by Jamie Hunter
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
INSATIABLE
One
Two
Three
Four
WICKED
One
Two
Three
Four
INDOMITABLE
One
Two
Three
Four
SURRENDER
One
Two
Three
Four
Other Books
About the Author
The Taming of Cassandra
The Complete Series
INSATIABLE
WICKED
INDOMITABLE
SURRENDER
Jamie Hunter
Copyright © 2017 Jamie Hunter
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior consent of the author.
Cover image: Stock footage — story is unrelated to subject/models
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One
“Come on up already.”
Cassandra thumbed the buzzer for the second time, mildly annoyed. He missed the door last time too, she thought. Not exactly quick, is he?
She chuckled to herself as she crossed the floor of her apartment. Whatever Donovan lacked in speed, he more than made up for in other ways. Or at least she thought he did. Truth be told, it’d been a while. Hopefully she remembered correctly.
The clock caught her eye. It was late. Nearly midnight already. Not late for her, of course, but late in relation to everyone else. “Bartenders live their lives on a different clock,” her boss had once told her. “Even on their nights off.”
Especially on their nights off.
KNOCK KNOCK.
“Hang on.”
Cassandra padded over and unclasped the chain to the door. An instant later, Donovan entered. He was as tall as she remembered. That was good. It looked like he hadn’t shaved though. Not so good…
“You’d better have it.”
Her guest smiled and held up a crisp brown bag. The salty-sweet scent of food permeated the air.
“Almost missed it,” Donovan said. He took a step forward. “They were closing up, but the guy said—”
“Shoes,” Cassandra pointed. Wordlessly Donovan kicked off a large pair of black boots, leaving them on a mat near the door.
“The soup?”
Donovan nodded. “They made it for me,” he affirmed. “Begrudgingly.”
“Good man.”
Her guest reached out to embrace her, but Cassandra ducked nimbly under one big arm. She took the bag from him, set it on the table, and pulled out a piping hot container of coconut Thai soup.
“God I love this soup,” she cooed.
Donovan stepped in and finally slipped an arm around her waist. “More than me?”
Cassandra laughed out loud. “Shit yes.”
Pressing five pointed nails against his chest she pushed him away again, but this time only long enough to shrug out of her T-shirt. Cassandra stood before him now topless, except for the satin and lace of her cherry red bra.
Donovan stopped to look her over, drinking in the entire length her body. His eyes moved admiringly from top to bottom. One corner of his mouth curled upward.
“Sweatpants?” he smirked.
She shrugged. “You have way too many clothes on,” she answered.
Luckily he didn’t have to be asked twice. Cassandra hated having to ask twice.
Donovan’s shirt fell silently to the floor beside her own. Again he stepped into her, only now she didn’t move away.
“I missed you,” he growled.
“Of course you did.”
Cassandra let out a low chuckle. She bit the tip of one finger seductively, as if deciding what to do.
“Alright,” she said finally, running a hand over his hairless chest. It was as broad and smooth and beautiful as she remembered it. “First the fun, then the food.”
Donovan responded by planting his lips on hers. They were firm and full. Soft yet unyielding. And they were hungry. Above everything else, she liked that.
He kissed his way down her throat, past her neck. Cassandra couldn’t help but shiver as his lips brushed her ear.
“I’m glad you called,” he whispered.
Reaching between them, she cupped one hand over the front of his jeans. She could feel the growing fullness of his crotch. “I’ll bet.”
Her mind flashed back to the night she’d met him; a friend of a friend of a friend. They’d locked eyes at some boring rooftop party, two strangers sharing the same knowing smile. He was tall and well-built. Chiseled features, but with an impishly attractive mouth. Cassandra hadn’t stayed long, but on her way out of the party she found herself pressing her phone number into his hand.
A warm palm slid down her back. It penetrated the waistband of her sweatpants.
“Hmmm…” Donovan nuzzled against her neck. His hand cupped one cheek of her firm, naked ass. “No panties.”
An hour ago, she’d hesitated before dialing him. But it was a good call. Donovan was what you’d consider a sure thing. A “friend with benefits”, only without even the complication of the friendship part. Unlike some of her other lovers, Donovan was smart enough to know the full scope of their relationship began and ended at one thing: sex. In that respect, they were both on the same page.
Cassandra kissed him back now, hard. It felt good. Familiar. She allowed herself to relax, to melt into him. A moment later she felt herself being lifted up by two strong arms and deposited gently on the kitchen table.
“Hope your boyfriend’s not coming back tonight.”
She snorted derisively. He probably means James. Now there’s a name she hadn’t thought of in a while. Or maybe Matt. She squirmed a little beneath his touch. Was I even seeing Matt back then? Hard to remember.
“Now what makes you think I’d be stupid enough to have a boyfriend?” Cassandra replied against his neck. She bit him playfully in response.
“A girl like you?” Donovan chided. His hand moved between her legs. “Hell, I’d expect you to have someone…”
His words trailed off as he slid a finger inside her. Cassandra jolted. She was sopping wet.
Donovan added another finger. He glided them slowly in and out of her a few times, then brought them out. They both looked down at his fingertips, all slick and wet.
“Well, what do we have here?”
Cassandra shrugged. “My boyfriend?” she teased. “Or maybe the landlord?”
Donovan’s eyes narrowed, as if considering her words. She couldn’t help but laugh.
“Well tomorrow is the first of the month.” Her tone dripped with false innocence. “Rent is expensive.”
The inference wasn’t true, at least not this time. As much as she thoroughly enjoyed sex, Cassandra had never really gone down the road of pay-to-play. That said, she wasn’t exactly above what she considered ‘Quid Pro Quo’ either.
Just not this time.
“Or maybe I’m this wet just thinking about you inside of me?” she said sweetly.
Donovan smirked. He didn’t look entirely sure. In one smooth motion he slid his hand back down and kissed her anyway.
Cassandra sucked in a breath as his thumb found her clit. She closed one hand over his. Pushed downward with gentle pressure.
“Yes,” she hissed. “There we go.”
They stayed like that for a while, kissing deeply, rubbing against each other in the silence of the midnight ki
tchen. Cassandra’s breathing grew rapid as she opened herself up to him. She spread her legs, allowing him to push forward against her.
Donovan still had his jeans on. She fumbled with the buckle of his belt as his arms slid back around her waist, reaching up to unhook her bra. He tried pushing her downward.
“The table sucks,” Cassandra said.
“You’ve tried it?”
She nodded. “It rocks into the wall, makes a shit-ton of noise. Distracts from an otherwise good time.”
Now it was Donovan’s turn to tease. Deftly he stepped out of his jeans. A second later Cassandra’s sweatpants hit the floor and he was pressing his boxer-covered bulge against her.
“Do me on the bed,” she told him.
“I’ve already done you on the bed,” he replied. “Maybe I want to do you on the table? Like your other boyfriends?”
She laughed again and pushed him backward. His jealousy was almost cute.
“As if I actually care what you want.”
Two
Cassandra’s bedroom was cool and inviting, lit from the light of a half-dozen candles. The candles weren’t for romance, or anything even remotely that sappy. Anyone who’d met her for five minutes knew that. No, the candles were there because Cassandra enjoyed the occasional flicker of their dim illumination. That, plus the feel of their contrasting warmth.
She lay stretched out on the bed now, face up, both sides of her head enveloped by the soft down of a thick pillow. It covered half her ears, somewhat muting the sounds of distant music floating in from her computer’s speakers.
Below, Donovan was nestled between her legs, tongue buried inside her.
He’s good at this, she realized. Better than I remember.
Cassandra’s eyes fluttered closed as she attempted to block out everything else. The sounds of the air conditioner, the droning of the music; these things faded quickly into obscurity. She melted into the bed, allowing herself to focus solely on the raw pleasure her lover was delivering to her brain.
Donovan’s tongue traced slow circles along her innermost folds, stopping now and then to flick upwards at her clit. The whole time, his hands remained firmly on her hips. They felt good there. Strong. They also served the purpose of pinning her ass to the bed as she ground upwards against his mouth.
That’s it, she decided firmly. I’m moving him up in the rotation.
The song changed. She didn’t even care enough to recognize it. There was a delicious pressure in her groin now, and with each passing second it begged for release. No longer did Cassandra push up against her lover’s mouth. Instead she retreated, screwing her ass into the bed, because now the pleasure was almost too much to bear.
Her body writhed, head thrashing slowly left to right. She imagined at this moment she would look possessed. The thought was amusing, but it was gone quickly. Pushed away almost immediately by her rising ecstasy.
“Don’t stop…” she breathed needlessly. But it wasn’t all that needless. Believe it not, sometimes guys stopped. They were idiots.
Thankfully Donovan wasn’t one of those guys.
“Don’t stop… don’t stop…”
He breath became ragged. It tore its way in and out of her throat. Cassandra’s head lolled back, her chin pointed up at the ceiling. Her eyes screwed shut as she came.
Wave after wave it crashed through her — a long, beautiful, shuddering orgasm. Donovan’s head stopped moving at the last second, allowing her to use his mouth the way she needed to. Her fingers were buried in his hair, her hands clamped down on his head as she shoved herself into his face. Her nails were long enough to break the skin, but if so he didn’t complain.
As always, Cassandra rode this ultimate pleasure down to the very last throb and quiver. Then, like a roller coaster clicking back to its starting position after an exhilarating ride, she let out a long, satisfied hiss.
When she opened her eyes again, Donovan was leaning over her. Staring down at her with swollen, glistening lips and that damned impish grin.
“That was good, wasn’t it?”
“It was okay.”
Donovan laughed. “No, I don’t think so. That was more than okay.”
Cassandra shrugged. “If you need to think so.”
Her guest responded with silence. He leaned down, bringing his lips to hers, and once again she relaxed and let herself go. Cassandra kissed him back hungrily. His mouth was musky and sweet.
Reaching between them, she found his shaft. It was warm, straight and strong. Cassandra traced her fingertips down along the length until they reached the bottom. His balls were swollen and full.
“Did you come over here to fuck me?” she asked coyly. “Or just to deliver my food?”
“Maybe a little of both?”
“Just shut up and put it in me.”
There weren’t many words after that. Her lover obliged by sliding his body upward until he was positioned between Cassandra’s legs. He took them in his hands, long and slender, placing a palm behind each knee. Then, without pausing for permission or effect, he spread her open and thrust himself inside.
It felt immeasurably good. Donovan was thick more than long, and he filled her up nicely. She could him feel him throbbing wildly inside her. Pushing that extra bit at the end of each thrust, just to get every last inch of the shaft buried. Those were the funny little tricks that separated a good lover and a mediocre one. The tiny nuances and attention to detail she always looked for. They made all the difference in the world sometimes. Certainly they made the difference between getting that mid-week booty call or not ever getting invited back at all.
The bed surged beneath them, the candlelit room filled with the scent of sex. There was a moment — her favorite moment — when he sat up and pulled her into his lap. There they held each other’s weight, both staring down in rapture as he glided deeply in and out of her body. Cassandra locked eyes with him. Kissed him greedily. All throughout they never stopped, never separated. He stayed inside her the whole time.
When the moment of release came, she made it good for him. Cassandra screwed down, impaling herself to the hilt on his rock-hard, glistening shaft. Donovan groaned loudly as he filled her up. His manhood jumped and throbbed its way through a violent orgasm, pumping her womb full to the point of overflowing with his seed.
He sat there for a moment just grinning, enjoying the last blissful throes of being inside her. But the grin looked stupid to her now. Cassandra pushed herself off him. Afterglow was never really her thing.
Donovan let out a long, gratified sigh before collapsing face-down on the bed. “Damn,” he mumbled into her pillow. “I always forget how great you feel.”
“Yeah, well there’s your reminder.” Cassandra sat up swiped the pillow away. “Better make it last for a while.”
The room felt suddenly hot, even stifling. Swinging her legs off the edge of the bed, Cassandra padded into the bathroom. She stopped in the doorway, glancing back for a moment just to admire the curve of his ass. The musculature of his back.
Maybe she’d let him stay a bit. Give him enough time to rest up, go for round two…
Instead she reached in and threw him a towel.
“By the way,” she added before closing the door, “it’s okay to be gone before I come back.”
Three
Cassandra was in the bathroom for five whole minutes. In that interval she washed up, combed her hair out, and brushed her teeth. She also rid herself of the more obvious traces of her paramour.
But during that time, her mind wandered.
Her thoughts drifted back to this morning, at the laundromat. She’d gone there as she did every Tuesday, bringing the bulk of her clothes. The place she used was nicer than most. The seats were comfortable, the machines fast. They even gave out free soap.
Halfway through the rinse cycle, she saw him. The man in the trench coat.
He stood at the far end of the washing machines, reading a newspaper. That struck Cassandra as odd, becau
se very few people read newspapers anymore. He was tall, with wire-framed glasses. But his most distinguishing feature was a head of thick, jet-black hair that was broken in three or four places with streaks of white.
The man was even more noteworthy because he was staring at her. Watching her from over the rim of his newspaper.
Under normal circumstances, Cassandra would’ve approached him. Walked right up to the man and let fly. But for some reason, this time she froze. No words of sarcasm sprang to mind, no biting quips or clever retorts. This one time, she had nothing.
And so she had looked away.
When she glanced up again, the man was gone. Almost as if he were never there. He hadn’t packed any clothes, or unloaded a machine, or carried anything with him. He’d just… disappeared.
The whole thing still bothered her. It was weird, it was off-putting, and most of all, she regretted looking away. Regretted not taking a stand, or at least finding out who this guy was, or what he wanted.
Cassandra killed the bathroom light and re-entered the bedroom. To her disappointment, Donovan was still there.
“Hey,” he said from her bed. He hadn’t even dressed yet. He was just lounging there.
She picked up his jeans and threw them at his head. He caught them with a mock-wounded look.
“Easy,” he smiled. “I just thought we might—”
“Your boots,” Cassandra noted, “are over by the door.”
She left the room without looking back. Thankfully Donovan followed her into the living area. As they took turns pulling their clothes on, he motioned toward her computer table.
“Wow. Nice rig you’ve got there.”
Cassandra ignored him.
“Why do you have three monitors?” He took a step in the direction of her setup. Cassandra cut him off, but not before he noticed the flashing lights and multiple towers. “Hey, what exactly do you do with all this stuff?”
“It’s time to go,” Cassandra told him.
“Okay, okay,” her lover conceded. Moving to the door, he stepped into his boots. Before leaving he raised two fingers to his forehead in mock salute. “Until next time.”
