Chapter 4 #2
"And you stand for everything I despise," I counter, leaning in until my breath ghosts over her lips. "Rules. Bureaucracy. Control."
I move one hand to the small of her back, pressing her closer, eliminating the last inch of space between her body and mine. The rigidness of her posture betrays a desperate attempt to maintain control.
"Relax," I command softly. "Let go."
"I can't," she breathes.
"Yes, you can. You just need permission." I slide my other hand up her spine to the nape of her neck, my fingers tangling in the severe bun, finding the pins holding it together. "You’re so tight, Cassandra. Wound so tight you’re about to snap. Let me break you."
Her eyes flutter shut. "That’s… not a negotiation strategy."
"Forget the strategy." I pull a pin free, then another, letting them ping softly against the concrete floor. "Tell me you don't feel this. The Thunderbolt. Tell me you didn't feel it the second you looked at me in that town hall meeting."
She opens her eyes, wet and shining with a mixture of frustration and lust. "It doesn't make sense. We are nothing alike."
"Doesn't matter." I pull the last pin, and her heavy dark hair cascades down, spilling over my hands, softening the sharp lines of her face. "Biology doesn't give a shit about your zoning permits."
I tighten my grip on the back of her neck, tilting her head back, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat.
I lean forward, burying my face in the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply.
I drag my open mouth over her pulse point, tasting the salt of her skin and the sweet, addictive flavor of her arousal.
She gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders as I mark her.
"Chase," she whimpers, a sound of pure, unadulterated need.
"Little shark," I murmur against her throat, biting lightly at the sensitive cord of muscle. "That’s it. Stop fighting me."
She shudders, her hips instinctively grinding forward against my thigh. That small movement snaps the last thread of my restraint.
I pull back just enough to look at her, my eyes searching hers.
"I’m taking your mouth, Cassandra. Not for the cameras or the Mayor, but because you’re mine and you’ve been begging for this since the second you walked into my shop.
Don't bother telling me to stop—we both know you're too drenched to mean it. "
She stares at me, her chest heaving, her lips parted and swollen. She could stop this. She could invoke her legal threats, walk out the door, and burn the whole deal to the ground.
Instead, she leans in, her voice a broken whisper. "If I tell you to stop… will you?"
"Yes." It costs me everything to say it, my body screaming in protest. "But you won't."
"No," she admits, a confession dragged out of her soul. "I won't."
I don't wait another second.
I stand up, my height forcing her to crane her neck back as I fist her dark hair.
I fist the hem of that restrictive emerald skirt, the fabric groaning as I hike it up to her waist to get to her skin.
I slide my hands under her ass, the silk of her stockings slick against my palms before I hoist her up.
She doesn't fight it, her legs locking around my waist and exposing her pussy, the lace of her panties soaked through with the thick, sweet cream of her arousal. I don’t kiss her; I possess her. My mouth crushes hers, my tongue forcing its way past her teeth to fucking devour her.
She tastes like coffee and desperate, high-strung need.
Her lips yield instantly under the pressure of mine. I sweep inside, claiming her mouth with a thoroughness that borders on devotion. I taste every corner, every inch of her, my tongue tangling with hers in a wet, slick dance.
She makes a high, keening noise and melts against me, her body losing all its structural integrity. If I wasn’t holding her, she’d be on the floor. Her arms wrap around my neck, her fingers digging into my hair, pulling me closer, harder.
This kiss is pure possession.
I carry her across the two feet of cramped floor, pinning her against the wood-paneled wall. The scattered pistol parts on the desk rattle behind us as I crush my weight into her. The impact knocks a calendar off its hook, but neither of us cares.
I grind my hips against hers, letting her feel exactly how hard I am, how desperate I am for her.
I can feel her pussy—drenched and throbbing—grinding through my jeans, the friction of her soaked lace hitting the head of my cock with every frantic breath she takes.
She is ruining that expensive wool skirt, staining it with the evidence of how much she wants me to fill her to the brim.
I break the kiss to breathe, pressing my forehead against hers. We’re both panting, the air in the small room thick and humid. Her eyes look dazed, her lips red and swollen, slick with my saliva. She looks thoroughly wrecked.
"Still think this is fake?" I rasp, my voice rough and wrecked.
She stares at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly against mine. She licks her lips, tasting me, and the sight makes my vision swim with red.
"No," she whispers, her voice trembling. "That was… very real."
"Yeah." I press a hard, quick kiss to her jaw, then another to the corner of her mouth. "And we’re just getting started."
"You have no idea what you’ve walked into, Counselor," I mutter, biting gently at her lower lip, soothing the abuse I just inflicted. "You think you can handle me? You think you can control this with a contract?"
She quivers, her hands sliding down from my neck to rest on my chest, right over my heart. "I think… I think the contract is void."
"The contract is just paper," I agree. "This? This is blood."
I run my hand up her thigh, sliding my fingers under the hem of her skirt. She gasps, her muscles clenching, but she doesn't stop me. My fingers brush against the silk of her stockings, finding the strip of bare skin above them. Soft. So incredibly soft.
"Please," she whispers, though I don’t know if she’s begging me to stop or begging me to touch her.
"Please what?" I challenge, my thumb stroking the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "Use your words, Counselor."
"Please… kiss me again."
The plea gut-punches me. The vulnerability in her eyes strips away the last of my defenses.
I growl, burying my hand in her hair again, and crush my mouth to hers.
This time, the kiss is slower, deeper, a rhythmic fucking of her mouth that promises exactly what I’m going to do to the rest of her body as soon as I get her alone for more than five minutes.
We’re interrupted by the sound of someone pounding on the metal door of the office.
"Chase!" It’s Austin. "Store’s full of customers, man. Unless you’re killing her in there, get your ass out here."
We freeze. The reality of the world outside the room comes crashing back in. The Outfitters. The permit battle. The town council. The fact that she is technically the enemy.
I pull back slowly, resting my forehead against hers one last time. "Don't move."
I let her legs slide down my waist until her heels touch the floor. She wobbles, grabbing my arms for support. She looks devastating. Her hair is a wild halo around her face, her blouse is untucked and wrinkled, her lips are ravaged.
If she walks out there like this, everyone will know.
Good, I think savagely. Let them know.
I reach up and smooth a stray lock of hair behind her ear, my thumb lingering on her cheekbone.
"Fix your hair, Cassandra. But leave your mouth swollen and your neck marked. I want every man in Pine Valley to look at you and smell the scent of my arousal all over you. I want them to see your pupils blown wide and know exactly whose cock you were just begging for. I want them to know you’re mine. "
She swallows hard, nodding slowly. "Chase… what are we doing?"
"Winning," I say, stepping back and unlocking the door. I turn the handle, but pause before opening it, looking back at her over my shoulder. The heat in my gaze is a physical weight. "We’re winning."
I open the door and step out into the cool air of the shop, my blood still boiling, my skin humming. Austin stands by the counter, his jaw set and arms tight across his chest, but his expression shifts to a knowing smirk when he sees my face.
I ignore him. I just look back at the open office door, watching as Cassandra steps out. She’s tried to fix her hair, but it’s still loose, falling around her shoulders. She looks flushed, breathless, and thoroughly claimed.
She catches my eye across the shop. The air between us snaps tight, an invisible tether pulling taut.
Game on, Counselor.