Chapter 9 Get In
NINE
GET IN
CASSIDY
Make-out point.
Seriously.
Oh, Johnny told me it was really a small, secluded chunk of land that the locals refer to as a look-out point, an overlook.
Two hundred and fifty years ago, Shadowvale had the Continental Army pass through it, using the point with the highest elevation to watch over the flat land and see if the British were approaching.
I’m not sure I buy that. I mean, a lot can change over such a long period of time, but when he parked us up here, inviting me to sit on the hood with him—the cooling engine still warm enough to warm my butt cheeks through my skirt—all I saw were the twinkling lights and shadow cover of the town below.
I teasingly said it seems like a make-out point from an old movie. He raises his eyebrows, wagging them a bit suggestively, and admitted that many a Shadowvale teenager had that very same thought.
We spent the next hour in the backseat of his car.
I didn’t have to ask if he was one of them.
He obviously had been, and despite being a thirty-year-old former professional/current waitress with a lease and a stack of bills an inch thick, wearing my sweater, scarf, and poodle skirt had me as giddy as a girl again.
Making out with the coolest guy in school? That was a dream from little Cassidy, and with Johnny Gray unable to keep his hands off of me, that dream came true in the backseat of a Ford Mustang on Halloween night.
That’s as far as it went, though. We kissed, we humped, we groped, but everything was over the clothes until I was suddenly reminded of two things: a) I am thirty these days, and b) I was up at four-thirty to get ready for my shift at the diner.
That seems like a lifetime ago now, but the truth is that the sugar high from my pie and my milkshakes—and, okay, the high from being so close to a man like Johnny Gray—wore off hours ago.
I’m running on adrenaline and arousal. When it became clear that, despite our rendezvous in the barn, Johnny didn’t seem interested in sliding home, I curled up next to him and, whoops, almost fell asleep.
That’s when he decided we needed some fresh air. Now we’re shitting on the hood of the Mustang again, leaning up against each other.
The leather jacket he gave me when the sun went down and he noticed I was shivering is still draped over my shoulders, holding his heat. Even now it smells like smoke and aftershave and something darker I can’t name that tugs on something deep in my soul.
We’re sitting side-by-side on the roof of the Mustang, overlooking Shadowvale together.
If it wasn’t Halloween, there would be plenty of kids up here, he told me.
I’m not so sure of that. Maybe he’s right.
Shadowvale is totally a town out of time, and I could close my eyes and see in my mind rows of cars, each one with the windows fogging up because the people inside were getting busy.
Would be nice if I was one of them…
And that’s not fair. I know it isn’t. I shouldn’t expect more from Johnny than he was willing to give. It’s just hard because, hours later, I still haven’t gotten over what passed between us in the barn.
When it was happening, I thought that was foreplay. That he got me on my back, and once he realized that I liked being there, we would have sex in that dusty old barn.
Now, I’m not complaining that we didn’t have sex in a dusty old barn that smelled of cat pee and mothballs. The backseat of the Mustang would’ve been just fine for me, only Johnny helped me once he caught on to the fact that I was basically a limp noodle.
He didn’t give me my panties back, though he did offer me my milkshake with a devastating grin.
“Eat up,” he’d said. “Gotta keep that energy coming.”
That’s the only thing that is.
I’ve now spent the last few hours with Johnny viscerally aware that I was hot, horny, and I didn’t have any fucking panties on.
If I end up leaving a damp spot on the leather interior of his ride or the finish of his new car, he wouldn’t have anyone else to blame but himself for being so goddamn irresistible
I’m horny. Can’t pretend I’m not. It’s almost as bad as it was the night that I stripped to nothing and rubbed my pussy until I saw sparks in front of my face, I came so damn hard.
I squeeze my thighs together to get a little relief.
Nah. My skin is crawling with need, but Johnny’s looks so at peace, puffing on his cigarette, I almost hate him for it.
He asked me if I minded if he smoked. I didn’t.
If it was a long-term thing, maybe, but I grew up with a smoker for a dad.
I don’t like the smell, but I can deal, and it’s not my car he’s stinking up.
Since I already resigned myself to going to the dry-cleaner tomorrow after my romp in the hay, it’s not like the smoke will linger on Em’s costume past that.
Anything else can be washed away with a shower and some shampoo. Right now, the smoke doesn’t bother me because, well, that’s just part of who Johnny is.
And I like Johnny.
I really do.
It’s crazy. This whole thing is certifiably nuts. I met him mere hours ago, but it feels like I’ve known him all my life.
Worse, he keeps dropping hints like this is the beginning of something new. Something real. Something that will last after tomorrow…
There’s no rush, Cassidy. That’s what I tell myself. If I can believe that this connection we have, this pull I feel toward Johnny is legit… there’s no rush.
Tell that to my throbbing pussy.
I unfold, then refold my legs again, doing my damndest to ignore how hot I am, focusing instead on the last couple of hours of Halloween.
The world’s gone quiet, save for the soft rustle of wind through the few trees surrounding us. The sun’s long gone, leaving nothing but the spill of moonlight and the memory of Johnny’s mouth on my skin.
His leg brushes against mine as he shifts his position. Sliding down from the hood, he leans against it, thumbs hooked in his jeans, watching me like I’m something to be devoured.
And, God help me, I want to be.
Johnny seemed to enjoy going down on me. I know a lot of guys don’t—surprise, surprise, Ryan was one of them—but if he didn’t like it, I can’t imagine he would’ve kept going well past when I came all over his face.
He’s hungry again? I have no problem being a second dinner…
As though he can guess what I’m thinking, he grabs my ankle, caressing it gently with his fingertips.
I stifle my moan, not sure how well sound carries up here. It seems like we’re alone, but are we really?
Do I care?
When Johnny cranks that hungry gaze of his up to eleven, I decide: no. No, I don’t.
“Johnny—”
“You’ve been teasing me all day, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and wicked, sending a shiver across my skin.
“All those sweet little sighs. That look in your eye just now like you want me to throw you across the hood and toss up your skirts..” Yes, please.
That’s exactly what I want him to do. “But I don’t think you’re ready for that yet. ”
Wait—what?
I open my mouth to argue, to say that I am ready, but he holds up a hand.
“Not yet,” he repeats, slower. Then: “Do something for me?”
After the night he gave me, the pie, the milkshakes, the tour… the barn? “Anything.”
“Get on your knees.”
My breath catches. His tone has changed—it’s deeper now, all smoke and outright command—and my pulse trips over itself.
I swallow hard, not even hesitation. My heart’s beating like a dream as I slide off the hood and sink down onto the flattened grass, knees scraping against the earth beneath it. The leather jacket falls off of my shoulders, forgotten.
In case I doubted why he would want me in such a submissive position, Johnny drops his cigarette by his foot, stomping it out with his boot. Moving in front of me, he unbuttons his jeans, slow and deliberate, never taking his eyes off me.
His hard cock springs free, thick and probably as achy as my poor pussy, and I can’t help the way my mouth waters at the sight of it.
I’ve always appreciated the sight of an attractive cock.
Not all men have them, and one of the things that blinded me to Ryan’s red flags was just how perfectly shaped his dick was.
He didn’t give head, but the things he could do with his cock…
I was like a woman possessed, letting him get away with murder just so he would fuck me.
One look at what Johnny Gray is packing under his jeans and I would commit fucking murder to find out what that felt like inside of me.
He has me on knees. Even if it’s just my mouth, I’m pretty sure I’m going to get my wish.
“Look at you,” Johnny says, voice husky, eyes shining in the moonlight. “Like you were made for this. Made for me.”
Who knows? Maybe I was.
I wrap my fingers around him, feel the pulse of him in my hand. He groans, and I grin.
“Go on, Cassidy,” he rasps. “It’s your turn now. Taste me.”
With pleasure.
I slide my lips over the head, teasing him with the flat of my tongue. He hisses, hand flying to my hair; not forcing, just guiding. Like he needs the connection.
Like it’ll kill him to let go of me.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Just like that. Unh… I never… that’s my good girl. You suck me off. You suck me off just like that.”
I take him deeper, slowly, slowly, swirling my tongue, stroking whatever part of him I can’t fit into the cavern of my mouth. He tastes like salt and heat and something that makes my empty pussy clench. Something unreal.
His hips twitch. He mutters my name like it’s sacred.
“Cassidy... my sweet Cassidy…”
Every sound he makes sends a jolt of pride through me.
I want to wreck him. I want to be the reason he forgets every girl who came before me, just like I’m using him to shove Ryan Donovan out of my head.
At this moment, it’s Johnny and Cassidy.
Just Johnny and Cassidy. Whatever happens after… at least I have this.
He brushes my cheek, eyes shining down at me like I’m something precious.