26. Cassidy
TWENTY-SIX
CASSIDY
She yanks me down and I crash into her mouth.
My lips bruise hers in seconds, and she moans so perfectly.
I fist the hem of her tank top, yanking it up as she lifts her arms. Her sports bra goes next, flung somewhere behind us.
My eyes rake down her chest, my breath hitching as I take her in. She’s so fucking warm.
She has her own scars, her beautiful curves, the way her chest flushes. I want to worship every inch of her for as long as I live.
She reaches for my shirt and I let her peel it off. Her palms run down my chest, skimming over the ink, the old wounds, the newer ones too. Her fingers hover over the ragged scar above my ribs, the one I earned the night I covered for her with Randall.
“I hate that one,” she says as she runs her finger over the length of the scar.
“I don’t. It protected my girl.”
My mouth crashes back to hers and we stumble back toward the shitty mattress, drunk on each other’s taste, kicking off shoes, pulling at buttons and zippers. She pants against my jaw as I kiss down her throat, my hands sliding under the waistband of her shorts.
She shoves them off and I step out of mine.
Her fingers curl around the back of my neck and tug me down with her as she drops onto the bed.
Our bodies slot together—skin on skin. My throbbing cock aches against her thigh as my mouth finds hers again and I kiss her until I feel her squirm, until she’s whimpering into my mouth like she’s going to fall apart.
I trail one hand down her thigh, parting her knees with my own until I’m between them.
I don’t know if I’m shaking because I’m nervous or because I’ve never wanted anything more in my fucking life.
“I’ve never done this. Not with anyone,” I whisper against her skin.
Her hand touches my face. “You mean this is your first time?”
I nod, eyes locked on hers. “Didn’t want anyone else. I always knew you’d be my first and only.”
What I don’t tell her is the numerous times the club would shove me into rooms with girls, I couldn’t get it up.
I was meant to break them in, but all I did was pay them to be quiet.
They just assumed I was too fucked up or gay.
But every fucking one of them kept their word.
And I kept my virginity for who mattered most.
“Cass . . .”
“I’m not going to be perfect. I’ll probably fuck this up. But I need you to know . . . this means everything to me. You mean everything to me, Firefly.”
She grabs my jaw and tilts my face so I’m forced to look her in the eye. “You’re not gonna fuck this up.”
My eyes roam over her body laid out beneath me, glowing in the light. I don’t even know where to put my hands first. Is she not nervous ?
“You’re so fucking . . . perfect.” My throat tightens. I can’t believe I get to see her like this. Finally.
My fingers hover over her breasts and I’m unsure if I want to flinch or melt. But then she cups her hand over mine and places it over her breasts. They feel so full and soft in my palms and I swear to god my dick leaks a little.
She gasps when my thumb brushes over her nipples. They pebble under my touch and something inside me fucking howls. She likes it. She wants this. She wants me .
I lean down and close my mouth around one. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I know what feels good just by watching her breath catch, her spine arch. I start slowly, with gentle licks, then a suck little harder and she lets out this moan. Fuuuuck.
My other hand trails lower, over her ribs, her hip, the outside of her thigh.
I hook one arm under leg and pull it up, spreading her open beneath me like a fucking offering.
She whimpers—breathless, needy. I drag my tongue away from her breast and meet her eyes.
They’re huge in the dim light, pupils blown wide and glassy with heat.
I can’t take it anymore. Every thought in my head’s screaming to just take her.
My hand slides down between her thighs and . . . holy fuck.
She’s soaked.
My fingers slip through the mess, spreading it, and she jolts, biting her lip—trying not to make noise.
“No. Don’t hold back. Not tonight. Not ever. Let me hear you, Firefly.”
I push a finger inside her and nearly fucking lose it. Her walls grip me, tight and hot and pulsing. She throws her head back, moaning.
I can’t breathe. I can’t blink. I’m shaking.
She’s so fucking beautiful like this.
I start moving my finger, slow, curling it just right, just like I saw in the videos I watched when I was too fucked up to even jerk off. All those nights dreaming of this moment, trying to memorize how to make her fall apart. When I add a second finger, she cries out.
“Cass!”
My cock jerks so hard I nearly come without even being inside of her. Her hips are moving with me now, meeting me each stroke. The sound of it, the slick, obscene rhythm of her soaking fingers makes me bite my lip so I don’t explode against her thighs.
She’s panting, clinging to me, her whole body working toward the edge, and I’m the one driving her there.
Me.
Fuck.
I lower my mouth to her inner thigh, kissing it. I need more. I need all of her.
I pull my fingers out and replace them with my tongue and Jesus Christ , she tastes better than she did last night. Her thighs close around my head and I’m not complaining. I could die like this.
Death by Pussy. Engrave that shit on my gravestone.
I lap at her like I’m starving. Long strokes, slow circles, then fast and deep again. Her hand grabs my hair as she moans, sobbing my name, and that’s it, I’m fucking done. I’m not even inside her, and I know I’ll never be the same.
I don’t stop. I want her to come on my tongue and I want it to be messy—loud. I fuck her with my mouth until her thighs shake, until her heels dig into my back, until her voice is wrecked, and she chants my name like a goddamn hymn.
When she finally comes, she fucking shatters, her head thrown back, mouth open, a long, cracked moan ripping from her throat.
Her whole body locks up, then trembles, and I drink down every fucking second of her release.
I lick her through it, even when she starts to push me away from being oversensitive.
Then I kiss the inside of her thigh, breathing hard, my face soaked with her.
I drag myself up over her body, dazed, dizzy. Her lips are parted and her chest rises and falls as she looks at me. Her hand brushes my jaw and I lean into it. My cock’s still straining, still untouched, and all I want now is to be inside her—to stay there, forever.
I line myself up, the head of my cock nudging against her entrance, and fuck, I’m shaking.
My thumb drags across her cheek bone and I look her in the eyes. “I love you,” I breathe.
Her mouth softens, then she presses her lips to the palm of my hand. “I love you too. I have for my entire life.”
Whatever’s left of my restraint fucking disintegrates.
I push forward, sinking into her inch by fucking inch. Her body stretches to take me in and I swear to God I nearly black out as heat, tight and slick and fucking perfect, wraps around me.
She gasps and digs her fingers into my shoulders. “Oh God . . . Cass . . .”
Her voice makes my spine seize. She’s shaking again, and I don’t know if it’s another orgasm or if the stretch is too much, so I freeze. Every nerve in my body screams at me to move, to bury myself in her until I forget my own name.
“Tell me if I hurt you.”
“You feel . . . perfect,” she says, rolling her hips to take me further.
Fuck.
A groan tears out of me as I draw back and push in again, deeper this time. Her head falls back as I move again.
Leaning down, I kiss her while I pump my cock inside of her, her legs wrapping around my waist, ankles locking at my back, urging me to go deeper. And I do. I go until she’s gasping in my mouth and I can feel the tight flutter of her walls every time I hit that spot .
But slow and deep turn into something else.
I lose grip on my control, pulling back almost all the way then slamming into her hard enough that the headboard smacks against the barn walls.
She cries out, “Cassidy, please?—”
That’s it. That’s all it takes.
My pace turns brutal, punishing. Years of wanting and never touching, dreaming but never having, all distilled into this—into the way she moans for me. Into the way she takes every thrust.
“All for you. You fucking hear me? This is all for you,” I growl against her throat as her nails rake down my back and I feel the sting. But I need more.
I bite into her neck, hard enough to leave a mark, and her gasps turn into whimpers. Her name’s a chant in my head. Bindi. Binx. Firefly. Mine. Her taste is still on my tongue, her voice wrecking my sanity.
Her body is arched and beautiful, meeting me thrust for thrust, the entire bed creaking with every movement.
“Bindi . . . I’m—fuck . . . I’m?—”
I slide a hand between us, thumb pressing to her clit, rubbing tight circles just the way she likes.
Her thighs clamp down and then she screams, her walls spasming around my cock.
I come with a growl and my hips stutter, burying myself deep as I spill into her.
I keep rocking into her until my body gives out, until I’m raw, balls completely drained.
I collapse beside her, pulling her into me and my lips ghost her throat as I pant against her. I don’t know how long we stay like that, but then I feel my throat tighten and it’s not until I blink that I realize what it is. I’m crying. Fucking crying.
I bury my face in her hair so she won’t see. I don’t even know what the tears are from. Maybe the years we lost—the years I spent thinking I’d never have this, never touch her again. Maybe it’s the relief, the peace, the way she told me she loved me too.
She stirs a little, shifting so her thigh drapes over mine, and her cheek presses against my chest. Her fingers twitch against my side. I kiss the top of her head again. And again. I can’t stop. I don’t want to.
I’d kill her for her. I have killed for her.
And if I had to start over, if I had to do every fucked up, wrong thing again to get to this exact moment? I’d do it without blinking. Without apologizing.
She murmurs something I don’t quite catch—a breathy slur of my name and a half-formed thought. I hum back, soothing her, letting her slip under.
I should be sleeping too—we’re not safe here forever. We’ve got miles to go, blood on our heels, and no plan beyond the next heartbeat. But I can’t sleep yet.
Because I keep thinking about what comes next.
I run a hand down the line of her spine. Her skin hums under my fingers, still flushed from what we did, still claiming me even in sleep. My palm drifts lower, over the small of her back, her hip, her thigh resting across mine, and I swear my heart fuckin’ stutters.
She’s got bruises from me, from us. From my mouth, my hands, my body taking hers like I’ve dreamed about for five goddamn years.
But it’s not enough.
It’ll never be enough.
I want to carve my name into her skin.
Not deep, just enough to mark her.
But not out of rage or madness.
Out of love.
She shifts again, face turning into my neck. Her breath fans over my collarbone, her leg still hooked over mine.
I press another kiss to her temple and whisper so low it barely leaves my throat. “Sleep, Firefly. Just for a little while.”
Because when she wakes?
I’m giving her everything I have left.