Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
S omehow, we make it to my house without getting stopped by any overzealous police officers with weird fixations on my boyfriend. He parks behind my car, and I slide out of the passenger seat and stretch up on my toes, back arched as I snap the kinks out of it.
“I hate my job,” I complain, though there’s not a lot of truth in the words. Compared to babysitting, it’s really not that bad at all.
“Quit,” Cass comments, walking behind me up to the porch and waiting for me to open the door. Though when his hands find my hips, I realize he’s not as patient as he’d like to appear.
So I slow down. I move as slow as a snail as I undo the lock once, then again, as if it’s stuck or just not cooperating.
Cassian sees through it instantly and leans forward, lips brushing my ear. “Open the fucking door, Winnifred Campbell,” he murmurs in my ear. “Or I swear to God, I’ll fuck you on this porch and your neighbors are going to get really upset when you wake them up with your howling.”
The sentiment makes me cackle, and in the next moment Cass’s hands are replacing mine to push open the door far enough for him to shove me inside.
“You’re such a brat,” he growls, and hooks an arm around my hips to yank me around to face him. “Such a big house.” His lips curl into a grin. “Makes me think of all the places I could ruin you.”
“It’s mom’s house.” I don’t know why I say it, I don’t know why it matters. But something like understanding crosses Cass’s face, and his grip becomes comforting, rather than demanding and urgent.
“I could always take you back to my apartment.” But we both know neither of us wants to wait that long. Even as he says it, he’s pulling me up the stairs by my arm, heading down the hallway toward my room.
“One of these times I’ll set up camp there and never leave.” I flash him a threatening grin, which he returns, then quickly pins me against the railing near the staircase.
“Don’t make promises I’ll have you keep.” He nips at my lower lip lightly, teasingly, making my breath catch in my throat.
I don’t falter, exactly. But the idea of making good on my words, of living with Cass, is strange. New. Different.
Good.
Shifting slightly, I lick at his mouth. “I’d kill your plants.” I sigh. “And do you even like cats? Because Doom and Gloom certainly aren’t staying here.”
“What?” Cass jerks back, giving me a quizzical, reproachful look. “Winnie, I wouldn’t let you leave your cats here. And I’ll put caution tape around the plants so you can’t wilt them with your anti-green thumb. You know there’s only one bedroom, though…” He wiggles his brows theatrically, and I reach out to tug at his shirt, intending to strip him out of his clothes before he can do it to me first.
“Is this you offering to take the couch? Wow, Cass, you’re just so—” My words become a startled yelp as he picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder just like he had at the slaughterhouse. “I believe I requested bridal style!”
“I believe you’re a brat.” He shoves a door open, and with a jolt of surprise I realize we’re in my bathroom, not my bedroom. “And brats don’t get a choice on how they’re carried.” In a smooth movement, he sets me down on the counter beside the sink, making me thankful that the housekeeper keeps this bathroom guest ready for absolutely no reason at all.
“That’s rude—Hey!” I grab his hands when he moves to take off my shirt, though I quickly move to yank at his instead. “No. No! This time you get naked.”
“Don’t worry your pretty little face, Winnie. I’m not about to take a shower with clothes on, so I’ll strip for you. Promise.” Making good on his word, he steps back and tugs off his shirt, eyes dancing as he chucks it my way. I catch the shirt, holding it in my hands as he walks to the shower to pull open the glass door and turn the knobs like he lives here. To my knowledge, he’s definitely never used our shower before, but I suppose if you’ve seen one shower knob, you’ve seen them all.
By the time the bathroom starts steaming up, it occurs to me I could help out by getting out of my clothes as well. I hop to the floor, setting his v-neck on the counter before tugging off my hoodie and bra.
Absently my hand goes to the light switch and I flick it down, plunging us into the relative dimness of the bathroom now that it’s lit only by the nightlight next to the mirror. “Oh,” I say as I turn, feeling guilty, and hold my hoodie against my chest as I look for Cass. “Shoot, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked. I’m sort of a shower in the dark weirdo, but if you like?—”
“I think I can fuck you just fine like this,” he cuts me off smoothly, making my stomach twist and leap with excitement and anticipation.
“Well, if you’re sure—” I dodge the shoe he chucks my way, cackling as I kick off my own and shove my leggings down my thighs. I’m done before him, and it means that he’s just undoing his belt by the time I sidle up to him, my fingers on the button of his jeans.
“Let me?” I murmur, gazing up at his face. “Pretty please?” He relents, dropping his hands to watch me as I take over for him. In seconds his jeans are pooling on the floor, and he kicks them away so I can run my fingers down his body, over his scars and his sharp, angular hip bones.
“Fuck, you’re pretty,” I murmur, hooking my fingers in the elastic of his black boxer briefs. “Seriously, if no one has ever told you that?—”
He hooks my chin on two fingers, dragging my face up so I’m meeting his eyes. “I don’t care what anyone else has ever told me, Winnie,” Cass reminds me. “I only care what you think.”
His words make me feel so strange, but it’s not a bad kind of strange. It just seems like it’s too much; like he has to be saying things he thinks I’ll enjoy without actually meaning them.
Because he can’t feel that strongly about me when we haven’t really seen each other for years.
Right?
Wordlessly, I finish what I’m doing, and I tilt my head down to look at him while wrapping my fingers around his impressive length. Cass lets out a low sigh, content to watch as I stroke my hand along his shaft.
“You never stood a chance, you know,” he says suddenly, and I look up at him in confusion. “Of avoiding me. Looking like you do, and with your mouth?” A grin curls over his lips and in one swift, fluid motion he has me off my feet, urging me to wrap my legs around his hips before he strides into the walk-in shower.
“Cass!” I protest with a nervous laugh, the water soaking my back and hair as he finally lets my feet drop to the floor. “I can walk, you know. I’m not broken.”
“No, but you are mine. I can carry you if I want,” he retorts. Instead of letting me reply, he drags me against him, his fingers burying themselves in my hair so he can yank my head back and find my mouth with his. “You always taste so good,” he purrs, not breaking away.
I whine into the kiss when he nips my lip, standing on my tiptoes in an attempt to do the same. But Cass is too quick for me and jerks back, a grin on his face and his eyes dancing with mischief. “Too slow, sweetheart,” he teases. His hands find my hips and he pushes me backward until my knees hit the bench stretching along the far wall of the shower.
“What are you—” My question dies on my lips as Cass grabs the handheld shower head, unhooks it from the wall and drops to his knees lightly on the tile floor. He flashes a smirk my way, and with one hand drags me forward on the bench until my shoulders hit the wall and my ass is on the very edge.
“Come on, you’re a smart girl,” he goads, letting the warm water run up and over my thighs. “You can figure it out. Tell me if this is too hot or cold, all right princess?” From the floor, he moves the shower head up my legs, over my stomach and further up, his hand following to smooth along my now-soaking wet skin.
But his motives turn a little less innocent when he leans over me, the water trailing over my breasts and down to my hips. His free hand follows that path too, fingers teasing my nipples and cupping my breasts as he takes his damn time.
“Cass…” I hate the way I sound whiny, and in the darkness I can’t quite see his expression, though I can hear his chuckle.
“Impatient little brat. Unless you’re going to wrestle this away from me and force me to be the one on my back…you’ll take what I give you.” His dark, promising tone makes me shudder, and his fingers curl around my throat for a moment, flexing, before he lets go.
Once more he kneels between my thighs, and I gasp when the water trickles down the sensitive skin between my legs. He’s careful, not quite letting the water go where I’m the most anxious for it, and he trails his fingers over my slit teasingly.
“Such a pretty pussy,” Cass murmurs, barely audible over my heartbeat and the rush of water in the shower. “Do you know how it makes me feel to know it’s all for me now?”
“Oh, I see we’re making assumptions,” I can’t help but taunt. “I don’t know, Cass. Maybe there’s some other murderer out there with a pretty face and—” He spreads my folds with his fingers and angles the shower head just right, cutting off my words and sending all thoughts of goading him right out of my head.
“You were saying?” he asks, pinning me in place with his arm over my hip. “Come on, Winnie. You can’t be out of words just yet.” But I am, because I’ve clearly led the sheltered life of someone who’s never used an adjustable shower head for its intended purpose.
“ Fuck !” I reply, emphasizing the word. I can’t help but writhe on the bench, and I reach out, only for him to lift his free hand to push my hand away.
“You don’t need to touch me yet, pretty girl. Why don’t you play with yourself for me, hmm? Show me how you touch yourself when I’m not around.” It takes a few seconds for his words to process through my brain, and he takes pity on me by lifting his hand and pressing mine against my upper body. Finally, that helps me get the message, and he goes right back to spreading me open for him and focuses the rush of water against my clit once I reach up to trace my fingers over my nipples.
“Like you mean it.” He chuckles, prompting me to make a face at him. But I do what he says, my touch becoming more insistent, and he rewards me with his thumb swiping over my clit. “Good girl.” Leaning in, he moves the shower head away enough that he can lick up my slit, drawing a startled yelp from me as I arch off the wall.
“You like my mouth on your pussy, don’t you?” It’s clearly a rhetorical question, and I stare at him in the darkness, watching him move as he licks me again. Soon his tongue has me writhing and panting; the addition of the water has me urging him onward with small movements of my hips.
Cassian doesn’t disappoint. His tongue licks against me, and when he thrusts it into me to taste as much of me as he can, it’s quickly joined by his fingers. The shower head ends up lying on the bench near my thigh, but I barely notice as he yanks my thighs wider with a growl.
“Gorgeous girl,” he praises. “I love it when you’re like this for me. I love being reminded that you really are all mine.” Without hesitating, Cass leans forward again, and I yelp at the long, thorough laps of his tongue against me before he focuses his attention on my clit.
This time I can’t help my fingers sinking into his hair. My free hand digs into my thigh, and my breath comes in quick pants while he sucks and laps at my clit loudly enough to sound incredibly lewd in the small space.
“Are you going to come on my tongue?” he teases, when I can’t keep myself quiet anymore. “Fuck, pretty girl, that’s really all I want. I want to taste you on my tongue while you come for me. Can you do that?”
“Maybe if you ask nicely,” I huff, voice breathy.
“Maybe I won’t ask at all.” He grabs the shower head and shoves it between my thighs, the pressure stronger than I expect as the water sprays against me. I cry out, my fingers tightening, and unconsciously I urge his face back toward me, prompting him to let out a pleased laugh.
“Don’t worry, Winnie. I know what I’m doing.” He alternates between his tongue and the water, and sometimes his fingers, pushing me further and further out of my mind with every second that ticks by.
I groan, now really unable to keep still. “Oh, fuck! Cass, I think you’re killing me. I’m dying. I’m seriously?—”
“A needy little brat.” Once more the shower head clatters against the tile and he drags my hips off of the bench entirely, so his arms are the only thing holding me up with my thighs hooked over his shoulders. He shoves three fingers into me and mercilessly licks my clit, fucking me open so effortlessly and so thoroughly that I have no chance.
I come with his name on my lips and my voice echoing around the bathroom. His tongue joins his fingers and he licks my pussy through my orgasm, drawing it out for as long as possible until I’m a panting, writhing mess who probably can’t even hold herself upright.
Not that Cassian needs me to.
Before I can register what’s happening, he’s the one on the bench and he has me straddling his thighs. Both of us are soaked from the shower, and I’m panting as he drags me down.
“Cass—” I begin, but he doesn’t need my input. He easily lines himself up, and when he tugs me down again, it’s so I can sink down onto his cock. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop maneuvering me until I’m fully seated on his lap and feeling a little stupid from how perfectly he’s filling me up. Then he moves, rolling his hips upward once to get a feel for it.
After that, all I can do is bury my face in his shoulder and try not to be so loud while he fucks me. It’s a losing battle, though. Especially with the way he’s nipping and biting at any part of my neck or shoulder that he can reach and his hands are gripping me like he never intends to let go.
“Fuck, you’re so perfect for me, aren’t you Winnie?” His voice is strained, breaths coming fast, just like mine.
“Y-you should prove it then,” I tell him, reaching up to twine my arms around his neck and drag his face down to mine. With my eyes wide, I can barely make out the glint of his in the darkness, and a particularly sharp roll of his hips makes me whine.
“How?”
“Come for me this time,” I murmur. “Please, Cass? Just like this?”
“Just like this,” he agrees without hesitation, and I can feel the intent, the new fervor in his movements as he fucks me. He doesn’t last long, and I don’t expect him to. With a snarled curse and a nip to my throat, he comes, dragging me down and holding me as tightly against him as he can while I pant and watch his face to see the myriad of emotions there.
God, he really is perfect.
When he finally shifts, it's only to relax his hold on me, though he doesn’t let me move. Instead, he opens his eyes and leans forward, lips finding mine easily. “Perfect,” he purrs again, reaching out and grabbing the shower head. He lifts it, letting the water trail over my hair and shoulders, causing me to squirm on his lap.
“You only say that when you don’t think I’m a brat,” I point out, my arms still over his shoulders. “So I’m not sure I believe you mean it.”
“Yeah?” He laughs, and grabs the shampoo and conditioner from the shelf above us, still not letting me go anywhere. “Then the next time I have you over my lap and I’m spanking your pretty ass until you cry, I’ll remind you then how perfect you are with tears running down your face too. Now tilt your head so I can wash your hair, princess.”