12. CJ
CJ
Icame up here wanting to teach Marcy a lesson, to show her exactly how dangerous this game she’s playing could be. But the second my mouth touched hers, something inside me snapped. Unraveled. Everything I’d been holding onto—anger, bitterness, years of resentment—crumbled away.
I set her down gently, carefully, watching as she shivers slightly in the soft glow of moonlight streaming through my bedroom window. I step back, giving her space, suddenly aware of how intense, how reckless I’d just been.
Moonlight washes over her face, softening her features. Her blond hair spills loosely around her shoulders. Her eyes are wide and uncertain, watching me carefully.
I came here angry—furious, even—but now, standing here in the quiet stillness of my room, all that anger feels misplaced. The hatred I thought I felt dissolves into something else entirely. Something tender and protective that scares the hell out of me.
“CJ?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
I rub a hand down my face, exhaling slowly, suddenly tired. “I didn’t mean?—”
She shakes her head, stopping me. “You did. You did mean it when you said it.”
The honesty of it hits me square in the chest. I did want to hate her. I wanted to push her away, to scare her off. But now… all I want is to pull her closer, to hold her, protect her.
Dammit, this was not the plan.
“Maybe,” I admit softly, stepping closer again. “But things changed.”
Her breath catches slightly as I gently cup her cheek, my thumb brushing lightly against her skin. She’s trembling—whether from fear or from anticipation, I can’t be sure. But in this moment, I don’t care.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Her eyes flicker with surprise. “For what?”
“For judging you,” I say quietly. “For blaming you. You’re not your father. And I’m an asshole for acting like you are.”
She swallows, lifting her chin slightly. “I can’t change who he is, CJ. But I promise I’m not here to hurt you, or Sam, or the club.”
Her gaze holds mine, her eyes open and vulnerable.
“I believe you,” I say. Is there a part of me that doesn’t want to? Maybe. But looking at her, I can’t bring myself to consider that.
“CJ…” she starts, then stops.
I shake my head. “Not CJ. Chase.”
She takes a deep breathe. “Chase.” Fuck, my name on her lips is enough to harden my cock.
The silence wraps around us, broken only by our breathing. Finally, I step toward her again, slowly this time.
“Stay tonight,” I murmur. “Please.”
She hesitates only a second before nodding and forward into my arms, allowing me to pull her gently against my chest. My pulse thunders in my ears, but this time, there’s no anger behind it. Just a raw need, aching and honest.
Slowly, I close the distance, my hand sliding gently to the curve of her waist. She trembles slightly under my touch, and my pulse kicks up a notch.
I guide her back toward the bed, moving slowly, carefully, never breaking eye contact. Her breath catches as the backs of her knees hit the mattress, but she doesn’t resist. She lets me lay her down, my body hovering above hers, fingers tracing gentle circles over her hip.
“Are you sure about this?” I whisper, searching her eyes, needing to know this is exactly what she wants.
She nods slowly, her breath hitching in anticipation. “Yes,” she whispers, fingers brushing lightly against my jaw. “I’m sure.”
That’s all I need.
My mouth meets hers again, softer this time, slower, savoring the sweetness of her lips. Her hands slide around my neck, fingers tangling gently in my hair as the kiss deepens. Her soft moan vibrates through me, moving straight to my cock.
My hands skim lower, gently pulling her sweater up and off, taking my time, careful and reverent. Her skin is smooth and warm beneath my fingertips, glowing softly under the silvery moonlight. She arches into me, body soft, curves lush and inviting.
I trail kisses along her jaw, then slowly down her throat, my tongue tasting the delicate skin as my hands explore every inch of her. When I reach the fabric of her bra, I slip my hand beneath, cupping her gently, feeling the softness, the way her breath stutters in response.
She sighs, her body shifting under my touch, welcoming me closer. My thumb brushes her nipple, slow circles coaxing it into a tight peak, making her gasp and grab me harder.
I remove her bra slowly, letting the fabric fall away, and pause just for a moment to look at her.
She’s beautiful—full curves bathed in silver moonlight, eyes wide with vulnerability.
She’s so young—younger than me by two decades, or maybe even more.
This is wrong on so many levels, but I can’t bring myself to stop.
I lower myself over her, pressing my chest gently against hers, my lips finding hers again.
She moans softly into my mouth, and her hands slide beneath my shirt, fingers grazing my bare skin, hesitant yet determined.
Carefully, tenderly, I guide her hands, encouraging her touch, letting her feel the way my body responds to her.
I want this to be different for her. For both of us.
Her full curves settle beneath me, and I groan softly at the feeling. She’s all soft heat and quiet need, a goddess. Slowly, I slide my hands along her sides, letting my palms memorize every dip and swell. The way she arches into me, breath hitching, stokes the heat burning low in my gut.
“C’mere,” I murmur, my voice low, thick with need.
I guide her so she’s straddling me, her thick thighs bracketing my hips.
A tremor runs through me when I feel her weight settle over my lap, her softness pressing down against the hard ridge of my cock.
I fight the urge to grind up into her—God knows I’m already so hard, it aches—but I focus on taking this slow, savoring every second.
My hands skim up her waist, fingertips finding the underside of her breasts. She breathes out a soft moan, and I gently tug her forward. Her full curves shift, and I lean in, pressing my mouth to one stiffened peak, tongue circling before drawing it into a warm, lingering suck.
She gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders, and I swear I almost lose it right there.
My cock throbs, straining against my jeans, but I grit my teeth, determined not to rush.
With my free hand, I reach between her legs, slipping one finger lightly between her plush thighs.
She jolts, exhaling a shuddery breath that sends a pulse of fire straight through me.
I pull back from her breast just enough to glance up, meeting her hooded eyes.
“You’re perfect, Marcy, my God,” I whisper, voice hoarse with need.
She trembles, hands sliding into my hair, and I sink back into her, letting my mouth travel to her other breast, worshipping her the same way.
Her breathy moans spur me on, the heat of her body making it damn near impossible to keep my composure.
Her hips roll instinctively against me, and I curse under my breath. Fuck me.
I continue to brush against her cunt before pushing my finger inside. She’s soaked already, and the moment I feel it, a growl rumbles in my chest.
“Fuck,” I mutter against her skin. “You feel so good, baby.”
She trembles, hips grinding down on me as I stroke slow and easy, my finger slipping through her wetness, teasing her without giving her everything. Her head falls back, mouth parted, chest rising and falling with every shaky breath.
“You like that?” I rasp, eyes locked on her face.
“Y-yeah,” she stammers, her voice barely there.
I lift my head, pressing my lips to her throat, feeling her pulse hammering beneath my mouth. “You’re driving me crazy, Marcy,” I breathe. “I swear to God, I’m trying to be gentle, but fuck…”
My cock is rock-hard now, pulsing against the inside of my jeans, but I keep my focus on her.
I slide another finger between her thighs, pressing deeper, and she whimpers, rocking against me helplessly. Her hands fist the sheets beside me, nails digging in, and I can feel her starting to come apart.
“Look at me,” I growl softly.
She forces her eyes open, dazed and desperate.
“That’s it,” I murmur, kissing her jaw, “I want you to know exactly how much I want you. Every fuckin’ inch of you.”
Her body trembles, hips grinding down hard against my hand, chasing the pressure, the friction. I curl my fingers just right, stroking her deep and slow, my thumb circling that sensitive spot until she’s gasping, legs shaking around me.
“That’s it, baby,” I rasp, voice low and thick. “Let go for me.”
Marcy’s breath catches, her body arching as her release crashes over her. A soft cry spills from her lips as she comes—wet, warm, clenching around my fingers. I keep moving slow, dragging it out until she shudders and goes limp against me, head buried in my shoulder, her breath hot on my neck.
I press a kiss to her temple, my chest heaving. “Good girl,” I whisper, still stroking her softly until she finally flinches, too sensitive.
She pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, cheeks flushed, lips parted. And then, surprising the hell out of me, she reaches down, fingers trembling slightly as they slide over the bulge in my jeans.
“You’ve been patient,” she whispers, eyes flicking up. “Let me…”
I nod once, swallowing hard. “Yeah, baby… yeah.”
Her hands work the buckle clumsily, and I help her, groaning as she finally frees me. My cock springs free, hard and heavy in her hand.
“Wow,” she says, giving me a look of pure awe. “Do you really want me?”
She looks up at me with something soft and uncertain in her eyes—like she’s not sure if she believes it herself. And I can’t help but answer… not with words, but with actions.
I stroke her mouth with a finger. She strokes slow, wide-eyed, like she’s trying to figure me out.
“C’mere,” I rasp, my hand covering hers, guiding the movement. “Just like that… slow… feel me.”
She follows my lead, stroking me steady, her lips parting as she watches my cock swell even thicker in her grip.
“Wanna taste?” I murmur, voice rough with need.