WIP: Buried Promises (DCMH7)

It’s been rough lately. I think we deserve some Julia & Cassidy. Here’s a little NSFW scene from my current WIP, Buried Promises - Don’t Call Me Hero, book 7.

+++

I heard the sharp clickclack of her designer heels before I actually saw her. The punctuated sound rose above the din of the busy stadium. Or maybe it only seemed that way—maybe it was only my quickened pulse. Nearly a year of dating, and she still made my heart race.

Because, seriously—who wore red bottom shoes to a basketball game?

Julia appeared at the edge of the crowd, the refined silhouette of her tailored pantsuit standing out against a sea of jerseys and graphic t-shirts. The pinched look on her face softened when she spotted me by an elevated cocktail table.

I wiped my palms on my jeans, feeling every bit as casual as I looked in my player jersey and sneakers. I’d had time after work to swing by Julia’s condo to change clothes, but she had presumably come directly from her office. The remnants of a greasy slice of pepperoni pizza sat on a paper plate in front of me—one of my less glamorous moments.

Julia didn’t seem to care. She closed the distance between us, her hands sliding over my hips as she leaned in. We were close–close enough that I could smell her skin and the spicy scent of her sandalwood shampoo.  

She tugged lightly at the bottom hem of my jersey, a teasing smile on her lips. “You always have such team spirit.” 

I grinned. "We could grab you something at the Team Store?” I suggested. "Maybe a foam finger?" 

Her laugh was soft. Tired. “How about you get me something to drink instead?”

“Rough day?” My smile turned sympathetic. “We can go home if you want to.”

Her days lately had stretched beyond typical working hours as she continued to get acclimated to her new job as a pro bono lawyer for one of the Twin Cities’ most ruthless criminal defense law firms. Her position had been created to give back to the community–to show that even the most cut-throat team of litigators had heart.

Julia’s mood shifted and she purposefully brightened. “That’s not necessary, darling. I’ll be fine.” 

She looped her arm through mine and allowed me to guide her in the direction of the closest beverage vendor. Not long after, I was balancing an oversized beer in one hand and a plastic bucket of buttery popcorn in the other while Julia sipped her wine.

We made our way down to the courtside seats—a perk of Julia’s new job. My excitement grew the closer we descended to the court. Courtside wasn’t a bad way to watch a game. I could already anticipate being disappointed with anything less. 

“This is so cool,” I enthused. “I’ve never sat this close before.”

I’d been to several pro and semi-pro Minnesota-based sporting events, mostly with my dad growing up. But he’d never splurged on tickets. We tended to sit in the nosebleed seats, the highest level of the arena, so far away that the athletes had looked like miniature action figures. 

I tried to imagine surprising him with courtside seats. He’d bristle at the extravagance and once at the game he’d feign disinterest as if watching a game only a few feet from the action was an everyday occurrence. What was it that made Midwesterners so hard to impress? So reluctant to show emotion?  

Julia, predictably, maintained a cool and unaffected exterior, although I suspected her nonchalance stemmed from something else.  

She gestured toward the giant men taking warm-up shots. “How hard is it to make a basket when you’re seven feet tall? That hardly seems like a skill to me.”

I smirked. “You’re a tough woman to impress.”

We settled into our respective cushioned seats close to the court’s edge. “We should get tickets to a women’s game next season,” I suggested. “If you want to see skill and pure basketball game play—that’s where it’s at.” I popped a few pieces of buttery popcorn into my mouth and smiled around the addictive artificial flavor. “I could even buy you your own jersey.”

“I doubt I could pull off that look as well as you do, darling,” Julia resisted.

“Maybe not layered over your power suit,” I teased, “but think about the statement it would make at your office.” 

Julia tilted her head, her lips curving. “What, that I’m approachable?“ she snorted. “That’s already the PR campaign for my position at the firm. Pro bono queen. Champion of the underdog.”

"It’s not the worst title." I leaned back in my seat and shoveled more popcorn into my open mouth. 

Julia gave a knowing hum, her expression guarded. “Although behind closed doors, I’m sure the nicknames are far less generous. Forcing culture change at an established business isn’t the key to making friends.” She straightened in her chair and seemed to roll her shoulders. “But that’s fine. I’m not there to be liked or make friends.”

I frowned, lowering the popcorn bucket. “That sounds pretty lonely.”

Julia met my gaze, her eyes softening. “It’s not lonely when I get to come home to someone who reminds me why I do it. Someone who believes in me even when the rest of the room doesn’t.” 

My cheeks warmed, and I looked away, pretending to focus on the players still getting limber on the court. “I’m just saying, they should be giving you a parade, not the cold shoulder.”

Julia smiled faintly. “You’re very kind to say so, Cassidy.”

I reached for her hand, curling my fingers around hers. She didn’t pull away despite the lingering, buttery grease that coated my fingertips. “And I plan to keep saying so. Motivational texts. Daily affirmations?” 

Her laugh was soft, but it reached her eyes this time. “Chronically online memes?” 

I beamed. “Memes are modern wisdom, babe.”

She shook her head, visibly amused, and settled back into her seat. The game was moments away from starting, players gathering at center court for the opening tip-off, but I wasn’t thinking about the court or the players or the cheering fans that surrounded us. My thoughts only had room for the beautiful woman seated beside me, her hand resting lightly on my knee.

The buzzer sounded, signaling halftime, and the players jogged off the court to polite applause. Around us, the crowd began to buzz with conversation or stood from their seats for a bathroom break and a concession stand visit. 

I turned to Julia and caught her consulting her watch.  

“You ready to call it?” I asked.

Her lips twitched into a half-smile. “Would you mind terribly? I don’t want to rob you of the experience, but I have another long day tomorrow.” 

I immediately sprang to my feet and grabbed my leather jacket from the back of my chair. “Say no more.”

As we walked toward the exit, I kept close, shielding Julia from the jostling crowd. Minnesota Nice had apparently given way to more carnal impulses in the desire for beer refills and getting to the front of the bathroom line. I led the way, half a step in front of Julia. Old instincts—it didn’t matter that this wasn’t a combat zone. Julia’s hand brushed my arm, a small reminder that she didn’t need protection, but she didn’t push me away either. 

“So, what now?” she asked once we hit the chilly night air. Her breath puffed out in delicate clouds, the outside temperature a sharp contrast to the warmth of the stadium. “Back home? Or is this the part where you try to tempt me with greasy fast food?”

I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets, my breath forming a foggy trail in front of me. “Depends. Have you ever tried one of those cheese curd burgers from Murphy’s on Hennepin? Life-changing.” 

Her look was pointed but amused. “I’ve managed to go my entire life without cheese curds. Somehow I think I’ll survive.”

+ + +

Julia stood before the vanity in the condo’s en-suite bathroom, carefully removing her makeup with gentle swipes of a cotton pad. The soft lighting in the master bathroom cast her features in a warm glow, making her look more relaxed than she had all evening. I leaned against the doorframe, brushing my teeth and watching her. It was a quiet ritual, one I never tired of. 

“You’ve got a full day tomorrow,” I said, rinsing my mouth. “Anything I can help with?” 

She glanced at me through the mirror, her expression soft but inscrutable. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’m already worrying.”

Julia set the cotton pad down and turned to face me. “I’m visiting my mother in the morning.” Her tone was carefully measured. “And then I have an appointment with my doctor in the afternoon for my first hormone injection.” 

I swallowed. “Oh. That’s ... big.”

Her smile was faint, almost rueful. “It is.”

“Do you want me to come with you? To either one?” 

“You don’t have to do that. I know your plate is just as full as mine.”

I reached for her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be there if you need me.”

Julia had finally settled on a new assisted-living facility for her mother just before the Christmas holiday. The suburban location wasn’t necessarily convenient to her St. Paul condo, but she’d preferred the spread out footprint of the suburban site to any of the smaller facilities we’d toured in the Twin Cities. I tried not to get jealous about the stolen time. It was her mother, after all, not Julia going to a bar after work to get drunk with her friends. I hadn’t accompanied her on any visits since her mother’s rehoming, but I knew I should make more of an effort. I’d never liked healthcare facilities, however, and old people made me nervous.

Julia’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, the tension easing out of her posture. “Visiting my mother ... it’s not always pleasant.”

I nodded and squeezed her hand. “Still. I’m happy to go if it would help you.”

“And the doctor?” she asked, her voice quieter.

This was to be the first of many injections. From what I’d learned since Julia had first revealed that she wanted to freeze her eggs, hormone shots and ultrasounds would take place over the next ten to fourteen days, followed by the actual retrieval procedure. The hormone shots would trick her body into producing multiple eggs at once to be harvested and stored until the timing was right.  

“That, too,” I said. “Whatever you need.”

For a moment, she said nothing; she only studied our joined hands. Then she leaned in, her lips brushing against my temple. “Thank you. I’ll let you know.”

“You’d better.” My tone was teasing, but my chest felt tight. Julia carried so much, always with poise and precision, but sometimes I wondered how much she let herself feel.

Julia pulled back and met my gaze. Her smile softened into something real. “You’re a perfect partner, Cassidy.” 

“Just trying to keep up with you,” I said, letting myself smile back.

By the time we climbed into bed, the condo was quiet except for the occasional hum of traffic from the street below. Julia had already dimmed the lights, casting the room in soft shadows. She slid under the covers with her usual grace, her bare legs brushing against mine as I settled in beside her. 

I shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting my head on her shoulder. She didn’t protest; her hand lightly trailed down my forearm in a way that felt both reassuring and grounding.

“That’s an awfully nice ring,” she murmured. “Someone has exquisite taste.”

My gaze lowered to the flashing diamond on my left ring finger. Rather than admiring the engagement ring, I experienced a pang of guilt. I still wanted to get a ring for Julia, but the prospect intimidated me. What if I chose something she hated? Would she second-guess her own proposal that I knew her so little to buy her something so ugly?  

“Have you thought about a sperm donor?” I asked.

“Is this a serious conversation?” she returned.

“Would you want to know the guy? Or do you think you’ll go to a bank and get a stranger’s sperm?“ I wondered. “Do they still call them banks? Like, making a deposit sounds really gross. There’s got to be another term for that by now, right?”

I heard her quiet puff of air. “I guess we are having this conversation.”

“I was only curious if you’d thought about the next step, that’s all,” I insisted. “No pressure.”

“No pressure indeed.” She let out a quiet, exasperated sigh, but her hand resumed its slow, absentminded movements on my arm. “In truth, I wish I could eliminate the necessity of a man altogether, but unfortunately science doesn’t work that way yet.”  

“I kind of envy straight couples,” I thought aloud. “They don’t have to go through this.” 

“Fertility complications are more common than you’d think,” Julia observed. “Many couples, even opposite-sex partners, often need a little boost from a doctor.”

“Yeah, sure, but you know when couples are like ‘we’re trying to have a baby’ and it’s just polite-speak for having a lot of sex? It sounds kind of fun.” 

Julia quietly chuckled. “I don’t think we’ve ever needed an excuse to be intimate.”

“I’m just saying, if you want my opinion on potential donors, I’m here for that, too.”

Julia’s head tilted toward me. “Darling, you’re impossible sometimes.”

“And yet you still love me.”

She didn’t respond immediately, but her hand moved to cradle my cheek. Her thumb brushed softly against my skin. “I do,” she said quietly, almost as if it were a confession. 

I leaned into her touch, closing my eyes and letting the moment settle over us. Julia’s walls could be formidable, but every now and then, she let me peek behind them.

I felt subtle movements beside me. The bedsheets rustled and the queen-sized mattress shifted. Julia’s reposed figure pressed tight against my own. Strong, feminine fingers curled around the waistband of my flannel sleep shorts while fingers from a second hand slid up my upper thigh and beneath the leg hole of my shorts. 

“What are you doing?” Suspicion crept into my tone.

“If we’re going to have a baby, I don’t want you missing out on all of that fun sex while we’re trying to conceive.” 

Julia’s voice was remarkably matter-of-fact, as though her fingertips weren’t tracing the outline of my naked pussy with a gentle, teasing touch. 

I swallowed hard and barely resisted canting into her hand. “What-what happened to having an early morning?”  

I wasn’t really complaining or concerned, but it felt like the noble thing to do—to give her an out.

Julia's laughter was low and husky. “Cassidy, be a dear and just enjoy this.”

My voice was barely audible over the sound of my own ragged breathing: "Yes, ma’am.” 

Julia continued to tease me beneath my shorts. Her fingers traced light circles around my entrance; my hips instinctively arched to meet her touch. When her fingers grazed my clit, my entire body convulsed.

The bedroom was dark, seemingly heightening my other senses. The scent of Julia’s spicy, earthy perfume. Her warm breath tickling against my neck. Her voice in my ear.

"You like this, don't you, dear?" she said in that smoky, low burr. "You like being touched, being teased, being made to feel like you're the only thing that matters."

Her fingers never stopped moving. She circled my clit and tapped against my entrance. I felt my hips arching up, my legs spreading wider as I invited her to touch me more.

"I can feel how wet you are, so ready,” Julia approved, her voice still a murmur in my ear. “I can feel your pussy trembling, desperate for my fingers." Her lips moved against my ear when she spoke: “But if you want my fingers, you’ll have to do it yourself.” 

Julia's words were a challenge, a dare to take what I wanted. I hesitated, only briefly, before reaching beneath the blankets that covered us. I lifted my backside off the mattress and pushed my shorts down my legs. The fabric bunched around my thighs as I exposed myself to her.

I continued to blindly seek her out. I found her hand, despite the darkness, and guided her fingers to where I wanted them. Julia let out a soft hum of approval, first one finger and then two slipping inside me with ease.

“That’s my good girl.”

I groaned, my body responding to her words as much as her touch.

Julia began to move her fingers in a slow, deliberate rhythm. All the way in. All the way out. "You're so beautiful like this," she murmured, her voice full of praise. Her lips brushed against my ear. "You're so sensitive, so receptive. It's like your body was made for me to fuck.”

“God, Julia,” I wheezed.

Her free hand snaked up to my neck. Her fingers tangled in my hair, which I’d pulled back in a high ponytail. She wrapped the end of my ponytail around her hand and tugged. “Show me how much you love being fucked." 

My hand found its way to her wrist. I held her in place and shamelessly ground against her. The friction from her fingers mashed against my clit pulled a greedy whimper from my mouth.

Julia’s fingers reached impossibly deeper. “You're almost there, aren't you, dear?” she seemed to taunt. “You're almost ready to come for me.” 

I exhaled sharply and my stomach muscles coiled. “Uh huh.”

Julia's fingers moved faster, her touch more insistent. “That's it, darling. Come for me.” Her voice was quiet, but urgent. “Come all over my fingers.” 

When her thumb pressed down on my clit, I could only respond with a strangled cry. Suddenly, Julia's mouth was on mine, her lips claiming me in a fierce kiss. Our tongues tangled, and I felt like I was drowning.

I came hard, my body convulsing around her fingers as I cried out into her mouth. Julia's kiss swallowed my sounds. Her lips were gentle as she rode out my orgasm with me.

"I think … I think we're getting the hang of this baby-making thing," I said, my voice shaky and my breathing labored. 

Julia chuckled darkly, her fingers still buried inside me. "I don’t know … I think we're going to need more practice.”

Her fingers flexed, letting me know she wasn’t done with me yet. 

I rolled my hips, forcing her deeper again. "Happy to oblige.“ A quiet groan vibrated in my throat. “After all, practice makes perfect."