I Couldn't Pay My Three Landlords, So I Gave Them a Baby novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Table

Cas sends his brothers out and goes down on his knees at his father's table, then refuses to finish because he does not fuck a debt, and sends Rudy up to look at a drain that is fine.

Cas didn't take his eyes off me when he spoke to his brothers.

"Out," he said.

Rudy gathered his plate, the skillet and his coffee in one trip, which told me he had been ready to go for a minute.

"I'll eat on the porch," Rudy said. "It's nine degrees. Take your time."

Joey went past us with his eyes on the floor.

At the back door he looked at me once over his shoulder, and then he followed Rudy out.

The door shut, and the kitchen went quiet.

Cas still had my braid wound around his fist.

He opened it one finger at a time.

"You said you start it," he said, low.

"I did."

"Then start it."

I unbuttoned my uniform jacket with the transit patch on the sleeve and hung it on the nearest chair, which was not Stan's.

I toed off my boots.

I undid my shirt one button at a time.

Cas watched every one of them with his arms at his sides and his hands opening and closing.

He didn't touch me until I said his name.

"Cas."

He lifted me by the waist and set me on the edge of the table.

The wood was cold through my thin uniform pants.

He shoved the sugar bowl out of the way with the back of his wrist and put both hands on my hips.

"Lift," he said.

I lifted.

He pulled my pants and underwear down together and dropped them on the floor.

Then he went down on his knees on his father's linoleum.

I had pictured him doing a lot of things to me over two years.

I had never once pictured him kneeling.

He put his hands on the insides of my thighs and pushed them wide, and for a moment he only looked.

"Cas," I said. "Your face is going to make me crazy before you do anything."

"Good," he said.

His breath was warm on me, and then his mouth was.

He licked me once, slow, from the bottom all the way up.

His tongue was flat, and his stubble scraped the soft skin inside my thighs.

I made a sound I had never made in that building.

He found my clit and stayed there.

He didn't flick or tease or hurry.

He pressed the flat of his tongue against it and held it.

He rocked a little and held it again, until my whole body strained toward his mouth.

I put my hand in his hair.

It was shorter than I'd thought, thick, going gray over the ears.

"Don't stop," I said.

"I wasn't going to."

"You're soaked," he said against me. "You were soaked in the doorway. I could tell from the stove."

"You were cooking eggs."

"I burned them," Cas said, and went back to work.

He slid two fingers into me, thick and slow, and curled them forward while his tongue worked, and my back came off the table.

"There," I said. "God, Cas, there."

"I know where it is," he said against me.

"Show me you know."

He growled, and I felt it through the whole length of me.

He went at me then with his mouth and his hand together.

He pumped his fingers and pressed that spot inside me while his tongue circled and sucked.

My heels dug into his back.

I told him how good it was.

I told him I'd wanted this since the summer his father made me sit down at that very table.

I told him he was a bastard for waiting.

He said nothing at all, which was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard from him.

I came with my hand fisted in his hair and his name in my mouth, shaking, so hard I slid forward on the wood.

He caught me by the hips and held me there and didn't let up.

"Cas, I can't."

"You can," he said against my thigh.

"I just did," I said.

"Again," he said, and he meant it.

He kept his fingers deep and slow and put his mouth back on me, gentler now, just the tip of his tongue.

The next one built and broke so fast it startled me.

I cried out.

I know the brothers on the porch heard, and I did not care.

He didn't stop.

He kissed his way up my belly, shoving my bra up with the bridge of his nose.

He took my nipple into his mouth and sucked it hard while his fingers kept their slow work inside me.

"Cas," I said. "Nobody told me you were this thorough."

"I'm busy," he said around me, and bit down lightly, and I laughed and gasped in the same breath.

He gave the other breast the same slow attention, and I held his head there with both hands.

"Your mouth again," I said. "Then your fingers. Then I want you to make me beg."

"You don't beg."

"Make me."

He lifted his head and looked at me, and that look went through the soft place behind my knees.

He stood, caught me under the arms and turned me around.

"Hands on the table," he said.

I put my palms flat on the wood.

He stepped up behind me, and the front of his work pants pressed hard against my bare ass.

He was still fully dressed, and I was bare from the waist down on his father's table, and I loved it.

His arm came around my hips, and his fingers found me from behind.

He slid two of them inside me, slow, and his thumb settled on my clit, and he put his mouth against my ear.

"Listen to me," he said.

"I'm listening."

"Two years I've heard you through that floor. Your shower. Your radio. The night you cried, and I stood at the bottom of the stairs with my hand on the rail."

My breath caught.

"I never went up," he said. "I'm going to hear you now."

He worked his fingers in and out, and his thumb circled, and I pushed back against his hand and against the hard line of him.

"Cas," I said. "Cas, please."

"Say what you want."

"Harder."

He gave it to me harder.

His hand moved fast, and his thumb pressed down, and his teeth closed on the side of my neck, and I came around his fingers with a cry that rang off the yellow walls.

He held me up through it.

His breath was ragged in my ear, and I felt him shake against my back.

When I stopped shaking, he lifted me back onto the table, knelt, and kissed the inside of my knee.

Then he stood.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at me, flushed and bare and wrecked on his father's table.

His face did something I had not seen it do.

It came apart a little.

His work pants were tight across the front, and he was breathing hard through his nose.

I reached for his belt.

He caught my wrist.

"No," he said.

"Cas."

"Not like this."

"This is the deal," I said. "You said thirty days."

"I said it into your mouth," he said. "That doesn't make it a sound idea."

He let go of my wrist and picked my pants up off the floor and held them out to me.

His hands were not steady.

"I don't fuck a debt, Ren," he said.

"It isn't a debt."

"There's a piece of paper on the table that says it is."

I took the pants from him.

I looked at that notice, creased and still sitting in the butter.

"Then tear it," I said.

"Not today."

"Why not?"

"Because if I tear it, you'll walk out of here with your pride and I'll never see you again," he said.

"And if I don't, you'll stay. Thirty days."

"That's the only way I can have you in this building and not feel like a thief. So I'm keeping it."

That was the longest speech I had ever heard him make.

I stood up on my own two feet on the cold floor and put my pants on while he looked at the wall.

"You think you're doing me a favor," I said.

"I think I'm doing the only thing I can."

"Fine. Keep your paper."

I picked up my boots and my jacket.

At the door I turned around.

"Stan used to call me Renia," I said.

"I know," he said. "Don't use it on me. It was his."

"Then I'll use Ren," I said. "But you're going to say the other one too, one day."

He didn't answer.

I went up the back stairs in my socks with my uniform shirt hanging open, and my legs weren't quite mine.

At my door, Rudy sat on the top step with his coat on, holding a plunger and a toolbox.

His eyes went from my face to my open shirt and back, and he grinned until the beard moved.

"Cas sent me up to look at your slow drain," he said.

"You don't know anything about plumbing."

"Not one thing," Rudy said. "Cas knows that. He sent me anyway."

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