Once I had my shirt back on, Anya kindly walked me through all the necessary aftercare. She explained how to wash the new tattoo and ensure it wouldn't get infected. Anya assured me it shouldn't be too difficult, as my wolf would handle the majority of the healing. She was right; the aches and sores from the fresh ink were already starting to fade. I offered a silent thanks to my wolf.
Derick paid Anya for the tattoo. Then, his gaze steady, he turned his attention to me, a warm smile softening his usually stern features. "Cassy," he began, "I was hoping we could get some lunch. And then, perhaps, do a little shopping?" A wave of anxiety washed through me at the thought of picking new clothes. "Last night we left in such a rush," Derick explained, "we weren't able to get any of your clothes or belongings from your old home." Derick's face fell with a look of guilt, as if he'd somehow failed me, despite being the one who had saved me.
I let the last flicker of unease in my chest dissipate and simply lunged to hug Derick. If buying me clothes would genuinely make him feel better, I certainly wasn't going to deny him that. "I would like that," I replied, adding, "And please don't feel bad. The only thing I would have wanted to take with me was my mother's necklace, and I'm still wearing it."
I felt Derick settle beside me, his arms soon following, wrapping gently around me. "Then I guess we'll have a lot to get you, huh?" he murmured, a chuckle following. I winced inwardly. While I knew he was trying to lighten the mood, a part of me still felt like a burden. He'd already paid for my tattoo, and now he was offering to buy me clothes.
My years with Josh had taught me to hold my tongue, but Derick was a different story. I knew that, and he sensed it when he pulled me to look him in the eyes. "What's wrong, Cassy?" His question hung in the air. I let out a sigh, opting for honesty. "I guess I just feel a little uncomfortable," I confessed. Derick's brow furrowed, and I quickly added, "I really appreciate all of this, it's just that I feel like a burden." Derick offered a soft smile. "It's easy enough for me to say 'Don't feel like that,' but I know it's not truly that simple," he began. "All I can really do is keep reassuring you, as many times as you need to hear it, that you are never a burden. And honestly, doing little things like this for you genuinely makes me happy."
I nodded, already feeling a touch better. Derick and I said our farewells to Anya and headed out of the shop, hand in hand. Our first stop was a cozy little mom-and-pop diner for a quick meal. All the healing my wolf had been doing had left me ravenously hungry, far more so than usual.
Following that, we made our way to a charming boutique. The air inside was hushed, and a sales associate, greeting us with a bright smile, approached promptly. After a brief exchange with Derick, she gracefully bowed and invited us to call her if we required assistance. A faint blush rose to my cheeks, and I was grateful to Derick for securing our privacy. "Do you want to try on some of these dresses?" Derick asked as we drifted past a rack of sundresses. I gave a subtle shake of my head. Dresses, for me, were strictly for balls and ceremonies; otherwise, they just made me feel stifled.
Instead, I steered us towards the pants section, pulling out a few pairs. Derick, always attentive, then handed me a selection of fancy shirts he thought I'd appreciate.
We headed to the changing room, where Derick took a seat and waited for me to change. As I stepped inside and started to pull off my shirt, I winced; my back was still incredibly sore. Suddenly, the idea of going shopping right after getting a tattoo seemed far less appealing.
I bit my lip, the discomfort a familiar sting. I'd endured far worse before, but before I could wrestle my shirt off, a soft knock echoed through the door. "Are you okay in there, Cassy?" Derick's voice, laced with concern, reached me. I silently cursed our bond; he must have felt my pain. With a resigned sigh, I abandoned my attempt to remove the shirt, pulling it back on and turning to open the door.
"My back is still sore," I admitted, my gaze dropping with a wave of insecurity. I didn't dare look up as the door swung open wider, and then Derick was there, closing it firmly behind us. We were suddenly alone in the intimate confines of the room, his scent a warm tide that washed over me. It was a fight to quell the rising heat in my core.
Derick didn't need words. He stepped closer, his hands finding my waist. With a surprising gentleness for someone so powerfully built, he helped me carefully slip the shirt off, his touch feather-light as he navigated the tender skin around my new ink. He murmured reassurances, his breath warm against my ear, as if trying to soothe the pain with his very presence. Once the shirt was off, His gaze softened as he took in the intricate design blooming across my back, a proud possessiveness flickering in his eyes.
That look sent a jolt through me, making me press my thighs together in a futile attempt to quell the ache that seemed to be intensifying. This time, I bit my lip for an entirely different reason, my hands instinctively rising to cover my breasts, a wave of shyness washing over me.
Derick's eyes darkened, seemingly sensing my arousal. He looked directly into mine, his voice rough as he breathed, "Cassy?" His hands tightened on my waist, the increased pressure sending a wave of tingles through me. I couldn't help the small moan that escaped my lips.
A powerful urge seized me, a desperate desire to kiss him right here and now. But a small, sensible voice whispered that it was inappropriate, that this wasn't the moment. Yet, a far more primal, insistent voice – undoubtedly my horny wolf – urged me to escalate.
All my internal arguments ceased as Derick lowered his head and claimed my lips. My hands, which had been protectively covering my chest, fell and settled onto his shirt, drawing him nearer. He lifted me by my backside, setting me down with deliberate gentleness on the dressing bench, his every movement mindful of my injured back.
The kiss deepened, a raw exploration of hunger and longing that had simmered between us for too long. His touch was both tender and demanding, his hands tracing the curve of my spine, careful of my new ink, yet unable to resist lingering on the sensitive skin. The sounds of the boutique faded into a distant hum, replaced by the ragged breaths that mingled between us. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, his eyes searching mine for a silent permission he already had.
"Cassy," he murmured, his voice husky, "I want to taste you." The confession hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises. My own body thrummed with an answering need, the discomfort from my back momentarily forgotten, replaced by a far more potent ache. I reached up, my fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw, the stubble a welcome friction against my skin.
My breath hitched as I understood his meaning. The tingling in my core intensified, a frantic dance against the residual ache in my back. "Taste me?" I echoed, my voice barely a whisper, my fingers still trailing the sharp planes of his face. He leaned in, his lips brushing mine, sending shivers down my spine. "Slowly," he promised, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. His mouth moved from my lips to the delicate skin of my neck, a trail of fire igniting with every touch, his hands still anchored to my waist, guiding me, supporting me. He lowered his head, his lips brushing against the newly inked skin just above my shoulder blade, a soft sigh escaping him. The tenderness of his touch, so different from the usual power he exuded, made my knees weak. He moved with exquisite care, his tongue tracing the edges of his claiming mark, and a dizzying wave of pleasure washed over me, stealing the air from my lungs.
"You're so beautiful, Cassy," he breathed against my skin, his words a gentle balm to the insecurities that had lingered. His gaze met mine, eyes burning with a desire that perfectly mirrored my own, and he tenderly cupped my face. I melted into his touch, surrendering to the potent force drawing us together, the outside world a forgotten haze. His kiss deepened, and as his hands moved to the button of my jeans, he whispered, "Lift your hips for me." I obeyed, feeling my pants and underwear slide away together. A sudden wave of exposure washed over me.
Derick broke the kiss, his gaze drifting down between my legs to the raw invitation of my exposed body. "Oh, Cassy," he breathed, a gravelly tone coloring his voice. Raw hunger flared in his eyes. "You're already so wet." He knelt, positioning himself between my thighs, and looked up at me. Another wave of heat surged through me as he gently took my clit into his mouth, eliciting a deep moan from my lips.
The sensation was almost overwhelming as he dipped his head lower, his tongue plunging in and out of me. My legs rose, arching over his shoulders to draw his head firmly between my thighs. "So fucking good," he breathed, and a responding squeeze tightened my grip. The pleasure built in my lower stomach, an insistent thrum I fought the urge to amplify by grinding against him.
My moans grew louder as his thumb unerringly found my clit, the sensation intensifying with every stroke. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, a testament to the pleasure I was struggling to contain. "Derick," I gasped, the name a plea I couldn't quite define, though Derick seemed to understand perfectly.
The pleasure was building, a tidal wave threatening to drown me. Every touch, every movement of Derick's tongue was a spark igniting a wildfire within me. I could feel my body tensing, coiling for the release that felt agonizingly close. "Derick," I gasped again, my fingers clenching his hair, pulling him closer, needing more, needing everything. My hips bucked instinctively, pressing against his mouth, desperate to deepen the exquisite sensation. My world narrowed to the slick, wet heat between my legs and the overwhelming intensity of his ministrations.
Then, with a sharp, almost painful crescendo, it happened. A shattering wave of pleasure ripped through me, leaving me breathless and trembling. My body convulsed, arching against Derick as the last vestiges of sensation subsided, leaving me weak and utterly sated. He drew me onto his lap, pressing soft kisses to my neck as my limbs finally went limp, still humming with the aftershocks of our encounter.