by Amy Star
But for that night, at least, there was nothing left for them to do, and Casey and Atticus made their way back inside.
Unsurprisingly, they found Lydia wrapped in a blanket in the foyer, gleefully explaining everything to Branson like a pair of gossipy schoolgirls. Casey couldn’t say she was shocked. She paid them fairly little attention, though, instead grabbing Atticus’s hand to pull him towards the stairs. She was tired, and it was time to go to bed.
Atticus followed her without complaint, and soon enough, both of them were gratefully falling into bed. They both deserved a good night’s rest.
*
That was the theory, at any rate. That wasn’t how it worked out. Half an hour later, Casey still felt too wound up to actually sleep, as if she was going to try crawling out of her skin at a moment’s notice. Too much had happened, and she couldn’t get her thoughts to slow down long enough to tune them out.
Finally, she rolled onto her side to face Atticus, heaving an aggrieved sigh and asking, “Are you still awake?”
“I am,” he answered without any delay. Evidently, he was having just as much trouble getting to sleep as she was. Casey felt slightly better about herself, knowing that.
She sat up, the blanket pooling around her, and Atticus watched her curiously, presumably wondering if she was going to get out of bed or not.
She did not. She did, however, pull her shirt over her head and drop it over the side of the bed. She kicked the blanket the rest of the way off and sat up on her knees to shimmy her sleep pants and her panties down her thighs until she could kick them off as well, letting them land on the floor wherever they happened to land. She could always collect them later.
Atticus didn’t need to be told what she had in mind. She didn’t even need to use the words “we should wear each other out.” He simply sat up on his knees to tug his boxers off.
They were both naked in short order, and Casey offered him a slow, sly smile before she lay back down, her head on her pillow. Her eyebrows rose expectantly, and she lifted a hand to beckon him closer with two fingers. Atticus wasted no time in crawling towards her, and Casey spread her legs as he got closer so he could kneel between them.
As he leaned down, she sat up, and their lips met in the middle, sliding together hurriedly. Already, their hands began to wander, Casey’s palms sliding down his sides until she could get them on his ass, and Atticus’s hands kneading her breasts.
He ran his thumbs over her nipples until they hardened beneath his touch, and finally, the kiss broke so he could instead duck his head. He circled the tip of his tongue around one nipple for a moment and then closed his lips around it, flicking his tongue over it and using just a hint of teeth. At the same time, he tugged and pinched the other nipple between two fingers, until he switched. By the time he lifted his head away from her chest, Casey was sighing beneath him, and her sex was already red and wet.
Atticus’s cock was hard already, fully erect, and Casey expected him to hoist her into his lap again as he curled his hands around her hips. Instead, he urged her to roll over onto her stomach and then hoisted her hips up off of the bed as he sat up on his knees again, until she was balanced on all fours. One hand left her hip, and she looked over her shoulder at him to watch as he wrapped a hand around his cock to line himself up with her sex.
The head of his cock breached her entrance slowly, but the rest of his cock followed all at once, one swift thrust leaving him fully sheathed. Casey gasped, her elbows nearly buckled, and her head fell forward to hang between her arms. There was no chance for her to adjust, as that was the pace he kept up, pounding into her hard and fast. With both hands around her hips again, he pulled her back to meet each thrust, until Casey was moaning long and loud with every thrust, shameless and carefree.
It didn’t take long before she knew she was getting close. She opened her mouth to say something, but all she managed was a stuttered, “I-I—” before it broke off into another series of panting, gasping moans.
Atticus seemed to get the point, as one of his hands left her hip once again, instead reaching around her and between her legs. Casey drew in a sharp, nearly desperate breath as he began to stroke her clit, and from that point, she was gone. Her arms buckled, leaving her leaning on her elbows with her face buried into her pillow as she moaned. Her hands clenched in the bedding, her back arched, and her entire body went taut as she came.
There was no reprieve, though, as Atticus kept pounding into her and kept stroking her clit. And soon, through the tingling of overstimulation, she could feel herself getting excited again.
She didn’t last quite so long the second time, but through sheer stubborn willpower, she managed to hold out until she could feel the rhythm of Atticus’s hips beginning to falter as he got close to the end. With a deep sigh, Casey came a second time, and after only a few more thrusts, Atticus found his climax as well. His hips kept moving for a few seconds afterwards as he worked himself through his orgasm, though the rhythm was erratic and he slowed to a gradual halt.
For a drawn-out moment, they stayed right where they were until, slowly, Atticus pulled out of her and let her go. Gracelessly, Casey flopped down on the mattress in a boneless heap, and Atticus huffed out a breath of laughter. Not wanting to flatten her, he forewent her method of sprawling out in favor of moving over to lie down beside her. Not with any amount of grace, though, as once he was free of the risk of landing on top of her, he simply dropped down to the bed. The mattress bounced slightly when he landed.
Neither of them moved after that for a few moments, until finally Casey shuffled across the bed, pressing herself close to his chest. They were both sweaty and sticky, and she was pretty sure they both qualified as ‘a mess,’ but he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer, and she couldn’t bring herself to want to sit up just then. She could take a shower in the morning. It’s not like she was going to have anything pressing that she needed to do.
She didn’t bother reaching for the blanket; Atticus was warm enough that she didn’t really need one. Slowly, she let her eyes drift closed. The world seemed to go out of focus around her, and it seemed like she fell asleep between one second and another.
She dreamed of being somewhere dark and warm and soft, as if she had crawled into a bear’s den and curled up with the den’s occupant. She felt safe in a way that had never been afforded to her before, as if the world could start falling apart and the sky could crumble from above them, but as long as she stayed in that den, she was safe. It was a feeling she wasn’t accustomed to, and one she never wanted to let go of.
She dreamed, after that, of a toddler with a mop of brown hair and dark, dark eyes, staring up at Casey and laughing as she taught the little girl how to walk. Maybe there was more to the dream, but Casey recalled nothing beyond that. And she was alright with that; the girl seemed like the only important part, though she could barely even remember what the little girl looked like in the morning. She just remembered that, dream or not, she had loved that little girl with all of her being.
She pondered the thought for a time before getting out of bed to shower, wondering if perhaps it was an omen. Her mother had sworn up and down that she’d had a dream and had known exactly what Casey would look like, but Casey had always just assumed it was a tall tale, a way to make it seem more exciting than it truly had been.
But she supposed it wasn’t important. In a few months (well, more than a few), her child would be born, and she would love that child regardless of any of the details. That, she decided, was the most important part of it all.
It was going to be a good day, she decided. Even if nothing out of the ordinary happened, it was going to be a good day. There were beautiful things in the world, she was free to experience as many of them as she wanted, and they were all free of the looming danger that had been lurking around the mansion finally.
Her mood wasn’t even ruined when she realized that she was, indeed, quite a mess once she was in the shower. It was actually almos
t impressively gross, but she couldn’t bring herself to be annoyed about it. Whether or not it turned out to be a good day, it had most definitely been a good night, and she couldn’t think of a single thing she would have done differently about it.
That made her seem overwhelmingly sappy, and she knew that, but she also couldn’t bring herself to care too much about that either. Sometimes, it was good to be a little bit sappy, as far as she was concerned just then. Sometimes, that was just the right way to look at the world.
C HAPTER 15
“You’re all over the news.” Annie sounded as if she thought she was actually offering any sort of unheard of news. “You and your hubby.”
“I do have the Internet,” Casey returned blandly. “Television, too. Occasionally, I even look at a newspaper when I’m in town.” It happened more often lately, as she no longer needed a babysitter everywhere she went, though Lydia frequently went with her just for old time’s sake.
She couldn’t see her sister roll her eyes, of course, but she was pretty sure it happened as Annie sighed, “Don’t be a bitch about it.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway. I take it this means your stalker problem is over, what with the stalker in question being in prison? Everyone still in one piece over there?”
“Over and done with, and everyone is just fine,” Casey confirmed pleasantly. She adopted a light, airheaded tone as she added, “Who would have thought that getting rid of a stalker would be such a relief?”
Annie snorted out a laugh in response. “You maybe want to give Jason a call at some point?” she asked.
Casey huffed out a breath. “I knew you had an ulterior motive.”
“Yes,” Annie confirmed. “He’s been driving me nuts asking about you. I keep telling him you’ll get in touch with him when you’re ready to, but can you throw the guy a bone, please? For my sake?”
Casey heaved an overwrought sigh. “I’ll think about it,” she deigned to compromise, very magnanimously. “No promises that it will be a pleasant conversation if it happens, though.”
“Hey, pleasant, unpleasant, I don’t care. I just want him off my case.”
Casey coughed against one hand to mask a laugh. “You’re too kind. A saint, truly.”
Annie made a sarcastic ‘pfft’ noise that sounded more like a particularly emphatic burst of static, and when she spoke again, she adopted a lofty, holier-than-thou tone. “It is both a blessing and a curse to be as charitable, kind, and gracious as I am. It is not an easy job, but it is one I’m willing to do for the good of the world.”
Casey was quiet for a moment before she finally stated flatly, “You are full of so much bullshit. Like, a truly impressive amount of bullshit. No wonder your hair is brown.”
“Oh, ew,” Annie whined. “That was just a low blow.”
But one Casey was always willing to make. Looking nothing like her sister came with a few perks, and even under pain of death, she doubted she would give those perks up. They were some of the joys of sisterhood.
Their conversation meandered from there, as it always did. The only new topic was Annie gushing about everything she would like to do once she was officially an aunt. Casey had never been a huge fan of baby talk with any of her coworkers in the past, but coming from her sister (and about her own future baby), it was surprisingly endearing.
*
Casey did call Jason eventually. With some hesitation, admittedly. It had been longer than she had ever gone without talking to him, and their last conversation hadn’t exactly ended on great terms. True enough, she knew he hadn’t meant any harm, but the fact remained that harm had still resulted from his compulsive need to try to bring wealthy people down a peg.
Casey was willing to bet her left leg that if she had still been poor when she told him about Atticus turning into a bear, he would have laughed at the story and then promptly forgotten about it two days later; he would have felt no need to spread it to other people to get them to laugh at her too.
And it was that knowledge that was the hardest to deal with. She supposed she couldn’t even say that he had meant no harm. He probably had, just subconsciously, and socially rather than physically.
But they had known each other for too long to let that last conversation be their last conversation. She made sure she was home alone when she called, not wanting anyone else listening in. If it turned into a screaming match, then she didn’t want to have an audience for it. It seemed like an unlikely outcome, but she wasn’t going to deny the possibility of it.
The phone rang twice before Jason answered with an excited, “Casey!”
“Jason.”
“And, angry voice. O… kay. Hi,” he offered more sedately.
“Yes, angry voice,” Casey returned dryly. “I’m assuming you’ve seen the news. It has taken this long to clear up the problem that you started because you couldn’t resist making me sound stupid in front of strangers.”
“It was an accident!” Jason insisted sharply, immediately. As if he had any right to be offended after the entire mess he had caused, whether he meant to or not.
“You didn’t mean to cause any real trouble,” she corrected. “But it wasn’t an accident.”
Jason mumbled something incoherent on the other end of the line. Casey didn’t need to hear the actual words or see his face to know that he was pouting.
“And I’m not even sure I believe that,” Casey carried on, sighing slowly. “I mean, I know you didn’t mean to put me in danger,” she added, almost as if she was reassuring him, “but I don’t know if I believe that you didn’t mean for there to be any trouble. You wanted people to laugh at me.”
“It was a funny story,” he protested weakly.
“We’ve been friends for years,” Casey pointed out, “and you’ve threatened to punch people for me for looking at me funny. You’ve never encouraged anyone to laugh at me.” When she didn’t get a reply, she kept talking. “You wanted me to look stupid,” she reiterated. “You wanted to pile on the gossip. Just like you couldn’t just be happy for your sister when she got married.”
When she still didn’t get a reply, she sighed and said, “I think we need to take a break from each other, Jason. It will probably do us both some good.”
She didn’t give him any time to reply or protest before she hung up the phone and put it back in her pocket.
She couldn’t say she felt better after that, but she would have been a bit concerned if she felt better after having that sort of conversation with someone who had been her best friend. But even so, it was something of a relief, so she was willing to say it had been the right move to make.
Maybe eventually, they would fix whatever had broken between them. Maybe they wouldn’t. Casey couldn’t predict the future. But for the moment, she had done what she could.
*
Casey missed Jason at first. He had been her best friend since they were children. He had been by her side through thick and thin, and he had helped her deal with a lot when she didn’t think she could. Of course, she missed him at first.
But she knew him. She knew him better than anyone else did, most likely, except for maybe his wife. She knew him well enough to know that their problems weren’t going to go away. He was never going to be alright with her being rich. It would never sit well with him, he would never stop being passive-aggressive about it, and he would probably tell other “funny stories” at the first chance he got without even realizing it. She wasn’t going to give him any more chances to cause another accidental catastrophe somewhere down the line, especially when it might put her child in danger.
She missed him at first, but she was a grown woman, and she knew when it was time to let him go. She wrote him a very healthy check, because she still cared about him and if she could help him get out of that dumpster that doubled as his apartment, then she would, and she wrote him a letter. It said a lot of things, but mostly it said goodbye.
When Atticus found her crying in the library, of course he started fretting. Casey laughe
d it off, scrubbed her face dry, and assured him that she was fine.
“I’m just doing a bit of spring cleaning,” she assured him. “It’s a little more intense than I thought it would be.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked slowly, coming closer to the chair she was sitting in as he asked.
Casey offered him a damp smile and shook her head. Later, perhaps, but just then, she didn’t want to explain everything.
He stroked a hand over her hair and left, giving her some privacy to gather her composure again.
She didn’t know if Jason ever read the letter. She didn’t know if he ever planned on cashing the check. She never got a reply from him. Truth be told, she hadn’t been expecting one.
She supposed she was alright with that. A bit more closure would have been nice, but she could be content with what she had.
It took a few days before she told Atticus about it in any detail. He hadn’t known Jason, but he had at least known how close Casey had been to him. And though he knew of Jason’s accidental involvement in the ordeal with the hunter, he was sympathetic nonetheless, and he listened for hours as Casey got nostalgic, telling story after story of nonsense that she and Jason had gotten up to in high school and college.