Page 57 of Heartless

Not that Cassian needs me to.

Before I can register what’s happening, he’s the one on the bench and he has me straddling his thighs. Both of us are soaked from the shower, and I’m panting as he drags me down.

“Cass—” I begin, but he doesn’t need my input. He easily lines himself up, and when he tugs me down again, it’s so I can sink down onto his cock. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop maneuvering me until I’m fully seated on his lap and feeling a little stupid from how perfectly he’s filling me up. Then he moves, rolling his hips upward once to get a feel for it.

After that, all I can do is bury my face in his shoulder and try not to be soloudwhile he fucks me. It’s a losing battle, though. Especially with the way he’s nipping and biting at any part of myneck or shoulder that he can reach and his hands are gripping me like he never intends to let go.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect for me, aren’t you Winnie?” His voice is strained, breaths coming fast, just like mine.

“Y-you should prove it then,” I tell him, reaching up to twine my arms around his neck and drag his face down to mine. With my eyes wide, I can barely make out the glint of his in the darkness, and a particularly sharp roll of his hips makes me whine.

“How?”

“Come formethis time,” I murmur. “Please, Cass? Just like this?”

“Just like this,” he agrees without hesitation, and I can feel the intent, the new fervor in his movements as he fucks me. He doesn’t last long, and I don’t expect him to. With a snarled curse and a nip to my throat, he comes, dragging me down and holding me as tightly against him as he can while I pant and watch his face to see the myriad of emotions there.

God, he really is perfect.

When he finally shifts, it's only to relax his hold on me, though he doesn’t let me move. Instead, he opens his eyes and leans forward, lips finding mine easily. “Perfect,” he purrs again, reaching out and grabbing the shower head. He lifts it, letting the water trail over my hair and shoulders, causing me to squirm on his lap.

“You only say that when you don’t think I’m a brat,” I point out, my arms still over his shoulders. “So I’m not sure I believe you mean it.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, and grabs the shampoo and conditioner from the shelf above us, still not letting me go anywhere. “Then the next time I have you over my lap and I’m spanking your pretty ass until you cry, I’ll remind you then how perfect you arewith tears running down your face too. Now tilt your head so I can wash your hair, princess.”

Chapter

Twenty-Four

My phone going off isn’t exactly how I want to wake up. With my nose smooshed against Cass’s shoulder, I take a deep breath of his scent; the lingering aroma of his cologne is a welcome warmth in my nose. In that moment, I decide to ignore my phone, figuring there’s only a few seconds left of it going off, anyway.

Thankfully, I’m right. My phone goes silent and I let out a breath against Cass’s skin, relieved it didn’t wake him up.

Until it starts going off again.

The moment Cass’s breathing changes, I sit up just enough to snatch my phone off the nightstand, glaring down at it. I should’ve guessed before now that it would be Reagan, because my mother doesn’t love me, and Lou has the manners to just leave a damn message if I don’t pick up at seven forty-two am.

But not Reagan, who may have learned her social graces from emotionally stunted baboons.

Just before it goes to voicemail again, I slide my thumb across the screen and flop back down onto the bed beside Cass with a sighed, “Hello?” My tone makes it clear I’m not particularly amused or thrilled about her call, and I’m not surprised when she greets me with apologies.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, Winnie.” To her credit, Reagan really does sound regretful and guilty. “I know it’s early as hell. But I have a babysitting job booked for tonight, and I have to cancel on them. I have strep and the girl I’m supposed to babysit gets sick so easily.”She rambles for a couple minutes, while I just gaze up at the ceiling and listen to the cats run around in the hallway like they’re on meth.

“Could you take the job for me?”she finally asks, wrapping up her rant. “It’s just for a few hours. Her parents are going out on a date and they won’t be long. I feel like shit,and I don’t want them to have to cancel when they’ve been planning this for weeks.”There she goes again, and I finally take a breath and open my mouth, prepared to argue with her.

“Reagan, come on. It’s Halloween. I know that sucks and everything, but I have plans.” I don’t exactly have plans, since I refuse to treat today like a holiday. Although… Turning to look at Cassian, I suddenly feel like—for the first time in years—October isn’t as bleak and shitty as it has been for the last decade or so.

Because right now I really don’t care that my mom is as far away from me as she can manage. I don’t care that I’m here without any other family in this too-big house that looks like something out ofBetter Homes and Gardensmagazine with all the charm and none of the personality I crave.

With a jolt, I realize he’s awake and staring at me. Cass’s head is tilted just enough to watch me while maintaining the stillness he’s so good at.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Seriously, if it was any other family I wouldn’t even ask. Is there any way you could do it? Please? Three hours max, okay?”I don’t know if I’ve ever heard her this desperate, or this close to crying. Not since she was a kid, at least, demanding her parents let me stay the night so we could watch movies and have a real sleepover.

“What time?” I see the hint of a frown on Cass’s face and grimace at him. He doesn’t understand how sad and pathetic Reagan sounds right now. If he had a heart, he wouldn’t be able to say no either.

“Eight to eleven. That’s all, just three hours and then her parents will be home.”There’s a rush of relief in her voice, and she lets out a heavy breath. “God, I’m so sorry. Will you do it for me? Please? I’ll owe you so hard.”

“Next time Lou wants a babysitter last minute and Scott’s in a mood, I’m making you do it. And I get paid for this tonight, not you. Plus, you owe me coffee. Not shitty coffee, either. The good stuff from the other end of town.” I really don’t want to babysit, but I really don’t have much of a choice. At least, it certainly feels like I don’t.

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