15. Cassandra #2
“You’re doing a lot better on Dottie. You’ve got an ease about you now. I’m proud of you.”
“Really?” I scoffed. “I drop an emotional bomb and you follow up with how well I ride a horse?”
“Was that supposed to be an emotional bomb?”
“For me it was. I don’t do feelings.”
“Seems like that’s working out pretty well for you.” The unexpected sarcasm was cutting.
I yanked on the reins and Dottie came to an immediate halt. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I shouted at his back.
Christian turned Libby around. “You wanna be irreplaceable? Let people love you.” He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And with that emotional bomb, he tapped Libby with his boots and left me in the dust.
Fucking cowboys.
Somehow, I managed a less than graceful ride back to the barn.
“Ma’am,” CJ said, acknowledging me as Dottie loped into the stables.
Libby glared at me from where she was tied off. Because, of course, he made it back and then disappeared.
I used the entire ride to crank up my indignation and fume over the man who decided to give me emotional whiplash.
“I don’t know how to park a horse,” I snapped.
CJ wasn’t as easygoing as his brother, but he wasn’t put off by my rancor. “Just hop down. I’ll take care of her.” He paused with a pitchfork in hand and gave me a quick assessment. “Did you take her out by yourself?”
“Nope,” I said as I dropped the reins, grabbed the pommel, and wiggled my toe until it found the stirrup. “Your monk of a brother left me in the middle of a fucking field.”
CJ grinned. “He was fuming when I saw him a little while ago. You must’ve really pissed him off.”
“Right.” My feet hit the ground. “And by fuming you mean in a near-catatonic state of pure, unbothered bliss.”
“Something like that.”
I turned to storm out of the barn, but CJ’s sharp whistle caught me by surprise.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “Excuse me?” I hissed as I slowly turned to face him.
He reached into his pocket and handed me a peppermint. “Now, before you go and skin my brother alive, give Dottie a treat and tell her what a pretty girl she is.”
I pressed my fingers to my temples. “I have work to do.”
“We all have work to do.” He pulled my wrist down and dropped the peppermint into my hand. “Now show her some appreciation for not bucking you off and leaving your city-girl ass in the middle of a goddamn field.”
Dottie didn’t seem fazed by the fact that I was wound tighter than a coiled spring. She snarfed down the peppermint when I offered it to her.
I shivered as her big hairy horse lips tickled my palm.
“Now what do you say?” he prodded.
I pressed my hand to her nose. “Dottie, you’re a pretty girl.”
“That’ll do,” CJ said, tipping his head toward the doors. “Get out of my barn.”
Fine by me.
My spine itched.
It wasn’t dry skin or an irritating shirt kind of itch.
It was agitation.
My skin was crawling with adrenaline. Focusing on the budget spreadsheet in front of me was impossible.
How dare he say that I didn’t let people love me? He didn’t even know me. We were opposites.
The clock ticked louder than a bomb. Each jolt of the minute hand fueled the fire I needed to burn off.
How dare he ride off like that, abandoning me in the middle of a fucking field?
I could have died.
If I had been back home, I would have cut out of the office and hit the treadmill to clear my mind.
But I wasn’t home, and there was no treadmill here.
But I was working twenty feet from my bedroom…
I hadn’t taken advantage of the lack of structure for my job here, but there was no time like the present.
One more glance at the clock told me it was the golden opportunity for a little self-care.
The girls would be at dance class until dinner time, which meant Christian wouldn’t be around until his mom brought them back.
I pushed out of the chair and beelined for the guest room, yanking the door closed behind me as I shimmied out of the jeans I had put on this morning.
I hated jeans. They were stiff and restrictive. But they did make my ass look good, so at least there was an upside.
I tossed them on to the cowboy boots I discarded when I came back to the house to work. My underwear and blouse were quick to follow. I pawed around in my suitcase until I found the discreet velvet bag.
I pulled it out, pressed the button, and the vibrator buzzed to life. Excellent.
There was nothing worse than being horny and out of batteries.
I stretched out on top of the soft patchwork quilt and propped my head up on the pillow. My lungs relaxed as I slid the tip of the vibrator down my clit.
“God, yes,” I whispered as my body relaxed.
I was so turned on that the vibrator slid right in. My breath caught as the silicone rabbit teased my clit.
My toes curled and I arched my back.
Blood rushed and roared in my ears like a tidal wave.
With all the chaos of Lillian Monroe torching my career with a metaphorical flamethrower, Tripp leaving me, cheating on me, and being exiled, I was seriously overdue for an orgasm.
… Or ten.
I bit into my lip to keep from moaning when I dragged the curved tip across my G-spot.
Who needs men when you have silicone?
I squeezed my eyes shut as my muscles clenched around the slick shaft. My skin was alive with pleasure as I pulled it out and circled my clit, edging out the orgasm just a little longer.
I sucked in a sharp breath as I plunged the vibrator into my pussy again. My back arched. Everything went white-hot as I?—
Dead.
“No!” I shrieked as my eyes flew open. I tried the power button again.
Nothing.
“Fuck!”
In a fit of anger, I slammed the useless device onto the mattress.
Fucking batteries. I needed something with a cord and a three-pronged plug for maximum power.
It was fine. I had fingers.
Letting out a breath, I laid back and propped one knee up, trying to let go of the anger. I teased my clit, massaging it back and forth until the blissful tingles of arousal were back.
I let out a guttural groan of delight as I neared an orgasm again. Something thumped outside.
Probably the damn dog. Or the cow.
I shook it off and focused on the brewing pleasure in my core.
The door clicked open and I froze, paralyzed as Christian filled the doorway.
His eyes locked on my fingers.
My breath caught and my nipples tightened, aching immediately at the sight of him.
With an authoritative tone that could demand oceans to part, he said, “Don’t stop on my account.”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. I searched his eyes for something to clue me in on what was going through his head, but he was an enigma.
“Cass.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
The doorframe crackled and groaned as he gripped it with both hands. “Close your eyes.”
I hated taking orders, but for him I did.
“Index finger on your clit.” He didn’t make another sound until obeyed. “Two fingers from your other hand inside that pussy.”
“Christian—” I whispered.
“Curl those fingers inside of you.”
I did as he said and bucked my hips, arching off the mattress.
“Get to work on your clit, Princess. Make yourself get there.”
I didn’t even care that my boss was watching me masturbate. This was the most alive I had felt in ages.
My breasts ached and strained against my bra. I wanted to rip it off. I wanted him to ravage me. I wanted his hands, his mouth, his cock.
“Make those pretty toes curl for me.”
“Yes,” I choked out as my spine electrified like a lightning rod. Sheer, unadulterated power ripped down my body as my pussy clenched around my fingers.
I arched off the bed, gasping as the adrenaline leached out of me in a rush.
I opened my eyes again, breathing like a marathon runner. Christian hadn’t moved an inch in the doorway.
“Well?” I laid back on the pillow. “Make yourself useful.”
Something powerful flashed in his eyes.
There it was. The storm he hid so well beneath his calm.
Christian’s hands curled around the wood frame. I wanted those hands.
“Cassandra?”
My breath caught at hearing him use my full name. “Yes?”
“Get that goddamn ring out of my house.”