How Cassie Got Her Grind Back [Divine Creek Ranch 23] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Heather Rainier

  “Oh no…”

  “And if you don’t work for me at my restaurant like a good wife should, you certainly are not going to open your own place and compete with me.”

  “Wait a minute.” She took a deep breath. “Bill told you I cheated on you the night I was arrested after the high school football game?” Why?

  “Yes, isn’t that what I said? Bill is loyal to me. He saw them—you—together in the office of the volunteer fire department station—embracing!”

  “You’re confused. I’m not Delicia, Dad. I’m your adult daughter, Cassie, and I run my own life. Whatever happened was decades ago and has nothing to do with me or Samson and Ivan Cutter.”

  His frown cut deep ridges in his face as he shook his head. When she’d been little, she’d thought him handsome, if a little frightening, and then life had taught her outer beauty could hide such ugliness. His perpetual frown had carved his inner bitterness into his visage over the years, making him remarkably unattractive.

  “I’m still the head of this family, which you are a part of. I forbid you to have anything to do with the Cutter family.”

  “Or what? You’ll punish me by forcing me to scrub your dumpster?”

  He grew quiet as he stared at her, the labyrinth behind his obsidian-like gaze revealing he was already imprisoned in a mind that had lost its grasp on which events had occurred decades in the past or just days ago. “You are just as big a disappointment as your mother is to me. You don’t have a coffee shop anymore, so now you have no choice but to stay home and be a good wife to your husband, and a good mother to your children.”

  “My children are grown adults, and I’m single, Dad. Did you know your grandson Joseph was in the shop with me when you set that fire? Besides all the people you hurt in the accident you caused, you could’ve killed me as well as your own grandson that night.” She held up her forearms, which were wrapped in a light gauze bandage as proof.

  “Joseph? No, the shop is closed on Sundays. No one was there.” He shook his head as if he could stop facts from being facts just because that was the way he wanted it. “You’re lying! I made sure the shop was closed before—” He yanked at his wrists in the cuffs while casting around a sharp gaze as if he was looking for spies. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re trying to get me to confess to a crime I didn’t commit.”

  “I saw you on the security cameras, and so has law enforcement. The accident you caused is also on video record. I think we’re done.”

  She stood to leave, taking a long look at the man who had charted her course with an iron hand all those years ago, always so full of anger and driven by his need to control. Why did it always come down to that with the men in her life?

  She knew whatever Bill had told her father about Mason and her mother was a lie, intended to ingratiate himself and fuel hatred for the Cutter family. Samson claimed to enjoy control, but his father had been a loving man, adoring his wife.

  The realization was slow to dawn, but when it came, it enabled her to walk away without guilt. Her father wasn’t ruled by the need to control. He was ruled by anger and hatred. Samson wanted control, but he was ruled by a caring and loving heart.

  “I want to go home! ¡Ahora!”

  She turned back to look at him and shook her head. “I’m sorry for your problems, but you’ve ruined the only home you had left.”

  She nodded to Hank when she walked out of the hospital room. “What will happen to him?”

  Compassion filled his eyes. “We’ll wait to see what the judge says, but I’d rule out release. He’s a danger to himself and society. The evidence backs up arson. Add in driving without a license, theft of a vehicle, and reckless driving—it’s not promising. We’ll see what the judge says.”

  Unsurprised, Cassie nodded. “He was so humiliated and angry over Mom’s arrest all those years ago, and now he’s brought even worse trouble on his own head.”

  Several of his family members had already agreed to give statements attesting to his behavior and his ranting about the coffee shop, insisting that if she didn’t have it she would do “her duty” as a good wife and mother.

  Even though she knew none of his accusations were true, she felt beat to a pulp by his hateful diatribe, his words still echoing in her weary head.

  She pulled up in front of the house, relieved that Samson and Ivan’s vehicles were already there. There was no doubt in her mind that she could take care of herself, and even chart a course to rebuild her business, thanks to her insurance policy, but it was comforting to know they were there for her, and willing to step in and help however she needed them to.

  “Thank you for bringing them back into my life,” she whispered out loud. “Thank you for protecting me and sending friends to save us.”

  If Dad had been in his right mind, would he have cared that I was in the coffee shop with Joseph? She would probably never know. Tears of frustration and exhaustion flowed from her eyes and she didn’t even try to wipe them away.

  She jerked wide awake with a cry and her hands balled into fists when Samson eased open her car door. She panted as the disorientation settled and noticed the concern in his eyes as he reached in for her. “I’ve got you, chiquita. Relax.”

  His tone of voice and his hold were gentle as he carried her up the walkway to the house, after closing and locking her car. She couldn’t find the energy to question his need to carry her, and the truth was that she felt safer with him and his brother than just about anywhere else on Earth right then.

  * * * *

  Knowing the time was right, Samson kissed the top of her head and nodded at Ivan as he opened the screen door for him. Samson watched her expression as she wiped her cheeks and pulled herself together. She’d been trying so hard to be strong, but she was at the breaking point.

  His gut curled at the spark of anticipation he couldn’t deny. Cassie had asked to experience firsthand the Dominant, sadistic side of his nature. He knew she had lingering questions about whether or not she could handle that part of him. He’d held off only because he wanted her to be in the right mindset, in this instance the same place that Victoria was in when she experienced too much stress or a loss in the operating room. Overwhelming powerlessness.

  He’d seen the signs—her sleeplessness, the nightmares, the post-adrenaline shakes and twitches as she relived the fire through flashbacks.

  Taking her directly into the bathroom, he set her down, made eye contact with Ivan, and tilted his head toward the shower.

  Ivan reached in and turned on the water so it could warm up, and then stepped out of the room and went down the hall. Samson tipped her chin up so he could look into her bloodshot, distraught gaze. Her posture stiffened as she blinked back her tears, and she probably didn’t even realize her hands were still clenched in fists, but she wasn’t defensive. She was holding it together—barely.

  “You’re so pent-up you don’t know what to do with yourself, do you?”

  Her sweet eyes, the color of sherry lit by firelight, were desolate as she looked up at him. The only other hint of her state was in the trembling of her chin as she darted her glance around and then focused on his hands.

  Finally, she nodded and then shook her head.

  Sweet chiquita. To be needed like this filled the ache in his chest from seeing her in pain. Unlike with Victoria, he was invested emotionally in this pain. She hurt. He hurt. And he knew how to make it better.

  He unbuttoned her blouse, his desire to give her what she needed ramping up with every ragged breath she took.

  His cock grew so hard and tight it was nearly painful, but he pushed the sensation to the back of his mind. He was hungry for another, darker fulfillment as he assessed her submissive stance. Her pulse jumped in her throat.

  “Cassandra, after I undress you, I want you to pin your hair up and get into the shower. Soak under the hot water for a few minutes. When Ivan joins you, he will bathe you. Be still and let him.”

  “Yes,” she whispe
red with a nod and then glanced up at him. “Yes, Sir.”

  He unbuttoned and pushed her jeans down along with her underwear, slipped her shoes and everything else off and tossed it aside, then stood and removed her bra. The vulnerability in her eyes called out his protective side.

  There was a part of him that was so angry he wanted to punch Jorge Villalobos in the mouth. Not the Jorge that was obviously suffering a dementia-related decline, but the monster who had abused Cassie emotionally and verbally for her entire life. But it wasn’t the need to inflict pain that he focused on now. The need to help Cassie was far greater, to give her what she needed to get past her father’s betrayal and the sacrifice of her dreams, and was tinged with desperation—and guilt because he’d ever left her behind. But she’d dealt with all of it on her own because she was a woman of strength. A woman he wanted to be strong for now.

  She turned to the shower without another word, grabbing her hair clip from the vanity and twirling her long, dark locks into a messy knot on top of her head. Her soft exhalation and the way she tilted her head back as she moved under the steaming spray made his cock jerk and ache to be buried deep inside her softness and warmth.

  Ivan met him in the hallway and he nodded approval when he saw that his brother was bringing a full glass of water from the kitchen. Ivan said, “I thought she might be dehydrated.”

  “Good guess. Make sure she drinks all of that.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I need you to trust me. This is our moment. I know you may not like it, at least not at first, but what I’m about to do is exactly what she needs. You’ll understand why afterward, and you and I can talk more about it later if you want.”

  Ivan nodded. “What can I do?”

  “Observe. Make sure she knows you’re there. Let me do the talking. Is the oven off?”

  “Yes. I just took dessert out and it’s cooling on the counter. Everything else is ready.”

  “I’m going to go set up in the bedroom. Make sure the shower is warm enough to relax her, and rub her shoulders. I noticed they were stiff. She’s probably wondering what’s going to happen next, but try to keep conversation to a minimum. I’ll be ready when you see the light go off across the hall.”

  Ivan gave another nod and began unbuttoning his shirt as he returned to the bathroom with her glass of water. Samson readied her bedroom, pulling all the shades, closing the curtains to darken the room, and lighting candles.

  The water shut off a few minutes later and he stood in the dimly lit bedroom listening to their soft murmurings and the flapping of the towel as Ivan dried them off and then eased her across the hall.

  Her breathing was slower and her shoulders were not as tight, at least until she spotted the straight-back chair in the open space in front of the turned down bed, and then her eyes widened. But he admired her spirit as she put her hand is his when he reached out to her.

  “Cassandra, any form of play you and I engage in will always be safe, sane, and consensual. I promise not to harm you, and to give you what you need. Can you trust me know your limits?”

  “Yes.” Her reply was so soft he almost didn’t hear her.

  “Your safeword is red. If you say ‘red’ everything stops and we talk, okay?”

  She nodded and allowed him to lead her.

  “Ivan is going to sit where he can touch you, and so you know he’s close the whole time. He’s a part of this, too.”

  He caught Ivan’s eyes and gestured to the spot at his left, and Ivan pulled the upholstered chair in the corner forward and sat close enough that he’d be able to touch her. Cassie swiped a lock of hair from her face that had come loose and gulped as Samson took a seat in the chair he’d brought from her dining room.

  Conversation would just delay what was coming and increase her anxiety, so with deliberate purpose, he drew her close and guided her to bend over his thighs. He could feel her hesitancy in the stiffness of the muscles in her back. “Up and over, chiquita. Brace your hands.” She grabbed on to him as he scooted her farther over, taking her off kilter. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, and I won’t let you fall.”

  “Okay,” she murmured and allowed him to position her. Her warm flesh draped over his lap, waiting for him to paddle her exquisite bottom, made his cock so hard he needed to grit his teeth and breathe for a moment to get himself under control.

  Humping the sexy submissive because she felt so good in his arms was not good Dominant form.

  He stroked her back and said, “Breathe, honey.”

  “I’m here, baby,” Ivan said as he ran the backs of his fingers along her cheek bone.

  She lifted her head to look up at Ivan and then at him and nodded. “I trust you.”

  With his left hand bracing her upper back, he used his right to massage and squeeze her butt cheeks. He gripped her tight enough to draw blood flow to the area but not tight enough that she would tense up. Moving his hands around, he gripped her hips and the backs of her thighs, delighting in the feel of her silky, slightly damp skin. Her legs were voluptuous and long, and it was a shame she felt the need to hide them with long skirts, but he liked that only he and Ivan were allowed to see them like this. The backs of her thighs were supple, the muscles firm from work and activity. Her bottom was smooth and bouncy under his palm as he moved his hand up to test the heat compared to the cooler skin on her lower back.

  Ready.

  He checked her posture as he began to squeeze her cheeks harder with intermittent taps. She flinched the first couple of times but relaxed as he continued, establishing an easy rhythm. He released his hold on her, satisfied that she was secure in her position, and used both hands to manipulate and tap her ass and the backs of her thighs until the flesh showed a nice rosy hue. He glanced at Ivan and found that he was focused solely on Cassie’s face, there for her.

  As Samson watched, she relaxed the muscles in her neck and allowed her head to tip down, and the tension in her shoulders eased as she grew accustomed to what for her must be an odd position. For him, it was a dream coming true.

  “You have a very strong spirit, Cassandra. Did you know that?”

  Her dangling head turned from side to side but she said nothing.

  “You’ve overcome all the negativity your father raised you with. You’ve raised two absolutely fantastic kids. You take care of your mother, and—

  She planted a hand on the floor and lifted her head. “Oh—wait. I didn’t even think about Mom. Where is she? Is she in her room?”

  Samson stroked her back until she relaxed her neck again and said, “Marissa and Tilly came by and picked her up. They wanted to take her to supper and a movie. She won’t be back for hours. Now relax. We have everything under control.”

  Her only response was a loud gulp but she obeyed.

  “You’ve started you own business and the people of Divine obviously love Divine Drip. You held yourself together when others would’ve crumbled as it went up in flames, and I know when you’re finished rebuilding Divine Drip, it will be even better. But I see you struggling now. You’re not sleeping.” He landed a solid, open-palmed swat on one cheek.

  Wham!

  Her gasp filled the room and her fingers clawed against the rug. He felt a tremble run through her and heard her soft panting, but she relaxed against him again as he rubbed and squeezed her derriere.

  “You’re not eating enough to keep a flea alive.” His palm landed on the other cheek.

  Wham!

  She clenched her fists but stayed loose. Strong girl. She was submitting for his sake, not for her own.

  “You wake screaming with nightmares and won’t talk about them.”

  Wham! Wham! Two hard pops on the backs of her thighs that made the muscles there tighten up for a moment. She kept her lips closed on the high-pitched sound she made.

  “You’re stuck because you’re working so hard to keep your emotions in check. I’m going to help you with that.”

  He braced her side with his lef
t hand so she wouldn’t fall if she tried to wiggle free, and with his right hand he proceeded to spank her, not at full tilt yet because she needed time to get there with him, but definitely harder pops than he had been giving her. Those had been to warm her up and get her used to him.

  In an even tone, he said, “This isn’t a sexy spanking, a role play spanking, or a hardcore spanking…” He delivered each swat in a slow, even rhythm.

  Wham! Wham! Wham!

  “Although it probably feels hardcore right now. And it’s certainly not a punishment spanking because you haven’t done anything wrong. This is a therapy spanking.”

  Therapy for her but torture for him. He didn’t intend for there to be a sexual component to this particular spanking, despite the fact that his hard-on was definitely in the “raging” category. Sex would just confuse the issues. She needed a release from the pain her father had caused her, and they could comfort her and make love to her later after she’d recovered, if she wanted to.

  Wham! Wham! Wham!

  “Owwwww.” Her moan was soft and the muscle tension increased a little as her ass undoubtedly started to sting.

  “On the contrary. You’ve done everything right to the best of your ability ever since you were a little girl.” He delivered more hard swats to the backs of her thighs.

  Wham! Wham! Wham!

  “And even then it wasn’t enough to please your dad, was it?”

  Sniffling was followed by a shaky, “No.”

  “And with him sick, you may never get anything remotely resembling an affirmation from him.”

  Wham! Wham! Wham!

  A scream strained against her clenched lips and she grew tenser and her sniffling increased.

  He glanced at Ivan and saw the consternation in his deeply furrowed brow but he didn’t do anything more than stroke her arms, which probably helped to ground her.

  “Something precious has been taken from you, Cassandra, and I don’t just mean Divine Drip.”

  He swung a little harder, hitting full tilt. Wham!

  “You couldn’t trust in your dad, the man who is supposed to be there for you.”