Chapter 43 Letting Go
LETTING GO
REN
Even though Lilith offered for us to stay the night with her, and Conrad offered up a few nice hotel options, Cassidy just wanted to go home.
To our home.
Issa and Jessica decided to return home with Declan, and Conrad decided to hang back last minute as well, giving the excuse he wanted to catch up with Lilith.
By the time we’re dropped off at home, it’s the middle of the night. Cassidy allows me to help her inside, stopping by the kitchen for a glass of water. We haven’t stayed here in a couple of months, so snack options are limited, which is fine considering neither of us are hungry.
We trudge upstairs together, and at my urging, Cassidy disappears into the bathroom first, leaving the door slightly ajar.
I tidy up, then pull the comforter down, inspecting the sheets that haven’t been slept on in months, and then yanking them from the mattress, tossing them in a heap in the corner.
I grab a clean set from the closet, make quick work of remaking the bed, and I’m just adjusting the comforter when the door opens and Cassidy appears. She pauses in the doorway, raises her brows. “Did you just change the bedding?”
I stare at her as if I’ve been caught doing something naughty. “No?”
Smiling she closes the distance between us, going up on her toes to place a kiss on my cheek. “I appreciate you.”
She steps back and I resist my urge to grab her, to pull her into me, wrap my arms around her. Never let go.
Patting me on the chest, she sighs, then walks to the bed, me watching her, uncertain what I should say. With a sigh of my own, I head for the bathroom, shutting the door so my bustling around won’t disturb her.
By the time I exit the bathroom, the lights are off but for the one on my nightstand. She’s lying on her side, curled up under the blanket.
Shutting off the bathroom light, I move to stand beside her. It’s barely even been a day, yet it feels like it’s been years since I was standing in this same spot. Things are different yet they remain the same. We’re the same yet in some ways we’ve changed.
With a lingering glance I move to my side of the bed, sliding beneath the blanket and then staring up at the ceiling. I’m exhausted, but not at all tired, something I find to be completely ridiculous.
Cassidy shifts beside me, her hand reaching back, so I lift mine, and then she’s using her new grip on me to pull me toward her. I’m happy to oblige, and she scoots back as I roll into her, her back settling against my front, my arms going around her, holding her securely.
She sighs. I sigh. Then we both relax into each other, our shared heat firing a warmth of contentment in my chest. “Cassidy?”
“Ren?” she answers.
“Are you okay with me using the ‘I got you, babe’?”
She says nothing at first, sighs heavily, her hand moving to my forearm where she squeezes and doesn’t let go. Then she replies, “Yeah, I think I am.”
“Are you sure?”
She nods, the back of her head thumping lightly against my chest. “It was a comfort before, and now, it’s an even bigger comfort.”
Smiling, I press my face into her hair, enjoying the feel of her pressed back into me. She shifts, pressing her ass into my front, so I flex my hips, humping her rather theatrically until she giggles. With another sigh I begin to relax again, grateful as the lull of sleep ebbs in around me.
“Ren?” her voice cuts through the silence
“Cassidy?” I respond.
“Are you okay?”
I still, slightly surprised by her question.
And also, uncertain how to answer.
Before I can respond she mutters, “Of course you’re not okay. How could anyone be okay after learning about all this…ugliness.”
“I just want you to be okay, Cass,” I respond honestly.
“And what if I’m not?”
“Then I’ll be right here being whatever percentage of that sliding scale you need me to be.”
Again, she falls silent, and I wait her out, wanting her to say whatever comes to mind, even if that something is nothing. After a while she whispers, “I don’t deserve you.”
“Oh bullshit,” I retort, squeezing my arms tight around her. “You are the best thing to ever happen to me. The absolute best. I may have to personally thank your dad for his shitty trust writing skills.”
She stiffens slightly and I wince, having forgotten that she still thinks I believe in the whole trust fine print.
Wanting to distract her, I press a kiss against her neck, enjoying the shiver that rolls over her in response.
I do it again, this time nibbling a path up her pulse point to her ear, earning a squeak from her.
I move back, still holding her, though not as tight because my body is starting to get ideas that it really shouldn’t be getting.
But Cassidy scoots back more, rocks her hips just so, rubbing her ass all over my cock.
Groaning, I adjust my arms so one hand grips her shoulder, and the other her rib cage, careful not to put pressure on her healing abdominal wound.
Her foot slides along my calf, urging my knees to come up, but then her entire body writhes, her breath coming out in a low moan as my cock pressed between her legs, only stopped by the thin fabric of her sleep shorts.
“You’re gonna have to tell me what you want, Cass,” I whisper, holding her slightly away from me. “You can use your safe word at any time, but I need your guidance here.”
She says nothing at first, and the silence drags on so long I wonder if she’s fallen asleep.
Easing my arms around her, I settle back in, fully intent on going to sleep.
But then she presses her ass back against me, her arm coming up, her fingers delving into the hair at the back of my head.
Pulling my head forward, she twists around so she’s looking into my eyes as she says, “I need you. I need to be close to you.”
Then her mouth is on mine, tentative at first, but then with increased urgency, her lips and tongue hungry for more. Still hesitant, I give her what she wants, allowing her to take it at whatever pace works for her.
I shift, intent on moving on top of her, but her hand tightens in my hair, her lips leave mine. “I want it like this.”
“What?”
“Come on, Ren,” she croons, her lower body now writhing against me. “Fuck me like this.”
She doesn’t give me time to respond, already pushing her shorts out of the way just enough for her ass to be bare. Then she’s reaching behind, her hand yanking at the top of my boxers, sliding beneath the waistband, reaching for my cock.
Snagging her wrist, I pull her hand away. “Careful. You don’t want to hurt yourself. I’ll do it.”
“Hurry,” she responds, breathless. I push my boxer down enough to free my dick, barely managing to get into position before her hand is on my hip, pulling my pelvis flush with her ass.
Pulling back slightly, I slide my dick along one cheek, groaning at the streak of pre-cum left behind. I press my tip between her legs, equal parts excited and frustrated by the lack of depth reached.
“Spit on it.”
“What?” I mutter, already feeling a bit delirious just from having the tip of my dick rubbing against her warm skin.
“Spit on your cock,” is her breathless reply. Then she’s licking her own fingers, reaching back and rubbing them between her legs.
Pooling saliva in my mouth, I use my fingers to transfer it to my dick, smearing it over the head and along the shaft. Her hand is back on my hip, pulling insistently until my slick tip slides between her legs.
She presses back against me, a low moan falling from her lips as my cock slides along her clit. Closing her legs, she rocks rhythmically, her hand clutching my hip, urging me to match her movements, which I do.
Only to immediately feel my need rising, completely unchecked. I choke out a laugh. “I’m not even insi—”
“I don’t care,” she interrupts, her mouth falling open on a gasp, “It feels,” she pauses, her efforts increasing, “So good.”
“Slow down,” I plead, uncertain what she wants, but knowing it’s going to be out of my hands if she keeps going. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not gonna last, even like this.”
“Don’t then,” she responds, now rubbing her clit on me more urgently. “Oh fuck,” she breathes, her eyes closing, her nails digging into my hip. “I’m gonna come. Oh yeah, just like that. Come. Come.”
I watch her face, that initial twist of almost pain that immediately shifts into bliss as she comes, just like that. Spooned in front of me, my cock rubbing against her clit, her soft moans and gasps grabbing me right by the balls and pulling me over with her.
I come on her clit, along her pussy lips, but then I grab her upper leg, lifting it slightly as I pull my hips back, pressing the tip of dick inside her, leaving the last of me inside her clutching depths.
I slide in slowly, easing back and pushing in, inch by inch, watching her response, listening for any signs of discomfort. She’s watching me, panting little sobs that have me wanting to come again while she’s rotating her hips, easing me in.
Once I’m pushed in deep, I whisper, “Is this okay?”
She nods, her parted lips glistening where she licked them, tempting me.
I adjust my arm beneath her head, pulling her up as I twist my torso around, pausing just shy of pressing my mouth against hers.
“Is this too much?” she shakes her head, attempts to kiss me, but I move just out of reach, “Am I hurting you?”
She narrows her eyes, lifts her head. “Fucking kiss me already.”
I search her eyes for a moment, terrified that I’m going to hurt her, but all I see reflected back at me is the same yearning I feel inside me. So, I lean in, first licking her lips, teasing her while I pump into her, relieved my dick is still hard in the slick of come inside her.
She pants, a low moan falling between us. I press my lips against hers, muttering, “Touch yourself. Come for me again,” and her hand immediately moves down, her leg shifting to make room for her fingers, that rhythmic pull driving me mad.
My pace is slow, intentional. Every inward stroke punctuated with a sharp push, every outward slide dragging the tip of my dick right to the very brink. In and out. In and out. In and out.
When she comes, her eyes lock with mine just as my lips touch hers, her moan a vibration against my seeking tongue. Her body shivers, her back bowing as pleasure rushes over her, and I press inside in short pulses, extending her orgasm before letting myself come, deep.
I curse, moaning incoherently against her lips, incapable of looking away even as I feel she’s baring my soul to her gaze.
I don’t try to hide from her, I don’t attempt to shelter her from what I’m thinking or what I’m feeling.
Instead, in these few moments where we cling to those last remnants of ecstasy, I let her see everything; my love, my need, my sheer desperation for her, and only her.
She says nothing, but the shiver that runs over her is no longer from bliss nor is it from cold. It’s her body releasing those last bits of herself she’d been holding back. The pain and fear she pretends doesn’t exist behind her misplaced humor and refusal to face her own vulnerability.
A lone tear leaks from the corner of her eye, dripping down onto my arm.
She blinks, her breath catching—holding—and for a moment I think she’s going to push it down, that she’s going to shove those big feelings back down where she’s had them locked up for so long she may feel she needs them there to survive.
I don’t rush her, I don’t try to force her to let go.
I sit back, allowing her the space to choose to trust me, fully prepared to carry her if she’ll let me.
She has before to varying degrees, like in the hospital where the jagged edge of grief was expelled violently, but this is something entirely different.
Quieter. A silent purge that rises to the surface with such cunning one might not see it coming if they weren’t paying attention.
She quiets some, so I ease my lower body away, whispering, “I’ll be right back.
Gonna grab a towel,” then I wait for her small nod before moving from the bed.
I return quickly with a damp cloth and a towel, make quick work of cleaning her before wrapping the cloth in the towel and tossing them both on the floor.
I adjust her clothing, then scoop her up, pulling her into the cradle of my body. I use my arms, my legs, the weight of my body on top of hers to convey the safety of my love.
She clings to me, tears silent, my whispered words my solemn vow. “I got you, babe. I got you.”