49. Cassidy
FORTY-NINE
CASSIDY
She’s not fucking pregnant.
What the fuck did I do wrong?
My head’s pounding, my chest tight. I’m gripping the edge of the bed, staring down at her like she’s the only thing left keeping me alive.
How can her body betray me like this? I’ve done everything—given her everything.
My fists clench because if I don’t hold on to something, I’ll lose my goddamn mind.
I need her to be mine in every single way.
I need proof. I need to mark her, claim her, own every inch of her until the world can’t take her from me.
She tries to push me away again, but I bury her deeper into the bed.
“Don’t you dare,” I growl between kisses, hands sliding down to her waist, pulling up her black dress.
I have one single furious need right now.
I taste tears on her lips and it pisses me the fuck off, so I move down to her neck and collarbone which one cause my cock to swell.
I cup her face, brushing a tear from her cheek. “I’m going to give you a baby. I need it.”
She moans softly at my words, knowing that any protest she has will fall on deaf ears.
Her legs fall further apart, letting me know that she wants this just as much as I do.
I slide her panties to the side and find her cunt so wet and warm.
I know some of it’s blood, but all I taste is her.
The only thing I’ve ever wanted. All I can think about is how fucking wet she gets for me, no matter what.
There’s not a thing about my girl I find even remotely unattractive.
“Cass . . .”
I don’t answer her. Instead, I push two fingers into her pussy. She hiccups my name, hips bucking. Her hands reach for my bicep and I grin wildly down at her as I thrust my fingers in her with restraint.
I press in deeper, crooking my fingers just right, feeling her walls flutter around me.
“You feel that?” I mutter, breath rough.
“That’s your body begging for me. It knows what it fucking needs, even if you don’t.
” She whines, head tossing back, and I bite down on her collarbone.
“Gonna fill you up so deep it sticks this time,” I growl, staring down at her flushed, messy face.
God, she’s perfect like this—wet, shaking, and mine.
I unbutton my pants with my free hand, releasing my throbbing cock with my hand. When I pull back my hand I find my two fingers slick with red and a creamy substance and I bring them up to my lips and suck the taste of her off of them.
One day, I will take my time and worship her like she deserves to be on her period.
But tonight’s not about slow. It’s about making sure she fucking knows—making sure the universe knows—we don’t lose.
We don’t fucking lose, not like this. She’s mine, and I’m gonna make it real, permanent.
I slide my hand down, pressing low against her belly as I line up.
“This is where our baby’s gonna grow, Binx.
Right fucking here.” My cock throbs, aching with the need to make that truth.
The tip teases at her entrance, and slowly, I sink deep inside of her.
She bites her bottom lip and I smile a little while I pause, letting both of us adjust. Then I push in slowly, inch by inch.
We both gasp and she lifts her hips up as her nails rake down my shoulders, her legs snaking around my waist.
“You’re taking me so good, baby,” I groan, thrusting deeper, hips slamming into hers. “Your pussy’s starving for it, huh? You want it? Gonna fuck my cum so deep in you it won’t have a choice. Your body’s gonna give me that baby, Firefly. I swear to God.”
She gasps, eyes glazed and shining, her nails digging into my back. “You’re so big,” she breathes.
I chuckle and lean down to kiss her. “But you take me so well in that pretty pussy.” Her body coils around mine as she moans softly.
She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts. I let go of everything and start moving, letting her tight warmth milk me with each stroke.
I feel tears in my own eyes. I know I should run— we should run—we aren’t safe here.
But I can’t tear away from her. I rock into her deeper, only making her moans grow louder.
“More. More. Please fuck me.”
I lean back up, and press my thumb flat against her clit. She lets out a long, broken cry as she comes around me.
“Yes . . . fuck.”
I slam into her deeper, my balls slapping against her ass. “You want me to fill your womb up, Firefly? Make you so fucking full of me.”
She cries out again as she’s hit with another orgasm.
Her head jerks back, mouth falling open, and I swear I see her break apart beneath me.
“Yes—fuck—Cass, please. Fill me up. I want it—I want your baby.” Her voice is wrecked, begging, and it lights me up like a match dropped in gasoline.
I lose the last thread of control, hips snapping harder, faster, my hands gripping her thighs and pushing them wider, deeper.
“Gonna fucking breed you, baby,” I growl, breathless, forehead pressed to hers. “Gonna fuck it so deep into you your body won’t have a choice. You’ll be mine from the inside out, baby.”
And then the world goes white. Everything shatters and collapses around me as I drown in her, her warmth tightening, pulsing, owning me.
I come with a growl, hips jerking as I empty inside her, spilling every drop like it might root itself and grow.
Even after, I keep grinding, trying to force the world to obey me.
My balls are empty, throbbing, and I can’t fucking stop, hips jerking helplessly as I push it all in, as deep as I can, like I can force fate to obey me.
I collapse on top of her, sweat and tears mixing as I keep thrusting in these ragged, desperate little rolls of my hips, refusing to let go, refusing to let it end. Every slap of skin, every gasp, every heartbeat feels like it’s carved into my fucking bones.
She holds me tight and I fall apart inside her, wave after wave ripping through me until I’m shaking.
Finally, my body gives out and I pull out of her, panting hard. I drop beside her like I’ve been shot, pressing my cheek into the curve of her neck, clutching her. My chest heaves and that’s when I realize . . . I’m crying.
I stroke her back with shaking fingers, and press my lips to her hair, swallowing hard. “We’ll be okay. We’ll be okay . . .” But deep down, the words taste like lies and I don’t know if I even believe them anymore.
We hold each other for a while and she stays silent, just holding me back. After a while I work my way up and the two of us end up under the covers with me holding her. I press another gentle kiss to the top of her head.
I stare at the ceiling, her breath warm against my chest, and lie to myself that this is enough. That if I keep her close—if I keep fucking her full—we can outrun everything else. My hand drifts down to her belly, resting there like a silent promise. I whisper it again, “We have each other.”
“I love you, Cassidy.”
“I love you too, Firefly.”
“I should hate you.”
“I know.”
We aren’t able to sleep for the night. We barely said two words after everything, both of us too wrecked to think straight. We lay there, tangled up in each other, breathless and broken.
We make the plan to leave the next day, both too emotional, too tired, to think of a plan that won’t fall to pieces.
Technically, we both have passports, fake even, so we can easily make it across the border.
But it’s sooner than I wanted. I know that crossing the border won’t be simple now that the FBI is looking for it.
Bindi ended up finding an old map in the house somewhere and has been looking and mapping out a route that can take us all the way to Canada. She tries to point out towns and things, but it doesn’t really matter to me.
I can fight. I can kill. I can fuck her so hard she forgets her own name and screams mine. I can burn down cities, rip through anyone dumb enough to look at me the wrong way. I can build us a kingdom built out of blood and bone.
But I can’t read the cities on a map unless her mouth is moving first. That’s the shit no one talks about—the kind of humiliation that sits in your bones. I see letters, and they might as well be fucking hieroglyphs. Doesn’t matter if it’s a map or a goddamn death warrant, it’s all the same blur.
You wanna know what real rage feels like? It’s having your whole fate handed to you in paperwork at seventeen, and you can’t read a single fucking word.
But Bindi . . . She makes it all make sense. Not just the words, but the world. She breaks it down for me in that soft voice. I don’t just need her—I am her, in every way that matters. She’s my eyes. My map. My goddamn lifeline.
Without her?
I’m just fists, just fury, just noise. A blunt weapon with no aim except to smash whatever’s in front of me. I’ve seen what I am without her. A wrecking ball of a man, hollow and mean, doing the dirty work for people who never once saw me as anything other than trash.
It makes my chest ache. I hate knowing I became that. There are nights where her face fades out and all I see is blood, the faces of the people I hurt, and the screams I can’t unhear. I used to tell myself it was survival—that it was business.
But fuck that. It was me, broken and angry, taking it out on whoever stood in front of me. I look at her now, bent over that coffee table like the world isn’t ending, and all I can think is: how the fuck did a man like me ever deserve her ?
The truth? I didn’t. I don’t.
Growing up, Bindi saw those parts of me coming through the cracks, but she covered them, made me think that I was worth something.
God, the way she looks at me? It’s like an angel taking pity on a mere devil dog.
I don’t care what the rest of the world thinks of me. I don’t care if they see me as a monster or a mess or a mistake that should’ve been put down a long time ago. She’s my reason—my whol e reason.
She’s the only thing I’ve ever loved that didn’t rot under my touch.
She’s my salvation.
My sin .
My executioner.
And I’m ready to do whatever it takes to keep her.
I’ll kill for her. I’ll die for her. I’ll drag her down into the dirt with me if that’s what it takes to keep her. I stare at her, watching as she hunches over the coffee table, completely oblivious to the war we are about to face.
She thinks we’ve got time—a few more hours. But I can feel it in my spine.
The hunt’s already started.
They’re here.