Cary

by Jessica Gadziala

  I held onto him to steady myself as I lifted my other leg, wrapping around him, my ankles crossing behind his back.

  Then my gaze held his as I started to use the leverage of his body to lift upward, then sliding down on him again, feeling him rock inside of me.

  Cary let me lead for a long couple of minutes before he was too far gone to let me set the pace.

  He slammed me back against the wall of the car and started to take over—a little careful at first, but getting harder and faster with each passing second.

  “Look at me,” Cary demanded, voice tight.

  He stilled inside me until I complied, then started to fuck me again.

  Harder.

  Faster.

  Driving me right to that edge.

  Then, before I could even suck in a breath, he was throwing me off of it, leaving me falling, crashing, crying out as the orgasm crashed through me.

  “Fuck, baby,” Cary hissed, pumping into me faster and faster, dragging it out, then slamming deep and hissing out my name as he came.

  I clung to him after, too overwhelmed to think, let alone move.

  That, I realized, that was what everyone else loved so much about sex. The orgasm, yes, but also the connection, that level of intimacy that was unparalleled outside of that particular act.

  “We gotta get back to the room, love,” Cary murmured before his lips pressed into my temple.

  I’m not sure what to call the weird sound I made then, but Cary took it as agreement, moving away, tucking himself away, then helping me drag my pants back up my legs.

  He grabbed the bags, then hauled me into his side, half supporting my weight, then pushing the stop button again to disengage it.

  The next thing I knew, we were in the room.

  Cary excused himself to the bathroom for a moment as I numbly kicked back out of my pants and sweater, slipping into a soft, lightweight shorts set pajamas, then sliding into my bed.

  I figured I would think about it, then overthink about it, but I found my mind oddly blank. My body was fuzzy and satisfied as I curled up under the covers.

  Not two minutes later, Cary was walking out of the bathroom, still fully dressed.

  Stopping at the foot of my bed, he pointed between the two beds, as if asking me where I wanted him.

  Scooting to the side, I patted the spot beside me, a movement that made Cary shoot me a sweet, eye-crinkly smile.

  Then he reached up, pulling off his shirt, giving me a good, long look at him.

  Off came his pants next, leaving him just in his boxer briefs as he came to the bed, then climbed in with me, sliding in behind me—legs cocked under mine, his chest to my back, and his arm draped over me.

  I never felt anything close to the peace that I felt at that moment.

  “You know how many nights I’ve thought about this?” he asked, voice soft in my ear. “All those times in that fucking hellhole. Didn’t even know what you looked like. But there was always a connection there. I felt it. And I imagined a world where I might get out and get to meet you, get to show you what it is like when you’re with a real man, not that shithead you had that didn’t appreciate you.”

  “Stop,” I begged, feeling the sting in my eyes. “You’re being too nice,” I added, not wanting him to think I didn’t like what he was saying. It was more that it felt like too much for someone who never got any kind of kindness from men, who’d never had one validate me, tell me how much they thought of me.

  “Not nice. Just honest,” he countered, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

  “Well, honesty is nice then. Coming from you at least.”

  Or so I thought.

  Until the next afternoon.

  When we somehow managed to get into our first fight.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Cary

  “Absolutely fucking not,” I said, folding my arms over my chest. Like that was going to dissuade her.

  Maybe, objectively, I was a scary guy.

  But, at this point, she knew me.

  And she damn sure knew that she had nothing to fear from me.

  Abigail had never been someone who put her foot down about something, to dig her heels in. She’d never been in a world where that would be allowed.

  I guess it was testament to how different she felt already, how much safer she knew she was, that she was willing to do both those things.

  I was in a tough spot.

  Because, on the one hand, I was proud of her. For using her voice, for standing up for herself, for not kowtowing to me even when I was being stern about something.

  On the other, though, there was absolutely no fucking way I was giving in on this.

  “I thought I was free here,” Abigail said, chin raising, a small act of defiance I found way too fucking appealing. So appealing, in fact, that it took a lot of effort not to grab her, toss her onto the bed, and get another taste of her.

  But there wasn’t time for that.

  The shit for the bed was getting delivered to the apartment in a little bit. Then I had a meeting later.

  I did.

  Not her.

  No matter how much her pretty eyes shot daggers at me.

  I didn’t understand why she’d suddenly decided she needed to go. It was very clear that I wanted to do the meeting alone, that I didn’t want her involved at all.

  Sure, I knew of A. And pretty much all the stories came back saying the man was pretty fucking trustworthy, that he didn’t want beef with any of the already established organizations in Navesink Bank. That said, I didn’t have any personal, one-on-one experience with the man. I didn’t know how much I could trust him.

  I damn sure wasn’t going to bring Abigail onto his turf when I didn’t know where his loyalties were, if he was possibly on Raúl’s payroll somehow.

  “Baby, you’re free. To live your life and make all your life decisions. But you’re not free to walk into a cartel leader’s compound when you don’t know if you can trust him.”

  “You don’t know if you can trust him, and you’re walking in there.”

  “Right. But I’m not someone who is wanted by a fellow cartel member, love. It’s not risky like that for me.”

  “This is my problem,” she insisted.

  “Think we are at a point now where we can call it our problem.”

  “Fine. Our problem. But our means me too. And I want to be there.”

  “Abs, no.”

  “Then you’re not going either.”

  “I have to go. If there’s a chance A has some information that could make it easier to make this problem disappear, I need to talk to him about it.”

  “I’m part of the problem.”

  “Abs…”

  “We can bring Dezi if you’re so worried about it not being safe.”

  “It’s more than you not being safe. It’s the fact that if he is working with Raúl, then he will know you are associated with me. And that I am with the club. It could make everything worse.”

  “Or maybe hearing the story from me will help him decide he wants to help,” Abigail suggested. “If your friend is right about him being a decent guy, anyway.”

  Niro didn’t recommend someone if he didn’t have faith in them. Hell, Niro had tapped A’s shoulder to be a part of his and Andi’s wedding. That wasn’t something you did if you didn’t know someone was a good guy underneath it all.

  I could call Niro. I could ask him to come with.

  I still didn’t like it, but if Abs wasn’t going to let it go, that was the only way I felt comfortable with it.

  “Let me make a phone call,” I said, sighing, and moving out into the hall.

  “Yellow?” a feminine voice answered on the fourth ring.

  “Andi, hey, is Niro there?”

  “He’s letting the dogs out. Is this about Andres?” she asked.

  Of course he’d shared that with her. Before they became an item, Niro and Andi had been the closest of friends. I doubted Niro kept anything from her
.

  “Ah, yes, actually.”

  “Maybe I can help. What’s going on?”

  “Abigail is suddenly insisting on going with me to the meeting.”

  “Ah, I see. And you’re doing the ‘big, strong, man’ thing to her.”

  “She… might agree with that,” I said, letting out a dry laugh.

  “Why can’t she come? This is her situation, right?”

  “Right. But I don’t know what A’s loyalties are,” I told her, shaking my head.

  “Hm. Well, I guess I understand that. But I can vouch for Andres. If you want, I will come with.”

  “Come where?” I could hear Niro ask in the background.

  “To the meeting with Andres. Abigail wants to go,” Andi told him.

  “Here, let me,” Niro said, taking the phone. “We will come,” he said. “If you’re worried about it, we’ll go with.”

  “My worry is that A might be connected with Raúl in some way.”

  “Can’t claim I know a whole fuckuva lot about how the cartel operates, but it seems to be that different organizations aren’t exactly friendly. That’s why there is so much bloodshed. Everyone wants what the other has. I doubt A would be friendly with another leader. At most, he would refrain from starting a war, but I don’t think they’re drinking buddies.”

  He made a good point.

  The Henchmen didn’t rub shoulders with other gun runners. The Mallick family didn’t play poker with other loan sharks. The Grassis didn’t shoot the shit with the Irish or Russian mafias.

  It didn’t make sense to befriend your competition. You could never fully trust them.

  So maybe Niro was right.

  A might know Raúl, but the chances of him having any sort of loyalty to him were low.

  “Okay,” I said, nodding. “Yeah, I would appreciate that.”

  “It’s nothing,” Niro said. “Andi dragged me to a doggy shower there once.”

  “A doggy shower,” I repeated.

  “One of A’s dogs got knocked up. We brought a goody basket full of toys and treats. And Andi spent an hour scolding him about getting his dogs spayed on time, so he didn’t have any future accidents.”

  I was having a hard time picturing sweet Andi scolding a fucking cartel leader, but if she were going to do something like that, I could see it being about the right way to raise your pets.

  “If you’re worried, we don’t have to bring Andi.”

  “Worried?” Niro scoffed. “Nah, man. Andi is as safe there as she is at the clubhouse. The two of them have become friends since all that shit went down a while back. He texts her in the middle of the night if one of the dogs is throwing up or looks like they hurt something. Trust me, A wouldn’t do anything to fuck up his twenty-four-hour vet services.”

  “Hey, he happens to just like me too,” Andi grumbled.

  “Who doesn’t?” Niro shot back, and I could hear a little squeal from Andi as Niro must have grabbed or tickled her. “So what time?”

  “Seven?”

  “Want us to meet you there?”

  “That works,” I agreed.

  “Alright. It’s a plan.”

  Before I could even thank him, he ended the call.

  “So?” Abigail asked as I walked back into the room.

  She was standing at the sink in the bathroom. She must have stretched out the neck of her top while sleeping, because it had slipped down to expose her shoulder.

  I didn’t even pretend to resist the urge to walk up behind her and press my lips there, feeling the way she almost immediately melted at the soft touch.

  “So, we have more company tonight than planned.”

  “We?” she asked, and I watched as her reflection brightened.

  “Yep, we. And you get to meet another princess. Niro’s woman.”

  “Andi,” Abigail recalled. “The vet.”

  “Right,” I agreed. “Long story short, a while back, A kidnapped Andi off the street because he thought she was a doctor. She was wearing scrubs,” I explained when her brows pinched. “And he made her pull the bullet out of one of his men. There was some other shit that went down, but at the end of it all, Andi and A kind of walked away with a friendship of sorts. Niro said that if I was worried—and I am—,” I added, giving her a firm look in the mirror that had her head falling back on my shoulder as a small smile toyed at her lips, “that they would come with.”

  “Thank you,” she said, reaching down to grab my arm, wrapping it around her stomach, then giving said arm a squeeze with both of hers.

  “Are you always going to be stubborn about this kind of shit?” I teased.

  “Maybe,” she said, smiling at my reflection. “You’re just going to have to grow to like that about me.”

  “Love, can’t think of a fucking thing I don’t like about you,” I told her.

  At that, her gaze fell from mine.

  “Hey, what?” I asked.

  “It’s just… I’m not the same girl,” she told me, talking to her feet. “I know that you really liked the version of me that wrote you. But she was very different from who I am now. And I don’t want you to go into… this… expecting me to be exactly like that.”

  “Listen to me, that girl was sweet and kind and loving and giving. From what I’m seeing, you’re still all those things. Maybe time and life has given you some scars, some bruises that I need to be careful not to press, but who you are at your core? That’s the same woman, Abs. Don’t let that fucker win by making you think you have somehow become less than that.”

  “He’s not going to win,” Abigail insisted, her determined gaze meeting mine.

  “No,” I agreed. “He’s not.”

  “How long do we have until the delivery people get to the apartment?” Abigail asked as my fingers found the sliver of skin between where her shorts and her shirt met, teasing across it, feeling the shiver that moved through her at the barely-there touch.

  “Long enough,” I said, smirking at her in the mirror as my hand suddenly plunged down into her shorts and panties, stroking up her pussy that was already getting wet for me.

  I wasn’t lying when I said I fantasized about her all those long, lonely nights when I was locked up.

  That said, a part of me didn’t think I would ever get to act out on those feelings.

  Hell, I didn’t even fully understand how I could have those feelings when I hadn’t even seen the woman I’d been corresponding with for so long. I didn’t understand the concept of having a sort of physical attraction to someone I’d never physically seen. It didn’t make sense.

  And after a while of being out, I just chalked it up to being so long without a woman.

  But getting to finally meet her, realizing she was even more beautiful than I’d have let myself dream, and that she not only wanted to be around me, but wanted me too?

  It seemed too good to be true.

  Hell, it felt too good to be true.

  I’d never not enjoyed myself with a woman before. What was the point of the act if the two of you didn’t have a good time?

  But it had always just been that.

  Just something to do, a way to temporarily feel good.

  I’d never had it mean anything.

  Being with Abigail, though, that meant something.

  If it was going to happen, my intention for it had been for it to be something soft and sweet, a way to show her that not all men just took and took from her, that some—the right ones—wanted them to have a great experience too.

  Whatever control I’d been holding onto snapped when we’d been in that elevator, though.

  And the end result hadn’t been as slow and sweet and romantic as I’d meant it to be.

  But it had still managed to be better than I’d ever dreamed.

  And, apparently, good enough to make Abigail want more, get wet from just the brush of a fingertip across her stomach.

  My thumb moved up, stroking over her clit as my fingers drifted down, making circles around
the entrance to her pussy for a moment before slipping inside, feeling her walls tighten around them, wanting more.

  “Take your shirt off for me, love,” I demanded, voice soft, rubbing my beard against the sensitive skin of her neck, a sensation that made another shiver move through her.

  Her hands lifted, grabbing the hem of her shirt, and drawing it up.

  I stepped back just far enough for her to pull it off and toss it as my gaze took in her bare skin.

  She’d already started to fill back in a little bit. Her bones didn’t stick out of her skin grotesquely, speaking of all the times she’d needed sustenance but had been denied it. She had a long way to go to fill back in completely, but with my—and let’s face it, Dezi’s—help, she would get there.

  My other hand slid up her stomach, teasing over the hardening buds of her nipples, working them until they were tight points as my fingers started to fuck her, slowly at first, but getting faster as her hips started to rock against me, as her eyes drifted half closed, and as her little whimpers started to get louder and louder.

  “You want my cock, don’t you?” I asked with my lips touching her ear.

  “Yes,” she moaned, her pussy squeezing my fingers in agreement.

  “You want it like this?” I asked, rubbing my cock against her ass. “From behind? Watching me in the mirror as I fuck you?” A low chuckle escaped me before she could answer. “Your pussy wants that,” I told her as she squeezed me tighter still.

  “Yes,” she said, rocking her hips harder against my touch. “Just like this,” she agreed.

  I didn’t need more than that.

  My free hand yanked her pants and panties down before fishing in my wallet for a condom.

  “Touch your pussy for me,” I demanded softly as I withdrew my fingers. “Like this,” I added when she hesitated, grabbing her hand, and pressing her fingers against her clit.

  I wasn’t an idiot.

  No one had taught her about her pleasure when she’d been growing up. That dick of an ex-husband of hers only saw her as a womb to be filled. And I didn’t think a man who kept her captive like a toy gave a shit about teaching her how to make herself feel good.

  So it didn’t surprise me that she needed a little direction, a little encouragement.