by Kira Blakely
He slides a finger inside of me, adding a second finger and parting them in a scissoring motion. Cas places a quick kiss on my clenching belly, his nose nuzzling my piercing, his tongue playing with it. Thank fuck it isn’t a new one. I’m liking the distraction when he plunges a third digit into the mix, curling his thick fingers and searching to push my right button.
There! Oh fuck!
I tense in his grasp, moaning long and low.
Cas is relentless, pushing at my G-spot, making countless tiny stars explode in my vision. Like I said, it’s magic. Under the pressed suit, and the silent, brooding personality, he’s the Magic Mike of our swanky upstate New York hotel.
His mouth trails, his sloppy, hot kisses leaving a glistening path from my stomach to my throbbing nub. He closes his lips over it, a low growl rumbling out of him. He suckles noisily, his slurping suction growing more aggressive with the press of his curled fingers.
I know what he wants. It’s a silent command for me to uncoil and fracture, shatter under his ministrations. Lucky for him, I’m right there.
My mouth opens in a long, low wail. The pressure building in my lower belly intensifies and my limbs tense; each roll of my orgasm, each tugging wave from the high tide of my pleasure drags me under. I’m gasping for air, calling his name, and I crash hard, seizing while his mouth continues to work. Cas is cruelly prolonging my destruction.
But he also knows how to put me back together.
The erotic noises of his hungering slurps filter past the whooshing heartbeat in my ears. With a smacking final kiss over my tenderized nub, he draws his fingers out of me and licks each individually. He holds my stare while he does it, his grin spreading wider. Cocky. This side of him, I realize delightfully, is one only few people see.
“That was amazing.” I smile, my hands falling over my breasts, plucking at my erect nipples. The aftershocks of my orgasm are still firing away in my body. My nipples are sending jolting signals to my clit. I writhe, needing more I realize. I’m not sated. Not yet. Crooking a finger at Cas, I whisper, “Come here. The view is just as wonderful up here as it is down there.”
Cas licks his slick lips, his gaze flashing hotter…if that were possible. “I wouldn’t bet on it.” His big, tatted body moves over me as he adjusts to bump his cockhead against my clit.
I wrap my arms around his neck, biting my bottom lip and grinding my hips to rock my pussy lips over his velvety stiffness. Cas grits his teeth, baring them at me. He should know better. It only provokes me further.
“I call your bluff,” I say, blowing out the final consonant. “I do think this is much better.” I gyrate my hips, taking the underside of his cock between my slick labia. My pussy lips hug his shaft, my entrance clenching for him. I dig my heels into his back, urging him forward, wanting him to snap and go wild on me.
Cas breathes hard, his nostrils fanning from his effort of restraint, a muscle in his jaw leaping. I can see the struggle. He’s fighting to hold off the inevitable. “Showing your hand a bit early, aren’t you?” He growls the question.
I rock, and he takes a sharp inhale. I grin at his furrowed brow and glazing eyes. “Why not? I feel lucky.” I lose the smirk quickly, yelping as Cas drags me to the edge of the bed. He hooks my legs over his shoulders, his glans pushing into me. He pops in with little struggle, using both of our wet desire to penetrate me.
He feeds me inch by inch, his smoldering stare darting over my features, keeping watch of any signs of pain I might signal. It’s not like the first time though. Earlier this week I’d been sure, at the sight of his cock, that I wouldn’t be able to take all of his girth and length. He proved me wrong. And now, as I shimmy my hips and sway gently from side to side to help him along faster, I want to prove him wrong.
I don’t stop until Cas is fully seated in me, his big, heavy balls brushing my ass.
He kisses me then, his mouth searing over mine. He dashes his tongue past the seam of my lips, preoccupying me as he draws back his hips and plunges into me again. Cas goes wild quickly. He conquers my mouth first, opening our kiss, and nipping at my bottom lip. He pounds into me.
I’ll be a walking, talking ball of bruises tomorrow, and I can’t be thankful enough that I’ve got tomorrow off on my work schedule.
“Cas,” I call for him as soon as he frees my mouth.
Dazed, I look between our bodies, my hands poised over his arms, and my nails digging in to ground me. I watch his cock slide in and out of me, my juices coating his long, angry-red shaft. At this rate, I can come from watching him take me.
Cas flips me over and I crawl to my fours, moaning in anticipation of his fat cock’s re-entrance. He glides his crown over my ass crack, marking my skin with his pre-cum, before homing in on my slick, squeezing channel once more.
He takes me from behind, hard and fast. His hands clamp around my hips and he grinds me back against him, filling me fully. Our thighs slap in an obscene symphony, the crescendo of our rocking rhythm bursting as my second orgasm cascades over me.
I shouldn’t have let him take me at this angle.
It’s all I can think as I wail and dig my fingernails into the downy comforter, riding out the sparking ripples of the orgasm. They grow softer, the edges of my bliss less sharper, the aftermath leaving me nearly boneless. If not for Cas’s arm snaking around my waist, hauling me up, my back touching his hard, hot chest, I’d be a puddle on the bed. I’m half-cognizant of the unfulfilled, twitching thickness of his shaft buried inside of me.
“My turn, Jade,” he whispers hotly in my ear, grazing his teeth over the top of my ear. He thrusts into me, pumping frantically. I feel his cock grow, expand inside of my clenching walls, before he roars his release. He seizes with his orgasm, breathing heavily, grunting when he flops us over onto the side.
He spoons me, his cock still thick and hard, nestled in my core. Cas kisses my shoulder, peppering it with light brushes of his mouth. “You awake?”
I laugh softly. “Hard to sleep with your mouth on me, and your cock inside of me.”
“Touché.” He blows in my ear, eliciting a blanket of gooseflesh to besiege me. I shudder from the overload of pleasure so soon after two back-to-back orgasms. “Would you like me to back off?” he asks.
“No.”
I have no doubt he’d pull away if I requested it.
Cas falls asleep. I wait out his deep, even breathing before I slip free of his heavy, inked arm. My fingers linger on the swirling art of his tattoo sleeve. I hesitate for a heartbeat, the way I do when it’s a cold winter morning and I have to brave the weather for an early shift.
You have to do this.
My resolve strengthened, I hurry from the bed, sliding on my dress and struggling with the zipper. It takes acrobatic stretches before I get it up fully. Smoothing out my hair isn’t a necessity. The thick curls spring back into place the minute my hands attempt to pat them down.
Confirming I don’t look like I feel—thoroughly sexed—I watch Cas for waking signs as I open his bedside drawer. I find what I am looking for sitting by his phone, easily out in the open for the nabbing.
I snatch it up, grabbing the gold sequined clutch I’d left at the edge of the bed. I slip the watch into the clutch and draw out my phone. I dial the familiar number when I’ve cleared Cas’s suite and stepped into the elevator.
“I’ve got it,” I say, my tongue heavy, my shoulders sagging as I slide the cancel button and clutch my phone to my drumming heart. You can do this. Almost done. The mantra barely works. By some miracle, I manage to hold myself together as I flee the crime scene. It’s a walk of shame on a whole ‘nother level.
Tyler is where he said he’d be, in the hiking park below the cliff side hotel and casino. Through the dark foliage of the trees, I catch a glimpse of Lake Eveningstar. The silver starlight and gibbous moon light our transaction. They’re the only witnesses to what I’ve done to poor Cas.
“You got it?” Tyler doesn’t disguise his eagerness.
He’s even scrawnier than when I’d last seen him just three months ago. He holds out his hand, shaking it in his impatience. I’m aware that my four-inch heels still leave me at a disadvantage. Tyler isn’t as tall as Cas, but he’s close. That’s almost half a foot on my five-feet-two.
“Hand it over already.”
I scowl, backing out of his reach. “Not until I get the money.”
Tyler grumbles, but he draws a banking envelope from the back pocket of his low-slung, baggy jeans. Once I have it in my hands, I draw the bills out, counting them. Frowning, I do another quick count, ignoring Tyler’s huffing and muttering.
“It’s only half of what we agreed on.”
“Yeah, well, I needed my insurance. You get the first twenty-five hundred now, and the rest of it when my delivery is secured.” Tyler holds out his hand. “Just give me your account number, and I’ll wire the rest to you.”
“And leave a digital trail? No thanks,” I hiss. I knew this was a bad idea. I wish I had listened to my gut. My instinct hadn’t failed me before, unlike this man. To think I’d once seen Tyler in a romantic light—in any other light than the disgust and pity I feel for him so strongly now.
He’ll never be Cas, that’s for sure. The hard-eyed, steel-bodied CFO is leagues above Tyler’s level. I clearly upgraded in men.
And to think I betrayed him.
Cas…
“You know what? I’ve changed my mind.” I toss the envelope of two and a half thousand dollars at his feet. “Take your money. I suddenly decided this wristwatch is priceless.” I round from Tyler.
He snatches me back. “Not until you give me what I want, bitch!” His eyes are wide and crazed, his spittle decorating my face before I twist away and scream. Tyler tightens his hand around my wrist, the pinching pressure growing worse. He tries to cover my mouth and my cries for help with his other hand.
I bite him hard and fight back.
Instinctively, I claw the left side of his face, my heart stammering wildly like a herd of broncos’ hooves. I dig in my nails, mourning the manicure I’d treated myself to this morning. Rest in peace, gel nails.
“Faaaaaah-ck!” Tyler flings away from me.
No, that’s not right. He’s pulled from me, tackled to the ground by Cas.
“Get off of me!” Tyler hollers. It comes out garbled, like he’s saying gedoffame. His curses are muffled by the pavement he’s being forced to kiss. Cas won’t let him up, his knee pressed to my ex-boyfriend’s back, his hands twisting and holding Tyler’s arms to his back.
He’s dressed, though his suit jacket is gone.
I’m stunned. Speechless. Scared.
Cas isn’t alone. He’s brought guards. “Handle him,” he orders, his professional cool not reaching his burning, angry gaze. It’s locked on me. He knows what I’ve done.
One scorching look from him and I’m hating that I’ve allowed Tyler to tempt me with his insidious money.
“Cas, I can explain.” It’s cheesy, but it’s all I’ve got.
“Not here,” Cas clips out. He gestures for me to follow.
We take the trail deeper, Cas three steps ahead, his tall, muscled form breaking up the shadows. With him, I have nothing to fear. Nothing except my stupidity. A momentary lapse in judgment is going to crumble the perfect thing we’ve had this week.
Cas does eventually stop. He doesn’t face me when he says, “You’ve got two minutes to give me a reason not to fire you right here.”
I babble through what I hope is a sufficient explanation. It’s hard to gauge his reaction when he refuses to face me. My only indication of his emotions are his flexing fists at his sides.
He’s silent for so long that I wonder if all I’ve said has just been inside of my head.
“Hand in your resignation, Ms. Dunn. Do it quietly.”
I shiver. It has nothing to do with the night breeze. Shocked, I clatter back a couple steps. Cas doesn’t shift his stance. He resolutely gives me his back. I hear the door that’d been open to me closing in his mind. He’s shutting me out, and it starts with my disgraced departure as a thief from the hotel and casino.
Wordlessly, I swivel on my heels, preparing to march from him. I don’t want him to see the tears swimming in my vision.
“My watch,” his voice is sharp, flinty. “Leave it on the ground.”
I freeze. Stiffly, I do as he says, plucking the black-faced, jewel-encrusted wristwatch out of my clutch and setting it on the stretch of pavement between us. It might as well be the yawning black maw of a chasm. He’s on one side, and I’m on the other. Never to meet again in the middle, let alone in an explosion of sensual fireworks.
This time, he doesn’t stop me from leaving.
I’m sure it’s the last time Casimiro Felix intends to see me.
CHAPTER THREE
Jade
Two months later
“Paperwork for another sale, Ms. Dunn.”
Alan’s my boss at the dealership. Though right now he’s leering at my chest, as if his eyes can penetrate through the black satin blouse and reveal the mysteries of my lacy bra. He leans on the shelf of my desk, his gaze snapping up, and his smile dampening. Apparently I’m not giving him the answer he wants, an open invitation to scope me out further…in his office.
“Well, then,” he starts, drumming his knuckles over my desktop, “you can add another point for me towards that all-expense trip for two to the beautifully romantic Trinidad & Tobago.”
I accept the folder from him. Aware he’s lingering by my side, I force my eyes from my computer screen. “Is that all, Alan?”
He clears his throat, his chin not so subtly nudging to the white board of contenders for the vacation prize package behind me. Curbing the sigh on my tongue, I push out of my chair and snatch up the whiteboard marker. I tally another sale for Alan’s row. At fourteen sales this month already, he’s well in the lead of the rest of the sales team.
I catch Alan ogling my jean-snug ass. “Is that all?” I grit through my teeth, my smile fake and frozen to my face.
“Nope. I’m all good here.” Alan knocks a clumsy tune on my desk and he backs away, giving me the thumbs up. “If you need me, I’ll be in my office.”
“Of course,” I say, rolling my eyes as soon as he’s gone. Where else would he be? He closes off with that line every time. As if I’ll wander close enough to those recently-divorced, shark-infested waters.
Yeah. No thanks.
Opening the browser I’d closed when Alan approached me, I scroll through the trendy online shoe store, drooling over all the things I can’t have on my new lower wage. One thing I miss sorely about Eveningstar: the pay had been incredibly generous of the multi-millionaire owner.
As a hostess of the hotel’s three Michelin star restaurant, I hadn’t been scraping by pinching pennies. My financial situation at Samson & Sons Auto Sales is another story. I barely piece together my studio rent, so definitely forget splurging on shoes. After two months of this financial diet as the dealership’s underpaid administrator, I’m ready to binge. Making a note of the shoes that catch my eye, I spend the remaining two hours of my shift alternating between shopping online and staring at the clock.
As soon as it hits four, I’m powering down the computer and slipping into my jacket. Alan springs out of his office, his strides purposeful.
“Ms. Dunn, wait a moment.”
I frown, hooking my purse over my shoulder.
He swipes a hand over his surprisingly thick, silvering dark brown hair. It’s hard to miss the tan line of where his wedding band used to be. Shooting me a sheepish smile, he says, “Let me preface this with an apology. It’s my fault, entirely. If I’d known earlier, I would have told you—”
“What is it?” I have to interrupt him. Alan’s firing up my anxiety with his prolonged, droning path to the point of our conversation.
“I just got a call from the owners. Mr. Samson would like us to look over the books. Ensure everything’s in tip-top shape and all squa
red away.” Alan smooths his tie, the gesture more nervous than anything.
I can’t blame him. I’m on edge myself. Once his message sinks in though, I’m far from my anxiousness. A spike of annoyance shoots through me. “Is it just me working overtime then?”
“Uh, no.” Alan smiles wider. “I’ll be here to keep you company, of course.”
Of course.
Alan’s smile disappears. “Unless that’ll be a problem…?”
I can dream up a few ways of how it could become a problem. But I can’t bring myself to say it. I need this job too damn much. Shaking my head, I mumble, “No. Why would it?”
“We’ll have fun, I promise. I know it’s not how I want to spend my Monday evening.” Alan slips into his usual bumbling, awkward self. “I’ll be—”
“In your office,” I say, finishing off his sentence, my fragile smile in place. I nod stiffly. “I’ll call you if I need you.”
Alan beams, snapping his fingers. “You got it.”
At least one of us is walking off with a pep in our step.
I watch as everyone else leaves, calling out farewells as cheerfully as I can muster. I’m moping as soon as I’m alone with Alan. I glower at his office door. It’s childish. Alan isn’t at fault here—the stupid family owners are, in this case. Alan’s only hustling like me. Despite how he eyes me like a piece of meat, he has had his own post-work plans derailed.
Miserable for us both, I power up my computer again and wait for the aged beast to get past the loading welcome screen. I leave my desk to stock up on coffee, figuring to add a cup for Alan at the last minute.
The kitchen is situated in the back of the dealership. Our sales office sits in the middle and the customer entrance to the dealership is up front with our showroom. The back entrance is where the employee parking lot is located. Most of us use the back for quicker access to our cars.
My ears perk up when I hear the familiar tinkling of our front door’s chime.