Commanding Casey

by Nicolina Martin

  No.

  “Sleep, pet. 4:30.”

  “Permission to speak?”

  I get off the bed and pull the comforter over her. “No.”

  Her pretty little mouth falls open, then she snaps it shut, but her eyes speak volumes. I’m an ass. I know.

  I’m dizzy and slightly nauseous when I leave her room. I meant to play a little. I didn’t mean to want to do more. I didn’t mean to get close. I’ll hurt her. I’ve hurt everyone that’s been in my life. I’ve pushed them all away. My brothers, my parents, my ex-wife, and my kids. Most of all my kids. I stuck my cock in every willing woman in Wrightwood. I fought, drank, and shot my reputation until I lost everything.

  I won’t go down that road again.

  We need to end this.

  She’s definitely off the site when her contract ends. She’s a good mechanic, no doubt, but I have to convince her it’s in her best interest.

  I can be very persuasive.

  * * *

  My resolve leaves me the moment I feel her warm hand on my shoulder when she wakes me. Just once more. Skin on skin. I don’t want to admit to myself how lonely I’ve been, how long it’s been since someone even hugged me. The occasional slap on the back from my workmates, that’s been my only physical contact for longer than I care to count.

  I open my eyes, squinting in the dark, taking in the contours of her curves, then I pull the comforter to the side, inviting her in.

  Just once more.

  Casey snuggles in with a little sigh, resting her head on my arm, squirming to get in position as close to me as possible. My cock swells, my belly tensing. It takes superhuman strength to not push her on her back and thrust inside.

  “Permission to speak,” she whispers.

  Fuck, no. No talking.

  “Denied,” I growl. “You are not to talk today unless I explicitly allow it. Don’t even ask.”

  She tenses up, pulls back a little. I’m not having it. Pushing her over on her back, I let my cock slip in between her legs, letting it slide along her slick folds. Casey gasps and rocks up her hips, trying to make me thrust inside. She doesn’t know how close I am to ravaging her pussy. I don’t know how I can resist. I grab her throat and tighten my hand, pushing her down. Her hands shoot up to clutch my hand, trying to ease the pressure. Her throat moves as she swallows, gulps for air.

  “Just because I touch you doesn’t mean you can touch me,” I snarl. “Don’t fucking move. You don’t want me to fuck you, Casey. Trust me. I’m not a good man. I take. I don’t give. You’d do better to lock yourself in your room at night and steer clear of me from now on. Do you hear me?”

  Her eyes tear up. “I don’t believe you,” she rasps out, barely audible.

  I shake her, then release my hold and sit up. “That’s four. Do you want to add to it?”

  Her eyes widen, then she shakes her head.

  “Get up and bend over.”

  A whole slew of emotions passes across her face, emotions I don’t want to know about. She rolls to the side and then stands, avoiding my gaze as she turns and bends forward.

  I groan when she presents me her ass. This was a fucking bad idea. My cock is rock hard and aching to take her and it’s all I can think about. I raise my hands and smack down hard, making her cry out.

  “I’ll add one for every noise you make.”

  Casey bends her head forward, clenching her ass cheeks. A tremor runs through her. When I slap her again, she’s silent. I smack three more times, making her shoot forward with the last that I made sure hit her pussy. Putting a hand between her legs, she spins around and glares daggers.

  Good. I don’t want her to like me. When we end this, because we will, I want her to stay the fuck away. She can’t fix me. No one can.

  “Go to your room.”

  She opens her mouth but snaps it closed again, then she spins around and leaves.

  I jerk off in a hot shower, disgusted with my lack of control, that it took so little to fall right back into being the fucking junkie. The shower should be cold, it would have fit me better, but getting yourself cold before you even go out there in the white hell is a really bad idea. When she’s in the bathroom, I get out even though it isn’t time yet. I enter the cantina through the kitchen entrance and snag a bread bun and a cup of coffee.

  “Hungry?” says Haden.

  “Something like that,” I mutter.

  “So, is it hot? Living with the chick?”

  “It’s a fucking pain in the ass.”

  “You’re full of shit, Cooper. Bet she lays out, a hot dude like you.”

  Yeah, it’s hot. Scorching. Not like I need the reminder. I shrug and dodge any further questions as I leave the kitchen.

  Much too hot.

  One of us is gonna get so fucking burned.

  I sense her the moment she enters the cantina. She holds her head down like I instructed. I find myself wishing she’d throw me one of those shy glances, but she acts as if I’m air. I guess it’s what I told her, and it irks me that I don’t even want to obey my own rules. Over at another table a few of the guys stare at her, tense up, and then lean in, putting their heads together, suddenly very chatty.

  On instinct, I stand, feigning an errand to my jacket, digging my hands into my pockets, as I listen in. As soon as I approach, though, they go silent. I’ll keep my eyes on them. They’re clearly up to something and judging from the looks they gave Casey... My stomach clenches. I still think she’ll be better off leaving, but no one’s going to give her trouble on my watch. Except me.

  The day moves uncharacteristically slowly. My stomach sinks with every hour, as we get closer to the end of the shift. At dinnertime I almost, almost tell her that she can fucking look, but at the same time I’m so thrilled that she does what I tell her, that she has laid her life in my hands. I command, she obeys, and it’s a rush like nothing I have ever felt. It’s addictive and it wrecks me because it can’t continue.

  I let her leave first and force myself to remain some twenty, thirty minutes. I have half a mind to go with the guys for a card game, but my cock takes the helm and it steers my steps straight home. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off her the whole dinner, the food tasting like sawdust in my mouth. I have no idea what I just ate as I’ve been undressing her in my mind: wool sweater off, long-sleeved shirt off, T-shirt off, bra... pull down her two layers of pants and, finally, her panties, grab her wrists, push her over a table, and fuck her senseless.

  When I stomp into the trailer, she’s kneeling on a blanket, hands on her lap, head bent, her eyes downcast. She smells fresh, of soap and flowers, and she is butt naked.

  For all that’s holy!

  She flinches as I lock the door. I fight to keep my voice neutral and not reveal how my heart thumps in my throat.

  “Don’t move.”

  She doesn’t even nod. I groan inwardly and undress, dropping my clothes where I stand. I’ll deal with them when I can fucking focus on anything besides Casey Keagan and her dangerously delectable curves. I don’t think I’ve showered so fast in my life. I towel off the worst of the wetness, my cock still achingly hard, then I throw the towel and step out into the hallway again.

  She hasn’t moved. She’s still as a statue, almost. She’s swaying slightly, her muscles probably protesting against the treatment. I move up to her, stand before her, my cock jutting out a few inches above her head. She still doesn’t look. I grab my cock and give it a stroke, choking down the gasp that wants to escape me.

  “Touch me, Casey.”

  She raises her arms and puts her slightly chilled hands on my thighs, still keeping her eyes downcast.

  “Look at me.”

  She raises her head, her gaze hitching on my cock, hovering above her head, then she lifts it to my face. Her whole stance is submissive, the perfect pet. An idea forms in my head. I made plans the other day, and I have something for her.

  “Wait.”

  I duck behind the curtain and lift a shirt, fi
nding the two binder clips. When she sees me, her eyes dart between the clips and my face, her eyes widening.

  I crouch and hold her gaze as I open one clip and carefully let it close around a nipple. She gasps, clenches her teeth. Her eyes gloss over and I think she’s going to cry, but she fights it down, owns the pain, and gives me a look filled with resilience. I nod and attach the other, equally careful. Casey grimaces and moans, the muscles in her stomach contracting, then she gives me a slight nod and I stand.

  “I want you to look at me. Touch yourself. You’re not allowed to come until I tell you so. Nod if you understand.”

  Casey is clearly in pain. Her face is contorted, but she nods, clenching and unclenching her hands.

  I fist my hand around my cock and stroke, back and forth, taking in the sight of her tortured nipples, her flushed chest and cheeks, her parted lush lips that I want to ravage so fucking bad in this very moment. I could just pull her up by her hair and thrust inside her. She’s pleading with me to take her, to use her, and I’m fucking insane to deny it. Her hand disappears between her legs, and I wish I could see her fingers working her pussy, but looking into her eyes is almost as hot, because I have never seen so many emotions pass across a human’s face before. I keep stroking, drops of pre-cum leak and my balls tense up. I’m so fucking close. I use my free hand to remove the binder clips. Casey doubles over, crying out with renewed pain. It’s a bitch when the blood flows back. I grab her by the nape and pull her up, her face level with my cock.

  “You can come now.”

  Her mouth opens in a soundless cry as her face contorts. Her body twitches and in the next instant I explode, shooting my cum all over her chest. I’m using her and abusing her. I’m a fucking asshole and I can’t stop. I clutch her hair and hold tight, shaking with exhaustion, then I grab around her chest and lift her with ease. Casey wraps her legs around my hips as I push past the curtain and dump her on her back on my bed, following flush. I suck a nipple into my mouth, making her squeal, then I crash over her, falling heavy on top of her as I find her mouth. I have to taste her, feel that tongue battling mine, take her, possess her. She throws her arms around my neck and clings on as I explore her every crevice, pulling her lower lip in between my teeth, demanding she open fully, take my invading tongue.

  She bucks and arches, her hips pushing to meet mine, her moans eating away at my resolve not to fuck her.

  I go still and tense, fighting the demon inside that wants to ravage every last bit of this woman, then I push away. Stand.

  Her eyes blaze with hope and a growing despair, arousal, and anger. Her lips are full, her chin reddened, chafed by my beard. Her nipples are enlarged and stoplight red, her chest blushing. My cum glistens on her skin. I feel it on my own chest, cooling and sticky.

  I need to say something.

  She beats me to it.

  “Why won’t you fuck me?” She sits up, chewing on her lip, fighting emotions I can all too vividly imagine. I feel them too, and I hate it.

  I open my mouth to answer. What, I don’t know.

  “You’re such a dick, Hooper. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but this—” she points between herself and me, “this is over. I’m done. I’m fucking over the teasing, the running hot and cold.”

  When she says what I’ve been thinking, it’s not what I fucking want anymore. “I gave you what you wanted,” I growl and take a step toward her.

  Casey darts up and stands before me. “You haven’t given me shit. You’ve done nothing but take!”

  My every cell remembers holding her in my arms, making her warm when she was cold, calm when she trembled. I’ve gone over and beyond anything I’ve ever done before. For her.

  “You’re so full of shit. Say something!” she snarls and pushes me.

  I’m full of shit? Me?

  She’s the one who tricked her way here in the first place. I shove her back until she hits the wall and slam a palm to the wall next to her head, making the trailer rattle. Casey gasps and stares at me, her eyes filling with fear. That pisses me off even more. Who the fuck does she think I am? I don’t hit women. I’m a fuck-up of a man, but I don’t go around hitting women.

  Unless they beg me to.

  I could bend her over and spank the resistance out of her, continue the game, but my stomach sinks with the knowledge that it would only be temporary.

  “Just go,” I say and take a step back, suddenly eternally tired.

  Casey doesn’t move. She wants me to fight, she doesn’t really want to stop, but it’s better this way.

  “Go,” I roar and rip the curtain to the side, holding it up for her.

  Her eyes fill with tears, then she darts through the hallway and disappears into her room, slamming the door closed.

  I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. My head aches, but that’s not the only part of me that hurts. I can take a couple of Advil, but that other pain is unfixable.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Casey

  I pant as if I have run a marathon, falling with my back against the door, shaking, my heart pounding like mad.

  Fucking asshole!

  My nipples radiate pain through my chest, I’m cold and icky and realize I have his cum all over me.

  God, I hate him.

  I sneak back out and into the bathroom, in a way hoping he’ll see me, see what he’s missing. He’s hiding away in his room, though, so I run a shower, getting rid of all traces of Cole Hooper, before I fall into bed and pull the comforter up to my nose and hug myself. I’m empty, aching, a hollow feeling spreading through my chest. I don’t know how I can stand seeing him again. Every day. Morning, noon, and night.

  We were so wrong to do this. Who started it even?

  ‘Take off your top.’

  Oh, yeah. He did. But I’m not innocent. He stunned me from the first moments I laid my eyes on him, way back when he picked me up at the airport. There was just something about him that pulled me to him, that wore down my sense of sanity. I know he felt it too, felt my eyes on him, even though I tried to be sneaky.

  It’s Max’s fault if anyone. When he told Cole to stay with me, he doomed us both.

  A couple of new men arrived yesterday. The next flight out is in six days. I have to get out of here, no matter the cost. I feel like shit because I’ll be abandoning them. I’ve never done that in my life before. I’ve always stood by my word.

  I fight the tears. They come anyway. I want his arms around me. He’s a few feet away. His warm skin, his hard body, making me feel safe and wanted, scared and enticed. I am so close to budging, to getting up and going to him, to beg him to take me back and use me any way he likes. I won’t ask for anything again. I just want that closeness, that feeling of fulfillment.

  Then I realize he doesn’t want me. He made that clear from the start. I just didn’t want to listen.

  Eventually sleep claims me, but I wake in the early morning, the ache spreading again as it strikes me that I will not be waking him up, that we’re not playing anymore. I stare at the clock on my cell phone, counting the minutes. I don’t hear him until quarter past five. Just some water flushing, the toilet, then a rustle in the hallway before the door slams closed. He just about skipped all his morning routines to get out of here as fast as possible.

  I dart out of bed and hop into my clothes, splash water on my face and take off half running. I can’t be late. We have three huge diesel-driven generators and one of them has started twitching. I have to put everything else aside.

  Cole sits with his back to the door. I decide to ignore him.

  “Keagan!”

  I turn to the sound of my name. The asshole who nearly knocked me on my ass the other day sits with his legs spread, his hands behind his head, his gaze traveling my body.

  “What’s up?” My insides crawl with unease, but I keep my stance relaxed and my expression neutral.

  “Gonna come look at our hoses today?” He spreads his legs even wider, a leery grin on his face.


  A few around the table laugh and I feel a sudden need to wash.

  “Can’t look at your hydraulic drill today. Got a generator with a hiccup. You’re next on my list.”

  “Fuck that. It works like fucking half the time!” He glances around the cantina. “Max! Tell this bit—brilliant fucking mechanic to get her priorities straight or give us a new drill, for fuck’s sake. What’s the holdup?”

  Cole goes still, seems to listen, but doesn’t turn. Max rolls his eyes and heaves his heavy body out of the chair. “Use the spare, Dover. And you—” he points at me, “give this man some attention when you’re done with the gen. We gotta keep moving forward.”

  He grabs his jacket and disappears out the door. I’ve lost my appetite. I try not to stomp as I grab a bread bun and leave. I’m so going to regret not getting any coffee.

  The generators are hidden behind a group of work sheds. I have an electrician help me make sure the power is off and then I get to work, removing the side, disassembling the parts. I can do the motor part of it, but the electrician needs to look over the generator piece after I’m done. I’ll likely fry myself if I try.

  At coffee break, the cantina is almost empty. It’s open and there’s coffee. There’s also bread to slice and some cheese. We’re not supposed to go here if it takes time off from work. Max gives me a curt nod as a greeting and I curse the fact that he happened to be here. We only have fifteen minutes, but if I don’t get some more to eat, and some coffee, I’m not going to be at my best. Pile that on being an emotional wreck after yesterday’s fuckery and I’m going to do a piss-poor job. I sit for ten minutes and stuff my mouth, then I refill the paper cup, push a lid on it, and head back out into the cold.

  I’m going to call home tonight. I need to hear a friendly voice. I want to talk to my goofball of a brother if he’s home, hear Mama’s soft tone, and listen to Papa when he admonishes me to keep warm. I’ll call home, eat, read, and sleep. I’ll stay out of Cole’s way, and I hope he’ll stay out of mine. We don’t need to interact. It should be manageable.