Cassie

by deMora, MariaLisa

  Mason didn’t have to think, didn’t have to consider his words or the faces of the men he’d ridden these miles with. Didn’t have to imagine his pride at how well Garrett had done within the pack. On this trip, it had been everything he could have wanted, except for the part where his boys underscored how fast they were both growing up. We should talk about Gar-boy. “Yeah, been a great trip. Loved spending time with you and the boys.” Dolly had wound up staying back in Fort Wayne, watched over by a dozen protectors. She’d complained vigorously each time he or Willa had checked in, because she was never alone. As it should be, family’s always protected and held safe. Mason followed her back down to the mattress, chased her lips with an intensity she evidently found amusing, laughing and rolling her eyes.

  “Wanna fuck?” Mouth to her neck, he worked at the column of her throat with lips and teeth, fingers drawing lines and angles along her sides until he cupped the weight of her breast in his hand. “Wanna fuck your old man, babe?”

  She gasped when he applied pressure to her nipple, each movement familiar and yet brand new, a discovery of sound and tension and pleasure each time he laid hands on her body. Rocking against him, her head fell backwards on a groan and she gave him everything he needed. “Please.”

  “Always give you that ask, baby.” He surged over her, cock already rigid and ready. He shoved an elbow into the mattress, fingers delving at her core to find her ready. Never tire of this. “Fucking wet, Wills. Love how you get for me.”

  “And I love what you do to me.” Her rejoinder was airy, breathlessly spoken sounds that settled in his gut, driving his hips into a plunge forwards. One thick finger thrust deep inside her drew a soft moan that rattled up from her chest. A second finger made her back arch, legs spreading wide to welcome him to the cradle made just for him. He worked her for a moment, drawing his thumb across her clit and watched as she shuddered underneath him. “Mason.” His name on her lips made him eager, ready to be inside her.

  “Don’t matter how often I have you.” Hand on his shaft he pulled one slow stroke, bumping up against her with his knuckles as he lined himself with her entrance. “I always want you. More—” His breathing sped up, echoing her gasp as he pushed inside. “More every day, Willa. Always.” Deeper, then a slow drag out, making sure he used every trick to keep her revved up. “More, baby.” A thrust carried him farther inside her, the hot silk of her sex all around him. “So fuckin’ tight.” He rocked forwards until his hips nestled against her and she gave a high whine when he ground tighter against her clit. “Gonna come for me, Willa?”

  She nodded, hair wild on the pillow, a deep blush of arousal moving up her chest to her neck. He reached and grasped her hand, smiling when she spread her fingers so he could thrust through, holding on tightly. He settled that hand beside her head and leaned close, lips hovering just over hers.

  “Yes, Mason. Yes. I’m close, baby.” Her lips parted to pull in air, and she lifted a hand towards his face. Mason nuzzled along the sensitive skin of her wrist, gripping and biting then laying hard, open-mouthed kisses along her arm. He could feel it moving through her now, the short pulses of tension shooting through her body, muscles shivering as her core tightened around him once, then again, and then she lifted, pressing her mouth to his as she came, exploding and contracting at once, her keening cry pulling him along with her.

  “Fuck, baby.” He broke the kiss and bent his neck, face buried in the pillow next to hers. Mouth to her ear, he latched onto her lobe, tugging sharply while her hips bucked up against him. Her fingers dug deeply into his shoulder and arm, nails dragging a sharp grunt from him, but the shining pain focused his pleasure and he rode the wave, cock pushing and thrusting in and out, harder, faster, until he came with a shout, going rigid against her for a moment, then losing rhythm to chase those sparks that raced along his nerves, slowing and easing until he sprawled over her propped on knees and elbows, blanketing her with his heat. “God, Willa. I love you.”

  She sighed and her head angled to press to his neck as she murmured, “Love you, too. You’ll always be my dreamiest old man.” She yawned wide, and then her sweet snort was followed by a soft snore.

  Jesus. Kooky. “Baby, you can’t go to sleep.”

  “Why not?” Now she was complaining, the rumble of her annoyance clear, if not intimidating.

  “’Cause we need to talk.” Silence from her. “Babe.” She shifted and opened one annoyed eye, blinking as she glared at him. “There you are.” A flash of pink between her lips, and he laughed as she stuck her tongue out at him. “You see Garrett today?” She shoved at his shoulder and he moved, slipping to the side as she rolled to face him.

  “Yes. Did you see how he looked? Poor boy.” Lips bowed in concern, Willa’s nap was out of reach now if the look on her face was any indication. “He’s missing Faynez.”

  “Boy’s got a lotta growing before he’s ready to be missin’ anyone like that.” Mason shifted to his back and wrapped his arm around Willa’s shoulders, pulling her tightly to his side. “Whole trip, though, he’s done really well. Handled himself like a man grown. He’s done good, Wills. Boy’s growin’ up, and a body can see that just from how he listens, always looking for a mentor. He’s like you that way, always lookin’ to learn the next thing. Faynez, though? She’s young, Willa, and had a hard life. Woman like that needs some special handling. Gar-boy’s growing into someone’s gonna be a good man and gonna be better. He’s just got more growin’ to do before that’ll be where he is.”

  Cheek to his shoulder, she snuggled against him. “I know you and I were nearly old codgers before we even met, but with how we are together, do you really think if we’d bumped up against the other earlier, we wouldn’t have known what this was?” Her fingertips trailed a random path across his chest, circling a nipple here, playing connect-the-scar there. “For some people, I think there’s one person they’re meant to be with in our lives. You’re mine, and I’m yours. With Garrett? I think our son’s been lucky enough to find the one for him, just earlier than most.” Her tone slowly lightened, turning from serious to joking, and he knew she’d said her piece. That was how Willa was. She’d tell you how it was for her, lay it out for a person, and leave it to them to take it on or not. By that point, she’d already moved on. “You can’t tell him not to pursue her, Mason. That’s cockblocking, and is bad.” He failed at biting back his laughter and she slapped his chest. “Stop moving. I know you’re laughing, but you’re bobbling me all over. Stop it.”

  “Jesus, honey. You can’t tell me not to cockblock my boy. It’s the nature of things. We don’t need any early grandchildren.” The rush of air she pulled in told him she hadn’t considered that angle. “See? We’re too young to be grandparents.”

  “Oh. My. God.” Distinct pauses between the words was her speech pattern when she was wrestling with something big. Profound. “Oh. My God. OhmyGod.” Up on an elbow, she leaned close and pressed her lips to his once, twice, then a third time, excitement dancing in her eyes. “I pick GiGi. That’s my grandma name. You heard it, right here and now, chunk a hunk. GiGi.” With her cheek back to his shoulder, he roared with laughter when he heard her whisper, “Imma make the best grandmother ever.”

  It took a minute, but he finally had settled down, doing his best to ignore all her additional grandmother remarks. “Not anytime soon, Wills. I love our boys, but you and me, we aren’t old yet.” He rolled them, putting her back to the mattress. Then, mouth to her neck, he told her, “It’s early still. We got time for round two.”

  “Round two?” Her voice was back to breathless and he smiled as she arched against him, rubbing along his body with hers like a cat. “I could handle that.”

  “You always handle me.” He thrust two fingers deep, pulling and stroking her inner walls until she made that tiny mew sound again. “We got time.”

  Extended family

  Faith

  Faith stood beside the tall windows of the dining room and looked out into a backyard fi
lled with family and friends. She’d been inside for a while and expected her father to appear at any time and demand she rejoin the party playing out behind their home. It was a tradition with them to have this annual bash, celebrating an unnamed milestone for the club. This year the weather had cooperated. Not so hot out that the kids running amok risked getting sick from the heat, but the chill of winter was long gone, leaving their guests comfortable in lightweight shirts underneath their leather vests.

  Not everyone wore a vest, of course, only the men who shared a brotherhood with her father.

  This particular party was never restricted to only Rebel Wayfarers, and as usual, her brother’s hockey friends had shown up, their conversations circling tightly around ideas about training, the upcoming draft, training, kids coming up the lines, training, and all things hockey. The party marked changes for their family every year, too, because it signaled Sammy would soon be done playing hockey for a time, giving them a chance to bond away from the many rinks they’d followed him to over the years.

  The corners of her mouth curled as she watched Sammy’s face, hands flying around animatedly as he explained something to his best friends, Jonny Morgan and Kane Shoemaker. Not just friends from league teams; those two were as much a part of the Rebel family as she and Sammy were. Captain, their adoptive father, was a member of the club, too.

  Jonny twisted in place, gaze scanning the groups scattered around the yard and he scowled disgruntledly for a moment, brow wrinkling. Then he caught sight of her in the window and Faith recognized the usual cocky look that came across his face. He turned so his back was to her, deliberately stepping across the small group of players in order to do so, the slight so blatant she felt it like a strike of a blade to her heart. Sammy’s head tilted and he considered his friend for a moment, listening to whatever he was saying, then Sammy’s gaze came straight to her, and she knew Jonny had explained his actions. She’d heard him plenty of times, Jonny not caring if she were close enough to listen or not when he cut her hopes to the quick, declaring by words and actions that any attraction she felt to him was unwarranted and seriously not returned.

  “Faynez,” she heard her nickname called from the kitchen, and turned, already smiling, because she recognized the voice.

  “Garrett,” she cried, running across the space between them and wrapping her arms around the wiry boy’s frame. “I didn’t think y’all could make it. I’m so glad to see you.”

  Garrett Mason had been a friend almost from birth, with only a few weeks between their birthdays. His father was the club’s founder, and a steady influence in the Rebels MC, so he was practically family, too. Tightening her arms, she squeezed until Garrett grunted, then laughed as he returned the favor.

  He grunted again, stiffening, and she leaned back to look up into his face. He was staring over her shoulder at the windows, glaring with what looked like anger, the muscles of his jaw jumping as he clenched his teeth. She pulled away, twisting out of his arms and turning to look back at the window to see Jonny had walked up to the glass and was standing, hands to his hips, sending his own glare inside to where she stood beside Garrett.

  Garrett’s hand landed on her shoulder, arm banding across her back, and he pulled, tugging her into his side. She leaned on him, comfortably wrapping her own arm around his hip. “Missed you, Faynez,” he muttered, and she glanced up at his face to see he was still glaring at Jonny.

  “Missed you, too. Did you enjoy the trip, though?” He and his family had traveled to Texas to see his older brother’s band perform at a music festival. “How’s Chase?”

  The patter of light footsteps sounded from the hallway and Faith turned to see a group of kids running through the house and towards the backyard. Before Garrett could answer, her nickname sounded through the house again, “Faynez, you comin’ outside, honey?” Garrett gave her a squeeze, then released her. Another shout, this one louder, “Faynez?”

  With an apologetic smile up at Garrett, she answered her father, “Coming, Daddy.” Grabbing Garrett’s hand, she tugged him towards the back door. “It’s chaos today. Come on, everybody’s here. They’ll be glad to see you, too.”

  A couple of hours later, Faith had collapsed onto one of the blankets spread on the back lawn. Eyes closed against the glare of the sunshine, she threaded her fingers together across her belly and crossed her legs at the ankle.

  Heaving in a lungful of air, she blew it back out steadily, trying to relax just for a moment. This party was always stressful because there were so many details that made it a success. Not entirely her responsibility, but she always felt the need to make it as perfect as possible. She wanted everything to go smoothly so her dad didn’t have to worry about anything. He loved his family and loved his friends, and she wanted that to be what he concentrated on, not whether there was enough beer or if they had enough buns for the brats and hotdogs.

  Darkness crept across her lids, and a chill crossed her skin as a shadow fell on Faith’s face. Cracking one eyelid open a slit, she peered up at the form towering over her. Silhouetted against the sun as they were, she couldn’t tell who it was, just knew it was a grownup, and from the broad shoulders, probably a man. I just wanted a minute. She pushed her grumpiness aside to ask, “Need me to get something?”

  No response, so she lifted up on an elbow and shaded her eyes with the edge of a palm. Jonny. Figures. “You need something, Jonny?” He shifted slightly, weight transferring from foot to foot, a movement that on another man she would have wondered if it were nerves. Not Jonny Morgan, though. He didn’t have nerves, even when he was at center ice in the season-opening faceoff for a game. Certainly not standing beside her in the backyard where he and Sammy had played so many hours. “Jonny?’

  “You havin’ a good time, squirt?”

  She could count on one hand the number of times she’d heard him say her real name. He always used a diminutive nickname, but not the one her brother had given her. Sammy had been the one to call her Faynez first, and from the stories their dad told, she’d hated it in the beginning. Now it was just another aspect of who she was, a girl raised in the north, but with a southern attitude. Mostly. I still liked that Drago calls me Faith.

  She sighed. Jonny’s nicknames weren’t complimentary, ever, always felt like they were intended to tear her down just a little.

  He cleared his throat, then asked, “You’ve been running all over, want a pop?”

  Had he been watching her? Tipping her head to one side, she squinted, staring up at Jonny’s face. Inscrutable. She scanned his body, and saw his hands were tucked into the front pockets of his jeans, so he wasn’t holding a can of soda, ready to dump it over her head. No apparent prank was on the horizon.

  “Was that a real offer?” She hadn’t meant to say anything, but the words just came out and she bit her tongue, trying to keep anything else from spilling over her lips.

  He nodded slowly, still shifting foot to foot.

  Weird. Hesitating between each word, she told him, “Bottle of water would be good.” At her quiet response, one corner of his mouth lifted, lips arching into a smirk that left her waiting for him to tell her to get it herself, that the offer had been a joke she’d fallen for, again.

  “You got it, short stuff.” He turned and strolled away, easy athletic grace in each stride. The way he walked caused the muscles of his back and butt to bunch and slide, that movement visible even underneath his clothing. Watching as Jonny had matured from the boy who was friends with her brother into the man he was today, none of that physical development had slipped past unnoticed. His behavior just now was a first, though. Way weird.

  The sound of someone flinging themselves to the blanket on her other side pulled her attention away from the way Jonny’s ass moved in his jeans, and blood rushed to heat her cheeks as she turned to see Garrett lying beside her, hands behind his head.

  “Comfy?” His question was as bizarre as Jonny’s had been, and she squinted at him before turning back to track Jonny th
rough the crowd, trying to decide if they had teamed up to play a trick on her. “Need a pillow?” Before she could respond, he was wiggling around, sliding up the blanket towards her head.

  His fingers wrapped around her neck, lifting, and before she knew it, her head was propped on one of his thighs, neck bent at an acute angle. It was uncomfortable, which was clearly obvious either by the pained look she knew had to be on her face, or her muttered, “Ow.”

  “Shit. Here, this’ll be better.” A moment later, his hand was stuffing a bundled shirt underneath her head and he was back beside her, propped up on an elbow, tanned chest bare in the sunshine. “Better, Faynez?”

  “What are y’all doing?” She pulled the shirt out as she sat up and refolded it before thrusting it towards him. “You and Jonny.” The look on his face was alert and bordering on angry, but it didn’t matter because she could match that emotion right now. “Just stop it. It’s not funny.” Suddenly near tears, because she hadn’t expected anything like this from Garrett, she pushed to her feet. I thought he was my friend. Throat tight, she didn’t try to say anything else, just fled inside the house, hurrying to the bathroom adjoining her bedroom. Growing up, she and Sammy had shared the Jack and Jill bath that separated their rooms, but since he’d moved out, she’d taken over the space.

  Hands to the crowded counterspace, she leaned into the mirror, staring hard at her own reflection. “Stop it.” That was firmly stated, and she gave herself a nod of agreement. “You’re being stupid.” She was being stupid and knew it.

  Jonny Morgan had never done a nice thing for her. When he wasn’t being aloof and sending a message about how much better he was than the stupid teenaged girl mooning over him, he was her nemesis because he would pull her ponytail, pluck her earbuds from her ears, tip the bottom of her glass up to splash her, and otherwise tease her as if she were an unwanted little sister. Thank God, Sammy never treated me like that, she thought, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair from her face.