Commanding Casey

by Nicolina Martin

  “I put a guy in prison,” she says, and sits on her bed at the far end, pulling a throw blanket around her as she drops the books on the bedside table.

  “Was he innocent?”

  “What? God, no.”

  I lean against the doorframe and throw out my arms. “Then what’s with the running?”

  “He got out,” she mutters.

  “He’s after you? And you took off?”

  Casey nods.

  “What’d he do?”

  She winces. “Can’t I just say thank you and be done with it?”

  “Oh, hell no, girl. You’re telling me. Get it off your chest. You can thank me later.”

  “I can’t let people know,” she whispers and shakes her head.

  That’s a stab to the chest, if anything. “People? Don’t you trust me?”

  She clutches the blanket tighter around her shoulders, somehow smaller than I’ve ever seen her before.

  “What’d I ever do to make you not trust me? Do you think I’d run off and talk? Do you think that fucking little about me? Really? What do you think I’ve done? Played cards, shared a beer, and bragged about how I’ve fingerfucked our hot little mechanic?”

  She jerks as if I’ve hit her. Words can hurt too. I know that from my own bitter experience. I ran because I was an ass. I can choose, here and now, if I’ll keep repeating history, or if I can be someone else, someone who’d deserves someone like her.

  “Sorry,” we say in unison.

  “I can be a dick,” I say with a wince.

  “And I have some heavy trust issues.”

  “I’ve given you no reason to—”

  “You have some seriously rough edges, dude, but you’ve never betrayed me. You could have hurt me in so many fucking ways, you know.”

  I laugh. “Dude?”

  She shrugs and throws me a skewed smile that would have made my heart melt, had I acknowledged that I own one.

  I sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the déjà vu. We’re running in circles. Always, it seems. “Talk to me. What’d he do to you that landed his ass in prison?”

  Her cheeks turn pink. “He, uh... hit me.”

  “Was he your dude?”

  She shakes her head vehemently. “No.”

  I throw out my hands. “Where’d you meet him? What happened?”

  Casey hides her face in her hands, inhales, exhales. When she looks up, her eyes are glossed over. “I made a stupid mistake. I was stupid.”

  I wait.

  “Okay, fuck, right, here goes nothing. I went to a club... with some friends. It’s nothing that hasn’t happened a billion times before, you know, but...” She bites down on her lip again, a move that makes me want to replace those teeth with my own. “I met this guy I had seen a couple of times before.”

  I wait. I think I’m getting the picture, but she needs to tell this at her own pace.

  “I was careful, okay? I thought I knew him. He was a friend of a friend.” She tenses, holding my gaze.

  “I’m not judging, Casey. Go on.”

  “You... oh...” It’s as if she deflates.

  The cogs spin, and then I get it. “Oh, that was your bad experience. Cops, prison, all that.” That hurts. I see it before me, a younger Casey, even more innocent, putting her trust in someone who took it and crushed it. Crushed her.

  She nods and looks the most unhappy I’ve ever seen anyone.

  “Casey.” I put a finger under her chin and hold her gaze. “Let it out. I’ve tied you up. Touched you everywhere. Spanked you and bossed you around. Tell me, or I’ll make you.”

  She purses her lips, her eyes trained on mine. “You’re full of shit.”

  I wait.

  “Fine.” She groans. Inhales. “We weren’t dating. I thought he was too much of a player and I wasn’t looking for anyone anyway. But he had this aura of confidence, and he made everyone laugh. In a good way. He also had the best pot. I didn’t have much experience in guys and when he set his sights on me, I was pretty defenseless.”

  She pulls at the blanket, chews on her lip, her hands tremble slightly. I put mine over hers. “Hey. You’re all right. You’re safe now. What happened?”

  “He, uh... I was a bit buzzed, but I was leaving. It feels so dumb now because I think I encouraged him, you know. I let him buy me drinks the whole night, I used him—” Her eyes gloss over and she sniffles, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand.

  “What did he do?” I’m full of too-vivid imagery and every single image I conjure up makes me want to hop on the next flight out and beat the fucker to a pulp with my bare hands. Fighting down the primitive rage, I force myself to remain calm and listen.

  “I was so stupid. Oh, my God. They were playing my favorite song and I thought ‘just one more dance.’ He gave me a pill... and... Told me everyone took it, that it would give me more energy. I was drunk, high as a bat, everyone was smiling and having fun and I thought ‘what the hell, I only live once.’”

  “He roofied you?”

  “No.” Casey seems to shrink a size before my eyes and her lower lashes are heavy with unshed tears. “No, I let him give me ecstasy. I’m so fucking stupid, Cole. My mom volunteers at a shelter for homeless women. So many of them are addicts. And there I am, Casey Keagan, the prodigy daughter of Leroy, stuffing her face with pot and happy pills.”

  “You’re way too hard on yourself, Casey.”

  “No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I’m not. Trust me. I’m not even sure I’d have reported him to the cops if there hadn’t been witnesses. That’s how bad it was.”

  I wipe her cheek with the pad of my thumb and hold her pained gaze, my chest clenching in apprehension before the rest of the story. It’s going to be bad. I know it. “You’re right. I haven’t walked in your shoes, just know this: I’m not judging you. Trust me.”

  Inhaling shakily, she nods. “I know. We would not be having this conversation otherwise. I was leaving. I didn’t know he had been following me until it was too late. It...” She licks her lips, rocking back and forth, he gaze turning distant. “It was bad.”

  “He raped you?”

  To my great surprise and shameful relief, she shakes her head.

  “He beat me. Bad. He never got to the rape. He lost himself in making me hurt. He said he’d make me his, that he’d take me with him and make me his bitch.” She holds her breath, then slams a hand over her mouth. “Oh, God, I feel sick!”

  The last word is barely there and a chill fills me, her horror transferring into the depths of my being. I stagger to my feet as rage mixes with nausea. “Fucking hell, Case!”

  “Please don’t be mad at me,” she says, her voice breaking.

  My chest aches for this girl, alone and scared, beaten by someone she thought she could trust. I kneel on the bed and pull her to me, wrapping the throw blanket tight around her and keep her in a cocoon in my arms.

  “I’m sorry if I raised my voice,” I whisper into her hair. “I got upset, but not with you. You have to know it wasn’t your fault.”

  “Just hold me. Please.”

  I cradle her harder. Initially she is tense as a piano string, but gradually she relaxes into me. I don’t let go. I want to give her all the safety she deserves, any ounce I can muster.

  “Good girl for calling the cops on him.”

  “I had to. But... it meant letting everyone know what I had done. My parents, my old schoolmates, the guys at the racetrack and the garage. Daytona isn’t large enough to chew down that kind of news with a shrug. I went through hell because of this, because of him.”

  “You’re a hell of a lot stronger than I’ve given you credit for.”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, I ran.”

  “Because he’s coming after you?”

  A sniffle and she stiffens, clears her throat. “He claims he’s innocent and that I’m a disappointed, vengeful bitch who accused him because he didn’t give me what I wanted. He said I was in on it, that I wanted it roug
h. He made up all these things about me that weren’t true.”

  “That fucker! But you had witnesses?”

  She scoffs. “Even if the court believed me, it was still out there, the things he said I was into...”

  “I’m so sorry that shit happened to you.” Then it strikes me, like a blunt blow to my midsection. “But despite all this... you trusted me?”

  Casey looks up, meets my gaze. There are pearls of tears in her eyelashes and the tip of her nose is adorably pink. “I knew I could.”

  I shake my head. “How the fuck did you know that?”

  “Because beneath all that roughness and bullshit, you’re a good guy.”

  Shuffling back, I have to let her go. I’m dirty, my soul is nothing but filth, and I just can’t hold her anymore or I’m afraid I’ll taint her. She’s kind, and good, and pure, and I’m everything she isn’t. “No, I’m not,” I growl and stand.

  “Cole! What the fuck? Why do you keep saying that when it’s not true?”

  I push my fingers through my hair, fighting the disgust over myself that rolls over me every time my thoughts dare stray to my past, to what I’ve done.

  “I’ve damaged everyone I’ve ever cared about. I’m a monster and I don’t deserve anyone’s compassion. I need to go. I’m sorry about what happened to you. I’ll leave you alone.” I turn to leave when I feel her hand on my arm.

  “Cole. Talk to me. What happened to you?”

  I can’t. Not now. Maybe never. But definitely not now, or I’ll scream. It’s been a long time since I desperately needed booze to numb my feelings, but right now I’d give an arm and a leg for a bottle.

  I pull out of her grip. “Sleep. You’ve had a shitty day.”

  “It wasn’t,” she half-shouts behind me as I stomp off to my room. “It was the best day I’ve had in a really fucking long time!”

  I don’t want to, but I feel it too. What started out as a disaster turned into one of the best days I’ve had. In a really fucking long time. It’s just that I have no hope. I have nothing to return to. There’s only this. The cold, the rough work, the numbing monotony. Casey Keagan has broken through the wall I’ve fought to build, and I can’t let her tear down the last bricks. It will crush me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Casey

  It’s not really liberating, having told Cole about my sordid reasons for being here. I feel dirty and I spend every hour throughout the night, reliving those minutes in the alley, helpless and drugged. Over and over. They follow me into my dreams.

  When he held me tight and safe, it was as if nothing could hurt me ever again. I want to feel that again and as the hours go by, my every cell yearns for his touch.

  Morning comes and I’m already awake as the alarm sets off, delirious from lack of sleep. I might also possess the worst judgement in the world. I put my feet into my slippers, smooth out my pajamas, and tiptoe through the hallway. Hesitating for a moment, I then push the curtain aside and enter Cole’s dark bedroom. I squint to make out the shape of him, lying on his side, turned away from me, then I put a hand on his shoulder.

  I gasp when he strikes, gripping around my wrist, holding me tight as he turns.

  “What are you doing?” he growls, his voice shooting through me, black as velvet, gritty and dangerous.

  I can’t answer. I have no answers. What did I think would happen? “I haven’t slept,” I finally say. “Every time I closed my eyes, I’ve been thrown back in time... I feel like shit. I’m sorry, I should—” I try to pull my hand out of his grip but he tightens his hold and pulls me to him.

  “Come, Casey.” He shuffles back and holds up the comforter on my side.

  Warm air and his musky, delicious scent wafts up and I’m so fucking lost as I sit and then let him pull me to him, wrapping his warm, strong arms around me. I stiffen. He’s naked. One part of him is clearly happy to see me, despite its grumpy owner.

  “It’s got its own will,” he whispers in my ear before he corrects his position a little, hugging my chest close, but pulling his hips back.

  My pussy has a will of its own too and I have less self-restraint. I’m not having it. I snuggle tighter, pushing against him, feeling him rock hard against my ass.

  “You’re fucking brutal,” he groans, the sound reverberating through my chest, through my belly, making my pussy weep with need and my panties soak in a second.

  “I can’t stay away,” I whisper and grind against him, gasping as he pulls me crushingly tight to him.

  Cole flips me over on my belly and follows suit, his chest heavy on my back, his cock sliding in between my thighs to push at where I need him the most. I curse my pajamas to hell.

  “This has no future, Casey,” he whispers in my ear.

  My heart clenches at his words. I know. “I don’t care,” I moan.

  His lips are demanding and hot, kissing a path along my neck, making me squirm as his touch sends a shockwave through my body.

  “You need to start caring, Casey. One of us—” sliding a hand under me, he cups my breast and kneads it brutally, pinching my nipple until I arch and gasp, “—must. You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he grunts as he rocks his hips, rubbing his cock against my pussy.

  Maybe I do, maybe I don’t, but reason has fled a long time ago and I want him inside me so bad that I could cry.

  Suddenly he pushes up and stands, leaving me gasping and with a quickly growing feeling of humiliation.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should know better.”

  I bite down on my lip, fighting to not cry. “You don’t have to know better. You claim you’re so bad. Show me.”

  “I left that. I’ll not let it follow me here, then I’ll have nowhere to go. See you at breakfast.” With that he disappears behind the curtain and leaves for the bathroom.

  I shoot up and run to my room, shaking, crawling anxiety racking my insides. I can’t believe how stupid and hormone-ridden I’ve become. Hiding in my room until I hear the front door shut, I make a quick detour into the bathroom before I leave for the cantina.

  He’s just sitting himself down as I enter. Our eyes lock and he doesn’t look aloof as I had imagined. He cocks his head toward the same chair I sat in yesterday, a barely visible movement, but I see it. I attempt a tiny smile, then I scan the crowd to see if anyone takes notice, but I’m old news by now. It did stir some interest when I was invited to sit with the guys yesterday, I felt the gazes scorching my back, but no one really cares anymore. I do what I’m here for; the comments about my fuckability have died down, at least to my face.

  We eat. The guys talk. The coffee kicks my brain back onto the right track and I plan my day, hoping it will be less disturbing than yesterday.

  “See you guys later,” I say and stand, grabbing my tray. Cole’s gaze burns my back until I have disappeared out the door.

  I work. Lunch is an eerie repetition of breakfast and I feel as if I’m Alice in Wonderland. I’ve fallen down that rabbit hole and eaten some freaking psycho mind-altering cake. Dinner is more of the same. I can’t talk to Cole until we’re back home. It’s not unpleasant to suddenly feel accepted, but I just can’t make myself believe it will last. I expect to be thrown out into the cold, at least the metaphorical one, any moment.

  Cole doesn’t show up until seven. I sit with the book about the Civil War, trying to focus on the historical facts, all the names of people and places, and almost jump through the roof when I hear the door slam shut. I shouldn’t try to read shit into things, but... is he staying away? He’s free to come and go. He has friends here. I don’t.

  Knowing he’s out there, so close, makes me jittery and increasingly frustrated. He makes use of the bathroom. Then it’s quiet. I wait. Finally, I can’t stand it anymore and shoot to my feet. I’ve put my hand on the door handle when three loud thumps on the door makes me cry out in surprise. I pull the door open and stand nose to chest with Cole. I tilt my head until I meet his dark gaze. I don’t speak. Neither does he. The air
between us is thick, charged with expectation, emotion.

  “I’m a fuck-up of a man, Casey. I was a shitty husband, a drunk, and the worst father you can imagine. I hurt my parents, my brothers. I lost my job, my home, and I—” He sighs, tightens his lips, looks me over. “I was a sex addict. I hurt a lot of people, Casey. I’m sick, and you’d do best staying the hell away from me from now until your contract ends.”

  A heavy ache settles in my chest, squeezing my heart until it feels as if it’ll burst.

  I care that he’s hurting. I don’t care what he’s done.

  “I don’t want to stay away,” I say. The ache spreads to my stomach and unfurls ice-cold tendrils of despair. His face is closed. If he turns away now, it’s for good. I know it. He won’t let me in again.

  My heart beats so fast as everything he threw at me begins to sink in. Husband? Is he married? Kids? Father? I truly knew nothing about him.

  “Are you married?” I ask, my voice pathetically meek.

  “Divorced. So fucking divorced you can’t even fathom it.” He takes a step closer, his eyes darkening. “Take off your shirt.”

  My mouth goes dry, my mind blank. I raise my arms and he grabs the hem, pulling it over my head, dropping it to the floor. My nipples tighten as he looks me over, then he grabs my shoulders and pulls me to him, leaning in, taking a nipple in his mouth, teasing it with teeth and tongue until I grab his hair, fighting the pain.

  “Ow,” I whisper and buck to get away.

  Cole lets me go, but then he lifts me and throws me on my back on the bed, following suit, supporting his weight on his elbows as he holds my gaze.

  “So, you see,” he says, his voice grave, raw. “I’m not boyfriend material. I shouldn’t even be alive.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Cole grinds his rock-hard cock against my clit, making my eyes roll back with the sudden surge of arousal.

  “You should care. I’ll devour you. You’ll hate me and wish you’d never laid eyes on me.”

  “I won’t,” I gasp and rock up to meet him. I caress along his sides, finding warm skin in the gap between his pants and his T-shirt.