47 - The Book of Cassidy

Jon quietly closed the door and turned to find Cassidy waiting in the suite’s living room.  Her arms crossed over her waist and a faintly crooked smile underscored cheeks that were more vibrantly rosy than usual.   Copper hair was windblown from the walk back to the hotel and the cocktails she’d been drinking softly glazed her baby blues.

“Well, hello there Mr. NFL Owner,” she ever-so-slightly slurred the seductive greeting. 

“Well, hello there, Ms. Jackie Daniels,” Jon returned the greeting as she sashayed close to rub against him like a cat and loop both arms around his neck.  Catching a whiff of the whiskey-laden drinks she’d enjoyed before, during and after dinner, he questioned, “Or is that Jimmi Beam?” 

“Pickled Georgia Dickel.”

His own fermented grape buzz was enough to make that remark outstandingly witty and his head fell back with a short bark of laughter.  

Damn she’s cute when she’s drunk. 

In reality, she probably didn’t deserve a label as harsh as “drunk”.  She’d had four of those sweet-and-sour-mash drinks of hers, not fourteen, so maybe tipsy was fairer.  She had nearly tipsy-ed off her high heels when emerging from that revolving door onto the street, but he’d caught her just before she hit the pavement.

Her smile of gratitude had been one of the sweetest he ever received, and the desire in her eyes was so blatant that there was a moment when he worried she might kiss him right there in front of God and Nashville.  Fortunately, she’d done nothing more than brush a haphazard pat against his cheek and plant high-heeled feet firmly on the concrete.  A quick hike of her purse up onto her shoulder and she was walking a semi-straight line back toward the Omni, with him trailing a few steps behind until he’d stopped in the liquor store and let her finish the trek on her own.

Where else would he be other than a few steps behind?  It offered the best view of her ass and he’d had enough wine to appreciate the view more than he should in public. 

Still chuckling, he reached out to carefully set the newly purchased bottle of wine on the nearest table, and then settled his forearms on her hips to knot lazy fingers in the dip of her spine. 

“You’re pretty fuckin’ cute as a lush.”

“You’re pretty damn cute all the time,” she returned before burying her nose in his neck and sneaking hands between them to work at the buttons of his white shirt.  “And you smell like sex on a stick.”

Unfiltered compliments from Cassidy were worth a thousand of the contrived ones he heard on a regular basis.  She didn’t overdo it and, when she chose to deliver one, it carried an impact. 

“Booze makes my Dixie horny,” he noted, grasping her jaw to sample the sweet whiskey that still coated her tongue.  “Good to know.”

“Honey.”  Her tongue slipped back out to swipe over his bottom lip and an electric shock shot straight to his dick.  “You make me horny.  Sex gets rid of that awful friggin’ cloud that hangs over you, and it excites me to be able to do that.  You look so much prettier when you’re happy.”

Voracious kisses skittered down his sternum when the last button came undone and he sifted thoughtful hands through her hair.  Both felt good enough that Jon let his eyes drift shut for a moment. 

“Fucking me is a good Samaritan act.  Fabulous.”

“Wouldn’t exactly call it mission work.”  Hot breath rustled the hair around his belly button.  “But it’s Heavenly.  Have I mentioned how much I admire this belt?”

Cracking his eyes open, he glanced down to find that she was on her knees and sensually stroking the belt leather between her thumb and forefinger.  He almost believed she could bring herself to orgasm just by fondling the damn thing.

“You may have mentioned,” he drawled.  “If you’d been a good girl tonight I would tie you up with it, but you weren’t a good girl.”

Copper locks flowed down the back of her sapphire blouse when she tipped up an adorably belligerent face.  “I was too.”

“No, baby.”  Jon slid the belt out of her grasp, pulling it free from his jeans and tossing it toward the sofa.  “You practically jumped me at the fucking dinner table.  That’s not how business associates behave.”

She blew a soft raspberry and applied nimble fingers to the button-fly denim that was becoming uncomfortably tight. 

“Hogwash.  My enthusiasm was perfectly acceptable considerin’ the conversation.  You’re the one bein’ a weirdo by not showin’ any excitement about your dream comin’ true.”

The prospect of being an NFL owner had been in the back of his mind for years, giving him plenty of opportunity to play this very scenario through a million times.  He’d reviewed it from every possible angle, evaluating the most efficient response to an offer such as this.  As a result, Jon had a detailed awareness of what the next steps were; it was simply a matter of taking them. 

He was focused on what needed to be done and, until everything was accomplished, there would be no excitement for his new acquisition.

What did excite him, though, was Cassidy’s reaction to the whole deal. 

She had instantly filled with a buoyant enthusiasm at Clay’s offer and was excited for Jon in a way that was unfamiliar to him.  He was so indoctrinated to Dorothea’s distantly polite interest that Cassidy’s genuine delight was overwhelming – in a good way.  It had created a little bit of a warm, fuzzy feeling when she slid into the seat next to him and snaked her arm around for a hug.

Warm and fuzzy was nice, but it was not in keeping with the game plan.

“Any excitement I have is directly related to the beautiful woman on her knees in front of me.”  One condemning eyebrow kicked upward.  “But I might have to set it aside, seeing as you violated the business-only rule.”

A noticeable shadow swept through her eyes, but she parted placket of his jeans and extracted his dick with nothing more than a mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Oh Chrisssst.”  Jon sucked air when plump lips parted to draw him in, inviting him to ignore the shadow he’d just seen.  The way her tongue swirled around the tip of his dick practically demanded that he disregard his intuition that something wasn’t quite right, yet he couldn’t seem to.  “I saw that look on your face.  Something’s up.  Tell me.”

Rosy lips were glossy when she allowed his hardness to slip free and continued to pleasure/distract with a firm, pumping fist.  “Pretty obvious what’s up from where I am.”  

Her smile went full-tilt, alerting Jon that she was trying to sidetrack him with sexuality and charm.  It was a noble effort and, if those vivid blue irises of hers had shone with the same intensity as the even white teeth, then he may have bought into it.  Instead, her eyes were shaded with unease and it bugged him.

Jon didn’t stop her from molesting his package, but he fought like hell not to enjoy it. 

“Babe.  You’ve shown me your ID and the family fortune.  I’ve bared most of my ugly soul.  Haven’t we moved past bullshit secrets?”

“It’s not a secret, just a damper I don’t wanna put on this celebration.”

He locked his fingers around her wrist, stilling its motion even when it was the last thing he wanted to do.  “Take two seconds to tell me and the celebration moves on.”

“You got somethin’ against oral sex?” she petulantly huffed.  “Seems like you’re always interruptin’ me.”

He had nothing – nothing – against a blowjob, but Cassidy was acting odd in a non-drunk way. 

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

 “Fine,” she grumped, backing away and tottering on her high heels when she rose.  She toppled precariously enough that Jon felt obliged to steady her by the waist.

“Take the shoes off before you break an ankle.”  His command was obeyed with only a slight roll of the eyes and, once she was flat-footed on the carpet, he instructed, “Now tell me.”

Cassidy’s nose crinkled with distaste.  “My cousin was at the restaurant tonight.  I was trying to be inconspicuous about putting my back to the room so he wouldn’t see me, so I hugged you.  That’s all.”

“Is this the cousin that’s pissed over your inheritance?”

“One and the same.”

Jon’s hackles rose.

“Did he see you?  What the hell is he doing in Nashville?”  he demanded, his grip on her waist tightening as he went into protector mode.

She groaned with frustration and smoothed open palms over his chest.  “I’ll drop the f-bomb a coupla times if you’ll drop this topic.”

Why was she being so blasé about this?  It didn’t make sense to him.

“As tempting as that is…”  Jon locked up her wrists to quell a vigilant exploration that was headed below the waistline.  “…I’d rather know why you’re not upset.  I mean, you were worried enough about him and his father to run off and assume a new identity.”

Bare feet left her a good eight inches shorter than he stood, and she tipped her head back to slowly blink into his face.  “I’m not upset because he probably didn’t see me and might not recognize me if he had.  Because I believe good things happen to good people and I am a good person.  Because I pray about it often and because workin’ myself into a lather doesn’t accomplish anything other than workin’ myself into a lather.” 

I just got schooled for being a fucking worrywart. 

Jon shook his head and allowed one side of his mouth to curl with amusement.  “You’re unlike anybody I’ve ever met.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”  This time the drawl wasn’t a tipsy slur but a show of disdainful sarcasm.  “Most folks don’t mean it as a compliment.”

He did.  Jon envied her flawlessly simple logic, the way she lived her life without reservation or apology and the control she had over her emotions.  Stereotypical irrational female behavior wasn’t in Cassidy’s repertoire and, even if there came a time when he didn’t agree with her views, he would doubtlessly still acknowledge she had a solid reason for them.

It brought him to another new chapter in the story of his relationship with Cassidy.

Chapter One was entitled “Want” or “Lust”.  He wouldn’t turn his hand for the difference between the two.  They were basically synonymous and either one described the feeling that had haunted him until he bedded her.

Chapter Two was “Need”, and it was where the storyline began gaining complexity.  His mental stability entered into the plot when he decided she was the key to his writing ability and his happiness.  It leaned toward a sci-fi fantasy genre rather than non-fiction, but so be it. 

Chapter Three was a bigger chapter but straightforward, and it bore the label “Like”.  He liked who she was, her devotion to her family, the way she interacted with those around her and how she didn’t let life define her.  Cassidy wasn’t a victim, she was the creator of her own destiny, much like he was.  Usually.

Chapter Four had yet to be titled due to the complexity of its nature and their agreement to not name feelings, but it was deeper than the “Like” chapter.  It also ran concurrently with the new chapter – “Respect”. 

Of all those things, respect was the one that carried the most weight.  Without it, everything else became nothing more than fleeting moments in time that he would fondly recall once they’d gone their separate ways.  Respect combined with those things made him think that, even if they did go their separate ways, they’d sustain some kind of relationship.  As with all of his friends, he would always be interested in what she was up to and how life was treating her.

“It was a compliment.”  He shifted the grip from her wrists to her hands and brought one up for a kiss in the center of the palm.  “It’s also a compliment when I say you’re the best bullshit detour I never wanted to take.  Without you and your outstanding voice, I would never have been forced into Tully’s and been introduced to Clay, so thank you.”

“Dammit.”  The epithet came from her lips full of nothing but humor.  “And here I thought the compliment was gonna be finally tellin’ me why my hoo-ha is so special.”

He grinned at her, but shook his head.  “Someday I might do that.  Right now, I’d rather do you.”

“Well, hallelujah, thank you Jesus and praise be to Allah!  I’ve only been tryin’ to get to that since you walked in the door,” she snorted.  “I was just about to call David.”

Her hand twisted to adjust the grip she had on him and Cassidy hauled him toward the bedroom, his shirttails flapping out behind him. 

“Hey.”  He dug his heels into the carpet until she was forced to stop.  “Are you gonna be sleeping with other guys?”

Her eyebrows knit with bewilderment.  “Not if you’ll stop bein’ Chatty Cathy and come to bed.”

Jon tucked himself into his jeans and fastened the top button so he didn’t feel ridiculous with his dick hanging out, wondering why this hadn’t crossed his mind before now.  The fact that he wouldn’t be with her and she could do… anything she damn well wanted.  Did he even have the right to ask the question?

Right or not, he was asking it.

“I’m serious.  When I’m not around, are you planning to screw other men?”

She cocked her head to one side and asked simply, “Are you planning to screw your wife?”

“I…”  He couldn’t honestly say he wouldn’t, because the possibility existed.  It wasn’t likely, but it could happen.

“That’s what I thought.”  She stepped close and curled gentle arms around his waist, going up on her toes to press a kiss against the base of his throat.  “Right now there’s nobody else that could even tempt me.  If that happens to change while we’re keepin’ company, I’ll let you know.”

The thought of him sleeping with somebody else obviously didn’t concern her – not the way he was bothered thinking of another man in her bed.  Then again, she had known about his wife before agreeing to get involved with him. 

He hadn’t even considered Cassidy having someone else and, now that he did, Jon didn’t much like it.

“Stop thinkin’,” she whispered against his lips and kissed him.  “All that matters is that, tonight, I’m your woman and you’re my man.  Don’t make it any harder than that.”

This is what it will be like having a mistress.  No promises, no alibis, no excuses – for either of you.  Is this what you really want?