His Fight: The Downing Family Book 5

by Wild, Cassie

  “Fuck my side,” I muttered, using my grip on her hair to drag her closer.

  A few seconds later, though, the pressure of her knee became too much, and I eased her back.

  She cocked a brow at me. “Told you.”

  “Smart-ass.” I caught her hips in my hands and lifted. At the same time, I spread my thighs and settled her there. It wasn’t quite as good, but intense pain put something of a damper on things.

  Pulling her mouth back to mine, I traced my tongue across her lower lip. “Open for me, Briar. I wanna taste you.”

  She opened, a soft whimper escaping her.

  We couldn’t get close enough. She rose onto her knees, bringing her head on a level just above mine, her tits pressing into me. I pulled away and grabbed the hem of the soft blue nightshirt, dragging it up. She finished the job, tossing it aside as I caught her breasts in my hands and plumped them together, burying my face in the valley I’d created. She gasped as I caught one tight little nipple between my teeth and tugged. By the time I moved to the other side, she was rocking against me, her hips moving in subtle female demand.

  I caught her hip and held her against me, tipping my head back to stare up at her flushed face. “You want me, Briar?”

  She blinked, mouth parted on a ragged breath. She nodded.

  “Tell me, then. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

  “Fuck me, Cormac.” The words came out in a throaty rasp. Her short, neat nails dug small crescents into my shoulders.

  I rose, holding her against me and letting her body slide down against mine. The contact was exquisite.

  Turning her around, I guided her forward until she was facing the ottoman. I nudged her down until she was bent over it, but instead of unzipping and sinking my aching dick inside her, I sat back down and gripped her hips, using my thumbs to spread her open.

  The folds of her cunt glistened wetly, making my mouth water.

  She trembled as I leaned forward and blew a puff of air against her.

  A hoarse, strangled cry escaped her as I pressed my lips to her in a hot, open-mouthed kiss, treating her pussy to the same treatment I’d given her mouth moments earlier, dipping my tongue inside her and teasing her with short, shallow thrusts before tracing the entrance.

  She started to shake, rocking back against me. Her entire body was flushed when I finally rose, dragging my zipper down and fumbling to free my dick.

  “Tell me again, Briar,” I said, smoothing my hand over her rump. “Tell me that you want me to fuck you.”

  “Fuck me, Cormac. Please…”

  I thrust in, deep, not stopping until I’d completely impaled her on my dick.

  She bounced up on her toes, crying out.

  I withdrew and thrust forward again, and again.

  She braced her weight on the ottoman and drove back onto me, meeting me thrust for thrust.

  The sounds of it, flesh slapping against flesh, wet sucking sounds, and the scent of sex filled the air, adding to the raw intensity of the moment. Her breaths became ragged moans, punctuated by broken cries and the sound of my name falling from her lips.

  Me…I couldn’t speak. A band wrapped around my chest and even breathing was hard.

  It had nothing to do with my bruised ribs and everything to do with the mess that had taken hold of my heart.

  It had everything to do with Briar.

  As long as I was locked deep inside her, I didn’t have to think about any of that, so I set about dragging one climax after another from her, holding my own back with the desperation of a man clinging to sanity by the skin of his teeth.

  Her legs trembled, and she swayed forward, sinking onto her elbows on the ottoman as her third climax washed over her. The feel of her squeezing me almost pushed me over, but I wasn’t ready to end it.

  At least I didn’t think I was.

  But then I heard her faint whimper.

  “Cormac…”

  Something about the way she said it did me in, and I was lost, coming before I even realized I was that close.

  Six

  Briar

  “So, I had drinks with Wade Bingham at the club a few nights ago.”

  I peered at my dad across the table and frowned. He knew far too many people for me to keep up with, especially since I tried to keep my life separate from his. But judging by the look on his face, I had a feeling I should know who Wade Bingham was.

  “Wade…” I said slowly.

  He leaned back in his chair, lifting a glass of scotch to his lips and taking a slow sip. “Yes. You might remember him better as Wade from Green Valley. He and I play golf a few times a year.”

  “Oh!” As recognition hit, I put my fork down and reached for my water. “Yes, I remember him. How is he?”

  “Overall, well enough, I suppose.” Dad rubbed at his chin as he continued to watch me. “It was an odd hour. About ten minutes after we got our drinks, one of the doctors from Green Valley showed up. Dr. Crowley. I understood you met him before you left the hospital.”

  I sighed and put my water glass down. Settling my elbow on the arm of the chair, I studied him. “Dad, how about you stop beating around the bush and just spit it out?”

  “Okay. I’ll do that.” He put the scotch down and leaned forward, his dark blue eyes narrowing. “Not long after you were hired, I contacted Wade and told him I’d be making a large donation to the hospital. Now, before you get all pissed off, pay attention. I did it after they hired you. I didn’t buy your job. I knew you wouldn’t appreciate it.”

  I was seething. “Damn right I wouldn’t appreciate it,” I muttered.

  He ignored me and went on, “But after you quit, I talked to your brothers and I talked to Wade. Basically, I poked around a bit, and I didn’t like some of the things I heard. So, I contacted Wade and said I’d still make a donation, but it wouldn’t be on the same scale. He said he understood and appreciated a donation of any kind. Wade and I have been friends a long time. When he decided to ask me for drinks a few days ago, I didn’t think much of it at the time. Then this Crowley guy shows up a few minutes into the evening and starts trying to schmooze with me. I wasn’t impressed.”

  Dad’s face darkened, and I leaned forward. “What happened?”

  “He goes on to tell me that while he wished things would have worked out better with my daughter, he understands that you are young and flighty and he’d truly like it if I’d offer the hospital a chance to show me what great things they could do with my fucking money.”

  Young and flighty.

  I grabbed my wine and tossed half of it back, only realizing after that fact how much that action just revealed to my observant father.

  As I sat the glass down, I caught sight of his face. He tapped a finger on the rim of his scotch glass. “So. How about you tell me why you really quit?”

  “I’ve already gone over this,” I said in a careful voice. “I wanted a chance to make more of a difference. I’m doing that at county.”

  He grunted. “I’m sure you are.” He blew out a breath. “As a dad, I’m not overly thrilled with the place you chose, but I can’t deny your commitment to your job. I also fail to see where that could be seen as the decision of a young, flighty woman.” He jabbed a finger in my direction. “Try again.”

  “Oh, fine.” I huffed out a breath, annoyed with both him and myself. “It started when I wouldn’t get coffee for some old windbag who called me honey, and it got worse when that windbag went to my boss in the emergency department, complaining about me. My boss agreed with him, making me out to be some sort of shrew on a man-hating mission. Then a few days later, my boss in the emergency department got in my face after a nurse complained about me.”

  Dad cocked his head to the side. “A nurse complained?”

  I ground my teeth together at the memory. “She complained because she wouldn’t give a woman in pain the medication I ordered because she felt the girl was displaying drug-seeking behavior, but the woman was having a medical crisis and needed t
he drugs. I told her to do her job, or I would, and she got her panties in a twist. After my diagnosis was proven right, and in front of the medical director and the nurse, I decided I was done being treated like a second-rate doctor and went to see Dr. Crowley, the hospital’s medical director. He told me I was overreacting and flat-out said I was making wild accusations of gender harassment and discrimination. So…I quit.” Out of breath by the rapid-fire explanation, I drained the rest of my wine and rose, taking my glass with me to the sideboard to refill it.

  It was Thursday, my first day off and part of the adjustment cycle as I readied to take over my new shift. When Dad had called and invited me over for dinner, I’d been more than happy to accept. If I’d known part of that invite stemmed from some desire to grill me about my ex-boss, I might have been a bit more leery. Of course, that was why he hadn’t mentioned it. I refilled my glass and took both it and the bottle back to the table, settling back down to meet my father’s gaze.

  “Are you happy?”

  He cocked his head. “Happy? No, Briar. I’m not happy. As a matter of fact, I’m now in a bit of a quandary. See, I like Wade. I like him a lot. I don’t want to back out of the donation I promised him, but at the same time…” He grimaced. “Well, I don’t want any money of mine going to a place that treated my daughter in such a fashion. So…what do we do?”

  I pursed my lips as I considered it.

  Finally, I smiled at him. “Have one of your PR people set up a meeting with human resources. Tell them that you want to reinstate your original donation, to be used in the form of scholarships for young women in medicine. They could be nursing students or medical students…your people can work something out. But you’ll only allow it after the hospital staff of all levels, from housekeeping up to the CEO, and all genders undergo extensive retraining on the problems of gender, racial, and sexual discrimination.”

  Dad laughed. “You think—”

  I held up a hand to stop him and went on, “Make it clear that you expect the standards in their harassment policy to be upheld and those who violate those standards will be disciplined, up to and including termination, regardless of what position they hold.” I continued to hold up my hand, stopping him from butting in while I thought through all of my options. “Also tell them that you expect a new internal board to be appointed to review complaints. One that doesn’t include Dr. Crowley.” After a pause, I added, “And I’d even consider telling them you’d be open to considering an endowment after a period of time, if, after an external review by an independent party, it is determined that the staff and board have come to understand the issues posed by gender, racial, and sexual discrimination, and if they are indeed upholding appropriate standards regarding harassment.”

  After his first attempt to interrupt, my father had listened and nodded on occasion. But now, as I reached for my wine, a smile spread across his face.

  “I think I like that idea. I like it so much that I believe I’ll name it the ’Briar Downing Financial Endowment Project.’ What do you think?”

  * * *

  “Sure…I can manage a few side dishes.” I studied my father, puzzling over the odd request. “We always have Thanksgiving catered, though. Are we not doing that this year?”

  “Oh, we’ll have the turkey prepared for us, yes.” He waved it off as he led me into the small, informal sitting room tucked off the main hall. “But when Brooks and Daria were over for a visit, Daria and I got to talking about it, and she said she’d enjoy handling some of the cooking. I told her I was having you over for dinner today, so I’d run the idea by you. Isabel already said she’d make a couple of desserts.” He settled in his favorite chair and put his whiskey down, rubbing his hands together as he smiled at me. “Homemade dinners…I miss a good, old-fashioned homemade holiday dinner.”

  I smiled at him, ignoring the prick of sadness the comment elicited. Back when Mom was alive, she’d insisted on making all the holiday dinners. Catering was something to be done for parties, not for family holidays. Once we were old enough, she’d had us helping out. She’d even dragged Dad into it. The only one who hadn’t helped out much had been Sean. He’d been too young at the time, then she’d gotten sick and died.

  “I’ll talk to Daria and see what she’s planning, then I’ll figure something out.” My new schedule would make it easier, that was for certain. “I was wondering…” The second the words rose to my lips, though, nerves started to jitter about in my chest like bees buzzing around honey.

  Dad cocked a thick brow at me.

  “Ah…well. I’m sort of seeing somebody. I don’t know if it’s anything serious, but I’d like to bring him.”

  Immediately, a smile broke out across my father’s face. “You’re dating?”

  “We’ve only gone out a few times,” I said, downplaying my undetermined relationship.

  “Who is he? Anybody I might know?”

  “No.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. And because I didn’t want him to be surprised, I decided to go ahead and caution him. “Dad, he works at a tattoo parlor. He helps with security. He just moved up here from Miami.”

  He frowned, brows dropping down low over his eyes as he thought this through. When he spoke, he said the last possible thing I’d been expecting. “Briar, please tell me you didn’t meet this boy because you went and got a tattoo.”

  I broke out laughing. “No!” Then, giving him an arch look, I added, “I might decide to get one at some point, and if I do, it won’t be any of your business. But that’s not how we met.”

  He grumbled a bit as he reached for his whiskey. After he took a healthy swallow, he asked, “What’s this boy’s name?”

  I didn’t bother telling him that Cormac wasn’t a boy.

  My dad was sixty-eight. Anybody under the age of forty was a boy to him.

  “Cormac.” As an after-thought, I added, “He’s part Irish. Moved over here when he was a kid.”

  “Well, now. He can’t be all bad then.” He gave me a bit of a smile. “What’s this Cormac like? Does he treat you well?”

  “He’s…” I didn’t want to tell him that Cormac was a rough son of a bitch. He’d figure that out for himself. So I told him other things that were equally as true. “He makes me smile, Dad. And he looks at me like I’m the only thing in his world.”

  Seven

  Cormac

  It was a good thing I’d never been one to care much for what other people thought about me, because the atmosphere in Rudy’s had become markedly unpleasant over the past few days.

  It wasn’t so bad if Melia and Jerrel weren’t around. Actually, if it wasn’t for the two of them, I could have enjoyed it—or at least some of it. Several of the artists were easy to talk to, smart-asses with a sharp sense of humor who had no problem minding their own, yet could easily hold a casual conversation, which made it easier to pass the time.

  But when Melia was around, they tended to keep to themselves and that only made a long day drag by even more slowly.

  Toss Jerrel into the mix, and it only made the day shittier.

  Today, both Melia and Jerrel were in the shop.

  I’d only seen Jerrel in the place a couple of times. Apparently, he was good at ink because whenever he worked, he was booked with appointments from start to finish.

  He wasn’t exactly what I called a professional, though, even if he was a talented bastard.

  He ran his mouth about the dickhead who’d sucker-punched him, then pulled a knife on him, rewriting the narrative to fit his own needs, occasionally shooting me a challenging look as if to dare me to confront him about it.

  I didn’t much give a shit what he said, so I ignored him.

  I tried to ignore Melia too, but she kept coming over to me. She didn’t spend so much time trying to talk me into going upstairs with her for a few minutes, but she did make dogged remarks about that lady doc and other shit that just got under my skin, although I took care not to let her see.

  She had finally given up
on her latest attempt and stormed back over to her space, dropping down on the chair her clients used when she worked on them. She grabbed a magazine and flipped it open, tuning the world out.

  At least it appeared that way, but that wasn’t the case.

  A minute after she walked away, the bells over the door jangled and the eyes of the artists not working all looked to the door, eager to pick up a client and make some dough. Ideally, any walk-in was to go to the next-in-line, but there was always some attempt to cut in and snag a client, claiming a particular style was more suited or some such shit.

  I didn’t see it as any way to run a business, but since I was only here for a little while, I didn’t concern myself with it.

  And it wasn’t going to be an issue now either.

  Briar stood there, looking gorgeous in a pair of skinny black jeans and an oversized, transparent white sweater with a white top on under it. She was shivering a little and blinking against the brightness of the light.

  I came around the counter to meet her just as she finally focused on me. A nervous smile curled her lips as she tipped her head back to meet my eyes. “Hi,” she said softly.

  “Hi.” I didn’t even hesitate. I reached out and hooked my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her up against me as I lowered my head and pressed my mouth to hers.

  She sighed softly as I kissed her, and tension seemed to melt from her body. She pulled back before I was done. I would have been content to just keep on kissing her. Okay, so maybe it was a good idea that she’d pulled back.

  As she settled back down on her heels, I skimmed my hand through her hair.