Avenging Us - Gina Whitney Page 0,18

and scalding skin. Her slickened thighs cradled me, her nails claimed me, and her pussy owned me. “Come,” I commanded, and tried fuck hard to hold back a few seconds more. “Fuck,” left my lips and I filled her with everything I had.

Once my breaths evened out, I pushed up on my forearms, taking in her beautiful face.

Her face was slick with sweat and flushed from coming…her lips curled into a sexy smile. “I love the new hardware, and apparently so do you.”

“It’s that swollen pregnant pussy of yours. It gets me every time.”

“Oh, yeah? What about before I was pregnant?” She raised a brow in question. I knew what she was getting at. I had a healthy addiction to her pussy.

“That was the before pussy, and I’m sure there will be after pussy. Fuck. It’s your fucking pussy.” I kissed her nose, removing my softening cock.

Peace and quiet swaddled us in darkness, her body seeking the warmth of my chest and my arms sought to secure her tightly. I caressed and massaged her muscles until she fell asleep in my arms. I released my grip and moved from hers, removing myself from the bed. I leaned in and kissed her pouting lips one last time.

My guitar leaned against the wall. I grabbed it, hitching the strap over my neck, and went out on the terrace. My muse stirred creative juices like no other. I had two songs to finish. One for her, and a lullaby.

There was nothing like a magical birth to prioritize the frivolous things in a rocker’s celebrity career. There was nothing more important to me at the time than a safe birth and healthy family.

We pulled curbside at LAX and waited for Mr. Gunner’s plane to arrive. Abel sipped his coffee quietly while I stared out the window, wishing the day that had just started would already be over. Thank god for the heavily tinted windows and tempered glass. The crush of media waiting outside churned around the truck, waiting to hurl a question or take a picture. Today wasn’t a good day for either one of us. I was taking a few tentative steps through the aftermath of my former life, and my throat tightened just thinking about it. However, we both had one old path we needed to travel once more—Morgana. She had been extradited to LA, where she sat awaiting her fair trial. While we waited for our justice.

Timothy Gunner was tanned to a handsome bronze from his recent vacation to Miami. His hair slicked back, he wore a dark fitted suit with a white shirt and an assured face. His tie hung open and loose around his neck. I turned, studying Abel’s features, as I had many times before. Trying to picture what he would look like in twenty to thirty years. There were only slight differences brought about by maturity. Timothy Gunner was leaner and had a matured face. His eyes were the same color but sat deeper, giving him a sage look. Today, he wasn’t my future father-in-law. He was my counselor.

A text illuminated Abel’s phone in the darkness. Tell the driver to stay put. Abel lowered the glass divider separating us and repeated what his father had told him.

It looked like the media swallowed poor Mr. Gunner up until they parted and he knocked on the passenger window. Abel swung the door open and moved us over in one movement.

“Christ almighty,” he barked and set his briefcase between his legs on the floor. “Abel.” He nodded, addressing him, and then turned his attention to me. We were all in a row across the back seat. It wasn’t like I could get up and hug him. “Gia, don’t you look lovely.”

“Thank you,” I answered. I thought about saying more. However, this wasn’t a social call.

He unzipped the top of his briefcase and pulled out a thick file folder. Page by page he flipped, making notes along the top and sides while we sat in awkward silence. Abel continued to sip his cold coffee while I pulled the wrapper off the water I held. I couldn’t sit still. It was nerves, and I had to pee again. I’d start biting my nails, but Chance would kill me.

My fidgeting drew his attention and he exhaled with regret. “I’m sorry, dear.” He reached over, putting his hand on mine. “There’s no need to be nervous. This is your video deposition. You won’t be going to the trial, nor are you expected to.” His