine, but I knew that would be painful. Our lips parted, and the heat from his body disappeared. He moved the covers off me as he began kissing my thighs, spreading them wide before I felt him lift and latch his lips to my ravaged pussy, sucking my clit into his mouth through the fabric. I moaned, the sensation sending endorphins flooding through my body, and I reached down and tangled my fingers in his hair.

“Justin,” I panted, and he continued his delicious torture. I wanted to feel his warm lips on my pussy without the fabric separating us. As if he heard me, he reached up and ripped my panties off. There were no spare undergarments around, and his breath hit my clit a second before his mouth did. He was so skilled with his tongue as he licked and sucked, never slowing as my orgasm threatened to shorten this to mere seconds. He fucked me with his tongue, and he moaned as if it was bringing him the same amount of pleasure I was getting. I came so hard my vision darkened, and a very unattractive sound left my lips as he sucked up every ounce of release I had to give. There was no more pain, only pleasure, and relief that I felt good and whole again. I smiled, unable to do much as sleep took over.

Justin POV

I followed the sound of thumping until I found Donald, shirtless and pouring his anger into my punching bag. His torso was soaked with sweat, and his muscles strained under the brutal punches he was delivering. Every time I see this man, I am in awe of his physique; the muscles in his back are something professional bodybuilders would take pride in. I have never seen a man’s back and felt myself growing hard. This was definitely a first for me, but then again, this whole relationship was a first.

My form went back to him, punching the bag, and he didn’t wrap his hands. I saw the red smears of blood on the punching bag, which immediately sobered me from my stupor. I finished over to him and pulled him back mid-swing. He whirled on me, fist raised, and looked almost feral with blood on his fist. I realized the blood wasn’t coming from his knuckles; they were a little banged up, but the skin hadn’t broken. It looked like his arms were a bit of a mess where Amelia’s nails had pierced him. When he saw me, his hands dropped to his side, and he reached for me, pulling me into his arms. I felt the tension leave his body as I wrapped my arms around him. He had a couple of inches on me, so I was able to turn my head into the crook of his neck and kiss him with ease.

“I am sorry, I was lost for a moment,” he said so softly that you would have been surprised to know he had been beating the hell out of the punching bag. I unwrapped my arms and slid my hand up his chest, cupping his neck in my hands, meeting his eyes.

“I am fucking mad as well, and try all means—beat the hell out of that bag if that’s what you need to clear your head. But when you are done, Amelia needs us,” I said, our foreheads touching. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“I am sorry. I walked out like that; I didn’t want her to see me like this, and I was on the verge of snapping. I am fucking pissed off that I wasn’t there to protect her, and I am pissed off that she was lying about it. If she doesn’t talk to us, then who is she going to talk to? She has no Emily, and her fucking employer was no help in the past because he found her again,” he said. I felt his body tense, his hand now resting on my waist.

I dropped my hands to his shoulders, loving the feel of him in my hands.

“Yes, I am mad that she lied, and when she’s in a better headspace, bodyguard-ber will burn the world down if this ever happens again. I am going to fucking address it because it can’t happen again. Secondly, I am hiring her security—not only for her but Emily as well. Thirdly, who is he?”

“Her fucking ex, of course. I can’t think of anyone else who would hurt her like that.”

I thought about it. I didn’t put things together, and I instantly felt stupid.