For His Pleasure
Page 27
On a loud roar, Cash came, his cock jerking and twitching inside her and the heat of his release bathing her channel. Exhausted and boneless, she fell to her stomach. Cash followed her down, collapsing beside her. As they both caught their breath, he turned her onto her side, so that they were chest to chest.
She had only one thing to say to him. “When can we do that again?”
EPILOGUE
Cash threw his keys on the entrance table and walked down the hall toward the back of their house. Surprisingly, it was silent, which was a rare occurrence these days. Since moving to their farm last year, he’d grown used to the noisy chaos and pitter-patter of little paws on the linoleum.
“Dreama?” he called out, peeking into the master suite.
Their white calico cat slept contently curled on Cash’s pillow, the sheets and blankets tangled together at the foot of the bed. His groin tightened as he thought back to what he and Dreama had been doing in that bed a few hours earlier, things that would make that poor pussycat blush if it had been allowed in the room at the time.
There were advantages to living with someone you loved. He hadn’t wanted to leave their bed this morning, but he’d promised to meet Ryder and Finn in the city for breakfast. Sunday pancakes had become a weekly tradition for them, as were the Friday night dinners that rotated between their three houses and Rebecca’s. They had become more than his biological brothers. Other than Dreama, Ryder and Finn were his closest friends. He couldn’t imagine his life without them.
Becoming a multimillionaire overnight hadn’t come as easily for Cash. He figured most people dreamed of having that kind of money, but he was never going to be one of those people. Turned out, neither were his brothers. They were both shockingly normal for guys who’d grown up in a mansion not wanting for anything. Well, not anything. Because while Cash had been adopted by a loving couple, Ryder and Finn had been raised by their mutual father, a man without a moral compass or time to devote to his sons. Cash would always be grateful to his birth mother for protecting him when it was clear she could have used him as a bargaining chip for millions of dollars.
Barking from the backyard gave him a hint as to where to find Dreama. He should’ve known she’d end up there this morning.
With a smile on his face, he headed toward their living room, passing by the open doors of the three additional bedrooms. Their house wasn’t very large, but it was theirs, and it was more than enough to suit their purposes.
Millions of dollars could buy New York penthouses, Connecticut mansions, and French châteaus, but he and Dreama had bought only one property, a charming farmhouse on ten acres of grassy land, an hour outside Detroit. They had spent hours renovating the interior themselves, changing it from a traditional farm-style home complete with rooster-covered wallpaper to a bright, eclectic modern-style home, much like Dreama herself. He’d bet the previous owners had never imagined using the space in the cellar as a sex dungeon.
Cash opened the living room sliding door and stepped out onto the deck. Right away, he spotted Dreama, running around the yard with ten barking dogs racing behind her. Butch was by her side, where he always remained. Normally, they’d have nearly two dozen dogs at any time, but in the past month, they’d been able to place fifteen of them in permanent homes.
“Trying out a new training method?” he called out to her.
She laughed and changed directions so that she was now running toward the deck. The sight of her was a punch to his chest. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so fucking lucky.
Her hands were folded across her chest where she wore a baby carrier that she’d designed and sewn herself. A head of black hair poked out of it. Dreama’s lips moved and he knew she was probably singing to the little guy.
She climbed up the deck stairs, her pink-tipped hair whipping around her face, and jumped into his waiting arms. “Missed you,” she said, before planting her lips against his.
He took over the kiss, putting his palms on her cheeks (she still had her fetish for his hands), and angling her head to get deeper access into her hot mouth. She tasted like coffee and maple syrup and smelled like sex and fresh air.
A yelp came from between them. Cash pulled his lips away from hers and looked down. The black pit bull puppy yawned sleepily before resting his head against Dreama’s breast.
Smart dog.
“How’s he doing?” Cash asked Dreama as she slid down his legs to stand on her own two feet.
“Milo’s great. He’s already made friends with Princess Peach.”
“Milo?” he asked. When he’d left this morning for breakfast, they hadn’t named him yet.
She petted the top of the puppy’s head. “After the actor from my favorite television show.”
“Oh, you mean the one you have a crush on?”
“Why, are you jealous?” she taunted.
“Crush away. Maybe I’ll just have to name our next dog Mandy.”
Milo had come to him from his sister, who had performed emergency surgery on the poor thing after someone had thrown him from a moving car into oncoming traffic. He’d lost one of his legs as a result. The combination of him being a pit bull with the loss of his limb made it less likely he’d be adopted.
He and Dreama fostered as many animals as they could. Dogs. Cats. Rabbits. Even the occasional hamster. Whenever an animal was due to be euthanized at the county shelter, his sister transferred that animal to Cash’s farm, and he or Dreama would find permanent placement for it.
After the truth had come out that Cash had been unknowingly drugged the night of the accident, the judge who had presided over his case overturned his conviction, clearing Cash’s record. Lundquist pled guilty to a long list of crimes, including conspiracy and murder. He was currently serving a life sentence. Stephen Browner admitted to taking bribes and had been disbarred. Jay Moran and Kevin Sanders had both received three years for their part in falsifying the Dosothysomine study and lying to the police about Cash’s drinking. They hadn’t known anything about Laci’s or Nancy’s murders.
Even though Cash had more than enough money, he sued all of them in civil court and unsurprisingly, they quickly settled. He’d donated the money to the Innocence Project, a charity whose mission it was to free the innocent from prison.
Dosothysomine had been removed from the market. Lundquist Animal Health had filed for bankruptcy after it was hit with a class action lawsuit. Cash’s heart went out to the employees who’d lost their jobs, but he didn’t feel guilty. The blame fell squarely on Thomas’s shoulders.
In the end, the department of corrections hadn’t recommended filing criminal charges against Dreama for her relationship with Cash even though they’d determined she had engaged in misconduct. Dreama had reported Meg’s behavior, but like Dreama had predicted, the department did nothing more than give Meg a figurative slap on the wrist.
He and Dreama used Cash’s newfound money to fund the Dream a Little Dream Foundation. Not only did the foundation save animals from euthanasia, but it also rehabilitated dogs that others had considered a lost cause. Several of the animals came from dog-fighting rings. Others had been abused and neglected, and rather than being aggressive, they no longer had the will to live. Some were crippled or required medical care. Here on the foundation’s farm, Cash, Dreama, and several others retrained the animals so that they could have the chance they deserved. Dreama utilized her parole officer experience to supervise the PAWS program. With Dreama at the helm, the PAWS program had expanded to nearly every jail and prison in the state.
“I’m glad you’re home,” Dreama whispered in his ear. “I left you a surprise in the barn.”
He immediately went hard.
He’d been fantasizing about her playing the farmer’s daughter since they bought this place. And he definitely had something for her to milk.
The sun’s rays glimmered on the silver collar around Dreama’s neck.
“What are we waiting for?” he asked, removing Milo from the sling and pl
acing him gently on the ground before sliding his arm around Dreama’s waist and pulling her toward the barn.
Dreama’s laughter and the dogs’ barking filled his ears.
His life was nothing like he’d imagined it would be.
It was so much better.
Acknowledgments
There would be no Cash or Dreama if it weren’t for the people who inspired this series. Aliza Mann, MK Schiller, Heather Novak, and Sage Spelling, you are the Sam to my Dean. I’d never be able to do what I do without you cheering me on. I can’t wait for our next 3:00 a.m. conversation over tea.
Thank you to Jessica Alvarez at BookEnds for being the agent of my dreams. You always know the right thing to say.
To Madeleine Colavita for your endless patience and your wisdom. I might write the words but you make them shine.
A shout-out to everyone at Grand Central Forever. From start to finish, there are dozens of people who worked on this book. I appreciate each and every one of you.
To the readers and bloggers, I want you to know I don’t take you for granted. There are so many wonderful books out there, and it means the world to me that you take the time to read mine. I hope you love Cash and Dreama as much as I do.
I’d like to thank Brooke’s Legacy Animal Rescue for all the good that you do in the community and for giving me a way to get my cat fix.
Last but never least, to my family. You’ve supported me throughout my journey without complaint. Now it’s my turn to support yours.
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Also by Shelly Bell
At His Mercy
His to Claim
About the Author
A sucker for a happy ending, Shelly Bell writes sensual romance and erotic thrillers. She began writing upon the insistence of her husband, who dragged her to the store and bought her a laptop. When she’s not working her day job, taking care of her family, or writing, you’ll find her reading the latest romance.
Learn more at:
ShellyBellBooks.com
Twitter @ShellyBell987
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