Straight Up

by Charity Ferrell

  I’m so damn pussy-whipped.

  So damn Cassidy-whipped.

  She’s been hanging out with Georgia, Lola, and Grace today. Even though there isn’t one of us guys with them, I have no doubt that with the four of them, they’d kick Quinton’s ass if he tried to pull anything.

  She wanted her bruise to completely heal before returning. Our close friends know what happened, but she doesn’t want other employees or customers to see any signs of the bruise.

  I’ve stayed at her house, in her bed, every night since the evening before she reported Quinton. We’ve ordered takeout, binge-watched TV shows, and talked.

  You know what we’ve also done?

  We’ve exchanged I love yous as if they were simple hellos since the night we tore out our hearts and gifted them to the other. That night, sitting on her bed, is really the first time the words fell from my mouth. The Callahan household wasn’t one to express themselves. We didn’t share hugs and I love yous. With the exception of my mother a few times, Cassidy is the only other person I’ve said those words to. Hell, she’s probably the only other person who will have my heart enough for me to do so. She owns every piece of me in so many ways.

  All eyes are on her when she struts into the bar as if nothing has changed, and she didn’t spend days in her own personal Quinton hell.

  That’s right.

  My girl is strong as hell.

  A fighter.

  “Welcome back, Cassidy,” Cohen calls out. “We’re glad you’re here.”

  Archer nods and echoes Cohen. “Welcome back.”

  I grin, a smile I can’t contain creasing my face, and a pleasant hum warms my blood. She wastes no time in circling the bar, heading straight in my direction, and kissing me on the lips. There are no gasps of shock. It’s no surprise to our friends. Even though we haven’t come out and told people we were dating, from the way we’ve been around each other, from my sleepovers and protectiveness of her, they’d be stupid if they didn’t know.

  “Back to reality,” I say against her lips before pressing mine against them again.

  “Back to reality,” Cassidy says. “Only now, it’s better.”

  I raise a brow. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, because now, people can know we’re in love with each other …” She stops and winks. “And that someday, you’re going to be my baby daddy.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Cassidy

  Taco Tuesday is exactly what I need for my first night out.

  My bruise is healed, but sometimes, as I’m getting dressed or in the shower, I peek down at my neck, expecting the reminder of Quinton’s abuse. At times, I feel like the journey I’ve taken on since my arrest has been the one intended to make me a stronger woman. Even with my father’s infidelities, my parents did everything they could to create a perfect unicorns and rainbows life for me.

  Quinton prepared me for the real world and taught me how it’s not always perfect, not always safe, and not always the way you want it to be.

  It also led me to the man who stole my heart and protected it through that journey.

  Tonight’s dinner is being thrown at the Callahan-slash-Georgia penthouse. The last and only time I’ve been here was the day I walked in on Lincoln and Isla whispering like two kids on the playground, and as everyone knows, I hate whispering.

  I expected my stomach to turn, for nausea to swarm my body, but when I walk in and see my friends, I smile.

  Smile because, like Lincoln, I’ve found something real—authentic friendships I know will last over time. No matter what happens, no matter if I get in trouble, no matter if I try to run and hide, they’ll have my back.

  I rode with Grace. She hasn’t stayed at the house much and doesn’t mention where she’s been sleeping. I’m worried her absence has something to do with me. Maybe she’s worried Quinton could come back to finish me off and hurt her in the process.

  The aroma of fresh-baked tortillas, quesadillas, and tacos smacks into my nostrils as I take a look around. There’s no stopping me from laughing when I see the décor Georgia bought the day we went shopping. That day seems like an eternity ago after all the events that took place.

  “Hey, girl, hey!” Georgia says, wrapping me up in a hug and leading me into the kitchen, where Silas and Archer are.

  Silas is cooking while Archer is standing next to him, talking with a beer in his hand.

  “Cassidy,” Archer says as Georgia grips his shoulder, leaning into his side. “How have you been?”

  I smile, happy that he asked. “Good … better.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay. I’m happy for you and my brother.” He blows out a breath, and his face softens into an expression I’ve never seen him wear before. “I’m sorry for going behind your guys’ backs and telling Cohen. I was in shock, unsure of what to do. As an employer, I know shit that happens out of work might not be my business, but also as an employer, I care about my employees—even with as standoffish as I am. I also know how much you mean to my brother, and if someone was hurting you, I wasn’t sure how much further they’d go. So, I called Cohen to ask for advice, knowing that he’d call Maliki because that’s the kind of guy he is.”

  “It’s okay,” I reply with all honesty. “You did the right thing.”

  Silas whips around, a spatula in his hand. “Does this mean you and baby Callahan are together?”

  “It sure damn does,” Lincoln says loud and clear as he enters the kitchen. With swift steps, he comes up behind me, wraps his strong arms around my waist, and places a gentle kiss on my ear. “Hi, baby.”

  “I’m swooning,” Georgia says. “Seriously swooning.”

  Same, Georgia. Same.

  A blush caresses my cheeks as everyone stares at us.

  This is what I originally wanted from Lincoln.

  This is what I wanted all those times I joked around with Lincoln but never thought I’d get.

  His hands on me.

  His mouth on me.

  Him claiming me in front of everyone, making me feel wanted, making me feel like I could get a man who wouldn’t turn his back on me.

  Silas grins. “I like it. Another couple breaking through our only friends rule.” He shakes his head. “Now, we’re waiting on Grace and Finn.”

  “And then you and Lola,” Georgia adds.

  “Nah, Lola and I will be the only two who stick to the just friends pact.”

  “I wasn’t aware we’d made a pact,” Georgia replies.

  “No, we did. In the beginning, Cohen said things were to stay strictly platonic between us and you and your friends.” He shrugs. “Cohen made the rules, and we were supposed to follow them.”

  “Yeah, well, too bad Cohen doesn’t make our rules,” Georgia says with a frown. “And I’m going to kick his ass for telling you that.”

  “And speak of the devil,” Silas calls out when Cohen, Jamie, and baby Isabella walk into the room.

  Cohen has his tiny daughter wrapped in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder as he holds her tight.

  My mind wanders to when Lincoln will be a father—how he’ll hold our baby, how he’ll love it, how we’ll be as parents.

  Whoa, getting way ahead of yourself there, Cass.

  I can’t help it. I want everything with him.

  “What devil are we speaking of here?” Jamie asks, running her hand along Isabella’s back as she sleeps.

  “Your other half telling his friends that my friends and I are off-limits,” Georgia says, resting her hand on her hip. “The audacity.”

  “I think he’s learned his lesson on saying relationships are off-limits,” Jamie says with a twinkle in her eyes as she stares up at her fiancé. “We broke the ultimate off-limits rule.”

  “True that,” Silas says. “The baby mama’s sister. That’s on a whole different level.”

  Cohen narrows his eyes at Silas. “A particular situation, thank you very much.”

  He seems to be protective of Jamie and their relationsh
ip, but from what I’ve heard, it was hard in the beginning, so I don’t blame him.

  “Are the tacos ready?” Finn asks, walking in with Noah hanging off his back.

  “Just about,” Silas calls over.

  I help Georgia along with Lola and Grace, who join us from the living room, set all the toppings for the tacos and quesadillas out on the massive kitchen island.

  We eat. We drink. We play games.

  Everyone, at least once, comments with how happy they are for Lincoln and me.

  It’s a great night to start my new life.

  “My first time in your bed,” I say to Lincoln, lounging against his headboard, moving my legs up and down his smooth sheets.

  He was having a conversation with Archer, and out of exhaustion, I ventured to his room, undressed, and slipped into bed.

  “About damn time,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “I’ve been waiting for this day for what seems like forever.”

  “Oh, really?” I smile before giggling—the giggling is a result of too many margaritas since in sober life, I am not a giggler. “What were you waiting for?” Another damn giggle.

  Ugh, I’m going to hate my giggling self in the morning.

  He nods toward the bed. “To fuck you on those sheets. To screw you from behind and have you mask your moans with my pillow.” He licks his lips, and I can imagine they taste like margarita salt since I convinced him to drink one with me. “To hold you when we’re finished making love, and then in the morning, I’ll make your favorite breakfast—Belgian waffles and scrambled eggs.”

  “What are you waiting for then?” My eyes flutter in his direction—another side effect of the damn liquor—and I slowly crawl across the bed on my hands and knees to where he’s standing at the foot.

  He hisses when my face comes into line with his waist, and I tug at his belt buckle.

  I waste no time unzipping his pants and taking his cock out. Draping it along my palm, I rub a finger up and down the skin as it jerks in my hand.

  “Oh,” I say, wrapping my hand tightly around his cock and slowly stroking him. “This cock brings me so much pleasure.”

  His legs go straight, his body stiffening as I increase my pace. “And you bring it more pleasure.”

  Being with Lincoln is sex I’ve never experienced.

  His touch is a different breed of intimacy.

  When I glance up at him, his eyes are glued to my hand, to our connection, and I want to provide a better view. His knees buckle when I slip my fingers down his cock to make room for my mouth.

  I stare up at him, watching his face and the changes it makes.

  The way it forms an O when I suck on the head.

  The way his mouth drops open as a gasp escapes it when I swirl my tongue around his balls.

  The way he rasps, “Jesus Christ, Cass,” from his throat.

  “I’m close,” he hisses. “Turn around, get on your hands and knees, and stick your ass in the air.”

  Anticipation showers through me as I do what he said. He climbs onto the bed behind me and places his palm to the base of my back, pushing me down to my stomach, and lifts up my legs. I gasp when he tears my pajama shorts and panties down my legs, and he tosses them over his shoulder as I peer back at him.

  Bending over me, he grips my hips, tight and firm, and hauls me back up to my knees. Holding me in place as he stretches across the bed, he opens a drawer in the nightstand and plucks out a condom. I bite back the urge to ask why he has condoms in his drawer because he didn’t ask me about the condoms I had in my nightstand.

  Did he wonder the same thing when he got one from my nightstand?

  Shoving his pants down his waist, not even bothering to take them off, he slips two fingers inside me.

  “You’re already soaked for me, baby,” he practically growls.

  “Always,” I whisper, nearly panting for him.

  Without warning, he thrusts inside me.

  I hiss before releasing a long moan, taking in his large size, and hope Georgia and Archer are no longer in the living room. He lifts my shirt with one hand, holding it away from my waist, while lowering the other around my body to play with my clit.

  He pounds into me.

  I fuck him right back.

  It’s been too long since he’s been inside me, and for once, I couldn’t give two fucks about foreplay. The only playing I want is him inside me for as long as he can last.

  Our harsh breathing occupies the room, the only sounds coming from us as we get each other off. My body swells with pressure, with intimacy, with love, and just as I’m about to scream out my release, his large palm grips the back of my head, shoving my face into the pillow.

  Just like he wanted to.

  My orgasm rips through me, just as strong as the first night we had sex, and he holds me tight as he finishes himself off, our flesh smacking together and making its own rhythm.

  He groans out my name and slaps my ass as he comes inside the condom.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Lincoln

  “Does this mean we’ll be new roomies?” Georgia asks the next morning.

  Somehow, I got suckered into making everybody breakfast. Well, buying everybody breakfast because the first Belgian waffle I tried was an absolute fail. So, I told everyone to get dressed, and we’re sitting at a table at Yellow Peep to get our waffles.

  As soon as we sat down, I was reminded of Cassidy and me coming here after her community service—the day she thought she didn’t look dressed to come into a restaurant like this when she didn’t even realize how damn beautiful she was.

  She is.

  Inside and out.

  “Oh my God.” I hear from Cassidy, and at the same time, she covers her face.

  I glance up to find the same waitress, Taylor, who helped us before, standing at the front of our table, a bright smile on her face.

  Her smile broadens when she notices Cassidy and me, and she gestures to us with her pencil. “From the looks of it, I’m hoping this means you no longer see her as your little sister?”

  Cassidy adds her other hand to cover her face as she groans.

  Georgia snorts, her attention bobbing between Taylor and us. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Cassidy and I answer at the same time as she uncovers her face.

  “Nope,” Georgia says, shaking her head. “As soon as we give our drink orders, we’re going to need that story.”

  “They came in a while back,” Taylor chirps, apparently ready to answer for us. “And they were going back and forth about him seeing her as a little sister, and she was upset because she didn’t want to say she was attracted to someone who saw her as a sibling … something along those lines.”

  “I can’t believe she told them that,” Cassidy hisses so only I can hear.

  Appeased with the answer, Georgia orders a mimosa with Cassidy doing the same. Archer and I opt for coffee and water, and Taylor scurries her tattletale self off to get our beverages.

  Georgia straightens her napkin in her lap and leans into us. “Now, back to the conversation we were having prior to finding out you used to think of her as a little sister.” Her gaze whips to me.

  Archer grunts before mocking his girlfriend’s voice. “Yes, totally. We don’t need to discuss new roommates as a couple at all.”

  She turns to pat his chest with her palm. “That’s right, baby.”

  Archer shakes his head and laughs, pinning his attention on Cassidy and me. “I’m just fucking with you. It’s only fair to let my brother’s girlfriend move in since I already moved Georgia in. Cassidy, you’re welcome whenever.”

  Cassidy smiles at the invite before it collapses into a frown. “I don’t think I can do that to Grace, though.”

  Georgia nods, wisping strands of hair out of her face that fell from the pigtail buns on the top of her head. “Yeah, I felt horrible too. I almost didn’t do it, and that’s why I waited until you agreed to move in because I didn’t want to leave her alone.”
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  Cassidy rubs the back of her neck, and I do the same, feeling a wire of tension up my neck. “If I do, will she have to move in with her parents?”

  Georgia nods. “Probably.”

  “What’s the deal with that?” I cut in. “What if we tell her we’ll spring for rent until she finds another roommate? Problem solved.”

  I love the thought of Cassidy moving in with me, the thought of us calling the same place home and going to bed together every night.

  Taylor delivers our drinks, all her attention on Cassidy and me, like she’s waiting for me to drop to one knee and propose or some shit. It’s as if we’re the new couple she’s fangirling over. It could be a compliment, but I hate attention on me, and from the way Cassidy tenses every time it happens, it’s the same for her.

  Georgia shakes her head, and with certainty, she says, “Grace won’t stay somewhere overnight without another person there.”

  I cock my head to the side. “Why?”

  “Not my story to tell,” Georgia replies, not making eye contact with anyone and instead focusing on her mimosa. “But there’s a reason I didn’t agree to move until she had another roommate.”

  “I get that.”

  Cass and I have spent a lot of time with Grace since we’ve been hanging out at their house so much. Lately, she’s been acting strange. Cassidy has noticed it too.

  Is she worried that Cassidy will move out?

  Hell, does Cass even want to move in with me?

  I shake my head, remembering the smile she had when Archer invited her before the dread of leaving Grace clutched at her thoughts.

  “It’s cool,” I say. “We’re good where we’re at, and Grace doesn’t seem to mind me hanging out there.” I reach under the table and squeeze Cassidy’s thigh. “We have plenty of time to move in together.”

  “And who knows? The penthouse might be completely open for you two,” Georgia says.

  That catches my attention, and I focus on the couple across the table from us. “What?”