Page 62 of For a Goode Time Call…
Conflicted—the war of emotions written in every line, angle, and curve of her lithe, athletic body. Run, stay, run, stay.
She ran.
And it fucking hurt.
I mean, I got it, to a degree, why she chose to run. But it fucking cut me open like a razor blade slicing open the tender inner skin of my wrist.
God. I could see how conflicted she was. Shit, the way she’d cried last night had been gut-wrenching to hear. She’d cried for so long, and for so many things. Cried herself hoarse, and empty. Cried herself to sleep. The pain in her leg was part of it—but I wasn’t sure how it fit in.
Dance, and the absence of it?
Lack of purpose, perhaps. She’d been a dancer her whole life, it had been her singular goal. To dance.
Now it was gone. She’d said so, and had made it clear she had no clue what the fuck she was going to do with her life.
So there was that.
Then there was us—the Cassie and Ink combo.
Such a beautiful thing, her and me.
The way we’d been together last night had been utterly glorious. We’d understood each other perfectly, without needing to be told.
She had fit around me as if the earth mother and sky father had formed us to be one, always.
God, the feel of her, bare around me, gasping, panting, needing, it was burned into my memory.
I still had a hard-on of utterly agonizing magnitude.
Despite my emotional turmoil, I let myself think of Cassie. She’d given me permission to do this, so I gave myself permission. Thought of her, last night. On her knees in front of me, ass lifted as I buried into her. Writhing, mewling as I pierced her, penetrating deep.
In my imagination, though, she begged me for more. Begged me to let go. To fuck her harder.
But I couldn’t even imagine that, and it somehow morphed into her mouth around me, like she’d done last night after I’d wrenched myself away from her. Unexpected, and incredible. Sudden wet hot suction around me, and I’d just lost it.
Thinking about this I came all over myself, gasping, the hard-on taken care of, but the need and the emotional ravaging no better. Worse, really.
I used Kleenex on the worst of the mess, clambered down the ladder and took a long shower. Thinking, wondering.
Should I let her go? Give her time to think? Go after her?
If I went after her, my need to talk things through would take over. I’d drag her truths out of her, and if Cassie hated anything, it was to have the things she’d kept buried dragged out of her. I think she was equal parts relieved and almost resentful for the way she’d broken down in my arms.
She’d needed it, but now that it was out, there was no putting it back.
Just like with me, and my sexuality.
It was loose, now.
There was no putting it back into the cage.
If I saw Cassie, I was worried I’d go feral. Become a caveman. Drag her back to my cave and fuck her senseless.
It wasn’t like me, this wild ravenous, possessive need. It was…almost abstract, a thing other than me. I’d cultivated this persona of untouchable reserve. Complete calm. Wisdom. Composure. Artistic expression, and being in touch emotionality. This other part, cut loose by Cassandra Goode, was all animal. Primal sexual drive. Mad need. Possessive male dominance.
It scared me.
Absolutely terrified me, if I was being honest. What was I supposed to do with it? How did I express it? I couldn’t let it loose. I couldn’t give in to it. Cassie wasn’t mine. She clearly didn’t want to be, judging by the way she’d left. Secretly, sneaking out.
