Chapter 31
BELLA
Rosethorne Mansion - Wexley University
Cade’s mouth is on me like he’s ravenous, but not reckless. No, this is slow, focused, delicious torture. The kind that says he’s waited for this. His hands grip my thighs like they’re his, like he’s staking a claim he’s been dying to make since our first coffee-non-date, or maybe even Nashville.
My back arches off the bed, a strangled gasp slipping out, “Cade…”
He groans against me, sending a tremor through my core that feels like a breaking point.
We’ve been testing the edges of this thing, testing us, before he brings Lex into the picture. And I still can’t believe I’m even saying that. I’m dating a guy with the hope of eventually adding another one.
At first, the whole throuple situation scared the shit out of me. But I’d be lying if I said I’m not excited about the possibility of it now.
But when it’s Cade, when it’s this? God, it almost feels inevitable.
So many nights tangled in rooftop conversations and late-night texts. So many coffees and dinners and inside jokes that go back years.
He knows my sarcasm. My coffee order. The way I hum when I’m thinking too hard and chew pens when I’m anxious. He knows the version of me that fit neatly into their family orbit, but not the parts that shattered and rebuilt themselves after.
He doesn’t know about Dylan. Or the Black Books. Or Zeke, fully. Or what I really do after dance practice. To him, I’m just the girl from a bad foster situation with a dead brother and a past I don’t talk about. A girl who loves to dance. A girl he wants to spoil. Protect. Worship.
Cade is the sweetest. He carries the conversation like a pro. Opens doors. Sends playlists. Shows up with daisies and asks how practice went like it’s the most important question in the world.
He remembers things, like how I used to steal his hoodies and fall asleep on the Whitmore’s couch after too much sugar and too little sleep.
How I always hated mornings but somehow never missed a single dance class.
How I once made Ellie a glitter bomb that exploded in his car and he didn’t speak to us for a week.
He remembers me, even the messy, chaotic, glitter-coated parts.
And right now, he’s driving me insane in the best way possible.
I cry out as the pressure inside me fractures, sharp, aching, and unbearable. My fingers claw through his chestnut brown hair, anchoring me to something real, something solid, while the rest of me unravels beneath his mouth.
He doesn’t let up. His tongue strokes slow, then fast—circling, teasing, plunging—until I’m trembling, legs shaking, breath stuttering in broken gasps.
The smell of cedar and ink wraps around me, thick and addictive. It fills my lungs, clings to my skin, and marks me as his. I breathe him in and fall apart for him, again and again, until I’m not even sure where I end and he begins.
He groans against me like the taste of me is his only religion and this is the altar where he worships. Cade’s hands grip my thighs like he needs to keep me there, needs to own every inch of my surrender. And he does. God, he does.
He wraps his lips around my clit and sucks hard before thrusting two fingers deep inside me, curling them upward.
“Fuck! Cade, oh!” I cry out, falling apart, my body shuddering as my orgasm rips through me. My thighs clamp around his head and he holds me there, mouth still moving—like he lives for the way I break apart just for him.
He kisses his way up my body, slow and tender. Like every inch of me deserves worship, and he’s grateful for the privilege.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice thick with adoration, lips brushing my ribs and sending goosebumps skittering across my stomach.
“Better than okay,” I whisper, still trembling. “So much better.”
He smiles against my skin and kisses me. It’s deep, unhurried, and tastes like me. Then his mouth trails lower, warm and wet against my throat, my collarbone, until he reaches my breasts.
He takes his time, sucking each nipple into his mouth, flicking with his tongue while his hand toys with the other, gentle and teasing, applying just enough pressure to make me gasp.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, voice rough as his hand comes up to cradle my jaw. “I could spend the rest of my life making you feel this good.”
He rolls me gently, his hands steady on my hips, until I’m straddling him. His cock pressing hot and heavy between us. I wrap my hand around it, pumping slow strokes just to tease. He groans, deep and guttural, his head dropping back into the pillows as his fingers dig into my thighs.
His hazel eyes roll back in his head, lashes fluttering as he breathes my name, “Fuck, Bella… just like that.”
I lean forward and kiss his neck before lining him up with my entrance and sliding down. I take him in inch by inch, savoring every stretch, every delicious ache. My hands find his chest, grounding me as I start to move my hips in slow, steady circles, grinding down until we both gasp.
His eyes stay locked on mine the entire time, like he’s memorizing every second.
“Meet Lex,” he moans, voice strained.
I freeze for a beat. “Are you seriously bringing up another guy while I’m riding your dick, Cade?” I moan, rolling my hips just right.
“Fuck,” he pants. “It’s time, sweetheart. I want you both. I need you both.”
I arch a brow and slam down a little harder, dragging a moan from deep in his throat. “Then you better make a damn good case.”
He sits up, wraps his arms around me, and kisses me like he’s starving for my lips. His hands slide down to cup my ass, guiding me as I ride him slow and deep, his cock buried so perfectly inside me it’s like my body was made for this.
Made for him.
“Lex wants you,” he murmurs, voice wrecked, lips brushing my jaw.
I stare down at him. “How the hell could you possibly know that? I’ve never even met the guy.”
Cade grins, lazy and sinfully confident, his thumb stroking over my hip as he rolls up into me again. “Because I’ve told him everything,” he says, soft and honest. “Every time you moaned, every time you shook. I’ve been very… detailed.”
“You what?” I say trying to suppress a moan.
“There are no secrets between us, sweetheart.”
He thrusts up again.
“Mmmm,” his voice drops an octave. “He knows how you sound when you come, Bella.”
Another thrust.
“How your thighs tremble when I taste you just right.”
Thrust.
“The little whimper that escapes your throat when I suck your clit into my mouth.”
Another.
“How you like to be kissed.”
Thrust.
“Touched.”
Another.
“Fucked.”
He thrusts up quick and harder this time to prove his point and I gasp, digging my nails deeper into his chest.
“And now,” Cade adds, lips grazing my ear, “he wants you too. He’s waited long enough.”
My body tightens at the thought, unexpected and electric.
“Say yes, Bella,” he whispers against my lips.
“Yes, Bella,” I tease, moaning when he thrusts up gently to meet me.
He chuckles, low and warm, and pulls one breast into his mouth again, sucking my nipple hard enough to make me yelp.
“Cade! Your sister’s in the next room,” I hiss between gasps.
“Then you better be quiet, sweetheart” he whispers, taking his attention back to my nipple.
“Oh,” I moan.
He rolls us again, settling between my thighs, his body pressed tight to mine. He fucks me slow, moving in a punishing rhythm of deep strokes that leave me panting, clinging, and melting beneath him.
Not rough. It is never rough with Cade. Just full. Devoted. Like he’s trying to carve his name into every inch of my goddamn soul.
When I come again, it’s not just my body that breaks, it’s something deeper. A tear slips down my cheek as I realize it. This is real. He kisses it away like he’s been waiting for that moment his whole life.
And when he finally falls apart, hips jerking, breath catching against my skin—I know I’ve never been touched like this, worshiped like this, or loved like this.
“Yes.” I whisper.
My phone vibrates over on the vanity.
I already know who it is. And I don’t care. Let him watch. Let him see. Because all I care about right now is the man holding me like I’m sacred and the man I get to meet soon.