28. Bindi
TWENTY-EIGHT
BINDI
The bed shifts slightly as Cass goes into the bathroom. I listen as the faucet runs for a few moments, then stops. A beat later he comes back in. His dick, even soft, looks delicious. Fucking rude.
Calm the fuck down, Bindi. Feral-ass bitch.
“You okay?” he asks, tossing a bottle of water at me.
I catch it without thinking, crack the cap open and take a sip. My hands are still shaky.
“Hurts,” I admit, nodding. My skin feels electric—fuzzy. My brain’s riding some weird high I’m not ready to come down from.
“We need to clean them up—get some salve on them. Last thing we need is an infection.”
He presses a wet cloth to the carved CASS on my thigh and I flinch so hard I damn near kick him. My stomach twists, heat rushing to my face. The sting is sharp and immediate, and I groan as I lie back. “Fuck, I’m gonna be sick. We didn’t think this through, did we?”
Cass chuckles. “Have we ever?” He kisses just above the cut and it’s somehow . . . better? I don’t know. I want to scream and cry and climb back onto his lap all at the same time.
“Should we shower?”
He stands, stretches a little. “Yeah. Best to get the grime off before one of us catches tetanus or some shit.”
He helps me up carefully, hands warm at my waist, and walks me to the bathroom.
The bathroom in the ranch hand’s place is about what you’d expect—cracked tile, rust-stained porcelain, a mirror warped with age.
But the water still runs, somehow. It groans and coughs at first, spitting rust, then settles into a lukewarm stream that looks good enough.
I step in first, biting back a hiss as the water hits my thigh.
Cass gets in behind me and I lean into him instinctively.
His hands come around my waist, holding me steady as the water runs pink between us.
Cass pours soap into his hand and slowly begins to rub it into my skin, starting at my shoulders and working my way down.
“Where did you find fucking soap?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Stole it from the hotel.”
I giggle and turn around, my fingers curling around his arms as I press a kiss to the scar on his shoulder, then his collarbone.
His cock hardens against my stomach and I smile against his skin. I need to taste him—need to know what it feels like to take him into my mouth. I sink slowly to my knees.
The water rushes over my back as I look up at him, lips parted.
“Binx . . . c’mon, I know you’re tired.”
“Are you really going to make me stop?” I ask, tilting my head as my fingers wrap around his thigh.
He chuckles. “I mean. . . no.” His hand fists around his cock, stroking once, twice. A single bead of pre-cum leaks from the tip. “I have dreamt of all the fucked up things I want to do to this little body of yours, Firefly. ”
“Yeah?” I lick the drop from the slit with my eyes locked on his.
His head falls back, lips parting as his abs tense.
“Then fucking make your dreams come true.” I run my tongue along the underside of his cock, slow and teasing.
I want to make him fall apart. Want to see what happens when he completely loses control.
“You’re fucking insatiable,” he growls.
“Only for this cock.” I smirk, dragging my nails lightly along his thighs.
“You look like a fucking whore when you’re on your knees like that. My filthy little sister.”
“Then use me like one, big brother.”
“Open your mouth.”
When I do, he slides in and I moan around him. He grits his teeth, a snarl curling out of him.
“Goddamn. Look at you—mouth full of cock and you’re fucking glowing. I should’ve done this years ago. Should’ve made you choke on it back when I used to jerk off to the sound of your moans while you slept and hated myself after.”
I moan again as his cock hits the back of my throat. My eyes sting, but I don’t pull back. I love it. Love the way he loses it. Love how fucked up we are together. I take more of him in, hollowing my cheeks, working him deeper. His hips jerk forward slightly, and I moan around him.
He curses under his breath. “Goddamn. You feel like fucking heaven. Shit. I’m going to fuck your pretty little throat, Firefly.”
I pop off him, breathing hard, saliva and spit trailing down my chin as I pump him with one hand. “Only if you promise to make a mess of me.”
“Such a good little whore,” he hisses.
I work him deep, throat relaxing, gag reflex long since forgotten. My hand twists at the base as his fingers tighten in my hair and he groans, body tensing.
He pulls me off suddenly, and I gasp for air, dazed and dripping. He jerks me up to my feet, eyes wild and pupils blown.
“I’m going to come down your throat, and I’m not going to be gentle,” he growls. “I don’t think you can take it.”
I grin, wicked and breathless, water droplets catching on my lashes. “Try me, Reyes.”
He doesn’t say anything, just shoves me gently, but firmly, back down, like he can’t stand the idea of wasting a second. Like the sight of me on my knees with spit on my chin and his cock in my hand is the most holy fucking thing he’s ever seen.
“Fuckin’ greedy little mouth,” he mutters as I take him in again, this time deeper. I swallow around him, let my throat flex, my lips sealing tight around the base. “You want it, don’t you? You want me to come down that pretty throat like a fucking animal.”
I moan in answer around his length, eyes rolling back a little when he thrusts, shallow and rough.
“That’s it, Binx. Fuck. You suck cock like you mean it.” His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling just enough to make my scalp sting. “Like you were made to suck only my cock.”
I hum around him, fingers digging into his thighs, and that’s what sets him off. His entire body jerks, hips bucking once, twice, and then he snarls out, “Open wide, baby. I’m gonna fucking come.”
I brace myself and he lets go.
Hot, thick spurts hit the back of my throat, and I take it—all of it—swallowing fast and messy, tears leaking from my eyes as he groans my name.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Bindi?—”
His knees damn near buckle while I suck him through every drop, lips still around him even when he starts to soften, only letting go when his hand cups my cheek and gently pushes me back.
My mouth is sore and my jaw aches. I lick my lips slowly before looking up at him .
Cass is panting like he’s just crawled out of hell—hair dripping, abs flexing, sweat and steam coating his skin. His cock twitches against his thigh, twitchy and overstimulated, and he’s still staring at me like he can’t believe I exist.
“You got a fucking death wish. You’ve awakened a fucking monster.”
I grin, wiping the corner of my lip with the back of my hand. “You came so hard you looked like you saw God.”
“I saw you .” He grabs me by the arm and pulls me up into a crushing kiss. Moments later, we step out of the shower. He grabs one of the stiff, scratchy towels and drapes it over my shoulders before drying himself off.
Then he moves back into the bedroom and opens the first aid tin we found in the kitchen. Everything’s old, but usable—gauze, antiseptic, medical tape. Cass kneels in front of me, his hands surprisingly gentle for someone who was just fisting my hair and fucking my throat.
“This might sting,” he says softly.
“Just do it.”
He cleans the wound first, carefully blotting around the letters on my thigh. The pads of his fingers are warm, and his lips brush my knee like he can’t help it.
When he wraps the gauze around my leg. But he doesn’t just do it once, he goes around twice before securing it and smoothing the edge.
Then, it’s his turn. I press my palm to his chest to guide him down. “Your turn, tough guy.”
He doesn’t fight me, just sprawls back on the edge of the bed, letting me tend to the four letters I carved into his skin— BINX —deep and red and still seeping. I clean it up, working fast but precisely. I want it to heal. I want it to scar.
I kiss his hip—just beside the wound, not over it. “Perfect,” I whisper, barely audible. My chest feels tight. Not just from what we did, from what it means .
He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. There’s something impossibly soft in those brutal hands of his.
When we’re done, we crawl into the small bed. He lets me curl into him without saying a word. My leg throbs, though his is probably worse. Our skin is rubbed raw and still warm from the shower, but when his arm wraps around me and he pulls the blanket up over us, everything else disappears.
We lie there like heathens and holy things. Cut up, taped together, heartbeats ticking loud in the silence.
“You good?” he murmurs against my temple.
I nod. “Yeah. You?”
He hums low. “I will be. If you’re next to me.”
“Cass?”
“Yeah, Firefly?”
I stare at the wall, listening to his breathing. “No one’s ever gonna understand us.”
He pulls me tighter, kissing the top of my head. “They don’t have to. You’re mine. I’m yours. That’s the whole story.”