by Sable Hunter
“So…I could make you come like you did me?” Hope colored her voice.
“Yea, if you would.” Knowing she’d have a hard time reaching him the way he was lying, Bowie went to his knees, giving Cassie easy access to his manhood.
The smile on her face said it all. She sat up and scooted herself back to lean against the headboard and he moved closer.
“Good?” he asked. Bowie was fully hard once more. Looking down at Cassie as she sat in the bed, the covers were pooled around her hips, her hair falling in a curtain over one shoulder, a luscious pink nipple peeking through.
“Yea, you’re good.” Biting her lower lip, she reached out and stroked her hand over his aroused flesh. “And very big.”
“Thank you.” He made himself be still. “My size and strength will only be used to protect you or make you feel good, nothing else.”
Cassie closed her eyes and let herself feel both his arousal and hers. She encircled him, clasping him tightly.
Bowie wanted to be involved too, so he slid his hand between her legs, just so he could cup her mound, his fingers rubbing her vulva. Now that he knew she had sensation, he wanted her to experience as much satisfaction as possible. Holding one another’s pleasure in the palm of their hands, Bowie could feel the dual response of her hot little touch moving on him at the same time her feminine juices wet his fingers, “God, Cassie!” he groaned.
Her eyes opened and widened in alarm and she pulled her hand back. “Did I hurt you?”
Bowie bowed his head and said a silent prayer for control. “No, baby, you didn’t hurt me. It just felt good, so good. Don’t stop, please.” He reached out and took her hand, putting it back on his turgid flesh.
“It’s okay?” She was about to reach for him again, when he bent over, kissed her lips and captured her hand.
“Let me show you how.” Taking her hand, he turned it over and kissed it, then licked her once across the palm before placing her hand back on his cock. “Now, move it, like this.” He showed her the rhythm that would get him off.
“Like this?” she asked and he nodded, trembling as she worked him up and down.
“Just right. Now don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Bending down, he licked her nipple, circling it with his tongue.
Cassie was so intent on her task that her own excitement took her by surprise. What Bowie was doing to her was electrifying. God, she wished she could feel like this while he was inside of her. Was that possible? Within moments, she was panting, yet unrelenting in her hand job. The thought made her smile, she now had firsthand knowledge of a ‘hand job.’ She didn’t know what was more exciting, the noises Bowie was making or the way he was making her writhe, dipping his fingers into her sheathe and rubbing her clit.
Cassie moaned in ecstasy, the pumping of her hand faltering a bit. It didn’t matter to Bowie, he was already too far gone. Continuing to press between her legs, he lowered his head to suck a nipple into his mouth and felt her give way to a climax. When she cried out his name, “Bowie!” he came with her, jetting his cum across her stomach and breasts.
Panting, he took possession of her mouth, inhaling her little cries of rapture. “Damn, I am so hung up on you. Did you know that?”
“No,” she answered shyly, clasping him behind the head and holding him close.
“I need to clean us up.” He kissed her once, a loud smack and rose, going to the bathroom and returning with a warm wash rag.
Cassie felt cherished as he first wiped her body, both her chest and between her legs, then his own manhood. Flashing her a mischievous grin, he returned the cloth before joining her in the bed, scooting down under the covers and nestling up against her, careful not to jostle or hurt her in any way. “Thank you.” He ran a soothing hand over her arm.
“We still have to work it out, Bowie.” She watched his face carefully. “That won’t be enough, not for you. I want to do it right.”
Bowie weighed his words, knowing this was important to both of them. “We will work it out, but I don’t want you to think that there’s just one way we can make love. There are many things we can do together, many ways we can bring each other pleasure.”
“I know.” She ran her hand over his chest, loving the light covering of hair beneath her fingertips. “But I still want to do it the old fashioned way too.”
“All right,” Bowie assured her. “We’ll try again, we’ll try as many times as it takes till we get it right.” He noticed a worried look came on her face. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t understand. Why would you go to so much trouble for me, when you can have anyone?”
Bowie pressed his forehead to hers. “Simple, I don’t want anyone else. Just you, Cassie-for-short.”
Enfolded in each other’s embrace, they slept in her bed that night. Bowie slept restlessly, he was so afraid he’d move around in the bed and hurt her while he was asleep. He needed to get a handle on this, and quick. The pale moonlight filtering through the curtains illuminated the room and he could make out her features, her beautiful features. As he held her, Bowie watched her sleep, listening to her breath. A pure sense of deep peace came over him. Tenderly, he rubbed his face on her hair, inhaling her sweet scent. He couldn’t turn his brain off, so many feelings were clamoring for his attention. And most of them had to do with Cassie. She had brought out so many different emotions in him since they’d met—tenderness, worry, desire. But at the moment, he was overwhelmed with a sense of rightness and possessiveness, one so pervading that he instinctively drew Cassie closer, tightening his arms around her. Closing his eyes, he finally slept.
The next morning, Cassie woke first. It took a little maneuvering but she was able to extricate herself from Bowie’s side without waking him. He must be so tired, she thought. They had endured a rather grueling time in the last twenty-four hours. This morning, however, Cassie felt better and decided she would get up and fix them something to eat. She wanted to do something nice for Bowie, he had been so good to her. First she put on her gown, then she grasped the chair, carefully edging over to the side of the bed.
Bowie opened his eyes. She was trying not to disturb him and her slight weight didn’t cause the mattress to shift enough to wake him. But the moment she moved away and her warmth left his body, he awoke. What was she doing? He was just about to rise up to help her, when she grabbed the arm of the wheelchair and stood. Cassie had told him she had some mobility and he was about to rejoice when all of a sudden she gasped in pain and her body jerked in rebellion to the discomfort she was feeling. Only by sheer force of will did she continue to stand and move the few inches to her chair. Bowie reacted instantly, jackknifing and rising in one continuous motion. “Cassie! Let me help you.”
Never as long as he lived would he forget the look on her face. “I’ll be fine.” She tried to smile. “Just give me a second.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to help you?” His voice came out a little harsher than he intended.
Cassie didn’t answer right away, but when she did, the answer was simple. “I have to do things for myself, Bowie. Usually, I’m by myself.”
A low growl emanated from his throat. “Explain to me again about your injury.”
Cassie looked at him sitting on the side of her bed, in all of his naked glory. “Okay, but first you put on some pants and let me pee or I’ll never be able to concentrate.”
“Do you need help?” Bowie hated to see her in pain so much, he was hurting himself.
The look Cassie gave him said it all.
“Okay, I’ll wait here.” Bowie offered, chastised.
Cassie did her business and managed to get on and off the commode without making much noise, she didn’t want Bowie breaking the door down. When she came back out, he was in the same place. “Okay, you want to know more about my injury. Like what?”
Bowie had given this some thought. He’d almost blurted out some questions, but he understood this was too important to fumble. “I’m not sure what to ask, frankly. I jus
t want to understand.”
Her heart warmed, there was no mistaking Bowie’s sincerity. “My condition has deteriorated over the years since the accident. From the first, I was badly injured, don’t get me wrong. There was damage to my spine and legs, but I could walk with crutches. But over time, the fragment shifted and began to press on my spinal cord so that any weight that I put on my legs caused horrific pain. So, I’ve had to rely more and more on the wheelchair.”
She said it all so matter-of-factly that Bowie wanted to pick something up and hurl it across the room. “But you have some feeling, and that’s good. Right?”
“Oh, yes,” Cassie agreed. “Any feeling is better than none, especially since I could feel you…touching me.” With that admission, she blushed.
Bowie took her hands. “I can’t tell you what that means to me, you’re being able to respond.” He kissed her palm. “Although, you have to understand this. I would want to be with you no matter what, no matter how little or how much you could give me, I’d still want to give you the world if I could.”
Cassie’s head swam. What was he saying? Bowie’s words were huge. She wanted to ask him what he meant, he sounded as if he were speaking long-term. But that wasn’t possible. Was it? They didn’t know one another that well yet. “I’m very grateful for what happened between us, and I thank you for wanting me enough to try.”
She still sounded so uncertain, he didn’t like it. “We’re just beginning, Cassie. With anything else, practice makes perfect.”
Practice. She liked that. “I was always an ‘A’ student,” she teased him.
“I bet you were.” He picked up a lock of her hair and wound it around his finger. “You said fragment, is it a bone fragment from a car accident or something like that?” Bowie could just envision her small body getting tossed around in a crash.
“No,” Cassie said, shaking her head. “It was a shooting accident, happened years ago.”
Bowie gaped. “A shooting…”
RING! RING!
“Dammit, hold on.” He grabbed his cell. “Malone.” Bowie listened a moment. “Where? How is he?”
Cassie watched him tangle his fingers in his hair. Something was wrong.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
When he hung up, he put a hand on each of the arms of her chair. “Listen, I have to go. That was my uncle Michael, George was in a wreck.”
“Oh, no.” She gasped. “Is he okay?”
“I think so.” He kissed her on the lips. “I’ll call you and I’ll see you as soon as I can. Okay?”
“Okay. Today’s my day to visit the animal shelter and the nursing home, so I won’t be home till about nine.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” He didn’t know if he could or not. Until he got to George and his rig, Bowie didn’t know exactly what he’d find.
“No, I’ll be perfectly fine. I do this once a week.”
Bowie grumbled. She watched him dress to get ready to leave. He was so big, perfect and gorgeous—sometimes she had trouble believing he was real or really here or really hers. Whoa! That last thought was a wild one. He hugged her neck and kissed her one more time before he left and she was sorry to see him go.
“Be careful,” she admonished him.
“I will, you be careful too.”
He waved from the truck, as she was sitting in the open door. As Bowie drove away, he felt he was leaving part of his heart behind.
* * *
“Now that’s what I call a near miss,” Michael said to George as he swigged the last of his beer.
“What, my wreck?” He hitched up his coveralls.
“No, that redhead you’ve been seeing just waltzed in with a trucker. I heard him refer to her as ‘wife’.” Michael pulled down his cap and gave George the eye.
“Shoot, I knew she was married. Why do you think I stopped seeing her?” George asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“Cause, her husband called and said he was on the way home, that’s why.” Michael called for another beer. “You need to start using better judgment when it comes to women.”
Bowie shook his head, watching his uncle and his partner spare. “You’d better not speak so soon, Uncle Michael. I think that blonde coming this way has you in her sights and she doesn’t look happy.”
“Oh, shit,” Michael said. He actually looked under the edge of the bar like he was hunting a place to hide.
“Michael Malone, what do you mean standing me up the way you did? I waited at the diner for you for over an hour.” With one hand on her hip and her breasts almost poking Michael in the face, he didn’t know where to look, much less what to say.
“Well, uh—well, uh...”
“Don’t take it out on him, Maybelline. He had to come to my rescue. I turned my truck over when I ran off the road trying to miss a damn deer.”
Maybelline didn’t look concerned. She ignored George and poked Michael in the chest. “Is your finger broken? Couldn’t you call?”
He was about to answer, when George picked up the mantle of conversation again. “He shoulda called, but there was this nurse…”
POP! She slapped Michael hard on the jaw.
“Hey!” Michael hollered.
“Now, there weren’t no…” George began to protest.
POP!
Maybelline hit George for good measure and stalked off.
Michael turned to George. “What were you trying to do?”
“I was just trying to help.”
“Well, don’t try so hard next time.” Michael rubbed his face while George rubbed his.
“Good Lord.” Bowie laughed. What a day! He was tired from the worry and the running. Dealing with the insurance company was the worst. He checked his watch. Eight. Cassie would be home in an hour.
Cassie.
Off and on all day, something had been worrying him. He doubted if one thing had to do with the other, but he had to find out. Uncle Michael would be the one to ask. “Hey.” He put a hand on his elder’s shoulder. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” Michael turned to him.
Bowie had always been able to depend on his uncle. He had been there for him through thick and thin. “I want to ask you about the accident when I was a kid. You know, we just didn’t talk about it very much. Neither Dad nor Mom would answer any of my questions. And there’s something I need to know.”
“What is it?” Michael looked him straight in the eye. “It was an accident. Not your fault and it was a long time ago.”
“I know.” Bowie nodded. “Do you remember the little girl’s name or anything about her?”
Michael let out a hard breath, then fortified himself with a swallow of beer.
Taking his reluctance to talk as bad news, Bowie questioned again. “She didn’t die later and no one told me about it.” That she had lived was all he had been told, like that was enough to absolve him of what happened.
“No, she didn’t die.” Michael shook his head. “I remember her dad, he was foreman out on the highway department. The little girl was an only child.”
“What was her name?” Bowie pressed. “Do you remember her name?” He didn’t know why he was asking, there was absolutely no reason to believe…
“I couldn’t tell you the little girl’s first name, but the last name was Cartwright.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The little girl I shot had the last name of Cartwright.
Bowie felt like he had been kicked in the stomach.
“What’s wrong?” George asked. “You look green.”
“Bowie? What’s the matter?” Michael asked.
“I’ve gotta go.” He threw some money on the bar. “George, I’ll see you tomorrow. Uncle, I’ll call you.”
And he left.
Bowie wasn’t aware of much. He didn’t stop to speak to people who called his name or respond to women as they tried to get his attention. It couldn’t be a coincidence. He had shot Cassie.
He had shot Cassie.
Cassie was in a wheelchair because of him.
Cassie was in near constant pain because of him.
Bowie robotically walked to his truck. When he got there, he leaned on the side and threw up. People walking by assumed he was drunk. Bowie wasn’t drunk.
He was devastated.
* * *
Cassie got home at eight-forty-five. She hadn’t heard from Bowie, but she knew he would be along soon. Going to the medicine cabinet, she reached for some antibiotic cream. One of the dogs had scratched her in his excitement. It didn’t matter, Cassie didn’t mind. They were so thrilled to receive attention that they tended to be overly exuberant.
The same sentiment could be applied to the folks at the nursing home. Only their over-exuberance manifested itself in the form of demands to play board games or take part in sing-alongs or even a wheelchair race or two down the hallway. Cassie rarely won.
But now, she was home and ready for Bowie to come over. All day she had replayed the events of the night before and Cassie was convinced she had just been nervous. She was ready to try the deflowering process again. Being a virgin was so yesterday.
A few miles down the road, Bowie was parked on the side of the road. He was trying to get control of his emotions. There was no way he could face Cassie in the state of mind he found himself in. Climbing down the embankment, he crawled over a fence and walked to the edge of the river that ran right along the side of the road. How many times had he come here to fish or tube? Here he had been able to recapture his childhood after the tragedy of the shooting. Finding a way to sleep at night without dreaming had been an accomplishment. Yea, he had gotten over the incident.
But how had it been for Cassie?
“Fuck!” He broke off a low hanging limb of a cypress tree and flung it into the river. What in the hell was he going to do? First, he had to find out if it was true, obviously. The idea of two Cartwright girls getting shot in a gun accident was far-fetched but Bowie guessed it was possible. If it was, what in hell was he going to say? If Cassie was the little girl whose life he ruined, she deserved to know. This wasn’t something he could keep from her. Could he?
