Chapter Ten
Cassie
My whole focus was on making Shane come while checking he didn’t react badly to anything. Making my checklist of triggers to keep in mind for the future.
Which is another thing niggling at me. Future. I’m thinking of a future with Shane, when we’ve only just started moving from friends to cautious lovers, with no promises of anything more than a good time in bed.
I’m a little distracted when he suddenly tenses and fumbles for something on the nightstand, but then he relaxes again and other parts of him tense—his stomach, rippling with impressive abs, his hands at his sides, his balls, and then his cock, jerking in my mouth as he comes in hot jets.
Swallowing, massaging his balls to prolong the pleasure, I watch fascinated as he writhes on the sheets, his mouth open, his eyes fluttering shut.
So beautiful. The image will haunt my dreams. Okay, scratch that, he haunts my dreams already.
And then, before I even realized he’s done and conscious, he flips me over on my back, rips off my clothes and goes down on me like he’s thirsty and I’m a cool Mai Tai. Or something.
My brain refuses to work, especially when his fingers part my folds and his tongue dives between them, flicking over my clit.
Jeez. Not ten minutes ago I came in to find him fighting to get free of sleep, then I made him come— the image is still lodged behind my lids, flashing before me whenever I close my eyes, of him coming, his whole body arching with it—and now he’s on a mission to make me come, too.
He hesitates before giving me a long lick that has me panting with arousal. Then hesitates again before using his finger to push a little into me. It’s obvious he’s not experienced, but do I care? Not one bit.
It’s Shane. The boy I’ve been fantasizing about, going down on me, his eyes bright whenever he glances up at me. Pretty, dark eyes under thick brows, a strand of black hair sliding over his cheek, his dreamcatcher earring grazing his jaw.
Gorgeous.
He fucks me lightly with his finger, licks at me again, like a big cat lapping cream from a dish, his eyes going hooded. One side of his mouth tips up in a half smirk before he dives deeper.
And yet not enough.
I want to tell him I need more, much more, that I want all of him, that I can sense it: just a bit of him will never be enough. I want everything he has, everything he is.
Whoa, where did this come from? Take it easy, Cass, this isn’t anything serious. It never is. Boys like sex, they like you, and that’s that. Shane is pretty, and damaged, and your friend, and—
His fingers sink inside me, and his lips replace his tongue on my clit. He sucks and pumps his fingers, and oh man, this boy’s a natural. A moan catches in my throat as my spine arches off the bed, and my legs tremble as I struggle not to move.
In the end, it’s a lost battle. I roll my hips, riding his fingers, and he gets back at me for moving by sucking harder, or so it seems like to my fuzzy brain. He twists his fingers, setting something off inside me, and the pressure crests and breaks in a deep, steady whumph that echoes through my whole body, inside my skull.
I shatter into a
million glittering pieces.
Nothing makes sense for a long moment, and when it does, he’s leaning over me, cool hair trailing over my stomach, over my breasts, that small, pleased smirk back on his lips.
“Like that?” he asks, and in his twinkling eyes I see he knows the answer. I also see a sparkle and a calm below the surface that wasn’t there before.
“Just like that,” I say and pull him down beside me.
***
I’m dozing, a happy buzz running under my skin where our naked bodies touch under the covers. His eyes are half-closed whenever I open mine, looking at me, and his forehead is smooth. I never realized how often he frowns and scowls until now when that absence turns his face from sharply handsome to heart-breakingly beautiful.
He lifts a hand to my cheek, sweeps a strand of hair away. “You’re not sleeping.”
“Neither are you.”
He rolls one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t sleep much.”
“Bad dreams?”