Chapter 7 #2
“This is how this is going to go…” I let my hair fall down around her face as I stare down at her, my arms straight, propping me up above her.
The way she looks up at me, big blue eyes and lips parted, it does nothing to slow down my desire.
“I’m going to take your clothes off, and I’m going to be rough about it.
I may even tear some of these godawful garments in the process.
After that, I’m going to look at you, really take in the real Cassie Everard.
And then I’m going to put my mouth on whatever part of your prim and perfect body I like.
I’m going to use my lips, my tongue and my teeth to make you feel things.
And yes, you best believe I fucking bite.
I’m going to make it so you have to leave my hotel room wearing my clothes on your body and my teeth marks on your skin.
And you…” I stroke her cheek with one of my hands before letting it slip down to grip her neck, the pinch just avoiding her windpipe.
“And you are going to tell me to stop when you want me to stop. You are going to tell me when something stops hurting in a good way, and when it starts to feel bad. Can you do that for me, Cassie?”
She nods again, so eager and expressive. Her lips move and she mumbles something I don’t quite catch. I tell myself it’s because she’s still panting and whispering, and it’s not because of my fucked-up hearing.
“Louder, English rose. I need to be able to hear you.”
“Yes, I can do that,” she says, and thank fuck, I hear it perfectly.
“Good,” I say, and then I stop holding my own weight and crash down so the full length of my body is pressed against hers and our mouths are once again glued together.
Her arms immediately wrap around me, tightly, and I didn’t expect it.
Or maybe I didn’t expect how it would make me feel.
Because it feels so fucking right and so fucking good.
It’s the same little buzz of both joy and peace I feel when a riff hits just right.
It’s the same thrill I get when I’m in the shower and the perfect line comes to me, the kind that has me walking out of the water and repeating the line non-stop until I find a pen and a piece of paper, not giving a shit how wet I get the floor or furniture.
It’s the same hint of ecstasy I feel when I’m performing, fans screaming, lights flashing, the applause deafening.
Cassie spreads her legs, and I move into the space she creates.
We rock together, rutting into one another, and I love how she doesn’t hold back.
She’s really chasing her high now, and if her kisses weren’t so fucking intoxicating, I would pull back just to watch what it does to her face when she’s getting closer and closer.
But I mean to keep the promise I made to her.
This will not be her first climax, and later, there will be at least one orgasm where my eyes are on her and I get to watch it all.
“Oh, Pia, oh! Oh, my…!” she calls out as she throws her head back, and I dive into kiss her neck. I angle my pelvis so there’s more pressure where she needs it.
“Come for me, pretty girl,” I hiss into her throat. Her skin is silky smooth and so hot. I find her pulse point – thumping as hard as a bass drum – and I lick it.
“Oh, Jesus, yes,” she gasps. “Oh my God, so good, so, so good, oh, oh, oh!”
Her hips thrust up to meet mine, and she wraps her legs around me, holding me in place.
Those thrusts then turn into trembles and shakes, and then finally she’s still, except for her chest heaving against mine.
The whole time, I keep my mouth on her neck.
I nibble, I graze, I lick, I kiss. I even whisper her name into her skin, because I like how it feels on my tongue, but I do it quietly enough she can’t hear.
Cassie speaks, but again I don’t catch it. I need to tell her to stop mumbling.
“Speak up, English rose,” I say as I push up and bend my elbows to hold my weight.
“I’m not even naked,” she tells me with an astonished expression on her flushed face. “I’ve never come like that before, and I’m not even naked.”
I lock away the surge of pride I feel at that, hoping it isn’t visible on my face. “Then let’s fix that,” I push up and straddle her hips. “Let’s get you naked.”
With two fists full of her flimsy blouse, I pull my hands apart, and the material makes a satisfying ripping sound as it separates. What it reveals is nothing short of a shock.
“A black sheer bra?” I ask. “What a slutty choice for a vicar’s daughter.”
Her forehead creases. “You know my dad’s a vicar?”
“I do my due diligence about my biggest competition. But let’s not get distracted. Let’s talk more about your underwear. It’s see-through. Cassie, I can see your nipples.”
At her side, her arms twitch as if she was about to cover up her fucking perfect breasts. I love that she stops herself and that she pouts at me before she speaks. “What’s wrong with me enjoying sexy underwear?”
“Nothing,” I say, running my finger along the top seam of each cup. “Nothing at all. But the question I really want you to answer is, do your panties match?”
“My knickers,” she says with emphasis. “Well, you’re going to have to find out for yourself, aren’t you?”
Another little fizz of surprise and delight bubbles up inside me. She’s meeting me where I’m at. She’s pushing back. She’s matching my snark and my attitude and, fan, this could be so addictive.
I move off her hips and kneel by the side of her body.
Checking her eyes are on me, I slowly undo each button on the fly of her jeans.
When she starts to wriggle and rock her pelvis up into my hand, I know I’m going too slow for her liking.
Frankly, I’m going slower than I like, but driving her a little bit wild is going to be so worth me having to find patience for once in my life.
After the last button is popped open, I grab hold of the jeans’ waistband and pull. They don’t go very far.
“Lift your hips up, pretty girl,” I tell Cassie, and she obeys.
This time when I pull, they slide down her slim, milky-white thighs that I’m only momentarily fascinated by because I also discover that her panties, her fucking knickers, do indeed match the bra.
More sheer black nylon that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.
“You shave!” I exclaim, and it is an exclamation. Never in a million years would I have assumed that Cassie Everard shaves her pretty English rose pussy.
“I wax,” she says with an adorable blush that I just know she’s very embarrassed by. “I live in LA most of the year, you know. If you’re not waxing here, they practically send out faxes to tell everyone.”
“I don’t give a fuck if you pluck out each individual hair.” I pull her jeans all the way off her body with another rough tug. “This is the hottest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen.”
This time, she can’t control her silly little instincts. Her hands come to cover her underwear, and I go into full attack mode, pulling them away and pinning them by the side of her body. I kneel between Cassie’s open legs and take my time looking at her. All of her.
“What are you doing?” she asks, propping herself up on her elbows.
“Looking at you,” I say, my eyes back on her cunt.
“W-why?”
This reluctantly pulls my gaze back to her.
“For the same reason everyone looks at you. You’re beautiful.”
A shy laugh tumbles out of her mouth. “But not everybody looks at … that part of me like that.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Has anybody?”
A deep red blush fills her cheeks. “No.”
“Vilka j?vla idioter,” I curse in Swedish, my eyes back on her pussy.
“What did you say?”
“I called all the men you’ve ever slept with fucking idiots. Because they are. If they didn’t even bother to look at this part of you, then you were wasted on them. They didn’t deserve you.”
“And you do?” It’s a pointed question delivered with an equally pointed lift of her voice. I’m both proud and pleased when I look up and see her defiant little lifted chin.
“I’ll let you decide,” I say with just as much of a teasing tone. “Give me an hour with this English rose pussy and then you tell me if I deserve you.”