3. Lilly-Rose #2
He lowers me onto the mattress and releases my bra, pushing the cups aside before closing his mouth over one nipple.
He sucks deeply, his tongue circling the tight peak before his teeth scrape it.
I arch beneath him and grip his shoulders, but Cash only moves to the other breast, taking his time until I’m wet and aching again.
“Cash, please.”
He lifts his head. “Please what?”
“Get inside me.”
He settles between my thighs and pushes forward. The thick head of his cock stretches me, followed by a slow, relentless pressure that steals my breath. Cash stops when he’s fully seated, his forehead against mine and every muscle in his body rigid with restraint.
“Good?”
I lock my legs around his hips. “Fuck yes,” I say, throwing my head back with a gasp.
His first thrust drives me higher on the bed.
The second goes deeper, and the careful control he used to enter me begins to disappear.
Cash braces one forearm beside my head, grips my hip with the other hand and establishes a hard rhythm that leaves no space between us.
The bed knocks against the wall while motorcycles move beyond the window.
Every reminder of where I am makes it hotter.
The sheriff’s daughter beneath a Kingdom Come biker, asking for more.
Cash changes the angle until each thrust drags over the same sensitive place his fingers found. My nails score his back.
“Harder.”
His eyes flash. “There she is.”
He pulls one of my legs higher and gives me exactly what I asked for.
The slap of skin becomes louder, his cock driving deep enough to make every nerve in my body tighten around him.
I bite down on my lip, aware of the men in the hallway and the thin walls of a clubhouse where privacy probably depends upon everybody pretending not to hear.
Cash catches my chin. “Don’t hide now.”
Someone could pass in the hall. My father could return.
Every rule tells me to stay quiet and ashamed.
I let Cash hear me instead and his control fractures.
He groans into my mouth and thrusts harder, his hand sliding between us to stroke my clit in time with the rough movement of his hips.
Pleasure builds quickly, tightening until I can’t separate his fingers, his mouth or the deep drag of him inside me.
I come with his name breaking from my lips.
My body clenches around him, and Cash keeps moving through every pulse, watching my face until the pleasure becomes almost unbearable.
Then his rhythm loses its precision. He buries his face against my neck, drives into me twice more and comes with a rough sound that vibrates through both of us.
For several seconds, neither of us moves.
Cash stays braced over me while the aftershocks fade, his mouth against my shoulder as the compound carries on beyond the room.
We lie together until our breathing settles, his fingers moving lazily over my hip and up to the tender mark beneath my ear.
“Your father’s going to see that.”
His voice is rougher than usual. I turn my head enough to catch the satisfaction in his expression. “You sound pleased.”
“I’m not sorry if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Are you trying to get yourself shot?”
“The mark won’t get me shot. How I gave it to you might.”
I laugh against his chest. After a quiet minute, he says, “I’m not calling this a mistake, by the way.”
I lift my head. He isn’t teasing.
“I’m still the man your father warned you about, and what happens inside these gates isn’t always clean.”
“I don’t need you to be good. I need you to be honest.”
“One night here isn’t the same as living with it.”
“I didn’t ask you to plan my life before lunch.”
A real smile crosses his face. “No. You came in here and demanded I stop avoiding you.”
“It worked.”
“It did.”
A hard knock strikes the door before he can kiss me again.
“Cash,” Kane calls from the hallway. “Church. Now.”
Cash dresses while I pull on my clothes. At the door, Kane says something low containing Corbin’s name, and all warmth leaves Cash’s face. “Corbin started building his story.”
Kane allows me into church with Cash. Judge is already beside Kane, and a phone lies in the middle of the table on speaker. Dad’s voice fills the room, clipped and cold in the way it becomes when the sheriff is angriest.
“Wade took statements from Doran and the other man. They’re claiming Cash attacked them without cause outside the bank, forced Lilly-Rose onto his motorcycle and brought her to the compound against her will.”
“That’s bullshit,” I say.
“It’s not surprising,” Kane says. “A badge tells the story first. People listen.”
Dad continues. “Corbin’s presenting Lilly as frightened and manipulated. He’s telling the department I’m the compromised one because I haven’t ordered an immediate recovery, and the outside investigator says he’s preparing an affidavit for a warrant.”
Cash’s hand settles at my waist. “Let him come.” I can see the anger bubbling beneath his calm.
“We’re not firing on honest deputies carrying paper because Corbin lied to them,” Kane says. “We need to prove Wade Corbin is a dirty cop before he gets to use the law in his favor.”
I understand the trap. Corbin is turning the rescue into the crime, Cash into the kidnapper and anything I say into proof of coercion.
The badge meant to protect me is becoming the weapon.