by Wild, Cassie
His Fight
The Downing Family Book 5
Cassie Wild
Belmonte Publishing, LLC
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Belmonte Publishing LLC
Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC
Contents
Reading Order
Free Prequel
1. Briar
2. Cormac
3. Briar
4. Briar
5. Cormac
6. Briar
7. Cormac
8. Briar
9. Cormac
10. Briar
11. Cormac
12. Briar
13. Cormac
14. Briar
15. Briar
16. Cormac
17. Briar
18. Cormac
19. Briar
20. Cormac
21. Briar
22. Briar
23. Cormac
24. Briar
25. Cormac
26. Briar
27. Cormac
28. Briar
Free Prequel
About the Author
Reading Order
Thank you so much for reading His Fight, the fifth book in the Downing Family series. Don’t miss the other books in the series.
1. The Escape
2. The Debt
3. The Punishment
4. His Target
5. His Fight
Free Prequel
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One
Briar
I snapped awake.
I’d been on night shift almost since I came out of my residency and had pretty much adjusted to it, but sometimes, it was still hard to get moving.
I had gotten pretty good at judging the time of day simply by eying the angle of the sun as it came in through the narrow gap in my curtains. It was maybe three.
So I’d gotten a decent night’s sleep.
I waited for the lingering tired that had become my normal to settle in, but it didn’t happen.
Pursing my lips, I took a mental inventory and realized…I feel good.
Doing a slow stretch, I arched my back, then flexed my legs and yawned.
Wow. I felt—
Whoa.
My fingers brushed up against something.
Smooth, warm male flesh.
Memory came flooding back, and I whipped my head around to stare at the long, sexy male form that filled the other half of my bed.
Cormac.
He’d come back to me.
Immediately, the thought made me feel foolish, and I quashed it. That made it seem like he’d been mine, and he just…wasn’t.
The light in the room was soft and golden. Curious, I pushed up onto my elbow so I could study him.
Although his face was averted, I could still see the several days of dark stubble darkening his cheeks and appreciate how it only served to highlight the rugged masculinity of his face. He was so easy to look at, and so sexy, it took my breath away. For a woman with the limited sexual experience I had, it still took my breath away to find this kind of guy in my bed.
As I studied him, he reached up, still asleep, and scratched absently at his chest. A low noise escaped his throat, and I thought for a minute that he might wake, but he didn’t.
He did, however, scratch his chest again, before moving his hand lower. As it slid out of view, I followed its path under the sheet, and my breath caught as he arched his hips, unconsciously stretching in his sleep.
My mouth went dry as he pushed his hips up into the thin fabric.
He had an erection, and my heart started to race.
What would he do if I pulled that sheet away and slid between his thighs? Wrapped my mouth around him?
I gave his face a lingering look. My eyes had adjusted to the light, and his color was strong. Biting my lip, I peered at his side. Heart hammering even harder, I threw the sheet aside, then wiggled around until I could settle between his thighs.
I tossed another glance up at him, but he was still sleeping. I couldn’t help but smile as I reached up and wrapped my hand around his cock.
He stirred a little as I gripped him, then started to lower my head.
I took him in my mouth. At first, there wasn’t much reaction. His cock was already semi-erect, and I took my time learning him, pressing my tongue to the underside of his cock, teasing the heavy vein there. But by the fourth pass, he had become harder, fuller, thicker.
By the sixth, I suspected he was awake.
And by the eighth, I had no doubt.
Cormac gripped my head and started to rock up, thrusting his cock into my mouth, urging me to take him deeper, faster.
I obliged, sucking on him, spurred on by his rough hunger. It fired up my own, and I found myself pressing my knees together to ease the emptiness between my thighs.
I scraped my teeth over him, then pulled back, licking down to the sack hanging below his cock, the flesh taut. I caught the soft skin in my mouth and sucked.
He made a low, strangled noise and then he moved.
I soon found myself face down on the bed.
He shoved a hand between my thighs, and I cried out, startled by the abrupt, sudden invasion of his fingers as he plunged them inside me.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re already wet. Are you ready for me, Briar?”
“Yes…”
“Good.” He withdrew, and I whimpered, the empty ache in me almost painful.
But a second later, I was crying out as he filled me with one hard, sudden thrust. I went to shove up onto my hands, but he pressed his palm onto my shoulder, keeping me where I was, face against the sheet while my butt remained lifted for him.
My skin went hot and tight as he took me, his body possessing mine utterly.
I felt like I was dying.
Pleasure like this was just too much for the body to contain. How was it even biologically possible? The heart should stop. The brain should cease to function, simply from the overload of stimuli. I was acutely aware of everything—the scent of my own arousal, of him, even the sheets and the candles I placed around the room to perfume the air. I felt the fan overhead stirring my oversensitive skin and his fingers biting into my right hip, while the left pressed into my shoulder, both holding me down and gripping me, pulling me back into his thrusts at the same time.
His cock pulsed, and I felt him scraping in and out of me, rubbing against me, the head caressing that buried bed of nerve endings so deep inside.
Then everything got even more intense as that thick, heavy length swelled, growing impossibly thicker. Not only that, he hitched me up by my hip and dragged me back on him, deepening the contact and changing the angle. I screamed into the sheets.
He swore in a low, shaky voice and let go of my shoulder to reach for my other hip. I shoved up onto my hands and started to drive myself back into him.
He responded by picking up the pace.
Soon, we were crashing into each other, and the bed started to shake, the noise of bodies slapping together filling the air.
I didn’t know which one of us broke first.
But the sounds of us coming, my broken moan and his guttural groan, seemed to mingle and fill the air at the same time.
It stretched on into eternity.
* * *
We both collapsed onto our sides, almost as one.
He fell down behind me, arm loose around my waist. He ended up somewhat lower on the bed, and I could feel his breath coming in ragged pants on my spine.
It made me shiver.
My heart pounded hard and fast, and I had to fight the urge to whimper as his fingers skipped a path down my side until he reached my hip. Every part of me seemed sensitized and primed for sensation.
Once he had his hand in place, he seemed content to simply stroke, back and forth, with his thumb. His fingers were calloused. It was odd, how good it felt, the contrast between his roughness and my smoother, softer skin.
Part of me wanted to turn around and face him. There seemed to be a thousand, unspoken things between us, things that should probably be said. But for some reason, the courage I needed to find to do or say anything failed me.
I wasn’t used to this.
I bit my lip and reached for the courage.
Finally, when I thought I found it, I wiggled around and turned to face him.
But as I moved, I became aware of something—a small but crucial detail.
Blood rushed to my face.
My heart started to race.
We stared at each other, and my breathing came faster and harder with every breath.
Finally, I summoned up the energy to speak. Just as I did, though, he cupped my cheek and passed his thumb over my lower lip.
“That’s one hell of a wake-up call.”
My breath stuttered out of me. Say something! Common sense, every self-preservation instinct inside me demanded it. Rolling my lips inward, I pressed them together tightly. Finally, I managed to make myself speak. “We didn’t use a condom,” I blurted out.
The look on his face was almost priceless.
His eyes went so wide, white showed all around the dark brown.
He jackknifed up in bed and sat up, spinning around to present me with his back. His reaction was so abrupt, it left me with a funny feeling in my belly.
“Cormac?” I whispered.
“Yeah?” It came out a mere sound. That didn’t help me feel any better.
“Ah…do I need to worry about anything?”
He got up, moving with a lot more ease than I would have expected after last night. He grabbed his jeans from the floor and pulled them on, moving with an abruptness that just added to the unease settling onto my shoulders.
But just as I was starting to panic, he came to me and sat on the edge of the bed. He cupped my face in his hands and stroked my lip with his lower thumb. “Are you on the pill?”
He voiced that question with such calm, I immediately breathed a little easier.
“Yes.” My face went hot. I couldn’t explain why. I was a medical doctor, a surgeon, for crying out loud. But I couldn’t deny the blush any easier than I could deny the relief swimming through me. “I went on it a couple years ago after…well. I went on it. It helped with some cramping issues too. So I just stayed on it.”
He studied me, then gave a short nod. “Then, no. Nothing to worry about.”
“I’m…” I licked my lips.
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and the heated look in his eyes made my belly go tight. I could have whimpered, but I didn’t.
“It’s not just pregnancy I’m con—”
He pressed his thumb to my mouth, silencing my words. “Nothing to worry about,” he repeated. “But if it will make you feel better, I’ll get tested. Will that help?”
Two
Cormac
I had no idea how I’d been so stupid.
I never fucked a woman without gloving up.
I just didn’t.
She leaned forward and pressed her head to my shoulder. Curling my hand around the back of her neck, I stared off into nothing.
Guilt chewed at me along with a sense of frustration so deep, it almost ached. But when she stirred and pulled back to look at me, I managed a smile. “I need to get going soon.”
“Me too.” She made a face. “I have to eat and shower. You got time to join me?”
“For the shower, at least.” I shouldn’t, but I needed those minutes with her.
I followed her along into the bathroom and watched as she adjusted the water. She tugged me into the glass-enclosed shower, and I let her nudge me up against the wall, unable to resist a smile as she grabbed her soap and started to wash me.
“I’m going to smell like a rosebush all bloody day,” I told her, feigning a gruffness I didn’t feel.
“I think your ego can handle it,” she said with a grin.
True. The problem was, I didn’t know if I could handle it. Walking around, smelling like her just might drive me mad.
Once she was done, I took the foamy, sudsy mesh sponge from her and treated her to the same treatment she’d given me, soaping her up from top to bottom, lingering on certain areas that seemed to require more attention, like the taut curve of her ass, her tits. When I reached the area between her thighs, I switched hands and turned her around, bracing her back up against me with my right forearm, while slipping my left hand between her thighs.
She trembled against me, and when I dipped my hand and slipped two fingers into her cunt, she was already wet.
I groaned and closed my eyes. She gasped as I twisted my wrist, slowly screwing my fingers deeper inside her pussy.
Briar’s head sagged forward. I could feel that hard, rapid rhythm of her breathing, the tightening of her body. She was close. Already so close. Hungry to feel it, to hear her come again, I sank my teeth into the soft pad of muscle atop her elegant shoulder.
She went stiff and jolted against my hand.
Then she came apart.
* * *
I forced myself to leave while she was still showering.
If I let myself think about it for even a minute, I would have stayed with her and fuck the consequences. Out in the driveway, I started the Camry. It turned over without a hitch, and I backed up into the traffic that was slowly gathering on the quiet little side street.
If I was lucky, I’d avoid the beginning of the end-of-day-traffic.
No sooner had the thought rolled through my brain than I changed my mind.
Luck would be if I ended up caught in some massive gridlock that kept me from getting back to the tattoo shop for hours. I couldn’t avoid the place or Jerrel forever, but I’d be damn pleased to avoid them both for the next little while.
With that in mind, I decided to take a more leisurely route. My phone vibrated from the cupholder where I’d dumped it. As I slowed to a stop, I picked it up and checked the screen.
It was from Rudy, the owner of the tattoo parlor.
I had no doubt he was calling to blister my ass, so I just put it back down.
Both he and Jerrel had been calling for hours. I’d long since put the phone on vibrate. I had no doubt I’d get an earful from both of them. From Rudy, I’d tolerate it. While I was under no illusion that he’d been convinced to hire me for this bullshit job, he was counting me being there for the time being, and I didn’t need to make things harder for him in the long run.
So I’d take it and suck it up.
But I was in no mood to take shit from that maggot, Jerrel. He was far too full of himself, and if I wasn’t worried about how things would turn out for Briar, I would have already dealt with the matter.
I did have to worry about Briar, though. And I was starting to worry a lot.
Marcos Castellanos wasn’t a man to be taken lightly.
If it was just him, I might have considered dealing with him myself.
I’d taken down bigger men than him and lived to tell about it.
But Marcos was part of a bigger family and dealing with him likely meant dealing with all of them, and that was a bigger task than I was probably prepared to handle.
Plus, there was the sister.
I didn’t like taking on jobs that included any sort of violence against women. From what I could tell, she w
asn’t even involved in the family business. Immediately, I shoved that thought away, closing it out of my mind, because it made me think of Briar.
Yeah, I’d done some poking around about the young doctor since I’d gotten started on this assignment. It didn’t look like she was too involved in the shit her family had going. Hell, she’d attended college mostly on grants and scholarships awarded to highly gifted children. It wasn’t hard to find that shit out, if one knew how to look.
Sure, I bet that sweet house she had was partly because of her dad. And I already knew the car had been a gift from him, so there was no denying that the blood money that had made her family rich had also made her life easier.
But I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around the idea that she really knew about all that her family was involved with. After all, she’d taken a stranger into her house because she couldn’t stand the thought of him being out somewhere alone with a head injury. Granted, I’d tricked her into it, but she’d done it. And that wasn’t all. I’d seen the genuine concern on her face where her patients were concerned. I’d seen her crying over the death of a baby.
The image I had of her in my head didn’t match up with the image I thought she should be.
I spent the rest of the drive across Philadelphia brooding, and by the time I reached the small parking lot behind the shop, my mood was toxic.
I went in through the back door and thought longingly of just going up to my shitty apartment and dropping down on the bed for a few hours of sleep.
