Chapter 9 #2
He stares at me for a full five count, so still I'm not even sure he's breathing. And then he expels a sharp breath, his gray eyes blazing bright enough to rival the sun. "Say that again, Cassia," he growls, taking a step toward me.
"I love you," I say, his command giving me courage. I meet his gaze, my shoulders going back. "I'm in love with you. Maybe it's too soon or whatever, but I just thought you should know that I love–"
His mouth slashing down on mine cuts me off. He kisses me like he's trying to lay claim to my soul, possess every inch of it. I don't think he realizes it's already his. I handed it over days ago. His tongue slips into my mouth. Mine twines around his, moving in time with his.
He strips me, pulling my clothes off between hot, hungry kisses. His lips touch every inch of skin he reveals, his rough palms gliding over me in counterpart. By the time I'm naked, I'm a trembling mess, desperate to have him inside me where he belongs.
We work together to get his pants off. Well, he works. I touch him, running my hands up and down his sides and abdomen, marveling at the way his muscles contract beneath my palms. I love the way his body responds to my touch, as if he feels me as acutely as I do him.
As soon as he's naked, I slide my arms around his neck, running one hand through the hair at the nape of his neck.
Our chests meet with every breath we take, his skin against my nipples sending waves of desire through me.
Every shift of his body against mine causes those ripples to grow.
They spread outward, consuming every inch of me.
"Say it again," he whispers against my lips, panting.
"I love you."
He scoops me up into his arms again, laying me out on his bed.
His erection juts proudly from his body, his balls hanging heavy beneath.
My scratch marks adorn his chest, embedded almost as deeply into his skin as the lines of ink that paint his body.
His eyes are dark, his cheeks stained with the evidence of his arousal.
They skirt down my body, not missing a single inch of me.
"Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are, pretty baby? "
"Show me," I whisper, lifting my arms in a silent demand for him to come to me.
The bed dips beneath his weight as he crawls over me, his eyes locked on me.
He covers me with his larger frame, narrowing my world down to the two of us and the need swirling through his eyes.
He calls me beautiful, but he's the beautiful one.
It shouldn't be possible for a man as big as him, as bossy as him, to be beautiful, and yet he is. Inside and out.
"For the first time since my sister moved out, this house feels alive because of you," he says, touching his forehead to mine as a shaky exhale leaves his lips. "God, Cassia. You've got my heart racing over here." His hand drifts down my side before hooking around my hip to lift it over his.
"Cord," I moan when his cock nestles against my clit.
"I was content with my life before you, princess.
" He rains kisses across my face, being so gentle with me, I think I might cry.
Only, it doesn't feel like a bad thing this time.
For once in my life, tears don't make me feel weak.
"And then I saw you and realized content wasn't good enough anymore.
I've wanted you since the moment I saw you, Cassia.
I want you more every fucking minute I spend with you. "
He moves down my body, lavishing attention on me all over again.
He sucks and bites and kisses until I'm whimpering and writhing beneath him, unable to stay still.
His tongue dips into my belly button. His lips slide down my belly.
His teeth rake across my hipbone. Before he ever touches my pussy, I'm on the edge, so sensitive I think I'm going to explode right then and there.
And then he throws my legs over his shoulders and kisses my pussy. He steals my breath with that wicked tongue and his firm grip. I arch and buck and cry. God, I cry his name over and over. But that's not what he wants to hear. He demands that I tell him I love him.
"Again," he says between long, languid licks.
"I love you."
"Again."
Sweat drips down my body, those three words leaving my lips in a litany as he drags me up the cliff.
My temperature rises higher and higher. I try to hurry him along, to make him go faster, but he doesn't. He takes his time, eating me at his leisure.
He does it again and again, until I can't tell where I end and he begins.
By the time he finally lets me go over, I'm wrung out. I slip off the edge with a sharp cry of relief I feel in my soul…in that same place I feel him. Waves of ecstasy break me open, scattering me from one side of forever to the other.
Cord picks up each shattered piece, putting me back together with his rough hands and the hard press of his body against mine. With his breath in my ear and his lips against my skin. He shelters me, protects me, roots me to earth while the rest of me flies.
When I open my eyes, he smiles down at me, brushing sweaty strands of hair back from my face. "There you are," he says, nudging his nose against mine as his lips trail across my cheek. He kisses the corner of my mouth, hooking my leg up over his hip again.
We groan together as he pushes his way inside me, impaling me on him. He's so deep I feel the tip of his erection against my cervix. I dance a razor's edge between pleasure and pain. It's the most incredible feeling.
"Pretty baby," he groans, his big body trembling above mine. "Say it again."
"I love you, Cord," I whisper, tears in my eyes. "I love you."
He cries out my name, my words unraveling his self-control. His eyes meet mine, his expression raw with need. It might be my imagination, but I think his eyes are damp too.
Powerful thrusts send me inching up the bed. It groans and rocks beneath us, the headboard thumping against the wall. He kisses me again and again, as if he can't stop himself. Each delightful, wicked thrust has me crying out his name, clawing down his back…pleading for him to go harder.
He demands that I tell him I love him over and over again.
The words break from my lips in loud cries.
They fill the room, echoing back to us. Every time I say them, he holds me tighter, fucks me harder.
He roars my name until his sounds fill the room too.
I'm completely surrounded by him, drowning in him…
and I don't ever want to come up for air.
He's a machine, fucking me from one orgasm to the next. He doesn't let up until I'm wrecked beneath him, pleading for mercy. Only then does he slow his pace. His lips seek mine, his heart pounding against my chest. We're wrapped so tightly around one another it's as if we've become one person.
"Pretty, pretty baby," he breathes, kissing me slow and sweet. He makes love to me the same way this time. Slowly. Sweetly.
When I cry out his name and come for him this time, he follows me over.
He thrusts deep and stills, groaning my name.
I hold him tightly, writhing as he comes apart for me with his head thrown back and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
He looks exactly like he did in my fantasies…
only somehow even better. That was a dream, wishful thinking. This is real.
"I love you," I whisper when he falls limp.
"Cassia," he breathes, rolling to the side to keep from crushing me. He pulls me up against him, wrapping his arms around me. His lips brush my forehead before his head settles against my shoulder.
I wait for him to say it back…but he doesn't.
He drifts off to sleep, curled around me like a living blanket.
Then and only then do I realize that he never said it. He demanded I say it over and over again…but he didn't say it back. Not even once.
Does…does he not feel the same way?
A thousand doubts rush in all at once, knocking chinks in my armor. My mom's voice, the vitriol I've tried to block out for most of my life, rushes through those chinks like an evil wind, tainting everything.
Don't be so na?ve, Cassiopeia. Real life isn’t a fairytale.
Men don't fall in love with mouthy women, Cassiopeia.
I don't want to believe her. I don't. But…he didn't say it back.
Why didn't he say it back? He said he wants me. That I make this place come alive for him. That I'm beautiful. But he never said one word about how I make him feel.
No one will ever love you the way you are, daughter.
Tears slip from the corners of my eyes, making silent tracks down my cheeks.
I'm not sure what hurts worse. The fact that maybe my mom was right after all…
or the fact that I think I still would have given Cord my heart anyway.
Even knowing that he doesn't love me back, I still wouldn't have changed a single moment of the last few days.
But I can't stay here anymore. I don't want my last memory of him to be of him telling me goodbye.
I don't want to have to hear him say the words that shatter me.
If I have to spend the rest of my life without him, I want my last memory of him to be of tonight.
Of him making love to me. Maybe that way, when I'm old and gray and dying alone, I can pretend for just a minute that he loved me too.
I can pretend that, for once, I knew real love.