Cass’s Bedroom #3
His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for him without a thought. The kiss deepens, becoming a slow, sensual dance. He explores my mouth with a thoroughness that makes my head spin, and when he gently sucks my tongue into his mouth, a soft moan escapes me, raw and wanting.
After several dizzying moments, he finally pulls back, breaking the kiss with a soft, wet sound.
We're both breathing heavily, the air between us thick and charged. His dark eyes fix on my swollen lips, and for a moment, we just stare at each other, the world narrowed down to this single, breathless moment.
Then, the corner of his mouth ticks up. "Fuck breakfast," he growls, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates straight through me. "Lay down and spread those legs. I’m going to bury my face in that pretty little pussy, and lick you clean.”
A fresh wave of heat floods my system, so intense it makes me sway.
Cass’s fingers tangle in my hair, and my insides clench with a desperate, empty ache. Every coherent thought evaporates, replaced by the single, overwhelming command to obey. My muscles go liquid, ready to do exactly as he says, to lie back and let him devour me.
But before I can move a single muscle, a gentle knock sounds at the door.
It's followed by the distinct, metallic click of the door handle turning. My body, which had just melted in anticipation, goes rigid with a fresh jolt of panic. Not again.
“Wait!” Cass barks, then he shifts, reaching for the blanket at the foot of the bed. He wraps it around my shoulders, tucking it close to my body. “Come in,” he calls, once he’s sure I’m covered.
The door opens, and Beck peeks inside, already half-grimacing like he knows he’s interrupting something important. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Sorry. Dr. Pace is here.”
Cass’s brow furrows slightly. “Pace? Why is he here? I thought we were starting physical therapy.”
Beck scratches the back of his neck, glancing between us. “Yeah. That’s what this is, I think,” he says. “He wants to introduce you to the therapist.”
Cass exhales, slow and measured, like he’s already bracing himself for something he’s not looking forward to. His hand tightens briefly on my shoulder through the blanket, grounding us both.
“Alright,” he says at last. “Give us a minute.”
Beck nods and slips back out, pulling the door closed behind him.
The room goes quiet again, softer this time as Cass leans in, his eyes dark and focused on my mouth.
His hands are already moving, one sliding around my waist to pull me closer while the other traces the curve of my hip, his touch a possessive promise.
He clearly intends to kiss me again, but I tilt my head away before he can, his lips brushing against my cheek instead.
“What are you doing?” I ask, leaning further back.
Cass pulls back just enough to look at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I'm trying to kiss my mate,” he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Then I'm going to crawl back into this bed and bury my face between your legs until you scream or I suffocate. Whichever comes first.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I shake my head, my resolve hardening. "No, you're not."
He actually chuckles, a low, disbelieving sound. "I’m not?" His grip on my waist tightens.
"You have physical therapy," I say, shutting him down flat. "I can literally feel the pain in your knee. You're not going to make it worse by... by doing that." I gesture vaguely between us, my cheeks burning. “Get dressed.”
His mouth quirks like he’s about to argue. “Therapy can wait.”
“No,” I say immediately, pushing lightly at his chest. “It can’t.”
Cass’s smirk falters, replaced by a look of pure disbelief. "Tansy—"
"Don't 'Tansy' me," I snip, cutting him off.
"Any pain you have is now in my head, a constant, throbbing reminder that you're being an idiot.
Your knee isn't just your problem anymore, it's mine too.
So you're going to go to your physical therapy, and you're going to let them fix it, because I refuse to suffer because you're too proud to take care of yourself. "
The alpha stares at me, his mouth slightly agape.
For a solid ten seconds, he looks utterly speechless, completely blindsided by my logic. The disbelief in his eyes slowly melts away, replaced by something else—a grudging, almost impressed sort of awe.
He finally lets out a short, sharp breath that's half-laugh, half-sigh. He shakes his head slowly, running a hand through his dark hair. "Unbelievable," he mumbles, more to himself than to me, but the corner of his mouth is twitching like he's fighting a smile. “You’re fucking ruthless.”
“No shit,” I shoot back.
He might not like it—but he’s fucking going.
Something amused and fond flickers through our bond before Cass lets out a defeated sigh. “Fine.” He squeezes my waist once more. “We’ll finish this later,” he growls, and my clit throbs in response.
I silently slip off the alpha’s lap, pulling the blanket tighter around myself as he shifts carefully to stand. I stay where I am, watching while he gets dressed.
My gaze drags over the alpha, taking in the sheer power of his form.
He has to be six-two, maybe six-three, but it’s not just his height.
His build is solid. Not gym-polished, but earned.
Broad shoulders stretch the fabric of his solid black T-shirts, forearms roped with thick muscle and prominent veins that give away how strong he is.
Every movement he makes is measured, heavy with the quiet confidence of someone who has never once had to explain himself.
Even standing still, Cass takes up too much space, like the room itself bends around his presence.
He’s mine.
And there’s no going back to what things were before.