Beg For You: Rocktown Ink, Book One

by Gray, Sherilee

  But I couldn’t look away as she moved around in front of him, planted her hand on his chest like she had the last time, and got up on her tiptoes. Cal’s head jerked back, denying her the kiss she was going after.

  Gloria frowned. “You want to meet up later?”

  Cal looked down at her. “No.”

  She stepped back, a scowl on her face. “Whatever.” Then she walked to Dane, dumped some money on the counter, scowled at me as well, and strode out.

  If I hadn’t been there, would he have seen her later? I mean, I wouldn’t have blamed him. Gloria was stunning, confident, so many things I wasn’t.

  The thought didn’t really sit well. No, that was a lie. It did not sit well, not at all. In fact, I hated the idea of him with another woman. I had no right to feel that way. None. He could’ve been with Gloria every night or someone else, a whole host of women, since I’d met him.

  But my mind and body rejected the idea so sharply and intensely, and in a way I wasn’t prepared for, that my spine straightened. My invisible barrier, the one I’d lived behind since the accident, flew up, and I had no control over it. I let it. I let it settle and surround me because I had to be careful. I couldn’t afford to form an attachment to this man. For obvious reasons. He certainly wouldn’t be suffering the same feelings for me from our two encounters.

  Going all doe-eyed over Cal just because he was the first man to give me an orgasm really just highlighted how pathetic I was, how inexperienced.

  I was stronger than that. I had to be.

  He was staring at me, eyes narrowing, head tilting to the side like a giant predator, reading me—or trying to.

  I kept my back straight, my chin high, refusing to turn into some gooey puddle just from the sight of him. I couldn’t let him get the upper hand. We had to be equal in this, this casual arrangement, for as long as it lasted. For my own good.

  “Are you ready for me?” I asked.

  His nostrils flared and my belly swooped when I realized how that might sound.

  “More than ready,” he said, voice nothing but a low rumble.

  I nodded and followed him to his little curtained-off room.

  Thirty minutes later, my fingernails were digging into the leather seat I was on, trying my best to hold it together. The pain was excruciating. Cal was working on the worst of my scars. It was worth it, the pain. I told myself that over and over again, while I did my best to keep as still as I could. Every now and then Cal would smooth his hand over my side, murmuring praise, telling me how good I was doing.

  I bit my lip and felt another hot tear slide down my cheek. The pain made me dizzy, scrambled my thoughts, but I refused to reach back and tap his leg, asking Cal to stop. This pain was the least I deserved. It meant I was alive. Unlike my big brother. This tattoo was for him as well, for his memory. I didn’t want to see his charred remains anymore when I closed my eyes. I wanted to see the gorgeous boy with blond hair and a wicked smile. The boy who had brought me pink roses from the garden every year for my birthday.

  A sob burst past my lips, a combination of pain and anguish all rolled into one. The buzzing of the tattoo machine stopped instantly.

  “Cassandra?” Cal rumbled my name, his voice full of concern.

  I tried to stealthily wipe my eyes before I lifted my head.

  “You’re crying,” he said, horror clear in his voice.

  I shook my head and kept it down, my hair covering my face. “I’m okay.”

  His stool squeaked and he moved around, crouching in front of me. Those big hands pushed my hair back from my face with a gentleness that should have been impossible for a man of his size. Going by the way his eyes widened, I could safely assume I was red and puffy.

  “Fuck…P-Princess,” he said then slid his thumb over my lower lip. It came back streaked with red.

  I jerked in surprise and licked where his thumb had just been, tasting blood.

  “W-Why didn’t you…tell me to s-stop,” he growled out.

  I’d never heard him struggle this much with his speech before. There were the pauses and clipped, short sentences, but he was stumbling over words now. The alarm on his face was real, and I wondered if he had some kind of speech impediment that worsened when he dropped his guard because I was pretty sure that’s what I was seeing.

  “I’m okay. Really.” I wasn’t a crier. In fact, I hated showing emotion in front of anyone, so I did what I always did and tried to shove it down, lock it away. But when Cal curled his fingers around the side of my neck, gliding his thumb back and forth just in front of my ear, concern in his intense dark eyes, I couldn’t do it.

  “You’re not…okay,” he said, obviously still struggling with his speech.

  “I am,” I said and turned away, trying to pull out of his hold when another tear slid down my face. He wouldn’t let me. I shot to my feet when another one fell. I needed to get out of there. Humiliation burned my cheeks as I grabbed for my shirt.

  Cal’s hand came down on my shoulder, solid and warm, then he tugged me against him. “You’re not leaving, Princess,” he said against the top of my head. “Not like this.”

  “I’m fine, Cal.” Another sob escaped. What the hell was wrong with me?

  “You need to let me clean…and dress what we’ve done.”

  I nodded reluctantly, standing still as he quickly and efficiently did what he needed to.

  As soon as he was done, I tried to get away.

  He made a rough sound a lot like a growl and stopped me, and after shoving my arms in my shirt, not bothering with my bra, he tucked me back into his side and ushered me out of the room. “Let’s go.”

  I gripped the front of my shirt together with trembling hands so I didn’t flash my boobs. “Where are we—”

  “Cal,” Dane called after us. “You got time for a walk-in?”

  “No,” Cal grunted back. “They can make an…appointment.”

  Then he was leading me up some stairs that I stumbled over, while struggling to see through my tears. We got to the top, and he shoved the door open and flicked on a light. Then I was lifted, and he carried me to what I could only assume was a couch, because I was still having trouble seeing, and sat us on it.

  He shoved my face into this throat and kissed my temple. “You wanna cry, Princess, you cry.”

  I shook my head. “No, I…I…” I crumpled.

  Burying my face deeper, I clung to the front of his T-shirt and let go. There was no choice, no holding it in. My life was a mess, and I had no idea what to do. My father wouldn’t stop texting and calling. Spencer wouldn’t leave me alone.

  And if I said no, if I refused to do what my father wanted, not only would it kill my grandmother but it would be the end of a relationship between my father and me. If it didn’t destroy it, it would just be another way I’d let him down, and he would never let me forget it. Just like Chris’s death.

  I wanted time to stop. I wanted to stay here, on this couch, with Cal. Where I didn’t have to face reality. Where I felt free and alive for the first time since the accident. I cried against his massive chest until the tears ran out.

  Finally, I lifted my head and looked up at him.

  He cupped my face in those huge rough-skinned hands and swiped away the moisture from my cheeks with his thumbs. His eyes were pained. “You done crying, babe?”

  I nodded and forced a watery smile. “I think I’m all cried out.”

  “You wanna tell me what that was about?”

  I bit my lip and he growled again, pulling it free.

  “Don’t,” he muttered. “You’ll hurt yourself again.”

  “Maybe you should kiss it better?”

  One of his hands lightly fisted my hair and his eyes seemed to darken. “After you tell me why you were crying.”

  It was obvious this wasn’t just about the pain of my tattoo, and I got the feeling he wasn’t going to let it drop. “I was thinking about Chris, my brother. How much I missed him. How I wish he was here to see me res
tart our breeding program at the ranch. That the tattoo would hopefully help erase the awful images I have of my brother’s last moments and remind me of a better time…” My eyes welled with tears again and I swallowed the lump in my throat. “That, combined with the pain…and I…I guess I felt a little fragile.” I motioned to myself, the mess my face must have been. “I’m sorry for all this. I never cry…I…”

  His mouth touched mine, just a soft brush of lips.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered against his mouth.

  “Kissing it better,” he said then kissed me gently again.

  “Oh.”

  “Is it working?” he said between kisses.

  I nodded.

  Things started heating up, the kiss getting deeper, but Cal kept it slow, kept complete control. I, on the other hand, was not as restrained. I shifted so I was straddling him and slid my arms around his neck. He was hard, and the contact against the hot aching flesh between my thighs felt exquisite, even through two layers of denim. My hips had a mind of their own and started a desperate grind.

  Cal tugged my head back gently.

  “You wanna come, Cassandra?”

  I moaned. “Yes.” My movements got more frantic.

  His hands went to my hips and he stopped me. “I’ll make you come, Princess. I’ll make you come so many times you can’t fucking think straight.”

  “I want that. Please, I need you to do that,” I said, trying to pull free of his hold so I could keep rubbing against him. I ground down on one of his monster thighs.

  He cursed and tugged me back against him so the hard length of his cock was right there. I moaned again because I could feel my orgasm building. I started to shake, clinging tighter to his shoulders.

  “Fuck. You gonna come?” Cal said, voice gritty. “Baby, I haven’t even…touched you yet.”

  Should I be embarrassed about that? I wasn’t, not in the slightest.

  It washed through me suddenly and I shoved my face against his neck, mouth open against his throat, and groaned loud, shuddering, quivering against him.

  I’d barely pulled myself together when my shirt was dragged down my arms and flung across the room.

  “Okay? Need to be careful of your new ink.”

  I wanted more. I needed Cal. “It’s all right. I’m fine. Please, I need you—”

  He nipped the side of my neck, shutting me up. “You’ll get me.”

  I was on the verge of begging him to touch me again.

  “You’ll tell me if I hurt you?” he said, and pressed his lips to my neck, right over the spot he’d bitten.

  I shivered. “Yes.”

  He kissed along my throat, up to my ear, sucking my earlobe. “Stand for a second.”

  I did as he asked, and he pulled me back in so I was standing between his splayed thighs. He looked up at me, taking in my bare breasts as he tugged at the front of my jeans. Turning me, so my back was to him, he sat me on one of his solid thighs and pressed his lips to my scarred shoulder just above the fresh ink he’d given me. “Gorgeous,” he rasped, kissing me there again. “All of you.”

  I started shaking, trembling from the feel of his lips on that part of me, a part I’d seen as ugly, had been ashamed of for so long. Need throbbed through me even as tears threatened to spill all over again.

  Wrapping his big hands around my waist, he stood me up again, turned me so I was facing him once more, and dragged my jeans down my thighs. His eyes were locked on mine, silently asking if what he was doing was okay.

  It was more than okay.

  I wanted him inside me so bad I ached. My panties came off next and he sucked in a rough breath, cursing.

  His couch was worn brown leather and had deep cushions. Cal reached back, tugged a blanket from the back of the couch, spread it out, and patted it. “Lie down.”

  I did as he asked, so hot and slick and ready for whatever he was going to do that a whimper escaped.

  As soon as I was stretched out, Cal did the same, sandwiching my body between him and the back of the couch. He leaned in and took one of my straining nipples between his teeth and sucked hard enough that my back bowed off the cushions and I cried out.

  His eyes lifted to mine. “So fucking beautiful, Princess.” He sucked me into his mouth again, gentler this time. “Spread,” he muttered. “One leg over mine.”

  I didn’t hesitate doing that either. I was lying there completely naked with a man I barely knew but somehow trusted completely. My pleasure, my body, was in his large capable hands.

  He cursed again and wrapped his fingers around one of my breasts, toying with my nipple, pinching and lightly twisting while he sucked the other. It felt so good my hips started rolling all on their own.

  I felt empty, so damn empty.

  His hand moved down my stomach between my thighs, and without hesitation, he cupped me.

  “You hurting?”

  “Yes. I need…” I reached down and grabbed his wrist, trying to get him to move, to give me more. His middle finger pressed forward, and he started sliding up and down through the center of me.

  “Fucking wet, too.”

  I should have been embarrassed by how wet I was, but I couldn’t muster the energy, not when what Cal was doing to me felt so good. His thick finger moved to my clit and circled. My hips rolled up again. “Keep doing that,” I said breathlessly.

  “Spread wider,” he ordered.

  I bent my knee more and lifted it higher on his heavy thigh. His finger left my clit and slowly, ever so slowly slid inside me. I shuddered and bit my lip, immediately tasting blood. He stilled.

  “You keep hurting yourself, I’ll stop.”

  I held onto his wrist tighter. “No, please don’t stop.”

  “No biting your lip, understand?” he said.

  “I won’t.” Then I was sighing, melting into him as he started a slow thrust of his thick finger. He kept to the same pace until I felt it building. My skin grew hotter and tension shot through me as I strained for more. “Faster, please, I need…I need…”

  He slid his finger out and pushed back in with a second. He started fucking me with his fingers—there was no other way to describe it. Pushing deep, thrusting fast, hitting that spot deep inside me that had me seeing stars. Cal’s harsh breaths filled my head, along with my own moans and pleas. I squeezed my eyes closed.

  “Open,” he barked. “Eyes on me, Cassy.”

  Then he pressed his thumb down on my slick clit, sliding over it as he continued to thrust into me with his fingers, and I broke apart. I’d never come like this before. It was a full-body experience, every part of me shaking through it from head to toe.

  Finally, I collapsed back against the cushions, and Cal did the same, burying his face against my neck.

  “So beautiful,” he said against my skin. “Perfect.” His fingers were still between my thighs, and he gently pressed on my clit. My hips lifted and I gasped. I was so sensitive, but I knew I could come again if he kept doing what he was.

  “That’s right, baby. I’m not done making you feel good. No fucking way.”

  Chapter Nine

  Cal

  I woke with a start and shot into a sitting position. I twisted, checking out the bed beside me where Cassy had fallen asleep naked, sweaty, and completely sated.

  She was gone.

  Fuck.

  I scrubbed my hands over my face.

  I’d freaked her out. Shit, she’d been crying, and I’d brought her up here and gotten her naked. How long ago had she left? I hated the idea of her wandering around on her own at night.

  No, I hadn’t fucked her, but resisting her had been so damn hard. I’d ended up jerking off while I ate her pussy, then later while I played with her some more, I’d put her hand on my dick and got her to do it for me. Christ.

  A movement caught my eye across the room.

  My breath caught in my throat. Cassy stood in front of the windows. She was wrapped in a blanket and looking at one of my paintings. She l
ifted it carefully and leaned it against the wall, checking out the one behind it. I had them piled up all over the apartment, not sure what to do with them. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her seeing them. They were personal, a piece of me. The only people who’d ever seen my paintings were Dane and Bull. And, of course, Harvey had seen some of the early ones. That’s it, and that’s the way I wanted to keep it.

  After swinging my legs out of bed, I tugged on my jeans, not bothering to do them up, and walked over to her. “I thought you left.” I didn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation, but that’s how it came out. I had no idea what my problem was, but seeing her standing there wrapped in one of my blankets, hair all messy and sexy after letting me get her off, while she looked at my work was making me feel a whole lot of things I didn’t know what to do with.

  She lifted her head. “Did you do these?” she asked, still looking down at one of them.

  I crossed my arms, feeling more self-conscious than I had in my life. “Yeah.”

  She finally lifted her head and looked at me. Her cheeks were pink and there was a crease down the side of her face where she’d obviously had her cheek pressed against the sheets. My gut tightened.

  “These are…” She shook her head. “Cal, you’re incredibly talented. I mean, I knew you were when I saw the beautiful sketch you did for me, but these”—she looked back at the paintings she’d lined up—“they’re something else.” She looked back at me. “They’re stunning, Cal.” She crouched down in front of one. “Dark, moody…haunting. I can actually feel the emotions that went into these pieces.”

  Suddenly, I felt stripped bare. Raw.

  The group of paintings she was looking at had been done about a year after the accident, when I was still struggling with my TBI, and I’d been desperately trying to get my brother back.