by Cassie Wild
“I like the way my hands look on you.”
The blunt, honest words brought fire to my cheeks, and I couldn’t quite manage to look at him. But now that those words were out there, it was awkward to look at him too. Staring at his darker skin, watching the way he expertly plucked at my nipples, and at the same time, feeling an answering ache deep down in my pussy, it was too much.
I closed my eyes.
“Look at me,” Sean said.
There was an insistent demand in his voice, one that was almost a plea, and I couldn’t ignore it.
“I love how your face goes pink like that.” His eyes gleamed as I met his gaze, and a second later, he was kissing me again, twisting the fingers of one hand in my hair, arching my head up and back.
He gripped my hip in his other hand, and I curled my legs around him, drawing him closer. It brought me to the edge of the island, half-dangling off with the hard ridge of his cock wedged against me.
I was already wet. I’d pulled on leggings, and a t-shirt earlier and now the thin material of my leggings and panties felt like little more than spun silk as far as barriers went. The rough material of his jeans was nothing more than an added tease as he rocked back and forth, dragging me against him.
I cried out into his mouth.
Sean lifted his head, staring down at me.
Then he pulled back.
I reached for him, but he evaded my hands, pulling me off the island and stripping my leggings down until they were twisted around my knees. Then he turned me around.
Two thick fingers thrust into me.
A sharp, startled gasp escaped me, followed by a cry.
Grabbing onto the edge of the island, I tried to brace myself.
It was no use.
He did it again and again, fucking me with his fingers, his body bent over mine in a manner that felt oddly protective, oddly possessive.
“You’re so wet,” he rasped. “So hot and tight. Moan for me…let me hear what I do to you, Tish.”
I couldn’t have held it back if my life depended on it.
Rocking back to meet each devilish twist of his fingers, I whimpered and moaned, sighed and pleaded.
He bit my shoulder.
I came hard and fast.
When Sean caught me up in his arms, I gaped up at him, but he only dropped a kiss onto my forehead.
I stared up at him, feeling vulnerable. “What…what are you doing?”
“Taking you to bed,” he said softly.
“Your bed?” The feeling of vulnerability increased.
“Yes.” He pressed his lips to my forehead, leaving them there as he murmured, “And no…I’m not kicking you out again.”
He came to me after he’d stripped naked, hard thighs brushing against my own.
The languid heat that had overtaken me had faded, although it hadn’t disappeared. He pressed a gentle kiss to my mouth, my chin, slowly working lower while the band around my chest seemed to tighten with every brush of his lips, every stroke of his hand.
When he reached the apex of my thighs, I shivered and reached down, curling my fingers in the sheets beneath me.
He kissed the sensitive spot where groin met thigh, and it was like that small bit of flesh was connected to every other part of me because I felt his lips brush over every other part of me. It was erotic and intense, and my heart swelled up inside my chest.
Sean placed a hand on the inside of my thigh and stroked upward, carefully, lazily, slowly, urging my legs apart until he could settle between them.
Nerves gripped me, hard.
This wasn’t anything I was used to. My previous sexual encounters had been…basic. Not unsatisfying, but…basic.
Nothing with Sean was basic, though, and I already felt my control fading away as he pressed his mouth to the hot, wet center and slowly slid his tongue through my folds.
He groaned against me, and I felt it reverberate throughout my entire body—way too intense.
I shivered and strained against the sheets, against him, not certain if I wanted more, or if I wanted time to breathe. Sean didn’t give me time to figure it out, either, focusing his attention on my cunt, on my clit, while pushing two fingers up into me and twisting them, settling on a quick, driving rhythm that reignited the fire inside me.
He didn’t drive me to climax this time, though.
He stopped just shy of it, and when I was sweating, moaning, all but ready to beg, he stopped and pushed up onto his knees, staring down at me with glittering eyes.
“Sean…”
He licked his lips. “I like how you taste.”
I blushed. I blushed so hot and red, it was a miracle I didn’t combust from it.
He shifted, and my peripheral vision caught sight of his movements. My heart lurched inside my chest as I realized what he was doing.
“Oh…”
That single syllable came out of me in a harsh puff, a stunned exclamation that didn’t quite do justice to how I felt when I saw him wrap a hand around the heavy, hard jut of his cock and pump up and down, up and down.
I rolled my lips inward and pressed them together in an effort to muffle the moan building inside me.
Then he stopped, stretching out over me. I felt him press against my belly, the thin, slightly sticky shield of the rubber, the slippery presence of lubricant. His eyes burned into mine.
“You’re not going to kick me out when this is over, are you?” I asked even though he’d already promised he wouldn’t, feeling small and uncertain.
“No.” Sean kissed me. Rough, deep, and possessive. When it was over, he muttered against my lips, “It would probably be better for both of us if I did, but…fuck, no. I’m not kicking you out.”
He caught my thigh, lifted it to his hip, then with one deep, bruising thrust, he filled me.
I arched up, crying out as I fought to take him.
He didn’t stop until I’d yielded to him completely, his body demanding and urgent, his eyes locked on mine as if he couldn’t bear to look away.
“Tish…” He dipped his head and pressed his forehead to mine as a hard shudder went through him.
An echo shudder passed through me, and I whimpered, an agonized sort of pleasure gripping me, pulsing through me with every throb of his swollen cock. I whimpered and rocked up against him, wanting—needing—more, but uncertain if I could handle it.
Slowly, eyes trained on mine, he started to withdraw.
I sucked in a breath and reached up, gripping the barrel of his torso, my nails sinking into his flesh.
A shaky curse escaped him, then he breathed out my name.
I could feel every muscle in me contract at the sound, and he grimaced, then drove deeper inside me.
I wailed and thrust upward, seeking more of him.
“Fuck—”
Sean stiffened, then began to thrust, hard, deep, and fast. He muttered against my mouth, “Sorry…you just…fuck, you’re sweet. Is that…I’m not hurting you?”
“No,” I gasped, clinging tight. He wasn’t hurting me. I wasn’t sure what he was doing but hurt was the furthest thing from my mind.
His cock swelled, and he gripped my hip, canting my hips up so that he rode me at a harder, rougher angle. I cried out and started to come.
His cock lurched inside me, so hard it felt like it bruised me. A second later, he started to come, gripping my hips and driving into me with short, rough digs of his hips.
It seemed to last forever.
But it was over far too soon, and he collapsed against me, burying his face against my breasts and groaning my name.
I didn’t even have the words to speak, so instead, I wrapped my arms around him and clung tighter.
And I tried, really hard, not to think.
The last thing I needed to do, after all, was admit that I was letting myself fall for this guy.
Twenty-Eight
Tish
My inner thighs ached as I settled on the floor in front of a stack of boxes. I’d spe
nt the night with Sean again, and I had to admit…the things that man did to my body were indescribable. And exhausting.
I’d woken with a smile on my face for the third day in a row.
This time, it had been on the deep, fat couch in the entertainment center, which definitely contributed to my overall soreness. We’d started watching movies, and one thing led to another, and by the time we were done, we’d been too tired to move to his room.
Still, I was sore.
He made me aware of muscles I hadn’t known I possessed.
“When I’m done,” I told myself. “I’m taking a nice long soak in that tub in my room.”
I’d only enjoyed the deep, jetted pool a couple of times and really should take advantage of it more while I had the chance. Once I left the Downing estate, there was no telling when I’d have such an opportunity again. I certainly wouldn’t be getting an apartment with anything even remotely decadent, so I might as well enjoy it while I could.
Shoving my hair back, I focused on the boxes I’d moved within reaching distance.
Briar had mentioned she had a set of Nancy Drew books up in storage somewhere, along with some Hardy Boys. Her dad wanted them in the collection—said that her mother had taken her shopping for the books and they had ‘personal’ value. Now I just had to dig them out and tote them all downstairs.
There were a few other books Briar thought she might have packed up, and I was interested in at least one of them—a copy of The Ghost of Opalina, a children’s book by Peggy Bacon. Briar didn’t know anything about it, but if it was a first edition, that book was a veritable treasure. Some were worth over a thousand dollars, depending on the condition.
The boxes were all pristinely packed, which gave me some hope that whatever I found would be in good shape. Even if the books were only for reading and passing on, I hated seeing books in bad shape because they hadn’t been cared for properly.
Time passed as I unpacked one box, then another.
It took more than an hour before I found a box of books. Grinning, I hauled it over to the doorway to be carried downstairs. I wasn’t going to go through the boxes extensively until I was in the library. My back was already killing me as it was.
Over the next hour, I found two more boxes of books—including the one that held the copy of The Ghost of Opalina.
It wasn’t a first edition, but it was definitely one of the earlier ones, complete with dust jacket, and it was in excellent shape. It filled me with all sorts of happy thoughts just looking at it, but I didn’t clutch it to my chest and moan with delight the way I wanted to.
Of course, there was also a bittersweet ache, one of sadness.
When I was fourteen, a man came into the store, wanting to sell some books he’d found in his parents’ house after his father passed away. Some of them had been old children’s books, including a worn copy of this very book. It hadn’t been in good enough shape to fetch much money, so my parents had given it to me.
I’d fallen in love with the sweet, silly old story.
The book had burned up in the fire.
I stroked a finger down the spine and thought that maybe I’d read this copy before I left the house.
Sweat stinging my eyes, I wiped my forearm over my brow and returned to reorganizing all the boxes I’d been through. A couple others caught my eye just as I finished, and I huffed out a breath. Briar had mentioned there might be a few that she hadn’t remembered to mark.
I was tired and ready for a sandwich and something cold to drink, but I wanted this done first.
That in mind, I pried the lid off the first box.
It didn’t hold childish mementos or neatly organized rows of books.
Instead, I found clothes. Although neatly organized, they all clearly belonged to an adult female. I closed the box and moved on.
The second and third boxes held the same.
The fourth box held a hodge-podge, just as organized as the other boxes. A few magazines, most of them devoted to dance, a couple of wrapped items that I thought might be knickknacks.
Picking up one of the magazines, I flipped through it.
Something fluttered out and fell to the floor.
I bent to pick it up.
The name at the top of the printed-out piece of paper caught my eye.
My heart began to race, hard, heavy thuds against my rib cage, hard enough to knock the air out of me.
Isabel Downing.
I went to fold it up. This wasn’t any of my business.
But another line of text caught my eye.
Damn eyes.
I’d always been an insanely fast reader.
I wasn’t even trying to read it.
I just saw the words…they were right there.
Obstetrician, Gynecologist, and Family Care.
“Put it up,” I told myself, even as some sick sort of warning spread through me.
Put it up.
Instead, I found myself unfolding it.
It was one of those diagnostic sheets the doctor’s office handed out at the end of a patient visit, detailing the reason for care. They tended to be filled with all matter of obscure references—medical diagnoses that required a medical license to understand, billing codes, other data that made no sense.
There was, however, one thing that jumped out—one thing that made perfect sense.
It was a slash mark next to a test that had been performed.
A pregnancy test.
And down at the bottom…?
The words… positive pregnancy test. Return in one month for follow-up.
Isabel had been pregnant.
The End
Sean and Tish’s story continues in Downing Family Book 8, coming January 22.
Other Books by Cassie Wild:
Deceit and Desire (Roma Mafia):
Deceit and Desire Complete Series Box Set
Downing Family (Irish Mafia):
Brooks and Daria
1. The Escape
2. The Debt
3. The Punishment
Briar and Cormac
4. His Target
5. His Fight
6. His Guilt
Sean and Tish
7. Wrecked Heart
About the Author
Cassie Wild
Cassie Wild loves romance. Ever since she was eight years old, she’s been reading every romance novel she could get her hands on, always dreaming of writing her own romance novels. In her spare time, she enjoys watching superhero movies, playing video games, reading tons of books all while cooking her favorite Italian meals.
First, I would like to thank all my readers. Without you, my books would not exist. A big Thank You goes out to all the Facebook fans, street team, beta readers, and advanced reviewers. You are a HUGE part of the success of the series.
Also, a big Thank You goes out to my editors Helen and Lynette. You make my ideas and words look so good.