Her legs knot around me as I thrust hard and fast. “I need you, Sally…”
I love it when she calls me that. Her and fucking Serene always say it with the sweetest tone. And hearing her voice, I slow down, rolling my hips and licking her lips.
“Fuck it…”
Suddenly, our trip morphs into something more and we are making love as she slides on the seat of my ride. I cannot help but remember her sister and I doing this same thing and it brings tears to my eyes as I succumb to the heartache of loss. We are riding a wave of ecstasy in our unfathomable pain that no one can possibly understand. We are stuck in hell as we find heaven in one another.
“Baby, I am going to come…”
“Do it, babe,” Cas encourages, humping at my dick like a wild woman. “Give it to me so I can feel you dripping out of my pussy all night…”
Her words send me into overdrive as I shoot my hot load deep inside of her slickness. She pushes against me, soaring on her own orgasm. The submissive in her has been practiced with and worked over by me. And she knows I love it when she chases me with her release, tightening around my cock as I come.
We are kissing each other goodnight at 9:01 in front of Hazel. She smiles again as I send Cas on her way.
“Sal…” Hazel says after Cas closes her door. “I get off in fourteen minutes if you wanna go get a drink or something.”
“Can you ride on the back of my bike?”
“I am sure I can ride you just fine,” she offers, touching my hands as I lean onto the counter.
“I’ll be waiting,” I snarl as I accept arriving in Houston a day late.
Whatever.
I have no doubt Hazel and I are about to go get it on. Afterwards, I’ll feel like a douche and find some new way to endure a self-imposed discipline. And tomorrow I will wake up and do it all again because this is how I get through day to day.
Walking out to the bike, I stare at the text from Iris.
“Be careful on your trip. I had a blast and miss the hell out of you. I cannot wait to see you again…and Nero, I love your bad ass.”
If only she knew…
Texting her back with tears in my eyes, I type, “I love you, Angel. I’ll see you next weekend. I promise.”
Ya, I am fucked up.
IRIS
Sunday afternoon, I visit Cas again. We spend some quality time together and enjoy a nice lunch. The longer I stay, the more Cas reveals about broken homes, abuse, and a childhood full of pain.
She started cutting when Kaci received the diagnosis of cancer. Her adoptive father, Juan Neves, is a nightly stocker at a warehouse. She found a box cutter lying around the house beginning a cycle of bloodletting her emotional release for which nothing else could even compare. The closest thing to regaining control with a blade to her skin is the whip on her ass at Juliet. In reality, giving up control in a scene actually caused her to regain control of her daily existence. Thus, Cas became the perfect student quietly feeding her craving.
Apparently, Mierne knew from the beginning that Cas existed in a world of self-harm issues. She expressed concern and requested Cas have weekly therapy sessions, but Cas never let it become a problem until New Years’s Eve Bondage and Bash.
Of course, Sal blamed himself after the fact, knowing he took her virginity. In truth, there were so many other extenuating circumstances causing her breakdown. She didn’t want to kill herself. Not really. She only wanted the spinning and rampant pain to stop. In the chaos of her brain at the moment, she went too far if by no other reason than by accident. Mierne accepted the answer. Unfortunately, her therapist Dr. Lisa Wheeler at AF did not. Believing deep seeded reasons fed her behavior led Wheeler to putting Cas in twice weekly therapy as well as multiple group sessions.
Whining about the idiocy to me, Cas loathes the group sessions. “Maybe they help some people, but I don’t feel like anything good ever comes from them. Would you go with me?”
I don’t plan on spending an afternoon in therapy with Cas, but after taking a seat amongst the other dozen or so patients a sweet calm comes over me. The other patients seem to pay little attention until Dr. Wheeler comes around the circle of introductions and stops with all eyes on me. Cas reaches over comfortingly holding my fingertips in her own.
“This is Iris, my best friend,” Cas proudly announces as Dr. Wheeler smiles, welcoming. Much to Cas’ surprise, I bravely stand up and speak to the group as if in control of the entire situation. Cas glances up with an impressed expression.
“I am Iris Kettles, twenty-seven, graduate student in English. I am also serving as a submissive under a six-month contract with Juliet Academy.”
The gasps are audible as the group smirks and giggles. While not everyone knows what I am talking about—a fair amount do—including Dr. Wheeler. I am proud of who I have become and no longer care who thinks what, but even more surprising is my response to Dr. Wheeler’s follow-up question.
“And what is your sexual orientation?”
Dr. Wheeler receives several evil eyes and death can kill looks after asking such a blatant question. No one expects it, least of all Cas. But I prove unshakable.
“I am predominantly straight, but I can lean at times,” I say with a grin, returning to my seat.
“So, you like to get spanked by dirty, old men?” one of the group blurts out. I am not sure who says it, but I immediately retort.
“Actually, no.” Scanning the room, I search their faces, a mix of conflict and intrigue by my words. I stop, staring at Dr. Wheeler straight on. “No, I don’t. I enjoy getting spanked by handsome, young studs with fat belts and even fatter nine-inch cocks.”
Cas snickers loud enough for everyone to acknowledge her somewhat invisible presence. Without warning, the room is suddenly out of control with mutterings and mouth-offs until finally an unknown voice chimes in, “Well, which are you Cassidy—a lean or a stud?”
Immediately, I notice Cas’ fists ball up tight. “Shut the fuck up, Chloe.”
“Don’t you think it’s time to share your little secret with your gurrrlfriend?” someone else hisses.
Leaping up, Cas runs for the double doors, her group therapy session over. Even these people with their problems and addictions cannot begin to understand, sympathize, or show any compassion to her illness. Ostracized by the group of misfits which she could have once so commonly fit in, they do not care. They don’t like Cas, and I cannot understand why as I find her sitting alone under the awning of the path between the buildings.
And I begin to understand our real connection.
When my husband Chance died and I lost our baby, I was alone more so than any other time in the world. Standing before Cas, I watch the pain so evident and real upon her face, seeing my own reflection. Lost in the sea without a rope, I can offer her nothing more than my presence.
“Tell me,” I urge.
Crying hysterically, she says, “I can’t.”
I look out past the buildings, through the fields and into the wide open blue space of sky as I command, “Tell me now.”
Waving her arms about in violent exaggeration, Cas shoots up like a bullet. “If I tell you, you will fucking leave me, too. And I cannot handle that. It will be the end of me, don’t you get that?”
I rise up, nose to nose, and push harder because by God I am Sal Raniero’s submissive, and that is what I do. “Tell me what the fuck is going on now, or I am gone anyway. Either way you lose.”
The tears trickle slow from Cas’ eyes, each one holding more weight than the last until there are nothing but sobs as she slumps to her knees. I follow, holding her hands.
“I’m not right, Iris. Nothing is right. It is like everything is all messed up in my head. No matter what I try and do to make it right, nothing ever moves past wrong.”
“What are you talking about?” I delicately touch her cheek like approaching a wild animal.
“Don’t you understand—I am not alright, I am not okay—and I never ever will be? I am not yo
u, Iris…”
Feeling empowered by the Dom inside of my heart and soul, I smart off, “Duh, you’re Cas….”
IRIS
The chill of January brings February’s rain as all of Juliet buzzes with the first major event of the season—a gala fundraiser completes with a candlelit formal dinner and auction. The auction maintains a uniqueness in the contract time from midnight to noon after the event. The evening is special in that sometimes even submissive under contract will go up on the block for the sake of Anna’s Charities.
Before I can inquire about the event, Jack leaves a dress—a lovely red silk and black lace gown—in my room a few days before Valentine’s. I wake up to the sight of the gown hanging in my room and immediately notice the shoe box. Opening it up, I let out a shrill cry as the most perfect pair of black lace dancing boots slide easily onto my feet.
In gray sweatpants and no shirt, Jack grins as I bound down the staircase. He is making my favorite blueberry pancakes and maple bacon, and as exciting as that may be—it has nothing on these boots.
“Jack! Where did you get them?” I spring into the kitchen in nothing but my long sleeved, white button down sleeping shirt. Hair tossed and messy, I pile it on my head during the gloomy Saturday morning.
He smirks again, knowing full well he has me pegged on this one. Flipping his pancake, he leans in close, kissing me. “I thought we should do something different. So, I went shopping in January and found all these wonderful, fancy things. I even have a pocket watch.” He winks as I beam a smile back and jump into his arms.
“We are going steampunk to Roses & Thorns?” I delightfully squeal.
“We are!” he shouts jovially. “You and me, dancing the night away!”
The moment puts any question about being auctioned for the night away as I would be Jack’s for the evening. Although I feel marginally disappointed, I am elated to know how thoughtful this man could be when he truly wants something.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I would not end up with someone I really didn’t want to spend the evening with. Auctions always pose an inherent risk in going home with strangers. Somewhere in my mind, I want to believe Sal will bid and make love to me for twelve hours. The odds of that actually occurring are so slim, it isn’t even worth the emotional energy. A night on Dr. Jack Kerris’ arm will certainly not end in despair.
The morning passes with us sitting in the nook, nibbling on the pancakes and drinking coffee. I am reading on my iPad and Jack flips pages of the newspaper. With my contract from an undercover initiative by Sal, I recognize the game we play.
Sir Jack is nothing more than a front Sal’s decision to keep me locked down tight, but two rules exist. The first is Sal needing to keep me safe and protected from whatever invisible force is out to get me. The second is far more fragile—a twisting helix that everyone ignored—the Sir connected to Jack. He is still a Dominant, still a superior to my sub and the protocol suggests my deferment.
Words like crazy sadist have been touted about Jack and so far, he has shown nothing but a gentlemanly manner. We have not even had sex—much less a scene—and rarely a friendly peck on the cheek. This should comfort my circumvallated psyche in some way, but if anything, it unnerves even more. His calculating disposition and ruthless ability lies dormant, but at some point, I fear his patience will come to a head. And I will end up in his sadist’s dream.
It is only a matter of time.
Chapter Eleven
And Also With You
IRIS
TAKING A BITE OF the pancake, a message flashes on my screen from Cas. “Come see me today. Hurry. I have to talk to you. Urgent.”
Glancing up at Jack, I study his glasses perched upon his nose as he studies the stock market report from the past week none the wiser to the flashing message. “May I please go see Cas today, Sir?”
“Of course. Would you like to take my car? I have to go check on a few patients in a while.”
“I can call a friend, Jack, I really don’t mind,” I suggest, clearing the plates and putting them into the dishwasher. I finish up only to spin right into Jack’s arms.
“Take the Aston,” he says, holding the keys in front of my face.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I’ll take the truck. Have fun.” Not that taking the truck—a fully loaded black Ford F-250—is any sort of hardship. “And look there comes the sun.” He looks out the window at the sunlight streaming through the gray clouds. “Have a wonderful day, Iris,” he says, kissing my head. “I’ll pick up Italian for dinner.”
You could just bring home the Italian for my dinner.
A simple kiss, a hug, and that was all. By the time, I have showered and dressed, he is already gone. He left a fat stack of money with a Post-It note beneath the keys on the counter. Again, his note encourages me to have fun.
Terrified of wrecking, I slowly drive the expensive little red convertible from yesteryear to the rehab, taking the backroads. On my way, the clouds fade and the sun beams on my face. With sunglasses and long curls tucked under a black scarf, I am certain I appear like a spoiled rich girl.
Or Daddy’s kept little princess.
Walking into the office, I check in. No sooner do I finish signing the forms, when Cas runs up and hugs me tight. “I have a pass out today!”
“Seriously?”
Immediately, Cas tucks her arm under mine and escorts me to the door. “Quick, let’s go before they change their mind!” We rush to the car as Cas abruptly stops—shocked by the car. “What the fuck did you do to him last night to get this?”
“Nothing.”
Cas furrows her brow as she gives a scrutinizing glare. “Really?”
“We haven’t even fucked.”
We laugh hysterically and take off for Austin. Spending the midday shopping, I buy a new dress, some lingerie, and perfume as Cas watches happily on. She looks good. The bandages are off as the scars heal up nicely. The piercings have returned along with a little makeup, ripped jeans, t-shirt, and sweater, all common Cas wear. Nothing seems to have changed short of having to pick her up from a rehab instead of Juliet.
We buy a blanket from a touristy trap, a picnic box lunch from a little bistro cafe next door, and head for the park with Cas driving. Shifting the car like she owns it, we are flying and free. The Aston suits Cas as she pulls into the crowded park. Hopping out, she opens my door, grabs the blanket, and lunch as we head into the wooded area away from the weekend familial crowds.
Under an old oak, we sit upon the blanket. Munching turkey and Swiss sandwiches and sharing a bowl of vegetable soup, Cas feeds me, but I think nothing of it. We aren’t like that.
The sweet tea is perfect and the company even better. After we eat, Cas lays down on the blanket and stares up into the branches. She is lost and beautiful in her chaos.
“He is in love with you.”
“Jack?” I ask, snapping the peanut butter cookie in two and handing her half.
“No,” she says, taking a small bite and putting the rest in my mouth. “Sal.”
“You’ve seen him?”
“I have.” She knowingly smiles. “Several times.”
For whatever reason—perhaps their connection or their intimate bond—I know Sal has told Cas about the details of our romantic trip away.
“And?”
“You need to be careful. He is a wonderful guy, but he can be trouble,” she warns, sipping the tea. “Just be careful, honey—especially with Jack around.”
Her words are sincere, protective, and loving. Touched by her candor, I lean down and kiss her cheek. At first a sweet thank you, friendly type kiss which quickly evolves into Cas, parting her lips and inviting her tongue into my mouth. I don’t stop it. I don’t want to. Turned on by the kiss from an unexpected source, I crave more—needing to know about these feelings.
The affair I had with Ella Hemsworth is nothing like the sensual, toe-curling kiss I experience with Cas. While it is true I have been open to experience
s with women, I never have shared such an intense moment with one. Cas understands my body and knows which buttons to push, making me feel so much more than I ever dreamed. When to demand more and when to let go.
Looking up at me, Cas bites her lip, giving her slightly crooked grin. She is stunning—not in a classic kind of way, but in the natural way her face lights up when she beams her wide smile in my direction. Breathing heavily, I look down and whisper, “More. Please.”
Curling up next to her in the seclusion of the woods, Cas leans up on her elbow and presses her lips to mine again as she slides her hand up under my blouse. Finding my nipples awakened, Cas unbuttons my shirt just enough to undo my bra. Taking one peak in her hand and the other in her mouth, she sucks ravenously against my flesh. I consider the idea of letting go right there. I still have not managed to orgasm with nipple play alone, but I am certain with Cas doing it—I could undoubtedly multiple times. It just feels so wonderful like two pieces of a puzzle perfectly fitting together.
And as I arch my hips up, Cas slides her hand into my panties, finding my slick wetness. With the soft touch of her finger and her mouth upon my nipple, I let go. Under the trees and the blue sky, I fly higher and higher not wanting the moment to end. Soaring high on Cas, I am not thinking about what I just did. I am not thinking about how Sal will feel. An unforgivable act I never could have imagined. Cas is my girl, my best friend and secret keeper. And she was never meant to be my lover.
Suddenly, we are like that.
And shit just got fucked.
I curl up uncomfortably in Cas’ arm as I feel the pressure to reciprocate. “What just happened?”
“I made love to you,” Cas says matter-of-fact, leaning in for a quick peck. “And you really seemed to enjoy it.”
“Now what?”
“Now,” Cas says, checking her thick-banded black watch, “I have to get back to campus before they send the henchmen after me.”
Salt Kissed Love (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 1) Page 18
