36. Cassidy
THIRTY-SIX
CASSIDY
The bike eats miles like nothing. It’s just an open road and the roar of the engine and Bindi’s thighs tighten around me like a second skin. Every bump sends her grinding into my back.
And it fucking wrecks me.
Her thighs clench tighter when I lean into the curve. Her hands slide just a little lower on my stomach with every bump. Her tits are flush against my back.
She better not be thinking about the diner, or Jimmy. Or whatever the fuck broke loose in that Walgreens.
She better be thinking about me, about what I did to her up against that wall. About how she sucked my fingers like she wanted the rest of me in her mouth right after. About how she moaned when I pulled her apart with nothing but my fucking hands.
And I’m thinking about it too. Thinking about the sound she made when I told her to open her mouth—the way she whimpered. The way her pussy clenched around my fingers. She’s learning that fear and arousal are the same thing when it comes from me.
I can’t think straight.
Every time her thighs shift, she grinds down onto the seat .
. . begging to be fucked senseless. And it’s working.
I can fucking feel how hot her cunt is against me.
My dicks’s harder than it has any right to be.
I want her so badly it’s painful—not just the kind of ache in my jeans, but in my goddamn chest. Like I need her to fall apart for me again just to prove she still can.
I need to make her scream my name in the middle of the woods with my hand over her mouth and my cock buried so deep inside her.
I spot the turnout before I even make the decision. Just cracked asphalt and overgrown trees, private enough for what I need—what we need.
I cut the engine and let the bike coast in.
Bindi shifts behind me, taking her helmet off. “Why are we stopping?”
I kill the engine and flick the kickstand down, throwing my helmet on the ground. “Because if you keep grinding on me like that, I’m gonna wreck us.”
She exhales. “I wasn’t?—”
“Don’t lie to me,” I snap. I turn my head just enough to look at her over my shoulder. “You knew what you were doing.”
I swing off the bike and scoop her off and onto two feet. She stumbles a little, but I catch her, slamming her back against the warm metal of the tank.
“You’re not slick, Firefly. You knew exactly what you were doing pressed up against me, teasing like you didn’t just beg me to come inside you last night.”
She gasps, but my hand is already under her waistband, and between her legs, fingers sliding through soaked heat.
“Fuck, Bindi. You’re even more soaked. We didn’t even make it twenty miles.”
“Cass—”
“Is that you begging for me?”
She bites her lip, but doesn’t answer.
So I pull down her jeans and slap her pussy.
“Answer me.”
“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, fuck—Cass, I?—”
“That’s my girl.”
I drop to my knees,and my hands yank her thighs apart, rough and greedy, spreading her wide. Her back arches against the tank, hands scrambling for something to hold on to.
After lifting one of her legs over my shoulders, I bury my face between her legs. I’ve been dying for it. Eating her delicious cunt is the only thing that’ll fix the fucking noise in my head.
My tongue slides through, licking up every ounce of her.
She tastes like salt and sin and satisfaction.
Her hips jerk forward, fingers threading into my hair anchoring herself so she doesn’t break apart.
She grinds down against my mouth, breath stuttering, thighs trembling.
She moans my name like it’s the only word left in her vocabulary. Just Cass , over and over.
I grab her ass with both hands, pull her in tighter, tongue working faster, more viciously. I want her to fall apart. I need her to come so hard she forgets the world. I need her to forget everything except me.
I’m almost disappointed in how fast I make her come. Her pussy clenches as I drink in every bit of what she gives me, her whole body jerking, thighs trying to close around my head, but I growl and hold her open. Because how dare she try and turn me away.
I keep licking her, devouring her, chasing every aftershock like it’s a fucking high I can’t come down from. She is my fucking heroine.
“Cass—I can’t?—”
“You will. You’ll come again. You’ll take everything I give you, and you’ll fucking thank me for it.”
Her thighs tremble around my head, slick and clenched and soaked. She tries to twist away, to wriggle back, but I growl low against her clit and grab her hips, slamming her right back where I want her.
“Don’t you fucking run. You wanted this, Firefly. You were grinding against my back like a fucking whore. So, give me what I want.”
She sobs. It’s not a cry, it’s a wrecked, broken yes .
Her second orgasm crashes over her, harder than the first. Her body spasms, nails clawing into my shoulders.
Her legs try to close again, and she gasps something that sounds like pleasure.
She’s drenched—slick and raw and shaking—and every sound she makes is another fucking reason I love her the way I do.
I flatten my tongue against her clit, fingers gripping so tight on her ass she’ll bruise. I suck.
Hard.
Her whole body jolts like she’s been electrocuted. She sobs my name.
“I can’t,” she gasps. “Cass, please, I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can,” I growl at her. “You come when I say. You break when I tell you to.”
Legs buckling, chest heaving, nails raking down my arms as she comes for a third time, helpless and wrecked. Her body tries to collapse, but I hold her up.
Then I rise.
Face soaked, jaw clenched, my cock is aching like it’s gonna tear through my jeans.
She’s slumped against the bike, a complete fucking mess.
I lean in close, my breath ragged at her ear .
“You’re dripping down your thighs. Tell me again how you’re not fucking addicted to me.”
I unzip my jeans, stroking myself slowly while I stare at her.
“Turn around.”
She obeys with zero hesitation, hands braced against the tank, back arched, legs spread apart. I press in slowly, and we both groan.
She’s so goddamn tight, so wet. I swear, I could live here.
“Say it,” I snarl, thrusting into her so hard the bike lurches forward. “Say what I already fucking know.”
“Cass—fuck?—”
“Say whose cock’s got you bent over and begging.”
“Yours. Yours, Cassidy. Your cock?—”
That breaks me.
Whatever thread of sanity I was holding onto snaps clean in half.
I fuck her like the world’s ending. Like maybe it already did, and this is all that’s left—her body, my name in her mouth, the sound of us coming apart under open sky.
She cries out, knuckles white on the tank. I grip her hips hard, digging my fingers into her until I brand my fucking fingerprint into her bones.
“Tell me again, say it like you fucking mean it.”
She sobs, “No one else, Cass—I swear—fuck, I’m only like this for you.”
I slam into her harder. The filthy slap of skin, the creak of the bike, and her wrecked little gasps—it’s my nirvana.
And when I come, I bury myself to the hilt, my teeth sinking into her shoulder.
We stay like that and she slumps forward against the bike, hair clinging to the sweat on her neck, chest heaving.
I don’t pull out right away. The only thing holding me together is the feel of her skin under my hands and the wrecked heat of her cunt swallowing me whole.
I press my chest to her back, both of us slick and filthy, skin sticking where we connect. My hands settle on her hips.
She turns her head a little and I feel her breath on my jaw. Her lips brush the side of my throat.
“Cass . . .”
Fuck, it makes something violent stir in me. Something primal and sick that wants to bottle this moment and carve it into my ribs, so I never forget how she sounds right now.
Still . . . I force myself to move, pulling out of her slowly as she lets out a strained whimper—like the absence hurts more than the stretch ever did.
Her legs nearly give, but I catch her before she collapses.
I ease us both down into the grass, dragging her into my lap—half-naked, sweat-slick, filthy in the dirt.
She doesn’t speak, just lays her head against my shoulder, lashes low.
“You okay?” I mutter.
She nods, hesitates, then says, “Yeah.”
“You came so hard you forgot words,” I murmur, smirking into her hair. “I should’ve been worried, but fuck , it was beautiful.”
The wind shifts and she lets out a shaky little laugh.
“What?”
She glances over her shoulder, cheeks flushed, hair stuck to her lips.
“You’re fucking insane.”
“And you love every second of it.”
She doesn’t speak. Not for a long time.
Neither do I.
Eventually, I move off the ground, tucking myself back into my jeans and zipping up slowly. She tries to stand up and wobbles. I steady her with both hands, one at her elbow, one at her lower back.
“You good?”
“I’m fine.”
We sit there for a beat, the air thick with heat and silence, listening to the rustle of wind, the tick of the cooling engine, the hard thrum of my heart still stuttering against my ribs.
She finally turns, finds her shirt crumpled near the grass, and pulls it back on slowly, tugging it down over her stomach, lips swollen, eyes gone soft and glassy.
She shifts off my lap with a quiet grunt, settling beside me in the dirt. I lean back against the bike, close enough that our arms brush. My voice is quieter now, stripped bare. “You’re thinkin’ too loud.”
“I’m allowed to think.”
“Yeah. Just don’t go thinking yourself outta this.”
Her brows knit. “Out of what?”
“Out of us.”