He trails his tongue along my slit, slow and steady. Savoring. Then, with a low animal growl, he presses it inside me, and I arch up off the bed with a gasp. He feels so good. Hot and wet, his tongue strong inside me.
He curls it, lapping at my pussy as if he could swallow me entirely. It feels incredible. But it’s not what I need right now. When he pulls back for a breath, I grab his hair in both fists and pull him toward me. “I want you inside me,” I gasp, not able to wait any longer. Too on fire for that.
He grins and pushes his jeans off, kicking them aside.
When he draws his cock out of his boxers, I can tell I have the same effect on him that he has on me. He’s already rock hard, standing at attention, a small bead of precum gathered at his tip.
I lean down to lick it off, and his eyes flare, white hot.
He does push me back onto the bed now, leaning over me, bending to kiss my mouth. He still tastes like me, and him, all mingled together in a flavor that only makes me hotter. More desperate. “You want me to fuck you now, Cassidy?” he breathes into the crook of my neck, his breath nearly as hot as his cock feels against my inner thigh.
“Fuck yes,” I gasp.
He laughs softly. “So impatient.”
“I need you, Lark.” The words escape before I can stop them.
He leans back to meet my gaze. In his, I see my own emotion reflected. The sheer depth of it takes my breath away. “Cassidy…” When he guides himself to my entrance, the tip of his cock poised there, it doesn’t feel like the other times we’ve been together. I feel more open now, somehow. More naked than I’ve ever been, completely exposed.
And yet, I don’t mind. In fact, I want to stay in this moment forever. Two hearts completely bared to one another.
He pushes inside me so, so slowly. I wrap my legs around his waist as he does, arch up against him so I can feel every inch of his lean, muscular body against my soft curves. “Lark,” I moan as his cock pushes fully inside me, straining my walls, making me feel deliciously full.
“I love you,” he murmurs, like someone who’s testing the words, savoring the way they feel. He kisses me again, slower, heated. And he draws out, then thrusts back in, our mouths still pressed together.
I slide my tongue between his lips. Taste myself more fully on his tongue, as ours entwine. He laughs against my mouth as I reach down to grip his ass, hard, and he draws back just far enough to meet my gaze.
“Have I mentioned how fucking hot you are, Ms. Marks?” He kisses my jaw. My neck. “You’re like a drug. I can’t get enough.”
The words add to the heat building in my belly. I wrap my free arm around his neck, hold on as he starts to move faster, thrusting harder. “I… never want… this to end,” I manage to say, as it gets harder to speak, the faster my heart beats, the harder and faster he begins to thrust.
Lark meets my gaze, a knowing smile on his mouth. “It doesn’t have to,” he says. And I realize, as the orgasm starts to build deep within me… he’s right.
We can have this for the rest of our lives, if we want.
32
Cassidy
A distant pounding sound wakes me far too early. I groan and try to roll over, only to find my movement restricted. There’s a strong, familiar arm wrapped around my waist, pinning me back against a lean body. I turn to peer over my shoulder at Lark. His eyes are still shut, his lids twitching faintly in a dream.
It must be a good dream. I can feel the hard press of his cock against my ass.
Grinning to myself, I wriggle against him, and savor the way he moans, low in the back of his throat. He doesn’t wake though, not yet.
Last night floods through me in a pleasant rush. I love you. He meant it when he said it. So did I. And he’s right, together we can figure all of this out. We can help my mom with whatever she needs, hospital bill-wise, and then I can put my foot down and explain to her that I’ll only help for emergencies like this. Not for every tiny thing that crops up.
As for his ex, well… We’ll figure that out too.
Lark shifts beside me, and an idea comes to mind. I’m about to slip under the covers and execute it when I hear the pounding again. Louder this time.
What the hell is that?
With a groan, I disentangle myself from Lark—the man sleeps like the dead after sex, I swear—and pad across the bedroom.
There’s a small door beside the elevator shaft. I stare at it in confusion, and it bangs again. I realize it’s the back entrance to the apartment, in case of emergencies when the elevator’s out of order.
And someone is knocking on it.
Strange.
I slip back into the bedroom and grab the first things I see. Lark’s baggy tee draped over a chair. It hangs low enough to reach mid-thigh on me, so it at least covers the necessities.
Then I pad back out into the living room, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “One second,” I call blearily. It takes me a moment to figure out how to undo the bolt lock on this mysterious side door. Then I wrench it open, and my jaw drops.
So does the person’s on the other side.
Sheryl stares at me like an apparition. As if I’m all her nightmares come true. She glances from me to the apartment over my shoulder and then back to me, and the shirt I’m wearing. Lark’s shirt. I can practically see the wheels clicking in her head.
“I can’t believe this,” she says, when she finds her voice.
“Sheryl, hi.” My heart hammers in my throat. “Um, if you’re looking for Lark, he’s still asleep, but I can go grab him—”
“You fucking homewrecker,” Sheryl yells, and I’m pretty sure I won’t need to wake up Lark anymore. Hell, the neighbors can probably hear this, even through all the advanced soundproofing of Lark’s penthouse. “I can’t believe I trusted you, and all this time you’ve been fucking my husband behind my back.”
She looks more furious than I’ve ever seen her, her entire face twisted in anger.
I take a step backward, startled, and she uses it to her advantage, barging into the apartment.
“How dare you.” She’s still fuming.
Finally, I find my voice. “He’s not your husband anymore,” I say.
“Tell that to our lawyers.” Sheryl laughs, actually laughs. “So this is why he suddenly started talking about divorce again. We were fine, we were working this out, and then you came along and wrecked it all.”
“Oh please.” I cross my arms over my chest, all too aware that I’m braless right now. “Lark told me all about why you haven’t signed the papers yet. You’re basically blackmailing him with his own company.”
“Till death do us part,” Sheryl shouts. “That’s what he and I promised each other. It’s not blackmail, I’m just trying to save my marriage.” Something in her voice cracks, and for a moment, I glimpse behind the angry façade. I see the sad, desperate woman behind it, and she looks way too familiar.
I reach for her arm. “Sheryl, listen. I went through a bad breakup too, and I hung on for way too long to something that wasn’t working because I was afraid of being alone—”
She jerks away from me. “Don’t you dare try to talk to me about relationship advice, you whore.”
I reel backward as though struck. My whole face has gone beet red. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, but—”
“Don’t you dare call her that.” Lark’s voice breaks through the room, low and rough with sleep and fury combined. He’s in nothing but boxers, yet he still manages to look more put together than Sheryl in her neatly pressed business attire. He crosses the room to my side and wraps one arm around my shoulders, protective. Bracing. “Your issue is with me, Sheryl, not Cassidy. Don’t drag her into this mess.”
“You’re the one who invited a third party into our marriage,” Sheryl snaps.
“Our marriage has been over for years,” Lark replies coolly. “You know it. I’ve told you a million times. Cassidy’s right, Sheryl. You need to accept this. Move on.”
She laughs,
high pitched and mean. “You already know my terms, Lark. If you want to call it quits, the company’s mine. End of story. Otherwise, I’ll see you at counseling tomorrow.”
With that, she whirls on her heel and storms out of the apartment, back down the staircase. Only now does it hit me that she must have climbed all twenty flights up here just to do this. Yell at Lark in his own house.
He’s realizing the same thing, glaring as he crosses over to shut the door behind her and bolt it. “I told the doorman not to let her up anymore. Guess she still has a key to the service door though.” He sighs. “I’ll talk to building management about switching it.” Then he runs a hand through his hair, his expression sour. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Cass.”
“Don’t be.” I walk toward him, opening my arms. He wraps his around me and buries his face in my neck. “Your problems are my problems now, Lark. We’re in this together.”
He laughs softly, face still pressed against my neck.
“What?” I ask.
He turns to meet my eyes, smiling. “It’s just… nobody’s ever stood up for me like that before. Especially not to Sheryl. She even scares my own family.”
I laugh, too. “After today I can see why.” We both glance at the service door. Lark’s expression sobers. “Hey.” I nudge his side. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out. Some way to work around her. And if you have to keep going to counseling for a while to keep the business, I don’t mind. It’s a weird situation, but it’s fixable. Everything is.”
“With you on my team?” Lark leans down to kiss my temple. “I don’t doubt it.” Then he sighs and straightens, glancing toward the kitchen. “Right. Drama this early in the morning calls for a reward. I’m thinking waffles?”
I grin and let him tug me toward the kitchen. “Sounds good to me, chef.” But worry still nags at me, even after Lark seems to brush Sheryl off. I watch him whisk eggs and sift flour, and then pour the batter inti the waffle maker, the most delicious smell emanating through the kitchen. All the while he hums along to the radio and tells me about his plans for the day. And watching him, a heavy weight sinks into my stomach.
Is he going to have to choose between his dream company and me? And if so… how can I possibly ask him to make that sacrifice?
33
Lark
For once in my life, I’m early to my counseling appointment. I wanted to get here before Sheryl, because I wanted to see the look on her face when she walked in and saw me on the couch, my back ramrod straight, my hands fists on my knees.
She’s tried calling me half a dozen times all last night and today. Probably to find out whether I’d show today, or whether she should start calling our lawyers about drafting the contract that will fuck me over the hardest.
I’m making the right decision. It was easy, actually. After Cassidy and I really talked, after I found out how she feels about me… There’s no other decision I can make, now.
The counselor opens the door to let herself and Sheryl in. As expected, Sheryl’s jaw drops when she spots me inside the room already. I rise from the couch, offering the counselor my hand. “This is going to be our last session,” I tell her, before anyone else has a chance to speak.
“All right,” the counselor replies, her eyes jumping between me and my ex-wife carefully. She takes her seat across from us. Sheryl sits down too, on the couch where I’d been a moment before, way too close for comfort.
I perch on the arm of it instead, to avoid any contact. “This situation—this marriage,” I amend, “is untenable for me. I’ve realized Sheryl is not going to change, and neither will I. We just aren’t compatible, Sheryl.” I look at her, now, and behind her fury, I notice genuine tears forming in her eyes.
“This will be better for both of us,” I tell Sheryl. “We need to go our separate ways. You need to let me go.”
“I’ve told you,” Sheryl starts, and I raise a hand to stop her.
“I know your terms,” I explain. I glance at the therapist. Back at my ex. “You can keep the company. If that’s what you need to get back on your feet and to feel like you have closure, it’s all yours.”
Now her jaw drops for an entirely different reason. “But…”
“Do I think it’s fair? No.” I laugh under my breath. “But I don’t care anymore, Sheryl. I built that company from scratch once, and I can do it again. So, you win.”
She takes a shaky breath.
Across from us, the counselor claps her hands. “Well. This does seem like a breakthrough. Sheryl, how are you feeling?”
I resist the urge to groan.
“How am I feeling?” Sheryl clenches her fists. “This is insane. You’re only doing this because that whore you’ve been cheating on me with suggested it. The Lark I knew would never—”
“The Lark you knew didn’t exist,” I interrupt. “You never knew me, Sheryl. You just projected what you wanted to see. And for the last time, don’t you dare insult Cassidy.”
Sheryl’s smile turns ugly and bitter. “If you cared about that girl at all, you wouldn’t do this. Do you really think her little startup is going to survive without my investment?”
“Cassidy has already surpassed our wildest expectations,” I reply coolly. “And with my help on the business side, she’ll continue to.”
Sheryl barks out a laugh and leans back on the couch. “Oh, so that’s your plan. You’re going to live off of… what, the profits from her little makeup outfit for the rest of your lives? You can kiss that penthouse goodbye, Lark.”
“I’ll be happier in a tiny ramshackle flat with Cassidy for the rest of my life than I ever would’ve been in some mansion with you,” I reply, my voice steady. Sheryl can’t get to me anymore. Her words have no effect. Thanks to Cassidy, I’m finally free.
I reach into my bag and pull out a folder. Then I set it on the table between us, in full view of the counselor. “Divorce papers,” I say. “I’ve already signed. They give you full control of the company. The only stipulation is that you release your shares of Cassidy’s business to me.” I’ve done the math. It’s a drop in the bucket compared to our other investments. Don’t get me wrong, Cassidy’s star is on the rise, but some of our clients we’ve had for years, and their big-name businesses rake in millions.
Sheryl would have to be an idiot not to take this deal. And my ex might be many things, but she’s not stupid.
Her eyes narrow. “What’s the catch, Lark?”
“No catch.” I spread my hands wide. Glance at the therapist as a witness. “This is what you wanted. So I’m offering it. That’s all.”
The counselor watches us both. “It does seem like this arrangement would cover the stipulations and concerns you’ve raised in here before,” she says after a moment, looking at Sheryl.
“But…” Sheryl splutters. Then bites her lower lip, clearly fuming. “I’ll have to have my lawyers look it over,” she says a moment later, more calmly, once she has her frustration under control.
“That sounds sensible,” the counselor speaks up. “Lark, would you agree to that?”
“Of course.” I push off the couch. “But I’ll need an answer by the end of the week, Sheryl. Otherwise, I’m taking this to court. And I don’t think either of us want this to get any messier than it’s already been.”
With that, I stride out of the office, leaving the two of them to talk this over behind me. I have a feeling Sheryl’s going to need the counselor’s help far more than I will.
I’m not sure how I expected this to feel. Scary, or maybe gut-wrenching. I loved that business. It was the one thing we built during our marriage that I really cared for and was proud of.
But I’ve been mourning the possibility of losing it for a year already. To my surprise, as I walk out of the building, all I feel is relief. As if the papers I left up there in the office were a thousand pound weight around my neck, one I didn’t even realize I was lugging around. Not until I finally threw it off.
Feeling better than
I have in years, I reach for my phone and dial Cassidy.
34
Cassidy
My phone buzzes. I glance at it, grateful for the interruption. When I asked my mother if I should come and meet her at the hospital, or if she needed a ride to the doctors, or what all the operation entailed, I expected details. Instead, she invited me out to lunch in town again, over near me. Meaning she’s well enough to drive, at least.
It should be a relief. But it only makes me worry more. Worry that this time, my mother has crossed a bigger line than I’ll be able to forgive.
Before I can reach for the phone, my mother’s voice interrupts.
“I can’t believe you’re going to answer a call while we’re at the lunch table,” she says, her tone snippish.
Which is rich, considering why she’s here. I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “So, did the hospital release you early?” I ask.
“What are you—” My mother cuts off abruptly, her whole face flushing as she remembers what she said to me. “I mean. Yes, of course. Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here.”
I scoff. “Unbelievable.” We’re in a small restaurant this time—no more overly expensive places since I know full well that I’ll be footing the bill. But this is still one of my favorite spots, an unpretentious, cute little restaurant with an owner who always sneaks me extra portions at dessert.
Across from me, Mom is pushing her food around her plate, her nose wrinkled, like she can’t possibly bring herself to eat this swill. It’s the same thing I order here every week, and it’s perfectly good. It’s just not the bougie, overpriced meals she’s used to indulging in, I guess, when she’s got a sugar daddy on the go.
Now, I’m assuming she doesn’t. Judging by how far she’s going to con her own daughter.
Best of Penny Wylder: Boss Romance Page 37
