Cassie

by deMora, MariaLisa

  “Jesus, Cassie.” He stroked the edge of her jaw, experiencing the movement of muscles in her jaw and throat as she took him deeper. “Gonna make me come like this.” Her hand lifted, fingers spread wide and he gripped, threading his through to hold tightly. “I wanna be in you the first time, baby, but it’s your show.” Her decision. If this was what she needed, then he’d give it to her. Not a difficult thing to take on, even if he desired something different.

  She pulled off his cock with a pop, lips wet and swollen from sucking him. “Our show,” she chastised him gently before she bent forwards and nuzzled beside his cock, wetness smearing along her cheek. Then her tongue was at his balls, lapping and teasing, and he felt her lips plucking at his sac, trying to bring his balls into her mouth.

  “If it’s—” He groaned and shifted, spreading his legs to give her more room and access, “—our show, then I want my mouth on you, too.”

  Her palms pressed on his thighs and she rose to stand between his legs. He teased the tip of a nipple with his tongue then pulled it into his mouth on a hard suck, trapping it against his teeth. Her nails bit into his shoulder as she cradled his head against her chest. “Okay.” She gasped the word, and it took a moment to realize it was in response to his demand. Hoss leaned back and laughed, staring up into her face.

  “Jesus, you’re gorgeous, Cassie.” Color flagging her cheeks competed with the rosy tint of her lips, and as he slipped a hand between her legs, his fingertips curled in to find slick wetness waiting for him. She closed her gleaming eyes and moaned again. Slipping and sliding between her labia, he teased the curve of her opening up to where her clit lay hidden. One stroke, then a second and he felt her quivering. Hoss cupped her ass and lifted, pulling her closer so he could capture her breast again, fingers exploring and testing to see where she was most sensitive, what she liked most, what would push her over the edge he knew she was riding along.

  Releasing her nipple, he nuzzled in the valley between her breasts, lips seeking to bring even more pleasure. “Let loose, beautiful.” Her hips jerked when he circled her clit then pressed firmly against it, rocking back and forth quickly. Gaining speed and rhythm, she rode his hand, and he buried his face against her, ear to her chest, listening as her heart pounded a steady rhythm beneath his head. Beating with excitement and pleasure, not fear.

  Resolved to always have it so with her, he urged her onwards, wanting to give her everything. “Gonna come? Gonna come for me?” Stretching his middle finger backwards, he circled her entrance and then plunged inside, her silken walls enveloping him as they tightened down.

  She moaned again, then called his name in a voice filled with delicate gravel. “Hoss.” Her arm squeezed and her fingers gripped his hair.

  Pairing a second finger with the first, he stroked in and out, thumb continuing to work across her blood-engorged clit. “Hoss,”—his name again, then she whispered—“kiss me.” Tipping his head back, he lifted his chin as she came down and he felt her clench tight around his fingers. Their kiss was filled with a desperate joy, his desire for her met in the middle with her enjoyment of the moment. “Hoss.” He trapped her cry with his mouth, steadying her with his other hand as she shook, body quaking with the force of her pleasure.

  Easing his fingers from her, he stroked her slowly, pulling her to sit sideways on his lap. Her arms slipped to wrap loosely around his neck and she sighed as her head came to rest against his shoulder. They stayed like that for a moment, his soft stroking of her back soothing her through the remaining shudders from her orgasm. She moved, shifting on his legs as she drew close enough to put her mouth on his neck. “You don’t fight fair.”

  “Wasn’t aware we were fighting.” His response made her giggle, soft puffs of air gusting across the sweat-dampened skin of his neck.

  “If we were, I think I won.” One hand trailing down his chest, she teased the flat disk of his nipple with her nail. “I think it’s time for you to win, too.”

  “I already won, Cassie.” Her neck arched as her head came up and she looked up at him, one brow lifted in question. He swooped to graze her lips with his before responding, “You’re in my arms, baby. That’s all I wanted.”

  “Make love to me.”

  The confidence in her words buoyed him, and he smiled at her. In response, he leaned backwards, shoving himself across the mattress with a heel to the sheets, taking her with him. He placed her back to his chest, nestling in behind her. “My pleasure, lovely lady.” He slipped a hand under her knee and lifted her leg, hooking it over his hip to keep her open for him. Cock in hand, he paused. Fuck. “Cassie, I need a condom.” Her head shook side to side, and he kissed the soft column of her throat. “Yeah, we need a condom, baby.”

  “I have birth control.” He leaned up to look into her face. “Honest, Hoss. I’m covered.” A shadow chased across her features. “I’m clean, too.” The ghost of her voice recounting the doctor’s callous words about STD ran through his head.

  “Me, too, honey. But I don’t want to put you at risk.” Her ass nestled back against his rigid cock and he thrust gently, the head sliding between the cheeks of her ass on a glide. “What do you want? I have a condom in my wallet and it won’t take a moment to get it.”

  She reached between them and gripped his cock, placing the head against her opening. “I want you. Like this. I trust you, Hoss.”

  The promise of her pussy almost more than he could stand, Hoss bent his head and kissed her softly, then settled behind her. Mouth to her shoulder, he pushed forwards with a slow, steady stroke, sheathing himself inside her for the first time. “God, baby.” His hips jerked, and the muscles in his back convulsed with a need to move. “All I can do to hold back. I wanna get as deep in you as I can.” Her leg shifted, and he took another inch, then another. “Fuck, you feel so good.” She made a noise, and he lifted, relaxing slightly when he saw the corners of her mouth were turned up. “So fucking good.” He pressed closer, hips rocking against her ass. “Mine, all mine. You belong to me now, you know that?” He bottomed out inside her, his dick wrapped in molten heat that glided across him like silk. Out, then in, he set a slow pace, trying to make it last. “You good, baby?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Her breathless agreement was back to that gravel-filled tone, and he smiled, pressing his forehead between her shoulders. “I’m good, Hoss. So good.”

  “Mmhmm. You are good. Good for me. God, you feel…” like home. He buried the words, trailing off and moving faster as he slid deep on a push, working his hips in a swivel as he held there, then out again, already starting to chase his orgasm. Lightning stuttered up his spine, and he followed it, hand sliding up her ribs to cup a breast. “I know I’m acting like it’s the first time.” He caressed her and then tightened his grip, plumping her flesh. “It is, with you. The most important time.” Shoving his arm under her head, he wrapped his hand around hers, fingers giving her a grip she used. Heat and weight built in him, an insistent pressure for him to move. “What do you need, baby? Hmm? I’m gonna come, buried in you. What do you need?”

  “You, I just need you.” Her head bent forwards and he kissed the side of her neck. Fingers trailing down her belly, he shifted lower in bed, following the demands of his body by thrusting faster. He found and trapped her clit between finger and thumb, tweaking and pulling with a light pinch. She angled her body, leg still over his hip and suddenly there was more room for him to stroke even deeper. Her mouth was open and he heard her cry out, breathless and needy, their gazes locking as she came. Every muscle in her body stretched and froze in place, and the pulsing grip on his dick pulled him farther inside her until he spilled over, heat surrounding the head of his cock as his hips jerked again and again. “Hoss.”

  He kissed her hard and fast, tongue keeping time with his strokes until she was gasping his name again and again. He jerked back in sudden fear and found her eyes wide open, still locked on him, a smile again curling the corners of her lips.

  Hoss fell back onto the matt
ress behind her, grinning when she giggled at him. “Damn, baby,” he murmured. He pressed a kiss to her back, then licked salt from his lips. “Wore me out.” She giggled again and he relaxed more. “I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”

  “I know.” She shifted as if to pull away and he growled at her, making her giggle again. Her fingers were stroking through his hair when she said, “I’d do the same. I think I love you, Hoss.”

  He opened one eye and stared at her profile over the curve of her bare breast. “Good.” He closed his eye and took a deep breath, still trying to bring his racing heart back under control.

  “Good?” She slapped his shoulder gently, playfully. God, what a gift that she felt safe enough to be able to play in bed with him. Best feeling ever. “That’s all you have to say? I tell you I think I love you and all you can say is good?”

  “Yeap.” He didn’t even open his eyes that time, earning him another light slap. He pouted and scolded her softly, “Hey.” She soothed his skin with a passing caress from her palm. “First, I’m still inside your body and I’m tryin’ to make every second count here. Second, you only think you love me.” He shoved against the mattress to get an elbow under his head, careful not to loom over her too much. “And third,” dipping down for a quick kiss, he watched her expression soften as she smiled. “It’s about damn time.”

  Took her from me

  Faith

  Rolling her eyes at the level of sound coming from the living room, Faith leaned against her headboard. Sammy was on one of his video games and seemed to spend more time shouting at his character than actually playing it. “House, vidcall Gilda.” The screen mounted to the wall over her desk flickered to life and she waited as the device attempted to make the connection. A minute later she heard, “Call not accepted.”

  Darn it. Gilda was either busy studying, or—Faith rolled her eyes again—just getting busy.

  “House, play 90s music.” In response to her command, soulful guitar music filled the room, and Faith picked up her reader. “Guess it’s just me and you, Enrico.” She gave the cover image a pat, smiling at the bare-chested model hovering behind the title of the book. “Let’s learn more about how passionate Spaniards can be.”

  Six chapters later, her door flew back on its hinges, protected from slamming against the wall only by the pile of shoes behind it.

  “Faynez, it’s time to do something.”

  She settled her reader on her chest and glared at her brother leaning against the doorway. “I am doing something.”

  “Something fun.” He danced into her room, waving his hands through the air in time to the music. “Groovy tunes, little sis.”

  “Reading is fun.” He raised both eyebrows and she shook her head, amending her statement to fit his reality. “To me.”

  “And being physical is fun to me. Come for a run.” She stared at him, then looked at the scattered shoes. He followed her gaze and laughed. “Not a running shoe in the mix, got it. What do you do when you aren’t reading?” Sammy flopped across the foot of her bed, as annoying now as he’d been her whole life. He reached out and slapped her leg, not hard, just teasingly. “I’ve been gone a lot, what do you do these days?”

  “I help Dad with the studio. I study. I make sure things get taken care of around the house.” Faith shrugged. “The usual.”

  “I peeked in earlier. You’re right. He has been working. It’s good, what he’s been doing. Really good.” Sammy stared up at the ceiling, one corner of his mouth quirked up. “I spoke to her tonight. At the game, you know?” Sammy had brought Faith home from the game, appearing in the club’s private box in his gameday suit and making the rounds shaking hands before arriving in front of her with a scowl for Garrett. “She’s prettier than I thought she’d be.”

  “Prettier than you remembered?” He nodded, reached out and grabbed her foot, rocking it back and forth. “Was she nice?”

  “Seemed to be. I think I made her nervous.” He rolled up on an elbow, glaring at her. “Know who I don’t make nervous, but should? Garrett Mason. That kid is annoying.”

  Faith grinned. “How is Gar annoying? He never says two words when you’re around. I don’t think you make him nervous. I think you terrify him.”

  “Good.” He flopped on his back again. “He should be terrified of me. Did you see me smash that guy’s face tonight? I’m terrifying.”

  “Jonny played well.” She said the words carefully, aiming for exactly no special intonation on his name.

  “Eh, he did all right.” Sammy sat upright, knees bouncing. “I’m still wired, I guess. Was a good game.”

  “It was,” she agreed and swung her feet off the bed to match his posture. “What do you want to do?” He turned with a grin, frowning as she held up a palm towards him. “And be reasonable. It’s—” She twisted and looked at the screen, then back at him. “—nearly one in the morning.” Sammy’s shoulders slumped and she shook her head. Falling back on an old standby, she offered, “Movie marathon is doable.”

  “Movies. Yes!” He stood with a grin and reached back for her hand. “Oldie but a goodie and always a fav.”

  “You make the popcorn. I’ll be right there,” she promised, placing her reader on the charging pad. He left the room and she took in a deep breath, blowing it back out slowly. Meeting the woman tonight had unsettled him, even if he didn’t realize it yet. He misses Mom. She knew the signs, had learned them early, and knew what to do to best soothe her big brother, one of her favorite people in the world. I’d do anything for him.

  She glanced at the pictures on her walls, a mixture of candid photos and her father’s sketches. One of the pictures caught her attention and she stood, turning slowly to face it. Four pairs of shoes were arranged in a row on spring-green grass. From left to right, they were her father’s running shoes, scuffed and broken in from hard use. A smaller pair of pristine pair of tennis shoes, laces still in that complicated weave only shoe stores knew how to do. Another set of men’s shoes, sized to fit Sammy’s sixteen-year-old stinky feet, soles held together with duct tape and not much else. On the end were her shoes, round-toed to keep her eight-year-old self from tripping.

  She remembered that day. Sammy had just gotten his driver’s license, and they had made their first trek to the graveyard without their father accompanying them. It had seemed surreal to be driving between the gates singing along to the song on the radio, Sammy’s face wreathed in a wide smile, happy to have the freedom of a car’s steering wheel between his hands. Normally those trips started out upbeat, but by the time they made it to the cemetery a blanket of sadness would have settled on all of them, silencing any chatter. That was the first time he’d told her one of the stories on his own.

  Sammy leaned into the back of the car and took out a box. “Faynez, grab that blanket, would ya?”

  “Okay.” Eager to help, she wrestled the door open on her side of the car and wrapped her arms around a bulky bundle of fabric. It stood up in front of her face and she leaned her head to the side to see around it, careful of the curb. Her big brother appeared next to her and closed the car door with a bump of his hip.

  She followed him, walking the path he trod, weaving in and out around the huge headstones that were planted in long rows. She knew the way, but Sammy had gotten so tall, it was easier to keep track of him than wrenching her neck to see.

  He placed the box on the ground and took the blanket from her. Faynez shook her tired arms out, looking around. “It’s just us today.” Sammy grunted as he spread the material on the grass next to their mother’s grave. “Kinda nice, Samboni. It’s never just us.”

  “It is nice.” He dug in the box and handed her a bottle of juice. “Did you put sunscreen on before we left the house?”

  “Shoot.” She wrinkled her nose and he laughed.

  “Come here, squirt.” Faynez frowned. She didn’t like that nickname. Sammy’s best friend Jonny called her squirt all the time. “What? It’s just a name. Not like you like
Faynez any better.” She rolled her eyes, then closed them tightly and leaned towards him. He smoothed lotion on her face and the back of her neck. “Love you, Faynez.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him, watching as his gaze followed his fingers stroking the last bits of sunscreen across the bridge of her nose.

  “Love you, too.” She sat on the blanket and toed off her shoes. “What else did you bring?”

  “Stuff.” He settled beside her and leaned back on his arms, face tipped to the sky. “What story do you want today?” It had always been their thing, shared with their father. Stories about the times before, back when their mother was still alive.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder, knowing he needed the contact more than she did. For her, this was normal. Just her and Sammy and Daddy. All she’d ever known. Sammy, though, still felt the loss of their mother keenly. Some days Faynez felt disloyal, because she couldn’t be as sad as she thought they wanted her to be. How can you miss something you’ve never had? Different than sadness, there was a longing that had settled behind her breastbone, pain tucked in so tightly around her heart she felt it every time she tried to breathe. She wanted what he’d had, what her friends had. A mom who loved her. Who chided and corrected her, and showed her all the right things to do. Because some days it felt as if Faynez was making it up as she went along, never knowing when her next words would blunder into a pocket of pain for her father.

  “So?” Sammy bumped her shoulder and she glanced up to see him staring at her. “Want a story or not?”

  Begin at the beginning. That’s what their dad would say.

  “Tell me about the day I came home.”

  He made a noise in his chest and she held her breath, not sure what she’d done wrong. “Okay.” Voice gruff, he cleared his throat and repeated himself, “Okay.” Instead of beginning the story, he rolled to his knees and reached for the box. “Let me set these up first.” He kicked off his shoes, then held out a hand, “Give me your shoes, Faynez.” Perplexed, she placed them into his hand, surprised to see he could easily hold both, fingers wrapping around the rubber-covered toes. From the box he pulled a pair of their father’s shoes, old retired ones Daddy had said had too many miles to be any good anymore. Then he took out a box. When he opened the cardboard, there was a brand-new pair of women’s shoes inside, gleaming white in the sunshine. He arranged them, then changed the lineup a couple of times, eventually ending up with her and Daddy’s shoes on either end. “These,” he pointed to the new shoes, “are Mom’s size. Look how we stack up right now.” He rubbed a hand over Faynez’ hair and she scowled at him as she reached up to smooth it down. “You’ve got some catching up to do, baby sister.”