Ginger's Heart (a modern fairytale) (41 page)

“Cain,” she whispered, licking her lips and pursing them together.

“What, baby?” he purred. “What?”

“What if I’m no good at it?” she burst out, her voice a desperate whimper.

He straightened up, staring at her in confusion. “Wait,
what
?”

She gulped, standing up and putting her knuckles on the desktop as he had a moment ago. “What if it’s not good? What if . . .” She lowered her voice. “What if
I’m
not good?”

“At sex?” he clarified.

She nodded. “You’ve been with so many women. I mean, they all knew what they were doin’, and I’m just . . . I’m . . .”

“Oh, baby,” he sighed, moving quickly around the desk and pulling her into his arms. “You’ve been worryin’ about this? About . . . disappointin’ me?”

“I love you,” she whispered, her eyes wide and uncertain. “I want . . . I want it to be good for you. For us.”

He put his hand on the back of her head and guided it to his shoulder, then clenched his jaw, his eyes, trying to calm the raging feelings that the cage of his chest didn’t feel large enough to contain. She was worried she wouldn’t please him. Fuck. He didn’t deserve her.

“Princess, you know why tonight is goin’ to be good?”

“Why?” she asked, her voice small.

“Because you’re not the only one in uncharted territory.” He opened his eyes, looking at the blonde strands of her hair under his hand. “I’ve been with a lot of women, that’s true. But I’ve never
made love
to anyone.” She didn’t say anything. “And as far as I can tell, neither have you.” His heart pounded as if it belonged to some teenage kid following a girl down to her basement to make out for the first time. “Whatever happens tonight, it’s goin’ to be good because I love you. And because you love me. And it won’t just be havin’ sex. It’ll be a lot more’n that.”

She took a deep breath, her chest expanding, her breasts pushing into him, and he felt his blood race south to his cock.

“You know why else it’s goin’ to be good?” he growled.

“Why?” She was breathless now but more confident. His words were making sense to her, and it made him happy.

“Because you’re wet right now. And I’m hard.”

She gasped, turning her face toward his neck, her lips dragging against his skin. He swallowed, blinking his eyes, trying not to be pulled under by the sweetness of her touch.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he asked.

“Yes, y-you’re right,” she panted softly.

He slid his hand from her hair down her back to her hips, changing course to the waistband of her jeans and slipping one hand inside the front, under her panties, until he felt the soft, trimmed hair that covered her cunt. His palm lay flush against the hair, firmly covering her sex.

“And if I touched you . . . right there . . . right now . . . you’d come for me quick, darlin’.”

Her breath was shallow and ragged as she arched into him. “Y-yes. Yes, I would.”

He slipped his hand out of her jeans and took a step back, placing his other hand on her shoulder to steady her from lurching forward.

“Huh?” she whimpered, her eyes popping open, her mouth gaping.

“Tonight’s goin’ to be just fine,” he said. “Stop worryin’.”

Then he adjusted his pants, winked at her, and left the office.

***

Three hours later, sitting beside him in her car on the way to his place, Ginger couldn’t help wanting a little revenge for the way he’d left her hot and aching, though she couldn’t deny that he’d alleviated her worries. Or rather, he’d distracted her from them. Her body had been soaked and primed when he left her alone after teasing her, rotten bastard, and she’d had to go through the remainder of the workday so aroused, it almost hurt.

“I thought we could go to my place and order food,” he said. “I’m not much of a cook.”

She glanced at his profile.
Too handsome.
Gran was right.
But all hers.
Finally.

“That’s fine.”

In the backseat was her flowered duffel bag, packed with shorts and a T-shirt for sleeping, her sexiest underwear, two pairs of jeans, two blouses, a soft, off-the-shoulder sweater, and her favorite fuzzy socks. It had felt exciting, and a little naughty, packing a bag to stay at Cain’s place all weekend. And
right
. Oh, so right.

“You mad at me?” he asked. “About earlier?”

She sighed, staring straight ahead out the window. “It was a mean trick.”

“You still worried?”

She gave him side eyes, feeling ornery. “No.”

“Then, mission accomplished.” He chuckled softly and turned on the radio to country music. “And you better get your fill of me this weekend, darlin’, because I will not be around next weekend.”

She turned to him. “What? Where’re you goin’?”

Old insecurities about Cain leaving rose quickly to the surface, but she forced herself to stay calm.
He’s not runnin’. He’s not runnin’. He loves me. He doesn’t do that anymore.

“Reserves trainin’,” he said. “NOSC in Louisville, to be exact. I’m leavin’ on Wednesday. Back on Saturday night.”

“Oh,” she said, her shoulders relaxing. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t realize you were still . . .”

“In the service? Aw, I doubt they’ll deploy me again for a while, princess. But yeah, I’m goin’ to keep my foot in with the Reserves. I liked it.”

“You did, didn’t you?” she said, turning slightly to face him. “And it was good for you.”

He nodded. “Made me grow up. Learn how to be a better man.”

“You were never a bad man, Cain.”

“You were the only one who saw the good in me, once upon a time.” They stopped at a traffic light, and he turned to her. “You
always
saw the good in me, Gin.”

“There was always good to see,” she said.

He stepped on the gas when the light turned green. “Raisin’ hell down at the distillery? Screwin’ my way through high school? Drinkin’ until my momma called Woodman to come and find me? Breakin’ the heart of the sweetest girl I ever knew?” He shook his head. “I was no good. I was trouble, baby.”

“You weren’t a saint,” she agreed. “But you weren’t the devil either.”

He turned left, drove by a fountain, waved at the guard who raised a gate for them, and continued straight ahead, by rows and rows of lovely, landscaped, manicured townhouses in a posh, private community.

“
This
. . . this is where you live?”

He didn’t answer, but she watched his lips twitch as he suppressed a smile. They drove for a half mile or so, past a clubhouse, a pool, and tennis courts, before he turned right, down Nightingale Lane, stopping at number 12 and pulling into the driveway.

“Home, sweet home,” he said, cutting the engine and turning to grin at her.

“Cain!” she said, smiling back at him. “This is beautiful!”

He nodded. “I need to be honest with you. When I bought this place? The only person I was thinkin’ of was you. I wanted you to like it, to feel comfortable here. Somethin’ about it—aw, I don’t know—somethin’ about it sort of reminded me of McHuid’s, I guess.”

Her heart grew wings, fluttering in her chest as she processed his words. He’d bought this place for her, for
them
, knowing how much she would love it. She thought about him showing up at Gran’s two nights ago, about how he’d pulled her from the depths of despair when she’d been grieving Woodman, and suddenly she saw him through six-year-old eyes, remembering how his black hair shone in the sun when he was nine and he told her to jump into his arms.

And right now, part of her wanted to jump again—to launch her body across the seat, straddle his lap, and kiss him like the world was ending, but that would only delay what she
truly
wanted. She wanted
all
of him.

“Take me inside,” she said, her voice husky and low.

His eyes darkened. “My pleasure.”

He took the keys out of the ignition, walked around the car, and opened her door. Again, she kept herself from reaching for him, raking her teeth across her bottom lip in anticipation, and clasping her hands together so they’d behave.
We’re almost there.

He preceded her up the front walkway, unlocking the front door, then stepping back so she could go inside. She looked up at him as she crossed the threshold, stopping just for a moment.

“I love it here. I love everythin’ about it.”

He grinned. “I’m glad. I wanted you to—”

“I want to see the rest later. Right now, I want to see your bedroom,” she said, her eyes focused on his like lasers, her body dictating her words, her voice ragged and hot. “We’ve waited long enough, Cain. I want to be with you.”

His grin disappeared.

She took a step back as he followed her into the vestibule and kicked the door shut with the back of his foot.

The keys hit the floor at the same time he jerked her into his arms, his mouth slamming down on hers with such force, their teeth clashed, their bodies writhing to get closer, their breath shallow and rough as they reached for each other mindlessly. Turning her around, he backed her against the door, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, frantically sliding against hers as he pushed against her, his thick, hard erection pressing against her sex. She moaned, letting her head fall back, and felt Cain’s hands at the buttons of her shirt.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he panted, then ripped the two halves of the shirt apart, letting the buttons scatter all over his hardwood floor. “I can’t go slow.”

She scrambled for the front clasp of her bra, desperate to free her breasts for him, but he was faster, pushing the cups up and over her flesh and exposing two pebbled nipples. Her hands plunged into his short hair as he lowered his head and took one between his lips, sucking strongly as he rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger.

Whimpering from the sharpness of the sensation, she clawed at his skull, and he groaned, his teeth razing her nipple and making her cry out. Growling with impatience, his hands were suddenly cupping her ass, and he lifted her easily. She locked her ankles around his waist, clawing at the hem of his T-shirt as he strode through the house, to the stairs, ducking his head so that she could push his shirt over his head to bare his chest. The hard planes of his abs pushed into the softness of her breasts as he climbed the stairs, still nipping at her lips.

With one foot, he pushed open a door, and suddenly she was surrounded by Cain’s smell—man and motor oil, cut grass and fresh air. As her feet touched the floor, he reached for her shirt and bra, pulling them over her head, then doing the same with his shirt, which was caught on the back of his neck.

Both bare from the waist up now, he grabbed her again, pulling her on top of him as he fell back onto the bed.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Ginger sat up, straddling Cain, and smiled down at him.

“You are . . . the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” said Cain, pillowing his hands behind his head, his dimples deep and delighted.

She arched her back, cupping her breasts and pressing them together.

“Fuuuuck,” he growled. “And you are definitely goin’ to kill me tonight.”

“Not even,” she murmured, sliding experimentally over the swollen bulge in his jeans. She leaned toward him a little and placed her hands on his hips, tracing the V of muscle that disappeared into his pants. “You are beautiful too.”

He leaned up on his elbows. “What now?”

“You were my first kiss,” she said, dropping her fingers to the button of his jeans and twisting it open. “And my first love,” she said, pulling down the zipper.

She slipped her fingers into the waistband of his underwear and pulled both down at the same time, watching intently as she revealed his erection. His hair was jet black in coiled springs. His cock was huge and hard, twitching lightly like a bull ready to break out of its pen, with light blue veins bulging and twisting down its sides. She yanked again, and the ruby head sprang free, knobbed and throbbing.

Her eyes flicked to his for a moment—and she drowned in them a little as her hand slid around the base of his sex, her fingers clasping him firmly as they stared at each other. His eyes were wide and black, his nostrils flaring, his chest rising and lowering with panted breaths.

“Princess,” he groaned, his eyes pleading with her.

“So many firsts,” she murmured, lowering her head and slowly taking his entire length into her mouth.

He made a strangled sound from the back of his throat, and his hips lifted from the bed as she raised her head, dragging her lips back up over the taut pipe of flesh. Licking her lips, she took him deep again, her panties flooding from the sounds he made—deep, guttural moans of pleasure that made her feel like a goddess. She raked her teeth lightly against him as she raised her head. Swirling her tongue over the red knob of his head, she licked the pre-cum from his tip, then, without warning, took him deep again. Pumping the base of him with her hand, she fucked him with her mouth, reveling in the way his hands fisted in the sheets and his hips stayed lifted off the bed and elevated.