Chapter 13
The following Saturday, I still have a faint remnant of the bruise on my cheekbone, but otherwise I’m fully recovered and back to work.
And excited.
I get to see Cade again.
I try to hold on to the professional indifference I’ve cultivated since I started working here, but it seems to have flown out the window.
Because I can’t wait.
I can’t wait to be with Cade again.
He must show up early because he’s first in line. He strolls into the barroom with a small smile on the corners of his mouth and takes his normal seat in my section.
I’m bringing his drinks when I notice him glancing discreetly back at the two militiamen who just arrived.
My eyes go wide as I realize something.
When I set down his drinks, I lean over and whisper, “You eavesdrop!”
Cade chuckles and puts a teasing finger to his mouth, covering it with his other hand although the militiamen haven’t even glanced in our direction.
I’m trying not to laugh as I go to get Cade’s stew.
Sneaky. Pretending to be here to enjoy himself but really eavesdropping on all the alcohol-fueled militia talk.
That thought triggers another smaller one. One that slices a tiny hole into my good mood.
But I brush it away because it doesn’t matter.
Who cares why Cade first started coming here? Who cares if it wasn’t actually me who kept bringing him back?
All that matters is how he feels about me right now.
Later that night, Cade is on his knees on my bed, holding my ass up from the mattress so he can fuck me with hard, rapid thrusts.
It’s a helpless, uncomfortable position, and I normally wouldn’t have agreed to it with a customer. Cade is different though.
I trust him—in this position and every other.
He’s really enjoying this. His eyes keep raking up and down my naked body, and he particularly likes watching his cock moving in and out of my wet pussy. I can see the enjoyment clearly on his face even if he weren’t putting it into words.
But he is.
“That’s right. That’s my girl. You’re really liking it this way, aren’t you?”
I do my normal mm-hmm whimper, which is as much of an answer as I can manage in this condition. My arms are extended above my head, clutching at the pillow. I really wish I had a headboard right now because I could use something stable to hang on to.
“You got wet real quick today. You’ve been thinking about me doing this to you all week, haven’t you.”
Another hum of affirmation as my head tosses from one side to the other. My pussy is throbbing like crazy, and my back is already arching in preparation.
“I love seeing you like this. Giving in to how good it feels. Trusting me to let you feel this good. You’re gonna come soon, aren’t you? Just from this?”
“Y-y-yes!” I manage to get the word out as my pussy starts spasming in a hard orgasm. The word extends into a long whine as the pleasure overwhelms me.
He keeps fucking me through the waves of release, grunting like he’s doing manual labor. He holds on long enough to bring me to a second orgasm before he gives up with a loud, stretched sound, grinding against my pussy as he comes.
He keeps hold of my ass for a minute afterward as both of us gasp and shake through the aftershocks. Then we smile at each other as he pulls out, taking care with the condom.
When he’s thrown it away, he collapses beside me on the bed, easing me toward the wall to make room for his body. He wraps his arm around me, and I cuddle against him.
Safe and satisfied. Happy.
He feels the same.
“Shit, this week seemed to go on forever,” he says after a while.
“I know. For me too.”
“You’re feeling okay though, right? The bump on the head isn’t giving you trouble still?”
“No. I’m completely fine. I just wanted to see you.” Then I add because I can’t seem to help it. “And I didn’t want to fuck any other customers.”
His body tightens before he relaxes again. I’ve always known he doesn’t like to talk about me being with anyone else even though we both know it’s a reality of my life here.
Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s just work. While Cade and I together is something else.
I still hated the thought and the reality of both men I brought upstairs this week.
“We don’t got much choice,” he says at last with a thick exhale.
“I know. Not while I’m living here anyway.”
I can’t help but think about the fact that Cade lives somewhere. He said he’s only at the cave when he’s on the job, which means he has a real home.
Maybe one day there would be room for me there too.
It’s too early to mention it. Too soon to even be hoping in that direction.
There’s no dating like there used to be. Being in a real relationship is life and death because you’re directly responsible for helping the other survive.
His mother made it clear that he has real feelings for me, and it’s been impossible not to see that truth myself. But it doesn’t mean we’re anywhere close to a real relationship or that we ever will be.
Keeping people safe is his priority.
And, in his mind, I can’t be safe and also be with him all the way.
I need to bring my hopes and dreams back to earth, and I need to do it quick.
I must have some version of extrasensory perception because it’s just after this thought—within seconds of this thought—that Cade says, “I can’t drag you into my life, angel. It’s just too dangerous.”
I let the words linger in the air, sit in my heart, and then I make myself accept them. “I know,” is all I say.
He tilts his face down to nuzzle the side of my head. “I’m sorry I don’t got more to offer you.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re doing something good and keeping people alive. And I’ve never really been the dreamy, romantic sort.”
I never was before. And this recent thing can be nothing more than a temporary aberration.
“I know that.” He still sounds slightly bittersweet but also warm and fond in the way he only is occasionally. “You’re the toughest, bravest person I’ve ever known. My resilient little angel.”
I laugh because he expects it, and I work on once again mentally accepting the world as it is.
There are no fairy tales here. No dreams come true.
There’s only life. Mostly cold and heartless but with a few small gifts granted along the way.
Cade is one of those gifts for me.
I’m not going to lose him by asking for more.
So I stroke his chest, fiddling with the hair there, and say, “We can still have weekends together at least.”
He sighs so deep I can feel the air leaving his body. “Yeah. We can still have our weekends.”
An hour later, as I’m sitting on the roof and drawing the stars, I keep imagining Cade’s face in my mind. Eventually I’m sketching a portrait of him instead.