He gave my waist a squeeze. “You’ll grow to love me, Cassandra. I believe that. And until that happens, I’ll give you everything you could want.”
“That doesn’t sound very fair,” I said, trying to reason with him, trying to make him see how insane this all was. “What do you get out of this while you wait for me to fall in love with you?”
He leaned in, his grip getting tighter, so tight it hurt. “You, under me. Whenever I want.”
I grabbed his wrist and dug my nails into his skin. He didn’t let go. “And if I can’t love you?” I said.
His eyes glittered in a way that made my stomach coil tight. “You will.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss to my cheek, and stepped back. “I’ll be in touch soon.” Then he walked away.
I stood there, trying to get my racing heart back under control. God, I hated him. I hated him with everything in me. The idea of him touching me, of letting him…
I couldn’t even think about it.
Suddenly, I had to get out of there. I couldn’t stand being in this room with these people, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I was suffocating. Spinning, I ran from the ballroom. I hit the street a minute later and sucked in a breath. I was shaking, close to hyperventilating. Ted. Crap.
I couldn’t go back in there. With trembling fingers, I took my phone from my purse and quickly texted him, telling him I felt ill suddenly and had to leave. Not a lie, not really.
I walked around aimlessly for the next hour. Springhaven was small but big enough to walk around and lose time. I didn’t want to go home to the empty guesthouse. And tonight the town was alive, the weekly night market bringing everyone out of their homes. Cars, people, music, the roar of voices talking over each other, shouting, laughing…living.
The noise surrounded me, drowning out the thoughts swirling in my head. I forced smiles and nodded to people I’d known for years. But right then I didn’t want to be around people I knew who thought they knew me when they knew nothing. Not one damn thing.
Only one person had seen the real me, stripped bare, vulnerable.
Cal didn’t know it, but the times I’d been with him in that little curtained-off room I’d been more myself than I had ever been in my whole life. How sad was that?
But God, I needed that, so much. Now more than ever before. I needed it still.
I stopped in my tracks, turned, and started back to my car. I checked the time on my phone. I was already late. I was running by the time I reached it.
I climbed in and headed for Rocktown Ink, and hoped like hell he hadn’t given up on me.
That I hadn’t missed the only taste of freedom I might ever get.
Chapter Seven
Cal
She wasn’t coming.
Fuck.
I’d blown it. I’d pushed too hard, too fast, and I’d blown it. My chance to pay Lyall fucking Deighton back for what he’d done to Dane and Bull, to my family.
I growled and gripped the back of my neck. But that wasn’t what had me pacing the floor, close to tearing shit apart now, was it?
It was Cassy.
And that freaked me the fuck out.
The level of disappointment I was feeling was extreme. I was tense, bow tight, wanting to go out and hunt her down, bring her back here, and make her body sing for me like it had close to a week ago.
But I wasn’t going to do that. She wasn’t here, which meant she didn’t want a repeat. I’d messed everything up.
I flicked off the shop light and headed upstairs to my apartment. My feet felt like lead. That urge to go find her had not lessened, not at all. I took the stairs two at a time, not bothering with the lights. I’d moved in here not long after I was released from the hospital ten years ago.
I’d known Harvey through Bull even before my accident. He’d been a fucking good tattooist and had done most of my ink. He’d also been a lot older, close to retiring, and he’d taken pity on me when I found it hard being around people, around a lot of noise.
Bull had kept Dane with him, and I’d moved above the shop. The rent had been cheap, and the space was big and open.
I hit the top of the stairs and pushed my apartment door open, flicked on the lights, and strode in. Jesus, I felt like a caged lion. I’d thought about Cassy all day—shit, not just today—about seeing her again, touching her…
Goddammit.
I headed for the canvas and paints I had set up in one corner, tearing off my shirt as I went and flinging it aside. Creating, drawing, painting was my stress relief. You’d think after inking people all day I would have fed that need, but this was different. This was for me.
Every wall in this apartment was painted with a different mural. After the accident, I’d had this urge to create. Painting had just…fit. I’d always drawn, but painting had felt so right. I’d started on my apartment walls. It helped. A lot. Became therapy for me in a way. Harvey saw what I was doing, told me I was talented, and made me his apprentice.
He became like a father to Bull and me.
I owed the man everything.
Several years later, he died and left everything he had to us. The shop and this building had come to me. His bank account that had made my fucking head spin had gone to Bull and me to split. Apparently, Harvey had come from money, and because of a strained relationship with his family, he’d never spent a dime. I couldn’t bring myself to either. It didn’t feel right.
I looked at the painting I’d been working on, but wasn’t feeling it, so I leaned it against the wall and put a fresh canvas on the easel. Shapes, colors danced through my mind as I mixed my paint. I took a wide flat brush and started layering on color.
I’d been at it for thirty minutes, throwing color onto the canvas in a kind of trance, a frenzy, before I stood back and took a look at it. It was nowhere near finished, of course, but it was taking some sort of shape. A woman. Naked. Her head thrown back, white-blond hair hanging over one shoulder. I hadn’t painted her face yet. I didn’t need to.
Cassy.
I threw the brush in a jar of water and paced away. Jesus, I had to be losing my mind…
Someone banged on the door downstairs.
I paused, muscles tightening, pulse picking up speed.
More banging.
I was moving across my apartment and pounding down the stairs a second later. When I hit the shop floor, there was an unmistakable silhouette at the door. Gut suddenly in knots, heart trying to beat its way out of my damn chest, I strode over to answer it.
She was here.
I hadn’t scared her away.
I worked the locks and yanked the door open, biting back a growl when I got a look at her.
She was breathing heavily like she’d been running, running to get to me. Her hair was up in a tight coil, the color in her cheeks high. She was in dark blue silk from neck to ankles. It might have been modest if it hadn’t hugged every one of her curves. If the neckline hadn’t plunge so low it showed off a mouthwatering amount of creamy cleavage.
“I…I’m sorry I’m late. I—”
I shook my head, cutting her off. “I’ve packed up for the night. You’re…” My fucking brain scrambled, words failing me. I inwardly fought for control, fought for the words. “Too late.” For me to work on her ink, anyway.
Her eyes locked onto mine, round and pleading. “But, Cal, please…”
“Inside,” I said. “Now.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“No.” I wanted to touch her, but I held myself back.
She was here, but that didn’t mean she wanted more of what I gave her last time. I needed to be sure. She hadn’t moved, still in the doorway, looking up at me with those big blue eyes. I watched as they dropped to my bare chest, as her graceful fingers curled into fists.
I worked at keeping my voice even. “You coming in?”
She licked her lips and my cock pulsed behind my zipper. “I thought…I wasn’t sure if…”
“Getting ink…it’s not the only reason you cam
e tonight, is it, Princess?” I said.
She shook her head.
Thank fuck. “Inside. Counter. Back to me.”
She did what I asked, and I shut the door behind her, sliding the lock. The lights were still off in the shop, but there was enough light coming though from the street to see Cassy.
She watched me over her shoulder as I moved up behind her. I pressed in close, letting her feel how hard I was, how much I wanted her. “Didn’t think you were coming.”
“I was at a…a gala. I had trouble getting away,” she said, voice soft, a little rasp to it that made my balls ache.
“Looking like you do, I don’t doubt you could’ve had anyone there tonight, but here you are.”
“I…” She bit her lip, and I watched her take a deep breath and gather strength as her eyes lifted to mine. “I didn’t want anyone else.”
I slid my finger down the side of her face, across her perfect skin. “They can’t give you what I can, can they?”
Her fingers curled into the edge of the counter. “No.”
I breathed her in, the delicate scent of her skin, her hair. I wanted it down, wanted my fingers in it. I got to work on the pins holding it in place, enjoying the way she started breathing faster just from that small contact. As the silky strands slid free, I thought about fisting it, holding her still as I pumped my cock into her greedy mouth.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I pulled out the last pin and the rest of it slid down her back. Beautiful.
Her lips parted, her little pink tongue sliding over her bottom lip. Shit, I hadn’t kissed her yet, and my heart kicked up speed from the thought of it. I’d kissed a lot of women in my life, but the idea of kissing Cassy nearly sent me over the edge.
I’d resisted, knowing it was a bad idea, but Christ, I wanted to taste her. I’d come this far, why not take that as well?
Gripping her hips, I spun her around and lifted her, planting her ass on the counter. She squeaked, hands flying to my shoulders.
“I like this dress,” I said as I dropped my hands to her ankles and started sliding up, taking the fabric of her dress with them. I carried on up, nice and slow, past her knees, revealing those supple thighs, firm from all the horse riding.
I held her gaze and gently pressed my hands against her inner thighs, spreading her wide for me.
Her breath hitched and her fingers dug deeper into my shoulders as I stepped into the space I’d made, bringing our chests flush. Hard against soft.
She felt so small with my larger body surrounding hers. Fully at my mercy. Sinking my fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck, I fisted it. “Been dreaming about your mouth. Got a lot of plans for it.”
Her eyes were glassy, cheeks rosy, lips puffy from her biting them. “You do?”
Jesus, the way she said that—fuck—she sounded almost innocent, like she had no idea what I wanted from her. If she wanted to play that way, play coy, I was on board. I couldn’t deny it was hot.
I leaned in so our mouths were almost touching. “After I taste these lips, suck them, I’m going to eat that hot pussy pressed against me, soaking through my jeans, then you’re going to drop to your knees, take out my cock, and I’m going to fuck this pretty mouth.”
Her eyes widened. “Cal,” she said breathlessly.
Yeah, shit. That was hot. There was no way I could hold back another second. I slammed my mouth down on hers, getting my first taste of Cassandra Deighton. Her lips were warm and soft, her kiss almost sweet, goddamn tentative. That just amped me up more. I sucked her lower lip, nipped it. She whimpered and opened for me, and I slid my tongue inside the wet heat of her mouth…and groaned.
Cassy tasted better than I’d imagined, and after I first saw her all those years ago I’d imagined it a lot. Gripping the back of her head, fisting her hair tighter, I tilted my head and deepened the kiss, taking more.
She moaned against my lips, feeding me her little tongue, fucking going up in flames. One of her hands slid around my back, the other curling around the side of my neck, her thumb brushing my jaw. I dropped a hand to her ass and kneaded the soft flesh, yanking her closer. And fuck, that’s when she started rubbing up on me, working her pussy against my hard dick. I ground back, and she cried out, her movements getting more frantic.
Jesus, she was going to come like this if I didn’t stop. It was hard, but I pulled my hips back. When she came, I wanted it against my mouth.
“Please, don’t stop,” she said, trying to pull me back in.
“Not stopping, Princess.” I lifted her off the counter and strode to the leather couch, lowering her onto it. I dropped to my knees in front of her.
Her dress was still bunched up around her hips and I could see her panties, a light color, lace, delicate. I looked up at her, sliding my hand up her thigh, and brushed my thumb along the edge of that pretty lace. “You gonna let me put my mouth on you, Cassandra?”
She swallowed, her slender throat working. “Yes.”
There was something going on behind her eyes, shit, the way she was looking at me, like I was the answer to something, like this was more than just getting off—that she needed this, me—and it made me pause. I searched her wide-eyed stare, trying to work out what I was seeing, but she gave me nothing. And why would she? She didn’t need me. To her, I was just some guy getting her off. The monster she was slumming it with to escape her boring fucking life.
“Please,” she whispered.
I jolted. I’d been staring at her, fucking frozen. “Say it. Tell me what you want,” I said, because I was a bastard like that. I wanted to hear it from those proper, perfect, rich-girl lips. I wanted to push her right out of her comfort zone. I’d warned her I wasn’t polite or sweet, that I wasn’t the kind of guy who would hold her hand, and as much as I wanted in, I wasn’t going to make this easy on her. If she wanted what only I could give her, she had to ask for it.
I didn’t know why I was pushing her. Maybe it was seeing her in that evening dress, all done up, confirmation that she was living the same shallow life as her asshole father, but it had twisted something inside me. Then she’d give me innocent fucking looks and wide eyes, tentative kisses. I couldn’t work her out. All I knew was I wanted her with a fierceness I hadn’t felt before.
Christ, I wasn’t sure I could do it.
I wasn’t sure I could fuck her and not feel like an asshole. Yeah, I hated her father, but now, for some messed up reason, I didn’t like the idea of hurting Cassy.
Cassandra had thrown me off balance tonight, and I didn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.
“Please…put your…” Her throat worked again, eyes darting away, and my gut tightened. “Can you put your…your mouth on me.” Her eyes slid back to mine. “Please.”
Fuck.
I didn’t know who this woman was, I just knew in that moment there was more to her than I’d first thought. I also knew I needed to get her off, fuck, make her feel good, more than I needed anything else. Food? Who needed to eat? Oxygen? Breathing had nothing on the sounds Cassy made when she came for me.
I gripped the sides of her panties and tore them off. “Yeah, baby, I’ll put my mouth on you.”
Throwing her legs over my shoulders, I slid my hands under her, filling my hands with soft, smooth ass cheeks, and covered her pussy with my mouth.
The first taste of her had me growling like the monster she more than likely saw me as. She tasted so fucking good. So good. I dragged my tongue through her slit, up to her tight little clit and sucked on it. Her body bucked and she screamed, one of her hands going to the back of my head, nails grazing my scalp as she held me to her. She was into it, getting off on my scarred head between her thighs. She wasn’t the only one. I’d never been harder in my life. If I reached down and squeezed my dick I’d blow in my jeans.
I ate her like a man starved, tightened my grip on her ass, and shoved my tongue in her tight opening, tongue fucking her while I pressed down on her clit with my thumb.
She arched, nails grazing my head and shoulders, and cried out my name.
When she finished pulsing against my mouth, coming so nicely for me, I stood and yanked the front of my jeans open. No, I wasn’t going to fuck her, not yet anyway, but I was no saint and I’d never pretended to be.
Shaking with need, I gripped the shoulders of her dress and yanked them down her arms. Her tits burst free and I growled once more. I wanted my mouth on them again, but I needed to get off right fucking now. I couldn’t let her leave a second time and not come.
I climbed on the couch, straddling her on my knees. Her eyes were as round as fucking saucers. I gripped my dick and leaned in, pressing the swollen head to those sexy as fuck lips.
Her eyes stayed locked on mine and I couldn’t read them, there was heat, yes, but something else that confused the shit out of me—until her little tongue darted out, lapping at my leaking slit and I forgot how to think.
She did it again and I bucked, like someone had plugged me into a wall socket. “Suck me,” I gritted out, voice shot to shit.
One of her soft, warm hands went to my thigh, the other coming up, covering my hand still gripping my cock then she parted her perfect puffy lips and let me slip inside.
My fucking brain short-circuited.
I groaned as the wet heat of her mouth surrounded me, the feel of her tongue pressing up as her throat worked. “That’s it, Princess.”
She started moving, tentatively, eyes still wide and on me as she slid down my length, taking me deeper, as far as she could go, and back. I couldn’t look away from her pouty lips wrapped around me, from her smaller hand still over my scarred, rough one wrapped around my cock.
She made an “Mmmm” sound and I had to fight the screaming need to thrust down her throat. My thighs shook as she continued to work me, as I watched the best show of my damned life.
Beg For You (Rocktown Ink #1) Page 7