Page 43 of Sin (Salvation #1)

Sin

“Use me, Cassidy,” I tell him, with a grin, knowing that this is going to be spectacular.

Still blissed out from sucking my cock, Cassidy doesn’t hesitate or overthink my command. He just acts. Lining up his still lubed hole to my cock, he sinks down until I’m fully inside of him.

My cock is still revved up and ready to come from plundering Cassidy’s beautiful, talented mouth. I grit my teeth and close my eyes at the intense sensation of being inside of him. I have to concentrate not to buck up into Cassidy, but this is his show. He controls what happens next.

He begins slowly riding me, the teasing grin on his face telling me he’s doing it to torture me. That’s fine. I’ll take this kind of torture all night long. It’s delicious.

I just love watching him owning the freedom of this moment.

Because that’s what he’s given me by loving me. Freedom to let go of the past. Freedom to look forward to a future that only holds revenge. Freedom to love him right back.

He puts one hand down on my chest for leverage as he speeds up his movements and uses his other hand to stroke his cock.

“Sin,” he moans, lost in the pleasure of the rhythm he’s setting. “I love you,” he cries out as he erupts, covering me and his stomach in come. His words set me off as much as the tight clench of his muscles around me and I fill him.

My hands release the bed frame and pull him down on top of me, and finally answer him back. “ I love you too, Cassidy.”

I pulled out some of my best moves to get Cassidy not to leave our bed this morning, but my little star student refused to miss out on taking two of his finals that are scheduled for today.

Most of my classes required semester-long projects instead, and I’d turned them all in last week.

I’d taken my one and only final yesterday.

So, after making sure Cassidy had a large breakfast to replenish his body since we hadn’t left our bed long enough to eat last night, I dropped him off and made him promise to text me when he’s finished so I can pick him up.

I just got back to the hotel, and I already miss him. How fucking lovesick am I?

My phone beeps with a text. I check my phone and see it’s from Dr. Chaudhary’s office, reminding me that Cassidy is due for a checkup for his asthma.

I start to arrange for another private consultation, but then have a better idea.

Instead of flying Dr. Chaudhary to Nashville, why don’t I fly Cassidy and me to New York?

I know he’s never been there, and he’s mentioned his dream medical school is Columbia.

A med school tour, a few Broadway shows.

A Mets game. Being young and in love in New York. My new romantic self is all in.

I call to make arrangements, and when the receptionist tells me there is a note on Cassidy’s file that she wants to speak to me. My whole body goes ice cold. Did something show up on the tests she ran on Cassidy? Is he ill? I grip my phone as he transfers the call to her.

As soon as she picks up, I don’t waste time. “What’s wrong with Cassidy?” I demand before she can even get in a greeting.

“Your brother is fine,” she immediately assures me. I take a deep breath of relief before bothering to correct her. “Stepbrother.”

“As I said, Cassidy is fine, but I did want to speak to you about something disturbing.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The manufacturer of Cassidy’s malfunctioning inhalers contacted me. They were concerned about the multiple failures of their product and did a thorough investigation into the cause. They determined that all of them had been tampered with, and it had occurred after the medicine left the pharmacy.”

I had forgotten about the inhalers. I’d let my emotions distract me from the fact that my father is a killer, and it looks like he’d set his sights on a new target.

I tell Dr. Chaudhary to let the manufacturer know that they will be contacted by a Detective Hirsh and the inhalers will need to be turned over to him.

While I’m still talking to the doctor, I shoot off a text to Mercer asking him to keep an eye on Cassidy today and to give him a ride to the hotel when Cassidy’s done with his exams. He responds with a whipped cream emoji and then seconds later a thumbs up.

Next, I call Oliver and Hirsh and tell them about the inhalers. I let them both know that I’m speeding things up. That my father is going down today.

I call Evan Kelly, the journalist that Cassidy recommended to me, after a month of reading his articles.

He’s an excellent, hard-hitting journalist, and after our initial meeting, which had some unexpected surprises, I agreed to give him an exclusive interview as long as he agreed to wait to publish it until I made my post.

He answers after one ring, and I tell him about the inhalers and let him know that he’s free to print the story as soon as I make my post.

“Let me reach out to a guy I know,” he offers. “He can ferret out information as to what your father’s game plan was in targeting Cassidy.”

“I already have a private investigator,” I tell him.

“Not like this guy,” Evan argues. “Eli is the ultimate super-hacker with a hard-on for hate crimes. He was invaluable in taking down the Reivers, and with your father’s connection, I’m sure he has a hard drive or two filled with information about him that might reveal his motivations.”

I thank Evan and hang up. There is only one thing left to do. I pick a place in the suite that has good lighting and position my phone, and hit record.

I look into the camera. “I’ve been promising y’all the truth for a while now.

Well, the wait is over. I’m here to defend my father against the crimes he’s been accused of in the media.

The misdemeanors and third-degree felonies he’s been accused of are all inaccurate.

” I pause for dramatic tension. “ The truth is the crimes he’s committed are much worse and include manslaughter.

I’m posting here today to tell you my father, the Reverend Gideon Brandt, killed my mother. ”