I don’t even want to think about the finer points of what I heard when that was enough to cause my soul to bleed for him. Everything in my cried out to go to him, to tell him I understand, and that his history doesn’t matter to me. As long as he’s alive and breathing, Cash will always be the most amazing, selfless, heroic man I’ve ever met, regardless of the sordid details in his past.
Because that’s what it is; in the past. There’s nothing he can do to change it. No amount of wishing, hiding, or pretending it didn’t happen will erase it. The only thing left to do is accept it and move on. I’m not saying it’s easy; I still struggle with being able to let go and embrace the future instead of getting stuck in the horrors of my past, but it is possible.
I have no one but myself to blame for my sleep deprived state this morning, and my desperate need of caffeine to tide me over until I can crash tonight. But as exhausted and guilty as I feel for listening in, I can’t force myself to regret it.
Straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders, I walk into the kitchen to see Jump seated at the dining table already, and Cash manning the toaster. Talon is nowhere to be seen, but that’s not an uncommon occurrence. My son is a big fan of sleep, even if he does have to get his lazy butt up and ready for school. Actually, he especially loves it then.
Unsure how to act or whether I should broach the subject of last nights’ discussion, I decided to play it by ear. None of what was said is my business; they are both grown men that are more than capable of asking for help if they need it. However, there is one aspect that is nagging at me which eventually will have to be addressed.
Little do Cash and Jump know – ultimately because I haven’t told them – I went to college part-time while I was working for Mr. Dillinger to become a Drug and Alcohol Abuse Counsellor. Granted, I haven’t used the skills I spent seven years learning, but I have volunteered at shelters that are filled with addicts, which means I have a fair idea of what Jump is looking down the barrel of should he choose to quit using.
That is not the point, though. However, Jump’s addiction and subsequently him using drugs in the same house my son lives in is. I don’t for a moment believe Jump would do anything to endanger Talon, at least, not on purpose. But that doesn't change the fact that by being here, Talon is exposed to things I have worked my ass off to shield him from.
“Morning,” Jump grumbles, not taking his eyes off the newspaper spread out on the table in front of him.
“Hey, baby,” Cash greets me, his smile going a long way to improving my mood.
Doing my best to appear as normal, I kiss the top of Jump’s head and say,
“Hi, guys. Sleep well?”
“Like the dead,” Jump replies.
Followed by Cash’s,
“Can’t complain. Much.”
“Good,” I mutter taking a seat, accepting a cup of coffee from Cash’s outstretched hand. “What are you guys up to today?”
Cash casts a sidelong glance at his brother before answering,
“I’ve got a meet at L & M at nine, but then I’ll be back here for a while. I was going to ask you last night, but you went up to bed before I could, do you mind hanging around here today? Sly’s getting someone to cover your shift at Crest Ridge so work’s not going to be an issue. I’ve got something I need to talk to you about.”
“Sure,” I shrug. “If it’s that important that you’ve organized me to have the day off, of course, I’ll be here.”
To be honest, a day off is exactly what the doctor ordered. Lack of sleep combined with concern for Jump and Cash, flashbacks of my own demons that plagued for endless hours and the fear that I might not be capable of protecting Talon has left me drained. Emotionally and physically.
“You too, Jump,” Cash tells his brother. “Ten o’clock work for you?”
The tone of his voice indicates that even if it doesn’t Cash isn’t taking no for an answer – something Jump apparently recognizes too.
“My day’s wide open except for tonight when I’ve got to close Reigns,” he replies, referring to the MC’s strip club.
I haven’t been there so I could be wrong – depending on what type of establishment they’re running – but I’ve always been of the opinion stripping is an art form, which would be the opposite of the general consensus.
The truth is, I’ve tried my hand at almost every job available to a homeless teenager with no work experience and a baby to raise. Diapers, formula, and baby clothes are expensive, and jobs that pay cash under the table are limited, which is why stripping immediately became one of few viable options for a girl like I was then.
When I imagined taking my clothes off in front of a room full of horny men who reminded me of Michael, I almost couldn’t go through with it. I swear the first night I danced, I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest or stop altogether, but thankfully it didn’t.
In fact, an odd sense of calm came over me when I was on stage. The house lights were on – dimly, yet bright enough to obscure the patrons faces – and strategic spotlights were angled down onto various parts of the stage, allowing me to partially hide in the shadows.
Not once did I remove every article of clothing; I couldn’t bring myself to strip down to my skin. Instead, I had pasties on to cover my nipples, and a thong – albeit minuscule – but still covered all of my crucial lady bits.
The crowd didn’t seem to mind, however. Men tipped me just as well as the other girls, sometimes better. There was something to be said for keeping them in suspense and retaining an air of mystery about yourself. Until it came to persistent requests for private dances, that is.
I didn’t intend for stripping to be a long-term career, but it would have been nice if it lasted more than four months. The money was good, and for the most part, the customers were decent. I liked all of the girls I worked with bar one, Kelsey, but she was a bitch, and I wasn’t alone in my feelings toward her. The bouncers who acted as crowd control and personal security guards, walking us to our cars and looking out for us were a God send. And my boss, well, he wasn’t a bad guy either.
If there’s one thing, Hank Turner likes more than watching women who know how to work a pole it’s money. Which I suppose is why all of his dancers are made to audition, submit to mandatory drug testing, and required to be on some form of birth control before he hires them. According to Hank, men will pay obscene amounts of money to salivate over clean, talented women who are guaranteed not to get pregnant during whatever takes place in one of the private booths.
As one of Hank’s top earners, he did everything in his power to get me to stay when I gave him my weeks’ notice, but I couldn’t stay. The shine had worn off the job when men who couldn’t take no for an answer started getting grabby and demanding.
When we weren’t on stage, we were expected to mingle with the customers, sitting with them at their tables and enticing them to spend more cash than they probably had to buy five minutes of our time in a more private location. Most of the girls didn’t mind that aspect of the job, but to me, it was my worst nightmare.
Being alone with a man in an enclosed space with one entry and one exit terrified me. Hence, why I refused every single request, no matter how much they were offering.
“Babe?” Jump prompts, bumping my arm with his. “You okay? You look like you’re a million miles away.”
I was, not that I’ll admit as much.
“Do you think I can come with? To Reigns tonight, I mean,” I ask out of left field, shocking them both.
Cash crosses his arms over his shirtless chest, drawing my attention to his rippled abdominal muscles, and spectacular man-V, which any woman knows is straight-up visual porn for the eyes.
Granted, I’d be hard pressed to name one feature of Cash’s that I didn’t like. But at the same time, if asked to prioritize my top five of his sexiest physical attributes from lowest to highest it would have to be his eyes, then his back, followed by his mouth, the distracting tattoo inked into the skin ab
ove his sizeable package, and finally that damn V.
However, I’d be willing to bet that list would change if I ever have the opportunity to see Cash’s cock. Without clothing acting as a barrier, that is. I mean, I have a good idea of how big he is after rubbing against him twice like a cat in heat, but still, I wouldn’t say no if Cash wanted to get naked and let me inspect his equipment.
Lost in a haze of lust brought about by the longest dry spell known to womankind, I daydream about whether or not Cash’s cock is as thick as it is long. If he has as much stamina as I assume he does, and if he’s pierced there as well, Cash clears his throat and give me a cocky smile as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
God, I hope not. I would be seriously fucking mortified if he did.
“Love the way you’re looking at me, baby, but I’ve got to ask; why the fuck do you want to go to Reigns? It’s a strip joint, not a social club.”
It shouldn’t offend me that Cash thinks I’m a prude, yet for some strange reason, it does. I may not be as sexually aggressive as the women Cash is used to, but I’m not asexual, either.
Rolling my eyes in annoyance, I give him a tight-lipped smile and try to decide whether I’d prefer to kick him in the balls, or shock the hell out of him by dropping to my knees and offering to take him in my mouth.
Yeah, that last one isn’t going to happen, I muse as Cash’s smirk widens and his eyes begin roaming my body.
“Eyes up here, big guy,” I snap, interrupting his leisurely perusal. “For your information, stripper poles and I are old friends. My days as an exotic dancer are well and truly over, but I figure it might be fun to visit and see if I can pick up any new tricks. Never can be too sure when the ability to slide down a large, hard, thick object, upside while doing the splits will come in handy?”
At my admission, both Jump and Cash’s mouths drop open. However, Jump is the first to recover from the shock, clasping his hands together as he looks up at the ceiling.
“Please, please, please, if there is actually a God up there let me watch Kennedy rub up and down a big, shiny, shaft. I’ll be good from now on, I promise.”
Giggling at his stupidity, I correct him.
“I said large, hard, and thick, not big and shiny.”
“Same thing, different fantasy, babe,” he grins unrepentantly.
My earlier mood lightens considerably at Jump’s playful banter, just not for long.
“Out,” Cash barks. Jump and I both stand, heading straight for the door because Cash in a pissy mood is like dealing with a Grizzly Bear with a sore tooth after hibernating for the winter; nobody needs that shit. “Not you, him,” he commands, glaring at his brother.
Sauntering out of the room, Jump yells over his shoulder,
“Good luck, buttercup. You’re gonna need it.”
His meaning isn’t lost on me as I fixate on the frighteningly handsome man stalking me like I’m his prey. And I’m not ashamed to admit, at times like this, I wish I were just that because I can’t think of anything better right now than Cash devouring every inch of me and letting me return the favor.
CHAPTER NINE
~ Cash ~
“During sex, you burn as many calories as you do running for five miles. Who the fuck runs five miles in thirty seconds?”
– One of life’s unanswered questions
This has never happened to me before, and I’m not talking about the hard-on tenting the fabric of my sweats, that shit’s normal. No, what I’m referring to is me being unsure about how to approach a woman.
Sure, we’ve established Kennedy isn’t just any woman, but that shouldn’t make a lick of difference where my cock and confidence are concerned. I’ve got the skills and experience to make a woman come multiple times, one right on top of the other with nothing more than my voice, so why the fuck do I feel like I’m going to pass out just looking at her.
Taking a deep breath, I steady myself and attempt to calm the nervous energy thrumming through my veins. But I shouldn’t have bothered because it’s all for nothing as Kennedy shocks the shit out of me when she pulls her tank top over her head and drops it onto the floor by her feet.
I blink rapidly, praying this isn’t an illusion, and she really is standing there topless, her beautiful lush, full tits on display for me to worship first with my eyes and then with my mouth and hands. Fuck, if she’ll let me, I wouldn’t mind thrusting my cock between them and coming all over her face. But that will have to wait, because right now, I’m not in the position to make any demands.
Don’t ask me why I know this, I just do. Kennedy doesn’t want a man to dominate her, take her hard, and fuck her into submission regardless of the fact her body’s screaming at me to do just that.
No, what Kennedy wants is to be handled with care – shown that sex can be empowering, liberating and that she can demand whatever she wants without having to say a word.
Pushing off the counter, I’m practically on top of her in three long strides. I gently tuck a strand of hair that’s come loose from her messy bun, and ask,
“Are you trying to seduce me, gorgeous? Because if you are, it’s working.” Grinding my erection against her, I growl, “Can you feel what you do to me? Every time I’m near you, I’m hard as fucking stone.”
My hands itch to travel over her curvy hips and under the waistband of her sleep shorts. I need to know if she’s wearing panties or if she’s bare and wet for me. Every fiber of my being demands I lift her onto the dining table, strip her naked, and feast on her before slamming my cock so deep inside her she’ll feel me for days.
Instead, I grab hold of the firm globes of her ass and hoist her into my arms. Stalking down the hall off the kitchen, and into the section of Sarge’s house I claimed as mine, I push open the door to my bedroom and kick it closed behind me.
Not wanting to rush her, I set Kennedy on her feet and take a step back. She automatically leans back against the door with her chest heaving, pupils dilated, and nipples tight little buds beckoning me to lavish attention on them with my tongue.
When I would have said to hell with waiting and thrown her on the bed, Kennedy’s hoarse whisper has me reaching for a new level of patience and control I didn’t know I had.
“Is something wrong? Why did you stop?”
Her tone is unsure, nervous even, threaded with insecurity a woman as beautiful as she is should never feel. Reaching out, I stroke a finger down her cheek – in part because I need to touch her, but primarily to reassure her whatever happens next will be of her choosing – my voice is tender when I say,
“I’m not stopping, I’m waiting, baby. There’s a difference. This is me giving you the control to decide where we go from here.”
“Um, I…” she stammers before falling silent.
I understand this is hard for her, asking for what she wants, but I need her to guide this. The last thing I want is to do something to scare her or worse still, have her fear me.
Hesitantly, Kennedy hooks her thumbs into her shorts and slowly pulls them down over her shapely, but toned thighs. I love everything about her body, but her thighs vie with her tits for the top spot, and not because of what lies between them. Although once I’ve tasted her pussy, I’m fucking positive I’ll be singing a different tune. For now, though, Kennedy’s tits reign supreme.
Missing the connection of our eyes, especially considering hers are so expressive, I rasp,
“Look at me. Lift your head up and look at me, baby.”
Worry creases the skin at the corner of her eyes, so I work fast to erase it, giving her the out I know she’s looking for.
“All I need is one word, gorgeous. Do you want me to take charge, yes or no? If the answer is, yes, then you’re going to have to trust me to take care of you. Is that something you think you can do?”
Cautiously Kennedy nods, following the up and down motion of her head with,
“I already trust you, Cash. I wouldn’t be alone with you right now if I didn’t.”
“I’ve only got one more question for you, baby, and I want you to be sure when you answer it because depending on what you say, it’s going to change things between us.”
Her nerves are back full-force, now, the lust that was burning so brightly only seconds ago fading into a distant memory.
“I don’t want things to change, Cash. Maybe this was a mistake,” she manages to get out before I silence her with a finger pressed against her lips.
“Not change in a bad way, unless you consider being mine a negative, gorgeous,” I grin, stroking the pad of my finger across her plump, red lips. “What I’m trying to say is, the second your tight, wet pussy is wrapped around my cock, you’re mine, and I’m yours. There’s no going back from that, and I won’t want to. What you have to decide is if you can handle that or not. I’m not an easy man to deal with, and I’ve never been in a relationship so I’ll probably fuck this up more times than I get it right, but I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy for as long as you’ll let me.”
Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 2: Gage ~ Cash ~ Knight (Vengeance MC series Book 8) Page 36
