Commanding Casey

by Nicolina Martin

  Glancing at the clock, I let go of her hair. “Get up. Time to get a move on.”

  Casey wobbles as she stands and puts a hand between her legs, nearly doubling over. She looks up at me, her eyes pleading. I take her hand and push her arm up on her back as I spin her around.

  “No touching. Bend over.”

  She gives me a pained look, then she obeys. I raise my hand, wait, listening to her ragged breathing, then I smack her ass. Only once, but hard, making her catapult forward.

  “Cole,” she whispers and there’s so much agony in that single syllable that it makes my stomach clench.

  Everything stops. Was I that rough? I touch her shoulder, making her turn toward me. “What’s up?”

  She chews on her lip, her chin trembling.

  “It’s okay. You have permission to speak.”

  “I just need a hug.” Her voice is raw and as I watch, a tear rolls along her cheek.

  I fight it. Fucking hell. I don’t need to get attached. I can’t. I will however take care of her when she begs me to. I’m not someone who doles out pain without also taking care of the consequences. I’m an ass, but I’m not that much of an ass. Pulling her into an embrace, I try to warm her, try to make her feel safe again.

  “Do you want to call it?” I whisper in her hair.

  She’s quiet, then she shakes her head. “No.”

  My heart jolts and I can’t help the grin that spreads on my face. “No more games this morning. You okay?” I push her away so I can see her. She braves a little smile then wipes at her cheek.

  “I’m sorry. I’m silly.”

  I caress her hairline, along her temple, then pinch her ear as I shake my head. “No, you’re not. You’re human. You want this. It scares you. You don’t know how to handle it. Am I right?”

  She nods. “Yes.”

  I try to remember how we ended up here. How it went from picking up a new mechanic at the airport a few weeks back to standing naked, holding each other in a tight embrace.

  I scare her. I want her. She wants me and we’re so fucking doomed.

  Chapter Ten

  Casey

  Cole Hooper is a beast, a monster, and so much man that I don’t think I can handle it. I shake as I dart back to my room and pull on my clothes. Layer after layer goes on. I’m both warm and cold at the same time, exhilarated and devastated. My heart pumps furiously, and my skin tingles with the memories from his touch. I’m hungry. I’m tired as fuck, and I’m afraid I’m going to screw up work. This is dangerous business, what we do out there, the heavy machines, the ice, the cold.

  Picking up my book, I flip on the bedside lamp and wait for 5:30, for the cantina to open. I trace the old black and white image of a woman dressed in a traditional outfit. My hand shakes. I’ve dreamt of them again—the tribe. The chiefs of the old days. I know Mama doesn’t want to talk about her—our—heritage, but I bet I can get Grandma to talk. In some strange way, when I relax, when I’m about to fall asleep, it’s as if the earth talks to me, as if the elements aren’t hostile and something to fight, but something to worship and embrace. It’s popular media combined with old tales, combined with my book, I bet, and it’s more like hallucinations, a dead-tired mind making things up. But as the weeks have progressed, I’ve begun to sense the spirits of those who have passed, and my feeling that this is wrong, that Track Line Corp is doing evil things, grows.

  The front door falls shut with a heavy thud. Cole’s been stomping around out there for a good twenty minutes, almost as if he’s trying to coax me to get out of my room, but I’m exhausted. The lack of sleep, the games, the scare from the cold shower, his caresses, and then his harsh words. Exhausted, and in pain. My butt still stings, but my heart aches even worse. Why is he so cruel? Why does it feel as if he needs me and hates me at the same time?

  If we’re not friends, then it’s no use trying to chitchat and be social and whatnot.

  I wait a few minutes, then I pull on my boots and my outdoor pants and jacket, the cap, and gloves. I pull up the hood, brace myself for the cold, and leave for the cantina. To say I’m distracted doesn’t even cover the bases. My whole body and mind are pulled toward this infuriating man, his warm eyes, his grave voice, and those big, strong hands focused on me. My pussy aches just thinking about him, and I’m so frustrated that I could cry.

  As soon as I enter, my eyes are inadvertently drawn to Cole. He’s putting his tray on the table next to a couple of workmates that have arrived too, then he sits. They laugh and slap each other’s backs. He doesn’t spare me a glance, but I know from how his back goes rigid that he senses I’m here.

  You are not to talk to me.

  Why? What a dick. I pull myself out of my increasingly shitty mood and focus on getting breakfast instead. This is going to be one long ass day.

  And it is. I focus on work, harder today than ever before. I can’t make mistakes, for my own sake and the others’.

  Lunch is shit. I’m dizzy. Sitting down makes the sleep deprivation catch up. Cole acts like I don’t exist. Unbe-fucking-lievable.

  He told me the rules.

  He told me. I accepted. Why am I mad even?

  I sigh with relief when it’s dinnertime, shove the food in, and then I’m off to our trailer. My pussy tingles with anticipation, but at the same time I just want to be left alone. He can go to hell. This morning, I didn’t believe he meant what he said—that I’d be like air to him during the day, but I clearly am. He meant every word.

  Shower? Sleep? Avoid his hot ass?

  I don’t know if I’m allowed in the bathroom. I don’t know if we’re still playing. It doesn’t seem like it. Shimmying out of my clothes, I snatch up a T-shirt and sweatpants, new underwear and a pair of thick socks, then I manage to actually lock the door to the bathroom this time and take a somewhat quick shower. Whatever else might happen, or not, it is a shit move to take all the hot water, and I won’t do it again.

  I’ve just gotten back into my room when the click of the front door opening, and then the slam as it shuts makes me jump. I’m acutely aware of his steps in the hallway, of the rustling sounds from when he undresses. I see before me how he hangs his heavy jacket and the work pants on the hanger, how he puts his boots neatly next to each other, the toes snugly against the wall. It’s as if an invisible rubber band is tugging at me. I want to go to him. I want answers. I want him to admit that he’s a dick. I want his hands on me.

  I fall on the bed, pull the comforter over me, and grab my book. I’ll be damned if I go out there.

  It’s silent.

  Bathroom door. Clatter of water. Out here you shower off the day, the sweat and the grime, or you’ll soon be unbearably dirty and smelly. I skipped the shower once, when I still lived alone. I itched all over the next morning. It’s funny how you can be cold and sweaty at the same time.

  Then silence.

  “Keagan.”

  I jerk hard when he suddenly calls my name and my heart shoots to my throat. His voice is harsh, commanding.

  “Are you going to come out here, or do I come in and get you?”

  I dart to my feet. I’m confused. Are we playing? I don’t know if we’re playing. Is he mad at me?

  The door slams fully open before I have time to react. Cole Hooper fills the doorway, his gaze dark, his mouth a thin line.

  “What—”

  “Undress.”

  “What—”

  “That’s two already.”

  I don’t have to ask. Game is on. A bolt shoots through me, excitement, arousal, fright. Two. Two slaps.

  “Two what?” I say and raise my eyebrows, crossing my arms over my chest.

  He regards me in silence, waits. Oh, I’m so not fooling him. He holds up his hand and raises four fingers. I stare at it, mesmerized. God, I want that hand all over me.

  “Are you going to be difficult, Casey?”

  I cock my head as a thrill runs through me. “Maybe.”

  “Five,” he mouths.

 
I stick my tongue out at him and in the next moment he’s on me. I’m on my back, on the bed with him straddling me before I know it. He shoves a hand down the front of my pants and pushes all the way until his fingers find my already slick pussy. He parts my folds, runs his fingers up and down, and then stabs inside, making me squeal. He covers my mouth with his other hand as he keeps thrusting, sending jolts of tingling, burning heat through me. I squirm and buck up, meeting him, rocking on his fingers. I squeeze my eyes shut, gasping for the little air I get as my insides tense and coil into a tight knot.

  “Look at me,” he growls, then he pulls out his fingers and I groan in disappointment as he stands. “Take off your clothes.”

  This time I have no resistance left. I want more of what he can give, no matter how much of an ass he is. I want it. I need it. I want him to bend me, twist me, break me. Sitting up, I pull the T-shirt over my head, and shimmy out of my pants, my moves rushed and jerky.

  “Everything.”

  I forgot to take off my panties. Maybe on purpose, because oh, my God, I love that stern voice. Holding his gaze, I hook my thumbs inside the sides of my panties and push. I’m slow. Too slow. I squeal and laugh as he grabs my hips and spins me around, pulling me up until I’m on my hands and knees on the mattress. He pulls my panties to my knees and then his palm meets with my ass. Hard as all hell. The shock of the hit rocks me forward, the sting shooting all the way to my scalp.

  “You know the rules.” He spanks me again. “No talking unless permitted.” Smack. “You are to be undressed and on your knees when I get home.” Smack.

  “You made that up now,” I gasp, steeling myself for the next slap.

  “I can’t fucking keep up,” he growls. “You talk too much, girl.”

  Sitting next to me, he pats his thigh. “On my lap. Ass up. I’ll show you where mouthing off gets you.”

  My heart speeds up infinitely. “No... No, you can’t. I’m—” I look at him pleadingly. Over his lap is just... it’s perverted, as if I’m a kid. And I’ll have no fucking way to escape him.

  Cole raises an eyebrow and waits.

  I can’t move.

  “What did I tell you?” he asks.

  I take him in, his warm brown eyes, his wild, dark beard that could use some trimming—like a week ago—and his still slightly damp hair, standing in all directions. Walking through everything he’s said, something finally surfaces, something significant, something he told me.

  “Permission to speak?”

  He nods.

  “I’m yours,” I whisper. “Body... and mind... Within these walls you own me.”

  Cole nods again.

  “Correct. So get on my fucking lap, pet.”

  A shockwave of raw arousal hits me. Pet? I sit up and shuffle to drape myself over his lap, feeling utterly ridiculous and exhilarated at the same time. His huge, warm hands grip my hips, repositioning me until he’s satisfied and I lie like an upside down V over his thighs. He caresses my ass, slow strokes, electrifying my skin.

  “Are you going to be a good girl?”

  I squirm under his touch and shake my head mutely. Probably not, because I have no idea what he means by ‘good girl,’ and he keeps pushing new rules on me, so no, probably not.

  He tsks, and then his hand connects with my ass, a series of quick slaps, stinging but not really hurting. Warmth spreads from the skin on my ass to my pussy, my belly, along my thighs. He hits a little harder, a little slower, harder still. The sting turns into an ache that deepens, penetrates my every sense, turns into pain, and more pain.

  “Stop,” I gasp.

  He doesn’t.

  “Cole.”

  I feel flayed, and not only my ass, but every patch of skin aches. I writhe on his thighs, moan.

  “Please!”

  He keeps up the pace, lightens the impact, I think, because I don’t think I can tell anymore.

  “Ow!”

  It takes me a few moments to realize he’s stopped.

  “I hate you.”

  He strokes my back, from my nape down to my tender butt. “No, you don’t.”

  “You’re a fucking asshole.”

  “I’ve never claimed to be anything else.”

  “It hurts,” I whine and squirm.

  “I know,” he says. “Come.” He helps me up and then pulls me back onto his lap, cradling me to his chest, cooing, hushing, and wiping his thumb over my wet cheeks, first one, then the other. I didn’t even know I was crying. “You okay?”

  “No,” I sniffle.

  “For real?” He grabs the comforter and pulls it over me, tucking it around me.

  “No,” I mutter.

  “I know. Now, will you do what I tell you?”

  I’m silent.

  “Casey, I saw your looks today. You tried so desperately to get my attention. That won’t happen for a number of reasons, but all you need to know is that I won’t be acknowledging you out there. No one can know of this. As far as everyone else is concerned, nothing has changed. Inside these walls you will please me. You will do what I tell you, when I tell you. You won’t object. You won’t be mouthy. You won’t whine. You will not steal hot water. You will get naked when I tell you. If I tell you to kneel, you will. If I want to spank your ass, you’ll bend over. Do you hear me loud and clear?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, my gut clenching almost as tight as my pussy.

  “Will there be any issues?”

  I shake my head and bury my face in his chest, my cheeks burning with a growing excitement. “No.”

  Cole kisses my forehead. “Are you going to be my good girl?”

  I don’t want to involve my fucking heart. Not when he’s made it so clear that his heart isn’t involved whatsoever, but something in my chest bursts wide open.

  Yes.

  Yes, I want to be his girl.

  Cole straightens his back and tilts his head from side to side, then he looks past my shoulder and frowns. “What are you reading?”

  I glance at where he’s looking, my heart fluttering for a moment. “It’s just... some book I found about this area. Thought I’d read up. Wasn’t that contemporary, it seems.” I say it lightly, with a shrug, downplaying its significance on instinct. He’s worked for this company for a long while. I doubt his loyalties lie with the people who have had their holy land ravaged.

  He laughs. “I’d say.”

  “What are you reading?”

  “Right now about the Civil War. Next week about the assassination of Kennedy.”

  “Did you bring a lot of books?”

  “None. There’s a library service I found. We can get it delivered with the supplies. Doesn’t always work, but it’s damn better than nothing.”

  He turns and puts me on the bed, making sure I’m covered up. I wince when my butt connects with the sheets and turn to the side with a grimace. Cole grins.

  “Tender?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I grit out.

  “Good.” I stick my tongue out at him and he tries to catch it, his hand shooting to my face. I snatch it back and squeeze my lips shut.

  He grabs my nape and squeezes, not too hard, but it’s a warning, and I feel it down to my toes. “You’re playing with fire.”

  “Yeah? What are you going to do about it?” His touch is turning me on again, setting me on fire all over.

  Letting me go, he strokes my cheek and then lies down next to me, his head resting on his hand, his elbow on the mattress. “Nothing more tonight. You’re exhausted, and I wasn’t playing nice.”

  “I don’t feel exhausted anymore,” I whisper, the air between us thickening. I could lean forward just a little bit and my lips would be on his. Would it be so bad?

  “I can’t help that you’re easily excited.”

  I raise an eyebrow and look him over. He’s not hard anymore from what I can tell, but damn, he was before. “It seems I’m not the only one.”

  Cole scoffs. “Don’t get any ideas, now.”

  I swallow and chew on
my lip. He keeps saying that, and still he touches me, pulls me into a sinful game of seduction.

  “I didn’t peg you as someone who read,” I finally say, eager to change the subject, because my thoughts hurt more than my butt.

  “You don’t know anything about me, Casey. Why would you know anything about my reading habits?”

  Well, true.

  “What did you do before you came here?”

  His eyes darken and the silence grows. My cheeks heat up. Shit. Maybe you don’t ask these things.

  “I was a bum and a drunk. Before that, I worked as an EMT.”

  “Really?”

  “What’s with the surprise?”

  “I—”

  “That I was a drunk and an ass?”

  “I—no—”

  Cole stands abruptly. “Bull. I gotta sleep anyway. 4:30. Naked. You are not to get out of bed before 4:29.”

  “The EMT part,” I blurt out, trying to catch him before he disappears, trying to rectify whatever I did wrong, my heart sinking at his sudden hostility.

  He looks me over. “Sure,” he says, and then he’s gone.

  I’m left with a burning butt, with hurt and confusion. We all have our reasons to be up here. None of them are pretty. Whatever pulled him to this harsh land and the mind-numbingly hard work, it’s something so bad that it takes but a word, a harmless misunderstanding, to set him off.

  I shoot to my feet and make my way to his room. He’s lying on his back, his hands under his head, staring at the ceiling.

  “Cole, I—”

  Only his eyes move, falling on me. “Are you really looking to get punished again?”

  I freeze in horror. I forgot. “Permission to speak?”

  “No. Get back to your room. You are allowed one bathroom break, then I don’t want to see you or hear from you until tomorrow. Nod if you understand.”

  I’m stunned. My throat suddenly aches, chokes up, and then tears well up in my eyes. Dick. I spin on my heels and duck past the curtain. Fuck him.

  A short pit stop in the bathroom, and then I bury myself under my comforter, setting the alarm on 4:25.

  I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I agree to his treatment. Like he said, I don’t know shit about him, so why do I allow him to treat me this way?