When Love Finds Its Way Back (Cassienne and Dreston) novel Chapter 147

Chapter One Hundred And Forty–Seven: You’re Driving Me Fucking Insane.

The morning light slipped through the half–closed curtains, painting soft golden stripes across the tangled sheets. Cassienne slept deeply, her body curled in peaceful surrender. Her back pressed firmly against Dreston’s chest, the curve of her ass nestled perfectly against his aching hardness.

Every slow breath she took pushed her softer against him, an innocent torture she didn’t even know she was inflicting.

Dreston had been awake for nearly an hour.

He tried to stay still, tried to let her rest. But his body refused to obey. His cock throbbed with every tiny shift of her hips, every unconscious wiggle that rubbed her warm skin along his length. He had buried himself inside her only hours ago, twice, and still it wasn’t enough.

Five years of restraint, five years of sleeping in separate rooms, five years of hurting her, had finally snapped something inside him. Now that the dam had broken, he couldn’t rebuild it.

She moved again in her sleep, a small sigh escaping her lips. The motion dragged her ass along him in a slow, torturous glide. Dreston bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste copper. His hand slid up her side, cupping one full breast. His thumb brushed over her nipple–already pebbled from the cool morning air–and pinched lightly. 1

Cassienne stirred.

Her lashes fluttered. A soft frown creased her brow as awareness crept in. Then her eyes opened slowly, hazy with sleep. She blinked once, twice. The fog cleared when she felt his thick, hot, insistent, pressing insistently at her entrance from behind.

“Dreston…” Her voice came out hoarse, thick with remnants of dreams.

He didn’t answer with words.

Instead he lifted her top leg, hooking it over his forearm to open her. The head of his cock nudged her slick folds, still swollen and sensitive from the night before, and he pushed inside in one slow, deliberate glide.

“Fuck, Cass,” he groaned against her ear, voice raw. “You feel so fucking good. So wet for me already.”

She gasped, fingers curling into the pillow. “Dreston…”

He pulled back just enough to feel her clench around him, then thrust forward again. Deeper this time. The angle let him sink all the way to the hilt. She whimpered, body arching instinctively. He didn’t give her time to adjust. He began to move with steady, powerful strokes that made the headboard tap softly against the wall.

Each thrust hit that perfect spot inside her.

“Dreston–oh God…” Her voice cracked into a sob of pleasure.

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He angled his hips higher, driving harder. One arm slid under her neck so he could cradle her close while his other hand lifted her breast to his mouth. He sucked her nipple deep, tongue flicking over the tight peak in time with his thrusts.

Cassienne’s eyes rolled back. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream. The dual assault, his thick cock stretching her, his hot mouth pulling at her nipple, was too much. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in her belly until she was trembling.

When he felt her walls flutter around him, squeezing like she wanted to keep him forever, he pulled out abruptly.

Her eyes snapped open. “No…please-‘

Before the protest could fully form, Dreston flipped her onto her back with gentle but firm hands. He settled between her thighs, broad shoulders spreading her wide. His dark head dipped down, in–between her thighs.

His mouth closed over her.

Cassienne cried out, hips jerking off the mattress. His tongue plunged inside her, licking deep, tasting every drop of her arousal mixed with his own release from the night before. His thumb found her clit, swollen, sensitive, and circled with firm, relentless pressure while his lips sucked and his tongue fucked her in slow, filthy strokes.

“You taste like mine,” he growled against her flesh. “Like us.”

“Dreston….oh fuck–I can’t-”

“You can,” he rasped. “Come on my tongue, baby. Let me drink you.”

The pressure exploded.

She came with a broken cry, thighs clamping around his head, fingers yanking at his hair. Wave after wave crashed through her until tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.

He didn’t let her come down.

He rose over her in one fluid motion, lined himself up, and slammed back inside, hard.

“Oh God!” Cassienne’s back bowed off the bed.

Dreston hooked her legs over his shoulders, folding her nearly in half. The new angle let him drive impossibly deeper. Skin slapped against skin. The wet, obscene sound of their bodies joining filled the

room.

“You’re driving me fucking insane, Cass,” he panted, leaning down until their foreheads touched. His thrusts slowed for a moment–long, deliberate rolls of his hips that made her feel every thick inch of him.

“I waited five years to touch you like this. Five yars of lying in a cold bed, pretending I didn’t want to crawl under your sheets and fuck you until neither of us could walk.”

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Tears welled in her eyes again–not from pain, but from the raw emotion in his voice.

“I was so scared,” he confessed, voice cracking. “Scared I’d ruin you. I was scared I wasn’t good enough, that I was going to hurt you in order to fulfil a promise I made to someone.”

It was an honest confession.

“But I love you, Cassienne. I’ve loved you since the first time you looked at me like I was worth something. I never stopped. I thought that fulfilling a promise I once made was more important. So I pushed you away, because I was so stupid.” 1

She reached up, cupping his face with shaking hands. “I love you too,” she whispered. “I never stopped either. Even when it hurts. Even when I tried to hate you.”

His rhythm faltered for a heartbeat.

Then he kissed her, deep, desperate, swallowing her soft sobs. When he pulled back, his eyes were glassy.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he vowed. “You’re mine. This body. This heart. This fucking perfect pussy that’s squeezing me so tight right now. All mine.”

He picked up speed again–harder and faster. The bed creaked under the force of his thrusts.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice rough. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped. “Always yours, Dreston, please-”

“Come with me,” he growled. One hand slipped between them, fingers finding her clit again. He rubbed fast circles while he pounded into her. “Come on my cock, baby. Milk me. Let me fill you up.”

The command shattered her.

Cassienne came with a scream. Her nails raking down his back, walls pulsing violently around him. Dreston followed a heartbeat later, burying himself to the hilt and spilling deep inside her with a guttural groan of her name.

They stayed locked together for long moments, breathing ragged, hearts hammering against each other.

Slowly, he lowered her legs. He didn’t pull out yet. Instead he gathered her close, rolling them so she lay draped across his chest. His arms wrapped around her like iron bands.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair. “More than anything in this world.”

Cassienne pressed a trembling kiss to the center of his chest, right over his racing heart.

“I love you too,” she answered softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

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e Hundred And Forty–Eight Am Still Very Sore

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Chapter One Hundred And Forty–Eight: I Am Still Very Sore.

The kitchen had never felt this alive before. The chef had been given the morning off–politely dismissed by Dreston with a grin and a “We’ve got this.”

Now it was just the two of them.

Cassienne stood barefoot in the kitchen, wearing one of Dreston’s white shirts, the sleeves rolled, the hem brushing mid–thigh. Her hair was loosely tied back, a few strands escaping around her face.

Dreston, dressed in grey lounge trousers and a fitted black tee, looked like he had no intention of focusing on breakfast.

“You’re supposed to be whisking,” Cassienne said, glancing over her shoulder.

“I am whisking.”

“You’re staring.

He didn’t deny it.

“I can’t help myself.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile betrayed her.

On the counter between them sat a small chaos of ingredients, eggs in a ceramic bowl, chopped bell peppers, fresh herbs, butter softening in a dish, sliced sourdough waiting for the pan. A plate of strawberries and blueberries rested beside a bowl of pancake batter she had prepared.

Cassienne stirred the omelet mixture carefully, concentrating.

Behind her, Dreston slid closer.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” she muttered.

“Doing what?”

“Standing that close.”

His hands came to rest on either side of her waist. “I like standing close.”

She tried to step away. But he followed. The whisk slowed in her hand.

“Dreston…”

He pressed a slow kiss to her shoulder.

She laughed softly.

“Focus on the stove before you burn something.”

“I’m focused.”

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“You are not.”

He leaned forward, reaching around her to flip the pancake in the pan, but instead of flipping it immediately, he brushed his lips against her neck.

She gasped lightly. And the pancake nearly burned.

“You’re impossible,” she accused, turning to face him.

“And you love it.”

He reached past her and finally flipped the pancake successfully.

“See? Multitasking.”

She shook her head, but her eyes softened.

He reached for a strawberry from the fruit bowl and held it to her lips.

“Open.”

She hesitated, but did as he said. He watched her bite into it.

“That’s not fair,” she said, chewing. “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m helping.”

“With what?”

“Keeping morale high.”

She burst into laughter.

He moved to the other side of the island, slicing herbs with impressive precision. Cassienne poured the omelet mixture into the pan and added cheese, watching it melt slowly.

For a few quiet seconds, they worked side by side, and it was a beautiful moment.nBut the air between them was anything but ordinary.

He leaned against the counter, watching her again.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to eat me instead of breakfast.”

He grinned unapologetically.

“That’s not a bad idea.”

She swatted at him lightly with a kitchen towel and he caught it.

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Then caught her wrist. Then gently tugged her toward him.

“Dreston, the eggs-”

“Are fine.”

He kissed her. A slow and warm kiss that sends her toes curling. Her hands slid up his chest instinctively.

The omelet sizzled softly behind them.

He broke the kiss just enough to murmur, “You smell like my soap.”

She tried to look serious.

“You are not helping.”

“I’m not trying to.”

He lifted her suddenly.

Cassienne squealed, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her two steps and placed her gently on the cool marble counter.

“Dreston!”