12. Cash
CASH
Icross the bar and hop over it, crowding her against the wood. She won’t look at me—that’s what does it for me. I don’t like being ignored, especially by her.
Halle Dawson doesn’t hide from things. She meets everything straight on with that sharp mouth. Tonight, she’s been staring at the same stretch of bar top for four hours, and I’ve been twenty feet away, watching her do it, and I’m completely done.
“You’re standing there, looking like someone ripped your heart out. So tell me what the hell is going on, or I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Don’t lie to me. You’ve been shaking all night. Who called you?”
Her lips press together, so I take her hand and pull her toward the back, into the storage room. Shelves of liquor line the walls, cases of beer are stacked in the corner, and the metal shelving unit bolted to the back wall has a horizontal rail running across the top at just above head height.
Her eyes find the thin black rope on the shelf by the door at the exact same moment mine do.
“Cash. No.”
The corner of my mouth tilts up. “Arms up, baby.”
“You are out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m letting you tie me up just so I’ll talk about some stupid phone call.”
I step into her until her back hits the shelving unit. “Arms. Up.”
She glares pure murder at me, cheeks flushed with fury. “Cash. I’m not doing this.”
I grab her chin firmly, forcing her to look at me. “You don’t have a choice anymore, Halle.”
Her eyes widen, and she tries to twist away, but I’m faster. I grab both of her wrists and yank them up over her head, pinning them to the rail. She struggles, pulling hard and trying to slip free, but I hold her in place with my body while I quickly tie the rope around her wrists.
“Cash—stop! Let go of me!” she snaps, yanking against the restraint as soon as I step back.
I tie them tight enough that she feels it, but loose enough not to mark her. When she tests the rope, the motion stretches her out beautifully—full tits pushing forward, bar shirt straining across her curves, thick thighs pressed tight together.
“Fuck you, Cash. Let me go right now.”
“Not yet, Darlin’.” I slide one hand up under the hem of her shirt, palm flat against her warm, soft stomach. “Tell me who called. Tell me what was said that’s got you looking like you want to crawl out of your own skin.”
She yanks hard on the rope, breathing fast.
I grab her chin firmly, tilting her face up so she has no choice but to look at me. “You’re not going anywhere until you talk. And with the way your nipples are poking through that shirt, the way your thighs keep pressing together … fighting me is turning you on.”
Her cheeks flush darker. “You’re disgusting.”
I grin. “Am I? Then why are your tits heaving like that, Darlin’?”
Before she can answer, I grab the front of her shirt with both hands and rip it open in one sharp yank. Buttons fly. Her black bra is exposed now.
“Fuck,” I breathe, staring. “Look at you. So fucking pretty. So fucking turned on.”
She yanks against the rope again, face burning.
I lean in, lips brushing her ear. “Tell me who called, Halle, or I’m going to keep playing with you until you’re begging me to let you come.”
“You wouldn’t dare touch me,” she says.
My mouth crashes down on hers, and for half a second, she kisses me back. Then she bites my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic tang hits my tongue, and I pull back just enough to taste it, grinning like a madman.
She glares at me, breathing fast. “I warned you …”
I spin her hips slightly and bring my palm down hard on her ass with a loud crack. She yelps, the sound turning into a shocked moan as I immediately grip both full, soft cheeks in my hands, squeezing hard and pulling her flush against my aching cock.
“Fuck!” she gasps.
“Yeah?” I growl against her ear, kneading her ass possessively. “You bite me like a feral little cat and expect me to be gentle?”
“I expect you to untie me so I can kick your fucking ass.”
“Not a chance. I can smell how much your pussy likes being tied up and handled. Stop pretending you don’t want this.”
“I don’t want you,” she hisses, but her hips rock against me once, involuntarily.
“You keep saying that,” I murmur, biting her neck, “but your cunt is dripping down your thighs while you’re tied up for me. You like being at my mercy, don’t you, Darlin’?”
Her voice cracks with anger and exhaustion. “Ugh! Fine, it was Zach, okay? Happy now?”
“No, I’m not fucking happy.”
She laughs bitterly. “You don’t get to play the hero, Cash. You’re ten years younger than me, and you think you can just—”
“I don’t give a fuck about your age,” I say. “I’ve never given a fuck about your age. That’s your thing, not mine. You keep throwing that ten years at me like it’s supposed to scare me off. But, Darlin’, that just means you’ve had ten more years of nobody touching you right.”
She whimpers, half anger, half need. “You’re such an arrogant asshole.”
I slap her ass again, harder this time, then soothe it with both hands. “And you’re a stubborn, beautiful, broken-hearted woman who needs to be fucked until she remembers she’s worth everything.”
Her mouth opens. Closes.
I drop to my knees and peel her shorts and underwear down in one slow drag, hands trailing down the outside of her thighs as I go, and the sight that meets me short-circuits my brain for a solid three seconds. Thick, soft thighs. And between her legs, she’s already wet, glistening in the low light.
“Fuck,” I breathe. “Look at this pretty cunt.” I spread her open with my thumbs and just look at her. “Already dripping down your thighs for me?”
“Cash—” Her voice cracks.
“Shh … let me eat.”
I drag the flat of my tongue up her slit in one long, slow stroke, and she yanks hard against the rope, making a sound that goes straight to my spine. I groan against her and dive in.
I take my time, learning what she responds to, what makes her breath catch, what makes her whole body tighten.
I find her clit and circle it lazily, pull back, and do it again.
Her thighs are shaking already, hips rolling forward, chasing my mouth.
I hold them back with both hands and listen to the sounds she keeps trying to swallow.
“Sweet little divorced pussy. Been thinking about tasting you for months.” I suck her swollen clit into my mouth and flick it hard with my tongue. “You taste exactly as good as I knew you would.”
“Oh god—”
I slide two fingers into her and curl them, and she cries out but tries to muffle it into her own shoulder.
“Don’t do that,” I say. “I want to hear every sound. Don’t you dare muffle it.”
“There’s—we’re in a storage—”
I look up at her. “Halle. I don’t care. Let me hear you.”
Her head tips back against the shelf.
“So fucking tight.” I groan, working my fingers deeper. “This greedy hole is sucking my fingers already. Goddamn. There it is. Right there. You’re going to tell me everything he said to you.”
“Cash—please—”
“Tell me.”
“No—”
I work her up steadily, and I feel the exact moment she’s about to go over—the flutter starting around my fingers, the specific tension locking through her whole body, the way her breath cuts out completely.
I pull back.
The sound she makes I’ll be thinking about for the rest of my natural life.
“Cash—” She yanks against the rope. “You absolute—”
“Tell me what he said,” I say pleasantly, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her thigh, the moth, the soft skin above it. “And I’ll stop being an asshole.”
“He said he’s coming to take me home.”
“He’s not taking you anywhere. Not while I’m breathing. You belong with your cunt shoved in my face.”
“You’re absolutely insane.”
“Say that again in twenty minutes,” I say, “and see if it lands any better.”
I go back to work.
This time, I use my fingers first and my mouth second, fucking her slow and deep with three fingers while I drag my tongue up to her clit and alternate between the two until she’s rolling her hips, chasing both at once.
I add a fourth finger and feel her stretch around me and her whole body respond to it immediately.
When I pull my fingers out, they’re covered in her.
“Goddam, this thick pussy is creaming for me,” I say against her, watching her fall apart in real time.
“Cash—please—fuck—”
“Please what?” I slow down deliberately, watching her hips chase my hand. “Please make this married pussy squirt for a younger man? Is that what you want, Darlin’? Say it.”
“I can’t do that.” She breathes.
“Do what?”
“Squirt. I’m not that type of girl. That shit is in porn.”
I chuckle. “No. I can feel it. You’re almost there, Darlin’. You can do it for me.”
“No—”
I pull back, ceasing all pleasure for her, edging her again. “Oh … I can stop, Darlin’.”
She actually screams, “I will end your life. I will end your life and hide the body and tell everyone you moved away if you do not finish the fucking job.”
“You beg so … aggressively. Never had a woman threaten to kill me while I eat her pussy.”
“You are the most infuriating person I have ever met.”
“Probably.” I press my mouth to her inner thigh.
I stand up.
She blinks, chest heaving, pupils blown. “What are you—”
I stand and put both hands on the shelf on either side of her head and drop my mouth to her neck, her jaw, and the soft spot below her ear. “I will tear your ex-husband limb from limb for making you feel anything less than a fucking queen, do you understand me?”
“He’s my husband.”
I growl, “Are you trying to delay your orgasm? I will edge you all fucking night if I have to. Don’t piss me off any more than I already am.”
She exhales. “That’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not.”
I drop back to my knees.
This time, I don’t tease. I give her everything at once and I feel her whole body respond immediately, the tension ratcheting up fast because she’s been edged three times.
I work her hard—my thumb on her clit, four fingers fucking her deep, my mouth pressing hot kisses to her inner thighs, her hips, everywhere I can reach while she writhes above me. I feel her walls starting to flutter and grip and I keep going.
“Ride my face. Use me. That’s what I’m here for. Use my tongue like the desperate, needy girl you are right now.”
“Cash—I’m—”
“I know.” I bring my mouth back to her clit, suck hard, and feel her entire body go taut. “Come on. Give it to me. Right now.”
I pull back one last time.
The sound she makes when I do is absolutely broken.
“That’s my good fucking girl. Now, come for me.”
She comes completely apart.
Her pussy gushes around my fingers—hot messy pulses soaking my hand and my chin, and I groan against her because nothing in my life has prepared me for Halle Dawson letting go. Her thighs clamp around my head, her whole body convulsing, and the sound she makes is absolutely wrecked.
I work her through every single wave of it until she’s shaking and whimpering and her legs have completely given out.
After she comes down from her orgasm, I stand, untying the ropes and catching her before she hits the floor.
My arm around her waist, her weight against my chest, her face buried in my neck, she’s still shaking. Still catching her breath. I hold her up and let her take whatever time she needs, checking her wrist for any signs of potential bruising.
I tip her chin up. “Look at me.”
She does—eyes too bright, breathing still coming down.
“He’s not going to touch you,” I say. “That pathetic ex doesn’t get to touch what’s mine. This body, every sound you just made, all of it is mine. I don’t give a shit about your age or your past or what you think you can’t give me. I want all of you, and I’m keeping you.”
She stares at me. “It’s not that simple,” she says softly.
I pull her into my chest, wrapping both arms around her, her face against my neck, her breathing slowly coming back down. She stands there, lets me hold her, and doesn’t say a single word about it.
After a while, she stirs, and reaches for her shorts. She pulls them on and pulls her hair back up into a messy bun on the top of her head while looking for what’s left of her shirt. I watch her reassemble piece by piece.
She doesn’t notice me slipping her soaked underwear into my jacket pocket.
She’s checking the shelves for nothing in particular when I say, “I’m not leaving you.”
She goes still.
“Not because of what he said. Not because of any of it. Whatever story you’ve been telling yourself about what I am and what this is—I’m not leaving. That’s the whole thing.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “You can’t just say things like that.”
“I just did.”
She turns around.
Her eyes are more green than blue right now, which I’ve figured out means something is landing somewhere she doesn’t have defenses for.
“Ready?” I say.
“I drove,” she says.
“I’ll follow you home.”
“Cash—”
“Not tonight,” I say. “Don’t argue with me about this one.”
She closes her mouth.
We walk out through the bar, and I hold the back door. She goes through it without looking at me, and I follow her out into the cool night, watching her put her helmet on and pull out of the lot.
I get in my truck.
I give her half a block, and then, I follow her home.
When she arrives, I don’t get out of the truck. Instead, I watch her go into the house and turn on the lights. Watch as her shadows move through the house, doing her nighttime routine.
I don’t know exactly what Zach said to her tonight.
I got most of it but not all of it, but the parts I got were enough to put something burning in my chest. What I know is that he called her.
He called her during her shift at The Bar—the one place that’s been keeping her sane—and he said things that made her hands shake for four hours.
His days of having access to what’s mine are numbered.
I pull away from her street and point the truck toward the ranch.
I’ll be back tomorrow.
And every day after that until she stops being surprised when I show up.