I blinked a couple of times, attempting to force coherent thought back into the front of my mind. "You got me something? You weren't exactly on vacation, Cass."
His only response was a low, throaty laugh as he kissed his way down my body and mouthed my clit. As soon as his tongue found that tight cluster of nerves, all questions about what he wanted to give me flew from my brain. My thighs tightened around his face, and I moaned as he worked me over like he'd memorized a map of my vagina.
He pushed two fingers into me, fucking me with his hand as well as his mouth. It made me come way too damn easily as I rode his face and groaned curses, which only seemed to amuse him further.
Cass waited until the waves of my orgasm subsided, then flipped me over onto my belly in one smooth motion. Nudging my legs apart, he leaned over to grab something out from under one of the pillows.
"What—" I started to turn and look, but he pushed my face back into the pillow with a firm yet joking movement. "Cass!"
"Shhh, Angel," he rumbled. "Humor me."
How could I argue with a simple request like that? Especially when he coaxed me up onto my knees and stroked his fingers back into my still throbbing cunt from behind. Shit, he knew just where to touch me to spark more arousal heating through my pussy too.
Then he was rubbing wet circles over my backdoor while I squirmed on the fingers of his other hand, and I got the flash of insight that he'd had lube stashed under my pillow.
"Cass..." I groaned his name as he pushed one finger inside.
"Shh, Angel," he breathed, his fingers still stroking in and out of my cunt with lazy movements, dividing my attention away from the finger in my ass. I had nothing else to say, though, because I was fully on board with whatever the fuck he had in mind. Hell, he probably could have tied me up in shibari ropes and hung me from the ceiling and I'd have just asked for more. I was that addicted to Cassiel Saint.
He used his fingers to spread the lube, making my breathing sharpen and my heart race with every touch, then I stiffened when his fingers were replaced by something larger.
Not his cock, not that large. But something definitely not his fingers.
"Relax, Angel," he urged, his own breathing rough. "Trust me."
Jesus fucking Christ, magic words. Letting my breath out with a shaky exhale, I forced my body to relax and followed his husky instructions as he worked the toy into my ass. I wasn't an anal virgin by any means, but it'd been a while and it'd never been my favorite thing in the bedroom. Cass was all about flipping what I knew on its head, though, because by the time he was satisfied with the toy’s placement, I was a writhing, squirming mess.
"Now what?" I moaned as he patted my ass cheek in satisfaction.
He gave a huff of laughter. "What do you want, Angel?"
My shoulders tightened, and I swallowed hard. "I want you to do whatever the fuck you want, Saint. You're calling the shots here, not me."
He didn't respond for a moment, his palm caressing my butt cheek tenderly. Then his hand cracked down across my flesh, making me yelp.
"Right answer," he growled, then slammed his thick cock into my already soaking core with one hard thrust, making me scream with pleasure. The combination of his cock in my pussy, the toy in my ass—I wasn't a fucking idiot. I knew damn well what he was preparing me for, and I was mentally going on the record to say I was one hundred and fifty percent keen on it.
Like Lucas had said. Sometimes it just took good memories, good experiences to override the bad. Well... that and a shitload of therapy done via cold-blooded, violent murders. But I wasn't recommending my methods to anyone but me.
Cass leaned forward, gathering up a handful of my hair, and pulled my head to an awkward angle as he fucked me ferociously. Every thrust saw his hips smacking into my ass, jolting the plug and making shockwaves of sensation ripple through me. When I came again, it was intense enough that I blacked out slightly.
Then he flipped me over and drove back into me before my orgasm had even finished. My leg flexed like a gymnast’s under his hands,