Cash (The Henchmen MC Book 2) (13 page)

“Is he still breathing?” Cash asked, obviously having a really low opinion of me.

“Sure. Breathing nice and easy in a jail cell for the next fifteen years. Though, if he ever gets out, well, I don't doubt Janie might pay him a little visit.”

“Janie?” Cash asked, looking almost guarded at the mention of her.

“She doesn't like when people pick on anyone or anything smaller than them.”

“Who the fuck does?” was his knee-jerk response, like he really meant it, like it bothered him too. God, could he get any more endearing?

“So, um, did you have any trouble at the storage place?” Christ, that was dumb. What was wrong with me? I was a grown ass woman, I didn't mumble and stumble to find decent conversation.

“What the fuck you have in that bag? Bricks?”

“Books,” I clarified immediately, more than a little surprised that he hadn't gone through it (and also extremely relieved). “You didn't look?”

“Of course not. So how long until dinner? Do I have long enough to run to the clubhouse and talk to my brother?”

“Sure.” I mean... it was stew. It would, well,
stew
for as long as needed.

“Do you still want me to talk to Reign about your situation?”

My eyes shot up to his. Of course I did. That was the deal, wasn't it? But, somehow, I found myself saying instead, “Do you mind keeping this between us for the time being?”

He nodded, chucked me under the chin like a ten year old, and took off, leaving me utterly confused, still completely turned on, and having no idea what to do about either of those things.

So I made stew, and then I ate stew alone when he didn't come back as quickly as he made it sound like he would, then I went through my bag and got one of my books and curled up on the couch to read. I didn't, however, change into my own clothes. And I didn't stop to think about why... because I was pretty sure I already knew the reason.

By the time nine o'clock rolled around, the words on the pages seemed like they were swimming in front of my tired eyes and I bookmarked my page with one of the television remotes and curled up on the couch to watch mindless TV.

I didn't plan on sleeping, but that was exactly what I did.

I woke up sometime later to the feeling of someone lifting my legs, sliding under them, and then resting them on top of their jean-covered thighs. I didn't have to look to know it was Cash. No, instead, I kept my eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his warm hand on my bare skin as I pretended I was still asleep.

I heard the sound of his spoon scraping a bowl and knew he was eating. Then his weight shifted forward, his stomach pressing into my legs as he did so, to put his bowl on the coffee table.

I didn't know, however, that he had also picked up my book and pulled it open until his mouth opened to start reading, “'Declan ran his hand up her wet cleft...” My entire body jolted as my eyes flew open, mortification like nothing I had ever experienced before overwhelming my system.

I wasn't lying when I told Reign upon first meeting him that I was a sucker for a good love story. As such, I had a slight obsession with romance novels. And by 'slight obsession', I meant I devoured at least three a week... and they weren't the fade-to-black love scene kind. They were the down and dirty, explicit kind.

That was actually the reason I had decided to stop reading where I had: because the hero and heroine were
just
about to get it on for the first time and I wanted to be fully focused to be able to enjoy it.

And there was Cash, sitting on the couch next to me, my book in his hands with the half-naked man on the front, reading the sex scene.

Holy shit.

No. That could not be happening. No way in hell was the sexy as heck guy who went down on me the night before figuring out that I was a dirty little closet smut reader. No no no.

“Cash, give me that back,” I demanded, sitting up as fast as my ribs would allow and making a grab for the book.

Cash simply lifted it out of my reach, smiling way too devilishly. “Nuh-uh. This sounds interesting.” I reached for it again, but he swatted my hand again, holding the pages open with one hand and starting to read again. “'His tongue found the swollen, sensitive swell of her clit and started moving over it in slow, light circles until her hands fisted in the sheets and her hips were grinding up into him, begging for more...'”

I wanted to die. Right then and there, I wanted some undetectable blood clot to rush to my heart and just... end it because I simply could never face him again.

“Honey, relax,” his voice said and my gaze lifted to find him looking down at me, no teasing humor on his face like I had expected. If anything, there almost seemed to be... heat.

“Please give me my book back,” I tried, not caring how desperate my voice sounded. I
was
desperate.

“Do you like this book?”

Oh, hell. “Yes,” I admitted, shaking my head at myself.

“Then why are you so embarrassed?”

“Cash...”

“'Cassidy let out a low moan, reaching down to grab Declan's head, pulling him up her body and wrapping her legs around him...'”

“Please stop reading.”

“Are you getting hot, baby?” he asked, turning to look at me. My legs were pressed tightly together and I was more than a little shocked that I was able to be completely and utterly turned on and mortified at the same time. I had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the fact that the sex scene was being read in the deep, smooth timbre of his voice. At my silence, he reached out, grabbed my hand and pulled it toward him. I had no idea what he was going to do until I felt my palm press up against the crotch of his jeans where, holy shit, he was hard and straining. “Who'd have thought a book could be as hot as porn?” he said, his lips quirked up.

His hand stayed on top of mine, pressing into his cock and my thumb automatically stroked over the head. Christ, I wanted him. I wanted him more than I had wanted someone in longer than I could remember. Cash's hand slid off of mine and both of his hands reached for my hips, gently pulling me toward him until I was straddling him.

“These are still hurting,” he said, his hand flattening over the elastic bandages around my center.

“Yeah,” I admitted, because they were.

“No way I can be inside of you without it hurting,” he mused. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Oh man.

Suddenly it wasn't just in my lady bits I felt him, it was in my chest, it was a fluttering, melting sensation that I was trying really hard to ignore.

Couldn't he be hot and sexy and a jerk? That would make my life so much easier.

But no, he had to be hot and sexy and a sweetheart. God damn it.

The hand that wasn't on my ribs moved up and touched my lips softly. “These are still hurting too.”

Oh, god. I wanted him to kiss me. No, strike that. I
needed
him to kiss me. I didn't care about it being a bad idea. I didn't care about having to regret it. And I damn sure didn't care about my sore lips.

“Kiss me, Cash,” I said, my voice an airy whisper.

His eyes rose to mine and watched for a second before the hand on my ribs moved up to cup the back of my neck. The other stayed gently resting on my cheek. “Well, if you insist,” he said with a cocky little grin before he pulled me toward him and his lips pressed down on mine.

It was soft, gentle, but it wasn't simply the promise of something
more.
It was consuming. It was strong, yet sweet and I felt it down to my toes, making them and everything in between feel tingly, making my soul feel lighter than it had in ages. My hands moved to rest on his shoulders for a moment before they went completely around the back of his neck, making our bodies meld together. My hips sank down and his hardness pressed up against my heat, but I didn't move against him, I didn't try to calm the pulsing desire there. All that mattered was the kiss, was the feeling of his lips on mine.

My mouth opened on a quiet sigh and his tongue slipped forward, tentatively toying with mine. It wasn't hesitation, like he was expecting me to pull away. It was teasing. It was him trying to get a response out of me no matter how softly he touched me, no matter how brief or light the touch. And it was...
working
.

His hand stroked down from my cheek to my neck, brushing gently over that sensitive skin and making a tremble vibrate through my body.

My hips stroked reflexively, making me break away from his lips as I felt his cock hit the sweet spot and a whimper escaped my lips.

Cash's eyes opened slowly, looking as heavy as mine felt. The hand at my neck started moving lower, over my clavicle, lower. His fingers brushed over my breast, his thumb stroking over my hardened nipple before his hand splayed and squeezed with just the right amount of pressure.

“You want this,” he said, taking my nipple between his two fingers and rolling it.

He was right. I wanted that. I wanted that and so, so much more. I wanted everything. And I wanted him to be the one to give it to me.

“Yes,” I said unnecessarily as he squeezed my nipple and had my hips dropped harder onto his, enjoying the pressure there.

“You gonna let me give it to you?”

Even not knowing what, exactly, he was asking, I felt my head nodding. “Yes.”

“That's what I wanted to hear,” he said with a small smile. His hand left my breast and moved downward, sliding down the center of my belly, getting to the triangle above my sex and pausing there, pressing hard for a moment before slipping suddenly downward and cupping my sex. I bit into my lip slightly, ignoring the pain in doing so, to stifle the groan that threatened to be loud enough to echo through his quiet house. His free hand moved upward and touched my lips as he pressed into my clit with his middle finger. “I want to hear you,” he said and my teeth released my lip. “Good girl.”

Normally, a man calling me a good girl, least of all a man
younger
than me, would be laughable, but when he did it, like with everything else he did, it was hot.

My hips shifted upward, giving him better access and he grunted in approval as his hand slid upward, slipping into the waistband of my panties and moving down to stroke through my wetness, letting it coat his fingers, his motions lazy and unhurried. I writhed into the sensation, the pressure becoming almost unbearable, inching toward the point of actual pain. Then, as if sensing the feelings creating chaos in my system, his finger pressed fully inside me. I felt myself tighten around him as I groaned, my hips moving against his hand, shamelessly seeking relief.

“You want more?”

“Yes,” I said, arching my ass back so the palm of his hand pressed against my clit. He let out a low groan that sent a shiver through my insides as he slid another finger inside me. “Oh, god yes...” I whimpered, my eyes closing, head falling back as he finally started thrusting in and out of me.

“I know you're trying to imagine this is my cock,” he said, curling his fingers inside of me, “but I want you to look at me.” My eyes opened slowly, feeling weighted as I focused on his face. “You'll get my cock, honey. But right now, be with me here.” His fingers stayed curled and started working over my G-spot, no longer soft, sweet, or slow, they were rapid and demanding and I felt my orgasm building quickly at the sudden change of pace. “So fucking tight,” he groaned, leaning up slightly to take my mouth again, his lips as insistent and wild as his fingers. If there was pain, I was beyond experiencing it as his kiss seared into me, branded me in a way I hadn't known was possible, in a way that I was sure when all was said and done between me and Cash, I would still feel his lips on mine when I was lying in bed alone at night.

My breath hitched, his thumb pressed into my clit, and my world went white with the blinding pleasure. I cried out my release into his mouth, my fingers digging painfully into his back as my legs tensed up through the waves of pulsations.

“Cash,” I gasped when I could draw a breath as the waves started to taper off, my body shuddering hard once.

“Fuck me,” he said, moving away so he could look at my face, his head shaking like he couldn't quite believe something. His hand moved up to rest on my cheek again as I struggled to get some semblance of control over myself.

That was intense. As in, I felt almost vulnerable from it, as in... I was almost a little teary-eyed and I needed to get it the fuck together. I was not, was absolutely not going to cry in front of him. No way. That would be humiliating. And, given the reading of my romance novel sex scene not long before, I was pretty sure I was at my mortification quotient for the day.

His fingers shifted upward slightly as if he could sense the battle I was fighting as if, oh fuck, he could see the water in my eyes.

I needed to get. it. together.

“You can take your fingers out of me now,” I said, trying for casual and being pretty sure I nailed it.

“What if I don't want to?” Cash teased, his lips twitching, but there was a depth in his eyes that I didn't trust.

“You're going to do it anyway,” I said, brows raising and I jerked my hips backward until his fingers slid away. He took his time removing his fingers from my panties. When he finally did, I slid off his lap, snatched my book where he left it on the arm of the chair, “If you don't mind, I am going to go finish myself off,” I said with what I could only call an unfriendly sneer. I couldn't be weak, not around Cash, not around any man. I needed to get alone and get myself calmed down. If that meant I needed to bruise his ego a little in the process, well, that was unfortunately just going to have to be alright with me.