Coming Clean (9 page)

“And you accepted that?”

I cocked my head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that's not the Cassidy Whalen I know. See,
my
good friend Cassidy is fierce. Fierce enough to put a bunch of spoiled athletes in their place. Fierce enough to schmooze a whole room full of I-know-better-than-everyone-else suits. Fierce enough to be a top player in a male-dominated field….Fierce enough to bring a man like Shaw Matthews to his fucking knees.” He shook his head. “Maybe this whole motherhood thing has made you go soft.
Maybe
you need to get off the goddamn bench and get your ass back in the game, make some plays, score some points…and bring home the win. Though maybe you've forgotten how to win. Or is it that you just don't want it bad enough?”

My teddy bear image of Chaz Michaels had just taken up a clipboard and whistle while wearing too-short shorts, a polo shirt with pit stains, and a ball cap with some any-team logo all over the place. He might as well have been in my grill with a red face and spittle flying everywhere, and I half-expected him to order me to take a lap in full, padded uniform.

“Of course I want it. That's why I insisted on the counseling in the first place.” I was well aware of how frustrated I sounded, though it was more at the situation than my friend. “And, um,” I started fiddling with my fingers, “now we have to go see a sex therapist.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my body going tense and bracing for another WTF moment.

“Hey, hey, now!” I heard Chaz say, his voice full of approval. When I opened my eyes, I found him with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Now, that sounds like it might be aaalll riiight.”

Funny, Shaw had had the same sort of reaction.

“Really?”

“Oh, hell yeah! That's guaranteed sex, girl! Prescribed by a professional, even! That lucky bastard!” Chaz sat his beer bottle down a little harder than I was sure he meant to. Not because he was angry but because he seemed to be genuinely envious of Shaw.

“But you,” he said, wagging a finger at me. “You gotta take some control or lose it altogether.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…you want something, so go get it.”

I guffawed. “I can't rape him.”

“Trust me, honey, you can't rape the willing. And men are
always
willing,” he said with a wink as he took another drink of beer.

“I seriously doubt he's going to be willing after what I said today.”

“Again, he's a man. Believe me, his little buddy is going to show up and out, whether he's in the mood or not. And maybe he won't get off, but then again, how long has it been since you have?”

“Chaz, I can't believe you're suggesting I take advantage of your best friend!”

“That's right! He
is
my best friend, so I know him better than you think I do. He'd give you anything you wanted, and you wouldn't even need to ask because it's there for the taking. Trust me on this.” He looked across at the bar filling with customers, then down at his watch. “Oh, shit! Sorry, Cass, but I gotta get back to work.”

“Oh, no, yeah. Go ahead,” I said, shooing him away.

Chaz stood, grabbing his empty bottle and nodding toward my mug. “You want another one?”

I shook my head. “I think I'm going to head home now.”

“Sure thing,” he said. “I'm really glad you came in today, Cass. We've missed you around here.”

“Yeah, I've missed you, too,” I said, smiling up at him. “Oh, hey, look,” I added, keeping him from leaving. “If Shaw knew I'd told you about any of this…”

The rest was understood. “Nah, don't worry about it, kid. I'm Switzerland, remember? This conversation never happened.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem, chica. Now go home and take a page out of my woman's book,” he said with a wink. As he turned toward the bar, he shouted a “Hey, yo! Who needs what?”

I really loved the big lug. And maybe, just maybe, I should follow his advice.

By the time I got home, I found Shaw's sedan in his assigned parking spot. Though I was nervous about facing him, I was even more relieved that he'd decided to come home at all. He'd been pretty mad when I'd left him in the garage. No doubt, he was wondering where I'd been. Not that he'd called to check up on me or anything. He was probably just glad to have had his “fucking moment,” per his earlier request. Before, I might have been worried I was about to interrupt said moment, thereby exacerbating his mood even more, but I had a little liquid courage working through my system and had therefore decided his moment was up. So I squared my shoulders and made the trek inside and up to our apartment.

The door was unlocked when I got there, which was always dangerous, in my book, but…He Shaw. He man. He big and bad and bulletproof. Apparently.

Wow, that one beer really had given me a buzz.

However, I sobered almost immediately the moment I opened the door and saw what was playing out on the other side.

Shaw was sitting on the couch with his pants pushed down to his calves while fisting his cock.

“What are you doing?” I squeaked, hurriedly shutting the door behind me before a neighbor strolled by and got an eyeful. And believe me, it would have been an eye
very
full.

“You want to fuck, right?” Shaw stroked his cock with exaggerated movements, his thumb sweeping over the head on the upstroke before pushing all the way back down to the base to repeat the action with a tight squeeze.

Christ Almighty. All I could do was stand there, stunned. Or was I mesmerized?

“Here's your chance. Come here,” he said, insistently waving me over. “If I'm not doing a good enough job of getting you off, then you're going to use my body to do it yourself.”

When I said nothing and just continued to stare wide-eyed at him, he leveled me with a look that was every bit as menacing as the tone in his voice. His next words abruptly shook me from my stupor. “Take your fucking pants off and ride my fucking dick, Cassidy.” It was a direct order.

Like that was a turn-on?

And then something occurred to me. It was definitely a turn-on. But I wondered, if he was so angry at me, how was this situation even possible? “You're hard?”

I'd figured if anything would throw the ice bucket on a man's sex drive, his girl admitting she was faking her orgasms would be it. Again, that hadn't at all been my intention.

“Of course, I am. Your smart mouth has that effect on me. Always has.” He stopped masturbating, putting his hands on his hips, all business. Though it got zero assistance from Shaw, his cock still jutted proudly from his crotch like the flag being raised at Iwo Jima. “So are we doing this or what?”

Yes, we were definitely doing this. Shaw had a very important lesson to learn, and I was just the person to teach it to him. Plus, my panties were positively drenched at the thought of him being so hard for me,
seeing
him so hard for me.

In a matter of seconds, I'd gotten my inner Demi on, had stepped free of my leggings—the ones that used to turn him on—and had straddled his lap. I'd left my shirt in place because Shaw wasn't going to do anything about my breasts anyway. And then I took his thick cock in my hand, guiding it to my entrance, not needing any help in the least from my very surly assistant.

This wasn't about making love. This was about me finally getting what I wanted, for a change. Even if I had to do it myself. So I did.

Sinking down onto his cock, I took him all the way. Every…single…inch. It didn't matter how many times he'd been inside me, it had never stopped being a tight fit, one that had always made me feel powerful just for being able to accomplish the task. With no care at all as to how he might want me to ride him, I found my own stroke and was on the way toward Happy-Happy, Joy-Joy Land.

Sure, I could've closed my eyes and fantasized about any other man—Jensen Ackles, Scott Eastwood, or Adam Levine would've done nicely—but I didn't. I didn't because the thing that was shoving me toward what was shaping up to be the most intense orgasm I'd had lately was looking down at this man who had been denying me and taking it from him anyway.

Mine
.

I rocked back and forth with deliberate motions and an exaggerated roll of my hips. Again, not for his pleasure, but mine. And you bet your sweet ass, I knew what I was doing was driving him insane, knew everything this man liked and didn't, and I used it all to my advantage. Not only would I have my pleasure, but I'd also make damn sure he'd remember who could give him his.

Digging my nails into his shoulders, I met his challenging glare and rode him harder, quickening my pace and letting the mental and physical sensations of the moment carry me away. I caught the furrow of his brow, the tell that he was nearing an orgasm, too. Nope. Not going to happen. He knew it. I could see it in his eyes. He knew I had no intention of letting him get his rocks off. And that pissed him off, good and proper.

Thank you, Shaw, for making this even more interesting for me
. Giving him a knowing smirk—made famous by my fierce competitor—I acknowledged my intent. The race was on, both of us sprinting toward the finish line.

Reaching between us, I spread the folds of my pussy to expose my clit more fully and to take advantage of the friction my grinding against his groin was serving up. That was the edge I'd needed. Bearing down, I came hard, pinning him in my sights for the kill. As my orgasm surged, Shaw tried to take over, but I swatted his hands away, denying the mutiny. Once the pleasure began to ebb, I didn't risk the chance Shaw would follow suit, quickly dismounting on wobbly knees and doing my best to get my breathing under control.

“What are you doing?” Shaw's cock was still raging hard, bobbing and slick with my orgasm. “I'm not done.”

“But I am,” I told him, going for my leggings. “And now you know how it feels to be left hanging.”

“Fuck that,” he said, the words rough and grated. I'd only managed to stab one leg into my leggings before Shaw reached out and grabbed me, his big hands lifting me up by the waist and hoisting me into the air. I landed with a thud back on the couch, the air whooshing out of my lungs and nearly vacating them entirely.

Shaw was between my thighs, his face buried against my neck and his shoulders taking the assist in pinning me down. With both hands full of my ass, he'd effectively secured me in place. And then he pushed into me. Entirely. His hips pistoned, thrusting into me with hard, fast, shallow pumps while he grunted against my skin.

Shaw was fucking me, and by God, there was
finally
some show of emotion while he was doing so. Anger, frustration, determination—not the emotions I truly wanted, but he was animated, and that made me feel alive.

With four hard thrusts, he came, growling in my ear as his final feral roar vibrated against my chest. I wanted to come all over again, but the tool attached to my partner was spent. Our labored breaths were the only sounds left after that.

Shaw didn't hold me to him. He didn't pepper my skin with light kisses, and he didn't whisper terms of endearment or promises of change. He didn't do any of that. In fact, he didn't linger at all.

Quickly climbing off me, he stood, yanking his pants up, and then working the zipper and button without a single word.

This was the man I'd chosen to spend the rest of my life with, the man who'd fathered my only child, the man I'd allowed to bask in the career I'd always wanted for myself while raising said child. I'd thought he was absent before, but now? Now he was standing right in front of me, but I couldn't sense his presence at all.

Mad that he'd taken something I'd tried to deny, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Do you feel better now?”

“I'm sure
you
do,” he grated out.

“I absolutely do.” Sitting upright, I finished the job of putting on my leggings that I'd started earlier. “But you didn't answer my question. How do you feel now?”

Working his belt through its buckle and then securing the leftover with the loop on his pants, he stopped and put his hands on his hips. Still without sparing me a glance, he said, “A real man
always
tends to his woman's needs before his own. Mere moments ago, I found out that, apparently, I haven't
been
much of a man lately.” He paused with an incredulous shake of his head as his eyes finally met mine. “You emasculated me in front of a total fucking stranger, Cassidy. How the
fuck
do you think I feel?”

God, he looked so disconnected, lost. No, not lost. Abandoned.

I could empathize. But I couldn't make all of that go away even if I'd wanted to. Why should I when he'd never deigned to do the same for me? Maybe he hadn't known how he'd made me feel, but ignorance was no excuse when it came to matters of the heart.

With tears filling my eyes, I dealt another blow on the day. “The same way I feel when you look at me like the only purpose I serve is to be a mother to your child. The same way I feel when every time you touch me, it's out of habit, like some sense of duty or a simple chore that has to be done. The same way I feel,” I choked back a sob, “when you feel nothing at all.”

His head fell back and he gazed at the ceiling. “If you really believe that…if you really think I feel nothing at all for you, then why are you still here?”

I stood, going up to him and putting my hands on either side of his face to force him to see me. “For all my life, I've only ever had one weakness: you, Shaw. I'm still here because I can't
be
anywhere without you.”

Releasing him, I took a step back, surprised by my own confession. Once upon a time, I'd thought this man had made me stronger, pushed me harder, and challenged me to be so much more than what I was. And now? Now he was no longer my motivator but had instead become that by which I defined myself.