Cash (The Henchmen MC Book 2) (10 page)

“How bad you hurting? You want more pills?”

“After this show,” she said, sitting back casually and cradling her beer in her hands.

After the show, I shook two more pills into her hand then let her make her way up the stairs again. I tucked her into the bed and waited for her to fall asleep before I slid in behind her. I could have slept down on the couch, but I was trying really hard to convince myself that what I was doing was for her benefit- she'd have me close in case she needed anything in the middle of the night, or if she woke up in pain.

But the truth was, I just wanted to be close for my own reasons, reasons I didn't understand, and reasons I didn't plan on analyzing.

I just climbed in the empty side of the bed, curled up, and waited for sleep to claim me.

It was sometime in the middle of the night when I heard it: whimpering. I slowly surfaced, unsure what the sound was, still drowsy. As my eyes opened and I focused on the back of Lo, curled up away from me, awareness snapped me up.

“Honey?” I asked, my voice raspy from sleep. She didn't respond, just made more crying sounds. I reached out, grabbing her shoulder gently and pulling her back until she was flat on her back and I was on my side looking down at her. She was sleeping, dreaming. There were tears on her cheeks and her lips were trembling. “Baby, wake up,” I said, my voice a little louder. My hand moved out, stroking her hair out of her face. The second my fingers touched her, her body stilled its writhing.

My hand drifted down the side of her neck, stroking the soft skin, down her arm, her side, over the bandages covering her ribs. Soon, the whimpering cries turned into muffled groans and I couldn't stop myself from touching her- over her bruised jaw, down the center of her chest, up the side of her leg.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and her brown eyes found mine in the dark.

“Cash?”

Ten

Lo

I was used to the nightmares. I couldn't remember the last time I had a night of completely dreamless sleep. I'd simply seen too many things, been through too much shit to be granted the serenity of a restful night. I accepted that as part of my life, as penance for the dark shit I had been involved in.

I woke up slowly, my skin feeling oddly tingly, my chest feeling tight. I felt the pulsating need between my thighs as the final hold of sleep let go and realized with a blinding kind of clarity that I was turned on. I was turned on in a bed that wasn't my own.

My eyes fluttered open to see the dark outline of a male body half-propped up over mine. It was then I felt a hand brushing across the very lowest point of my belly, toying with the waistband of my panties, his fingers brushing the exposed few inches beneath my bandages.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Cash was touching me.

“Cash?” I heard my voice ask, low and airless.

“You were crying,” he said back, just as quietly.

“Cash what...”

“You were crying and when I touched you, you stopped.”

Wow. Okay. I sucked in a breath, trying to calm the growing sense of need. “I'm not crying anymore.”

His head shifted up and there was just enough moonlight slanting through the blinds for me to see his gaze was on my face. “Are you going to make me stop?”

Oh, god. I didn't want him to stop. But he needed to. Right?

“This is a bad...”

“Do you
want
me to stop, Lo?” he asked, his voice getting deeper and I felt it turn my insides to mush. “Don't analyze it, just answer. Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” I said before I could stop myself. Then, again before I could stop it, I started, “Cash, everything hurt...”

“Not gonna' fuck you, babe,” he said, with a little bit of regret in his voice. “But I promise that, in a few minutes, you won't be feeling any pain.”

Well then. I kind of owed it to myself to get pain-free, right? At least, that was what I was going to choose to believe.

“Okay,” I said, my breathing already shallow and fast and he wasn't even touching me anymore.

His body shifted slightly, lifting up, as his fingers whispered across the soft skin of my inner thighs. I felt my legs falling open, giving him more access, practically begging him to shift his touch upward and touch me where I really needed it. But his touch remained almost chaste, gentle, moving up to the lace of my panties around my thighs, then back down to my knees, then back up again.

Desire made every nerve ending feel overly sensitive, poised to respond to the barest of caresses. The material of my panties was wet and my hips were shifting around in frustration.

“Cash...” I whimpered. The end of his name caught on a hitch in my breath when his hand shifted and pressed down hard between my legs.

“Soaked,” he said on a growl, his fingers shifting so his thumb pressed down on my clit, moving over it with slow, hard pressure side to side. My hand flew out, landing on his shoulder and digging my fingers in.

His thumb moved to start circling over the sensitive point and my ragged breathing turned to quiet groans as he drove me painfully slowly upward, promising oblivion but taking his sweet time to deliver. “Oh,
oh,
” I moaned, feeling myself start to crest. “No!” I cried out loudly as his hand moved away just in time.

“Shh,” he shushed me, sounding amused. “I'm not done with you yet,” he promised and I felt my pussy clench hard in anticipation.

I felt his weight shift, my eyes still unable to adjust to the darkness. “What are you...” I started and trailed off when his body settled and I felt his mouth close over my cleft through my panties. “Oh my god,” I moaned, my hand slapping down on the top of his head, taking in the strange sensation of peach fuzz on one side and soft, long hair on the other. I sank my fingers into the long strands, twisting, and holding on as his tongue moved out and stroked the wet material over my too-sensitive clit.

His hand shifted to move between us and pulled my panties to the side to expose me and I didn't even get a chance to suck in a breath before I felt his tongue slide up my slick cleft and start lavishing over my clit. My orgasm built faster that time, my entire body tense, poised for the release. His other hand moved upward and I felt his finger slide inside me, slow, burying deep, stroking in and out until my moans became choked gasping, then curling upward and stroking over my G-spot.

My climax left me in a suspended nothingness for a long moment before it finally broke through my system- a deep, fast pulsating around his finger as my thighs shook. My cry cut through the night as the waves kept coming, as his tongue and finger prolonged my release.

“Oh my god,” I gasped as the aftershocks made my body tremble slightly.

Cash moved away slowly, pulling out of me, and pushing my panties back into place. His body shifted back to my side and he reached to pull the covers back over my body.

“Sleep honey.”

“Cash...” I started, not sure what I wanted to say, but knowing what just happened changed things and that meant we should probably discuss it.

“Sleep,” he said again, moving over toward the far end of the bed and stretching out, leaving me little choice but to do what I was told.

–

I woke up in the early morning out of habit, and thanks to the fact that I spent almost the entire day before sleeping. My ribs objected to movement, but the stabbing was more of a dull ache and I realized maybe they were bruised and not cracked after all.

I went into the bathroom and went through my morning rituals until I felt mostly human again. Looking at my reflection, I took a deep breath. “What the fuck did you do?” I asked myself on a whisper. If I let myself think about it, I could still practically feel his tongue on me. So... yeah... I needed to not think about it.

It was stupid to think it mattered. I was a grown ass woman. Hooking up was hooking up. Sex was sex. That was the end of it. Lord knew, he had enough casual sex in his day for it to mean literally nothing that he had his face buried between my thighs just a few hours before.

The smell of coffee was the only thing that finally dragged me down the stairs and into the kitchen to where Cash was casually sitting on top of his counter in faded jeans and a white tee. A coffee cup was poised on his knee as he clicked away at his cell phone.

“Can I grab a cup?” I asked, moving toward the coffee machine where he had already set out a spare cup, a sugar bowl, and a spoon.

“Yeah honey.”

Oh, hell. He needed to stop calling me the cutesy names. I swear the word landed with a flutter in my nether-regions. The effect was strong enough to stop me mid-grab for the coffee pot.

“Sleep well?” he asked, as if it was perfectly normal for us to have conversations over coffee.

“Yeah. Those pills really throw you for a loop,” I said, pouring my coffee, and turning to make my way out of the kitchen.

“Figured we would head up to Hailstorm today,” he said, making my heart fly up into my throat and my body whirl around to face him, effectively spilling a third of my coffee onto the floor.

“Shit,” I cursed, shaking the hot coffee off my hand.

“I got it,” he said, hopping off the counter, somehow doing so without spilling any of
his
coffee, of course. He came toward me, paper towels at the ready and lowered himself down the floor at my feet. I knew I needed to take a step back, put some space between us, but my brain couldn't seem to get the message to my legs. Then, done scrubbing, his head cocked up to look at me and a devilish grin spread on his lips, making his face way too god damn handsome. “I like this position,” he said, one of his hands moving up toward the hem of my tee and inching it up.

He was an inch from my panties when I finally snapped myself out of it and swatted his hand away. “Hope you enjoyed last night because it's the last time you get anywhere near my pussy,” I managed to choke out in what I hoped was a stern voice.

His smile didn't falter, if anything, it got all the more sinister. “I did enjoy last night. You got one sweet pussy for someone so fucking sour. But I can tell you one thing, as much as I enjoyed last night...” Oh, crap. I knew what was coming. “You enjoyed it a helluva lot more. Or was I imagining your pussy squeezing my finger as you came hard enough to wake up my neighbors?”

“Tell me something,
honey
,” I said, lowering my eyes at him, feeling embarrassment lead me steadily toward anger which was a much more comfortable emotion to be feeling around him. “Do you always molest half-asleep women who are taking refuge in your bed after getting the shit kicked out of them?”

Cash slowly got to his feet, not taking a single step backward and therefore was privy to the sensation of my hardened nipples (fucking traitors) brush his chest. “Nope. You're the first,” he said with a casual shrug. The bastard was supposed to feel guilty even though I knew damn well I had consented. “So why don't you want to go to Hailstorm?”

I could tell from the lack of light in his eyes that he wasn't going to give in. He wasn't going to stop until he got an answer. I shook my head, looking off over his shoulder into the sprawling backyard that endless houses seemed to share. “Look... I didn't always have Hailstorm. And before them, I still had to survive in this life. I got into some shit. I got out of some shit. I don't want any of the dirt from my past thrown at them. Yeah, they'd be all too happy to wipe it off and help me handle it, but I don't want them involved.”

I looked back to see him biting on the inside of his cheek, a habit I found myself wondering about. Was it a nervous tick? Was it anger? Was it something he did when he was mulling things over?

“Fair enough,” he finally said, surprising me enough to jerk back. “Look... when shit went down with Summer, Reign didn't want to bring the club in on it. That wasn't their mess to clean up. I get it. So no Hailstorm. But you need to get some of your shit.”

I felt myself nodding, moving a step back and hating that it always seemed to be me that was retreating. “I have a bag in a storage locker in town.”

“Got a key or combination? I'll drop by and pick it up. I got some shit to handle today.”

“I can get it.”

“Nah. I think you're best staying put right now.”

“You're not my father, Cash. You can't fucking ground me.”

“No. But I can cuff you to a beam in the basement,” he said, looking like he would enjoying doing just that a little bit too much. “You know... for your own safety,” he grinned. “Not for any other more... sinister reasons. Totally wouldn't
molest
your very consenting pussy any more than I already have. Nope. Not me. I'd be a perfect gentleman about the whole thing.”

“You can't be serious.” No fucking way.

“Babydoll,” he said, making me curl my lip slightly, “no one would ever accuse me of being serious. But let me tell you, about this... I am
dead fucking serious
. You are staying in this house and you are laying low until we figure this shit out.” He paused, his cocky grin coming back. “Or at least until people out there,” he waved toward the front door, “can look at you without wincing.”