Page 65 of Final Serenade

A ragged hiss left his mouth. His fingers dug into my skin. “Fuck.”

“Is that all you’ve got? The man who writes songs for a living? Is that your dirty word?”

“My songs aren’t usually about fucking, Cassy.” He laughed deeply.

I sank lower, taking him all the way in with my knees against the leather upholstery of the couch. “Do you like that, Frank?”

“Yes. I do.” He nodded. His eyes roamed my face, then dropped to my breasts. I still had my top and my bra on. “Keep going, baby.”

I lifted my hips and slid down his cock again, this time a little faster. “Like this?”

“Yes. Deeper. Fill it up, baby.”

“I’m the one who’s in charge.” I moaned, rocking against him.

“And I’m the one who made you this wet.” He pulled down my top and reached for my breasts, taking them into his mouth one by one. His tongue swirled around my nipples, teasing me, as feverish whispers skated across my puckered skin.

We were a lustful mayhem. An exchange of filthy words and requests. Our bodies and breaths in synch, our lips scorched and bruised. I was floating, my sex raw and swollen, welcoming each thrust with eagerness.

Frank found my sweet spot and worked it until I came. Once. Twice. The ride was magnificent. I fell on his chest, my throat sandpaper dry and my lungs out of air.

“Cassy,” his ragged voice called.

“I’m not done yet,” I mumbled deliriously, pushing myself up. My insides throbbed with want and needed more. Needed another orgasm.

His fingers locked around my wrist.

“Oh… I’m sorry. Is it sore?”

“Yes.” He removed my hand from his right shoulder and placed it on the arm of the chair. “You’re going to fuck me to death, doll.”

“We definitely don’t want that.” I shook my head and gave him a devious smile. “How does near-death sound instead?”

“I could probably handle that.” He was still inside me. Hard and insatiable. Pulsing and ready to move back into action. His palms skimmed over my waist. “Now where were we?”

“We were trying to get you to come.”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, let’s get to it then.”

We spent our entire Saturday having sex, eating expensive food, and watching reruns ofFriends. Apparently, it was Frank’s favorite TV show.What do you know? Hewashuman.

I called Ashton twice to make sure my apartment hadn’t been ruined in my absence. Once in the morning and again in the late afternoon. The loud music in the background threw me off. Of course, my initial thought was the asshole had invited his friends over.

“Red Hot Chili Peppers research, duh?” my brother said when I asked him what was going on. “‘Walkabout.’”

“One Hot Minute.” I plugged in the name of the album.

“Yep. Not digging it, though. Kinda boring.”

“It’ll grow on you, buddy. Just keep going. That’s the price you pay for being aRewiredintern.”

I heard Frank’s laughter drifting over from across the room. He stood in front of the window overlooking the snowy mountain range, stretching. His shoulder was still aching after my airplane assault.

“You don’t have to check on him every three hours, Cassy,” he said as soon as I hung up.

“Trust me, I do.” I was tempted to skim through my emails while my phone was in my hands, but Frank was very vocal about electronic devices. Unless they were sex toys, they were forbidden during our retreat.

“He’s a good kid.”

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