Page 3 of Cascade

Archer

WELL MY FORTUNES sure have changed since the start of the evening. I went from losing at axe throwing, confused fifth wheel at my sister’s elopement to…heading back to my place with an intriguing woman who seems Down To Fuck.

She’s quiet along the short walk to my house, nodding along as I act like a tour guide, which is great since she’s new in town and I get to babble so I don’t feel all awkward in the silence.

“Have you subscribed to theOak Creek Gazetteyet,” I ask, pointing at the small newspaper office along Main Street. My sister used to own a storefront next door before she expanded her business. Now, Diana’s old space has been taken over by something called an aerial silk studio. “I don’t even know what that means,” I say, scratching the stubble on my chin.

Opal smiles. “That’s like circus classes,” she says. “You know, people doing amazing tricks dangling from those silky ropes.”

“Hm. Circus classes in Oak Creek. Sounds about right.”

We both laugh and Opal says she’d like to check that out sometime. “I bet it’s a great workout.”

I’m about to give you a great workout,I think, and chuckle, proud that I didn’t blurt this thought out loud to my new lady-friend here. “Seriously, though, if you haven’t subscribed to theGazetteyet, you’re going to find yourself on Ed Hasting’s shit list. He’ll write a scathing editorial about how you hate puppies and—I don’t even know.”

“Sounds like the hard-hitting news we can all rely on,” Opal laughs.

We make it to my house and, flicking the light on in the kitchen, I’m relieved to see I didn’t leave the place looking like a total shambles this week. There’s a few dirty dishes in the sink and my running shorts are airing out on the coat tree, but it’s otherwise a perfectly respectable place to bring home a beautiful woman for random sex.

“Can I get you a drink,” I ask, gesturing for her to walk in. She starts to unbutton her coat—god, her long fingers are so sexy. I’ve never noticed a woman’s hands like this before—and shakes her head.

“I didn’t come here for that.” She lets the coat drop to the ground and I swallow slowly. I’m not used to this. My random hookups usually involve a lot of alcohol and other questionable decisions. That’s what I do. Questionable activities. Irresponsible choices. What’s one more hookup in a lifelong string of actions nobody brags about?

Opal drapes her arms around my neck and reaches up for a kiss. I taste the faint hint of whiskey on her lips, and I lose myself in the need pulsing through her body.

She kisses me, raw and hungry for something, and I’m going to try my damnedest to give it to her.

Her plump lips press against mine, and I forget why I was even feeling down earlier. I can feel so much heat—it radiates from her core, from her mouth, from her hips rocking against my groin. Opal’s fingers begin to fumble with my clothes and she squeals a bit in delight when she sees that my shirt has snaps, not buttons.

“Holy shit, this is hot,” she says, ripping open my shirt like I’mMagic Mikeor something. I cooperate as she eases the thermal undershirt up and over my head and then, bare from the waist up, I stand there while Opal takes me in. She steps back in my arms and gnaws on her lower lip, those electric green eyes drinking me up.

I’ve been working out hard this year. I know I look good. I give her one of my best grins and stroke her back gently with my thumbs, but then she leans in and damned if she doesn’t bite my nipple.

“What the—” I yell involuntarily. I can’t decide if that felt awful or fantastic. Maybe a little of each. But when she looks up at me, gnawing that lip again, her eyes playful, I know I’m in for a wilder ride than I anticipated.

“Oh, did I hurt you,” she pouts, playfully.

“A little,” I sigh, still surprised, and then she repeats her action, clamping down on the other nipple.

“Well what are you going to do about it,” she asks.

So that’s how this is going to be,I think, and then I growl at her. Opal is dressed in way too many layers, and I’m not gentle as I yank each of them off of her. I kneel in front of her on my kitchen floor and yank down her leggings and panties in one tug so she’s fully exposed for me.

Her body is magnificent. She is all curves and softness, from her pendulous breasts to the lovely globes of her ass that I knead in each hand, reveling in the feel as my fingers sink into her skin. Dragging my hands around to her nipples, I pinch them and meet her hooded gaze. “You want me to punish you, Opal? Is that what you need?”

She nods. “I think so, yes.” And then she gasps at the crack of my palm on her bare ass.

Rising to my feet, I pick her up and fling her over one shoulder, delivering another smack with my free hand for good measure.

“You got it, Precious,” I grunt as I walk up the stairs to my room. Opal digs her nails into the skin of my back as I carry her and I toss her down on my bed.

She giggles and tries to crawl away from me until I grab her ankles and yank her to the foot of the mattress. She’s spread open, face down, that fantastic ass right where I can see it. And since she seems to like it so much, I decide to smack it again, massaging her right afterwards, letting my fingers trail into her slick folds. “You like that, don’t you, Precious,” I purr. And then, quid pro quo and all that, I bite her ass cheek and she falls to pieces.

CHAPTER FOUR

Opal

I HAVE NO idea what is going on here or what got into me, biting Archer Crawford’s nipples like that. From the minute I downed that shot—no. From the moment he sat down next to me, I’ve been controlled by some sort of external force. Witchcraft.

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