17. Scarlett
Chapter 17
Scarlett
C ian’s casserole is not as good as Diane’s are, but it’s pretty damned good. Like I could come home to this every night good. The conversation around the table, and the way Henry and Cian both interact with Mariah and Greta, is also very good. Tempting. Dangerously so.
I could easily fall for all of this.
We laugh, we talk, Greta and Mariah fill Cian in on all of the kids in class, both in their grade and in the grades just above and below.
It’s lively enough that we barely notice that Ruby and Henry are ignoring one another.
In fact, that isn’t blatantly obvious until Henry excuses himself after dinner and heads back to the bed and breakfast, leaving the car for Cian because he ‘needs some fucking fresh air and a walk’ to which Ruby just rolls her eyes and goes upstairs to get ready for work.
Now Mariah and Greta are up in Mariah’s room. They say they’re prepping for a quiz tomorrow in English, but I’m guessing there’s going to be more gossiping and studying their social media pages than their textbook and notes. Still, both girls are great students with mostly As, so I don’t worry.
And if I’m honest, and at risk of losing my Good Mom card, I’m happy everyone cleared out. Even if Ruby’s a little pissed at Henry. Even if Henry’s walking around in the dark. It’s Emerald for fuck’s sake. And he’s a bodyguard. And even if Mariah and Greta miss a couple of questions on their quiz. Because Cian and I are now alone in the kitchen.
He’s putting the last of the dinner dishes in the dishwasher while I store the leftovers in the fridge and it’s so normal and he looks so comfortable rinsing dishes that I almost laugh. He’s actual royalty, but he’s standing in his socks at my kitchen sink with his sleeves pushed up to the elbows, glasses on, scrubbing a plate free of cheese, rice, and veggies from a casserole he made.
This is bonkers.
And I love it.
And it’s the first time we’ve done this clean-up routine together and I already know I’m going to miss it when he’s gone.
“Do you actually wear glasses some of the time?” I ask.
He puts the last plate into the dishwasher and closes the door. “No. These aren’t even readers. Just glass lenses with no correction at all.”
He’s been wearing them all night and I really like the look.
Then again, I’m comfortable admitting the fact that I like every look Cian O’Grady has.
“Why do you still have them on?”
“Just getting used to them. Figure I’ll keep them on at school.” He dries his hand on a dish towel, then hangs it over the front of the oven. He pushes the glasses up his nose before bracing his hands on the counter behind him.
“It’s funny that the Kent thing works,” I say.
“The Clark Kent thing?”
“That you can just put a pair of glasses on and no one recognizes you.”
He chuckles. “It’s a little more than that.” He rubs his hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “But people here have only seen me in photos. And some of those online are old. The most recent ones are from my brother’s wedding and I am definitely in the background.”
I agree that I would be surprised if anyone here actually recognizes him. But I think it’s more because it would be out of context. It’s amazing how hard it can be to put a name and face together when you see someone in an unexpected place.
“You feel ready for class on Monday?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I will be. Ready enough anyway.”
“Ready enough?” I grin. “You know with teenagers, the main thing is to not show any weakness.”
He matches my grin. “For sure. I’ve just learned that over-preparing for new adventures can be a waste of time. You have to go into new things with at least a little acceptance of the fact that you don’t know exactly what’s going to happen and you can handle it.”
I think back to the times Ruby and I decided to move to a new city, find new jobs, find new places to live. It was terrifying every time and the only thing that made it better was preparing for every contingency.
“Maybe skydiving is different from moving your kid to a new city and finding a new apartment and job,” I say. “But I’ve always found preparation to be very important.”
He doesn’t respond for a long moment. He just stands studying me. Finally he says, “Having a child, someone who depends on you, probably makes a difference.”
“And not having a bodyguard to make things safe and clean up problems.”
“Right.”
I can’t read his expression. For just a second, I worry that I’ve hurt his feelings. But I replay my words, and I don’t find anything untrue or especially snarky about them. They’re all true.
But I decide not to be a bitch and point out that he’ll have full classes of students depending on him to teach them something. I’m making a bigger deal out of this than I need to. And I’m projecting my suspicions that long-term commitments aren’t really Cian’s thing onto this situation that is very much not a long-term thing. Everyone understands that. The people who hired him, Cian himself, the kids. He’s a substitute teacher. He doesn’t need to commit.Not to the school. Not to me.
“I guess it’s only three weeks,” I say. “So that’s also different.”
He doesn’t say anything to that. “So what are the chances that someone will walk in on us if I kiss you right now?” he asks.
I’m surprised by the shift of topic, and I guess the fact that he still wants to kiss me after I was clearly being judgy about his ‘adventures’ being less serious than mine.
He pushes away from the counter and comes toward me. “And what are the chances of it being a really bad idea if they did?”
I swallow. “I don’t think the chances are very good. But it would be bad.”
He looks surprised as he stops in front of me. “It would? You don’t think that Mariah and Ruby and Greta are expecting that we’re kissing?”
“It’s more the fact that I think the kissing will turn into a lot more. Things they won’t appreciate having happen on the surfaces where they eat.”
His gaze heats as his mouth tips up at the corner. “Are you saying you have no self-control around me?”
I nod. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“That’s an excellent answer.”
I step closer to him, his heat wrapping around me. I take a deep breath that’s scented with his soap and cologne. “I need to tell you something before we kiss. And more.”
“Anything.”
“I think there’s a good chance I will be using you for sex.”
His right brow arches. “Is that right?”
“Yes. I still don’t think anything can happen between us past the next sixteen days.”
He sighs as if frustrated with my mental countdown.
“But I want to keep having sex. And I just want to be up front about that so you don’t think it’s a sign that I’m getting attached or that this is more serious. And to give you a chance to say no.”
God, please don’t say no.
He nods slowly, lifting a hand to my hair and pulling on the ponytail holder again. He drags the elastic loop down the length of my hair. When it’s free, he slips it onto his wrist and then slides his hand up into my hair, dragging the strands between his fingers.
“You are a witch, you know that? I’m spellbound. You know very well I have no ability to say no to you.”
I grasp his wrist. “You do. You can say no. You want more and it’s not fair of me to lead you on.”
“Hey, Glinda?”
“Yeah?” I ask softly.
“You go right ahead and take whatever you need from me. I’m here for you. Use me. Whatever you need.” He slides his fingers through my hair again, then his hand comes up to cup my face.
“Cian—”
“Shh.” He leans in and puts his lips against mine. “I’m okay. I’m in. You let me worry about all the other stuff.”
“What stuff?” I whisper, my hands going to his sides and gripping his shirt.
“The falling in love stuff. The forever stuff.”
Oh, shit. See that’s the messy stuff. “Cian?—”
“You’ve already cast your spell, Scarlett,” he says, his warm breath coasting over my lips and making me want more .
Fuck.
Then he kisses me and any thoughts of pulling away and doing the right thing by not taking my clothes off for him again go out of my head.
I arch closer, and he doesn’t hesitate to take over. He cups my face with both hands, aggressively claiming me, heating every inch of my body with just the strokes of his tongue against mine.
Well, I warned him. I told him I was using him, that all I want is sex. I told him. So if he thinks this means we’re getting married or something, that’s his own fault.
I hook my fingers into his belt loops and start pushing him toward the laundry room that’s just off the kitchen. We could go up to my bedroom, but I share a wall with Mariah and Ruby is across the hall…and no, we couldn’t go up to my bedroom. What the hell am I thinking?
About a bed. About a big horizontal surface. About a location for this where you won’t get mosquito bites.
The patio last night had been sexy and hot, and I’ve been thinking about it off and on all day, heat flooding my body every time, but I don’t want to do this on the patio again.
I push him into the laundry room, his ass hitting the dryer, the motion pulling our lips apart. I’m breathing fast as I swing the door shut behind us. “Will this work?” I ask, looking around. I eye the washer and dryer. They’re both too high. The ironing board propped in the corner will no way hold even one of us. Dammit. I could bend over but…
“I’ll make it work,” he growls, reaching out and grabbing my wrist, pulling me to him. He kisses me deeply again, then turns me to face the dryer. “Hands on top,” he orders.
I do it. God, I love when he bosses me.
If anyone had told me that before I’d been in New Orleans with him, I wouldn’t have believed it. I would have said I’m a strong, independent woman who knows what she likes and needs. I’m sexually open and well-adjusted and I don’t date men who I don’t feel like I can talk to about what I want in bed.
Which is maybe why I’ve only had two partners other than Cian since Mariah’s dad.
But Cian O’Grady, the seemingly young, cocky playboy had come along, taken charge, told me what I was going to do and how I was going to do it, and what he wanted from me and oh my God , it had been better than anything I could have come up with in my dirtiest daydreams.
“I have been thinking about this sweet pussy all fucking day,” he says against my neck. He might’ve gotten rid of the beard, but he has whiskers at this time of night and the roughness against my skin makes goosebumps dance down my spine.
I press back against him. “I’ve been thinking about last night too.”
“What do you need?” he asks. “Right now, what do you need?”
“Just make me feel good. Like you always do.”
“My fucking pleasure,” he says.
While Henry set the table and Cian pulled the casserole from the oven, I’d quickly showered and dressed in loose gray cotton shorts and a T-shirt with a sports bra. Had I thought about the easy access of those items at the time?
Yes, yes, I had.
One of his hands steals up under my T-shirt, and pulls my bra up, exposing both breasts. The other slips down the front of my shorts.
“Have I properly praised you for your choice of evening attire around the house?” he asks.
“I dressed for comfort.” My voice is breathy.
“Oh, my sweet liar, you dressed to get finger fucked against the dryer in your laundry room,” he tells me.
One hand palms my breast, teasing my nipple, while the other cups me through my cotton panties.
He presses against my clit. “Spread your legs,” he tells me. “Let me have this magical, perfect pussy that has me under this spell I never want broken.”
I widen my stance, and he shifts to slide his hand into my panties, his middle finger rubbing over my clit. He circles three times then gives me a little pinch.
I gasp. “Cian!”
“Will you soak my hand, Scarlett? I want to make you come hard and fast on my fingers. Please.” The last word is deep and husky ashe slides two thick fingers into me at once.
I can take it but it’s a tight fit and I gasp again.
“That’s my girl,” he rasps against my ear. “You can take this. I stretched you out last night and you’re such a good girl getting so wet for me. Let me make this sweet pussy purr.” He kisses the side of my neck, then gives me a little nip. He thrusts in and out a few times. “But we both know what you really want. Play with your nipples, so I can have both of my hands free.”
I shiver with lust. I know exactly what he’s talking about.
He helped me discover some things about my body that I had never explored before. Or even thought about exploring. But with Cian I was safe. And he made it amazing.
“Oh my God,” is all I can manage.
He reaches out and takes one of my hands from the top of the dryer, lifting it under my shirt to cup my breast. I squeeze my nipple, feeling my pussy ripple around his fingers. He slides his hand down my back and over my ass.
“You are incredible, Scarlett.” He kisses my throat as he squeezes my ass. “God, the way you give yourself to me is like a drug.”
I drag in a breath as he tucks his hand into the back of my shorts. Now he is cupping a bare ass cheek while he pumps his fingers in and out of my pussy.
“Need your legs wider,” he says against my ear. “Bend over a little. Let me give you what you need.”
I can’t resist him. His rough voice in my ear, his fingers touching me exactly the way I need to be touched, the way he knows me, the way he’s not getting any relief himself but still acts as if this is exactly what he needs.
I lean over, resting one forearm on the top of the dryer. His fingers thrust faster, his thumb rubs over my clit, and then with his other hand, he presses against my backside.
I gasp as lightning seems to burst inside me. “Cian!”
“That’s right, my pretty dirty little witch. I remember all your secrets. How you like to be fucked deep in this perfect cunt but teased back here too.”
He circles and thrusts and presses and I feel my orgasm coiling low and tight.
“I also remember how you like to have your hands tied to the bed, so you have to just lie there and take it.”
The coil pulls tighter.
“And how you love to be spanked.”
He thrusts faster. Presses deeper.
I inch even closer to the precipice.
“How you love to be eaten before I?—”
I break apart. I cry out as my orgasm hits from deep inside and rolls out, swamping me in pleasure and heat.
“Cian!”
“That’s it,” he praises. He keeps his fingers moving, slowing but not withdrawing as the ripples continue. “That’s it. Fuck, Scarlett. Yes, that’s it.”
I slump over the dryer, sucking in oxygen.
I feel him finally slip his fingers from my shorts. He drapes himself over me, kissing the back of my head, my neck, my shoulder.
After a minute or so, he reaches under my shirt and pulls my bra down, then pulls me to standing and turns me, gathering me in his arms. “Was that what you needed?”
I nod against his chest. “Yes. Though I want?—”
He lifts my chin and kisses me. Then he says, “That’s enough for tonight.”
I pull back. “But what about?—”
“We don’t have time or space for more.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “But at least I have my own room now so I can get myself off when I get to the B&B.”
I drop my gaze to the front of his shorts. “I could?—”
He steps back, clearly reading my thoughts. “Not on this hard floor.”
I look down at the linoleum under our feet. Oh. Yeah, that would be very uncomfortable on my knees. That’s nice of him. “I could get a throw pillow from the couch.”
He chuckles. “I’m okay.”
I give him a ‘really?’ look.
He shrugs. “Okay-ish.”
“Fine.” I open the laundry room door, and he goes to the sink to wash his hands. I run a hand through my hair watching him.
God he’s so…good.
And not just at the orgasm thing. He’s just good . He’s a good guy.
He comes back over to me and pulls me into his arms again, hugging me, and kissing the top of my head.
Then we load all the shopping bags into the rental car and I say goodnight.
“See you tomorrow, Glinda,” he tells me softly, gathering my hair into a ponytail and slipping the tie from his wrist around it.
“Yep. Sixteen days left.” But I think I say it more for my benefit than his.
He smacks my ass. “Wicked.”