23. Twenty-Three

Twenty-Three

Kendrick

This is our last night in town, and Cass has finished his performance. We’re all on an emotional high. It’s late, and the hotel lobby is quieting down. Sam, Cass, and I head to the bar for a celebratory drink before calling it a night. The bar is dimly lit, intimate, and much quieter than I expected for a night like this.

Cass is relaxed, his arm around me as we sit at a table near the back. Sam sits across from us, a tired but satisfied smile playing on his face. We all feel the satisfaction of a successful night, and each sip of our drinks is a toast to Cass and Sam for finishing up another great performance.

Cassidy texts me just as we’re starting to talk about the concert. I glance down at her message. ‘ Mom, I’m heading to bed. Told you I didn’t need a babysitter! I’m twelve-practically a teenager!’

I grin, almost hearing her earlier indignation when I mentioned I didn’t like leaving her alone in the penthouse. I tap out a quick reply, secretly relieved that she’s safely tucked away upstairs. I’m glad Cass and Sam were fine with celebrating in the hotel bar. I’m sure it’s much more tame than where they typically hang out when they’re in town. The rest of the band opted for something more exciting.

Sam lifts his glass, signaling a toast. “To one hell of a night. And to the best company.” He winks at me, and Cass chuckles, clinking his glass with Sam’s before turning to me.

“To a great life,” Cass adds, his eyes catching mine. They’re only words, but they feel like a promise, one that fills me with warmth. I feel his gaze almost like a physical caress as his eyes scan over my new outfit. The shirt I’m wearing shimmers with every movement. The pants are practically painted on, accentuating my curves. My blonde hair falls softly around my shoulders, gleaming almost as bright as my overly large earrings. The appreciation in his gaze warms me, and I press closer, feeling undeniably attractive.

We each drink to Sam’s toast, laughing and sharing memories as the night progresses. For a while, everything feels perfect, as though we’re in our own little bubble, shielded from Cass’s fame. But all too soon, I notice someone staring at us from the corner of my eye, and the quiet hum of the bar is disrupted by loud whispers.

“Oh my god, that’s Cass Wild!” someone hisses, and before I know it, a small group of people are staring and pointing excitedly our way. “And Sam Ryder!”

I glance at Cass, who looks unbothered, almost resigned. He’s used to this, the constant attention, the whispers. It’s part of his world, one I’m slowly learning to navigate. Cass sips his drink, ignoring the curious glances, and shifts even closer to me, his fingers brushing mine. Just as he leans in to whisper something, a young woman with overly bright eyes and flushed cheeks boldly approaches our table.

“You’re Cass Wild,” she says in a starstruck voice, clutching her phone. Her friend stands nervously behind her, wide-eyed and giddy as her eyes dart from Cass to Sam.

Cass smiles politely. “Yes?”

The girl’s face lights up. “Could I… could I please get an autograph and selfie with you? I’ve been a fan forever. Your music… It’s great. I love you and all of your songs.”

Cass nods, reaching for a napkin, and begins to sign it. Just as he’s about to hand it back, a voice slices through the air.

“Hey, what are you doing over here?” A man staggers up, his eyes glassy and his tone confrontational. He’s tall and broad, with an arrogant swagger. He’s clearly had too much to drink, and as he steps closer, the young woman looks over her shoulder, her face twisting into a wary frown.

“I just wanted to get Cass Wild’s autograph and a picture,” she says, placing her hand on the guy’s chest, holding him back.

Glancing down at her hand and then back at Cass, he shoves himself forward. “What the fuck? Was he coming on to you?” he bellows in outrage.

“Evan, stop,” she pleads, but he ignores her, fixing his angry glare on Cass.

“Oh, I see what’s happening here,” Evan sneers, his voice belligerent. “You think just because you’re some big-shot rock star, you can swoop in and steal my girl?”

Cass raises his hands, trying to defuse the situation. “Hey, man, it’s just an autograph. I wasn’t—“

“Bullshit! Who do you think you are?” Evan cuts him off, his voice loud and slurred. “Man, you don’t know who you’re messing with.”

The scene begins to draw attention, and people curiously turn to watch the spectacle. I glance at Sam, who’s already assessing the situation, his eyes flicking between Cass and Evan. The young woman tries to tug on her boyfriend’s arm, but he shrugs her off, his focus locked on Cass.

“You think you’re so fucking special, don’t you?” Evan sneers, his words slurred and aggressive. “Just because you’ve got a few fans, you think you can walk around like you’re better than everyone else.”

Cass’s jaw tightens, but he stays calm. “Look, I’m just here with my friend and my girl, trying to unwind and enjoy a night out. My family’s here, and I don’t want any trouble.”

But Evan isn’t hearing it. He steps closer, his posture overly aggressive. “Now you’re some family man? Give me a break.” He scoffs, looking Cass up and down with disgust. “I used to think you were cool. But you’re just another washed-up, has been.”

A murmur goes through the crowd, and I can feel the tension building. Cass looks at me, a silent message in his eyes. He’s trying to keep things under control, trying not to make a scene. But Evan’s words cut deep, and I can see the flicker of anger in Cass’s expression. I give a worried frown as Cass stands up, keeping his eyes on the man challenging him.

“Just leave it, Cass,” I whisper, reaching out to touch his arm. But before he can respond, Evan lurches forward, his fist swinging wildly. He misses by a mile, too drunk to aim properly, but the movement sends a shocked gasp through the crowd.

Cass steps back, his face impassive, as Evan stumbles, nearly losing his balance. Sam rises, ready to intervene, but Cass holds up a hand, signaling for him to wait.

“You done?” Cass asks, his tone icy.

Evan sneers, but the fight seems to drain out of him as he realizes he’s become the center of attention. The young woman tugs on his arm, whispering something that I can’t hear, and finally, he allows her to pull him away, mumbling curses under his breath as he follows her with stumbling steps.

The crowd slowly disperses, but not before everyone snaps a few photos. I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Cass turns to me, a wry smile on his face. “Well, that was fun.”

“Is that what fun looks like in your world?” I ask, my voice tinged with worry. “Because I think it was a disaster. That guy had no right to say those things–and he tried to hit you!”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “That’s just a day in the life of Cass Wild. But honestly, man,” he turns to Cass, “you handled that well. That could have gotten ugly fast.”

Cass sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s part of the deal, I guess. But sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”

He catches my eye, and I see the weariness there, the weight of years spent under the scrutiny of fans and critics alike. Fame has given him so much, but it’s also taken a lot from him, too.

I reach out, placing my hand over his. “Tonight, let’s just focus on the good parts, okay? Like being here together. The rest… it’s just noise.”

He gives me a small, grateful smile. “You always know what to say, Kendrick.”

As we finish our drinks, the tension from the encounter fades, replaced by a comfortable silence. But a part of me can’t shake the feeling that this is only a glimpse of what life with Cass entails—a constant balance between public adoration and private disarray. And as much as I love him, I wonder if I’m truly prepared for all that comes with it.

Once back in our room, a tense energy radiates off Cass. As soon as the door closes, he takes me in his arms, giving me a rough kiss. We urgently come together, our hands busy taking off each other’s clothing. By the time we’re both naked, Cass is hard as a rock. I kneel in front of him. I feel his hands in my hair as I take him into my mouth.

“Kendrick–damn. That feels good.”

Cupping his balls in my hand, I caress him with my mouth and hand from root to tip. My tongue sliding over the slotted tip.

Cass tightens his grip on my hair as he moves his hips, throwing back his head. “Kendrick,” he growls.

Not stopping, I continue working him, bringing him right to the edge of his desire. He gives a guttural groan as I suddenly deep-throat him, pushing him over the edge. His hands tighten even more, but the slight sting only heightens my own arousal. When it’s over, I lean back, giving him a womanly smile. His blue eyes blazing as he looks down at me, helping me to my feet.

“That was–damn, Kendrick,” he says huskily, pulling me close against his bare chest. Quicker than I thought possible, I feel his shaft lengthening against my hip. Startled, I glance up at him. He smirks. “Your turn.”

Pulling me over to the bed, he falls backward, taking me with him. He pulls me on top of him, then raises me up so I can slowly lower myself onto his hard cock. Once he’s fully inside of me, I pause just to enjoy the feeling of fullness. His hands tighten around my waist, urging me on. I slowly start to move, rocking back and forth and occasionally in a slow, sensuous circle, just to change things up.

Without increasing the tempo, I throw my head back, letting my long hair brush the tops of his thighs, and Cass gives a low guttural groan.

“You like that?” I whisper, doing it again, then leaning forward to see his eyes, balancing my hands on his chiseled chest.

“Yes,” he states gruffly, his blue eyes intense. His broad hands drop from my waist lower, around my hips, and then he takes over, guiding me into a faster rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” Cass says as he squeezes his hands. Our eyes lock as I continue to move above him. Suddenly, his hands go again to my waist, and he rolls until he’s above me.

Grinning down at me, he mutters, “Too slow.” He pulls out and then surges back in with more force, steadily increasing the pace. Without warning, my entire body clenches, clamping down on him as my orgasm takes over. It’s so intense I see stars as I practically touch the heavens. I vaguely hear Cass give a low groan as his body stiffens and follows me.

Cass collapses beside me, pulling me close and my head resting on his shoulder. As our breathing evens out, a realization washes over me—right now, in this moment, I want to be his sanctuary. I can offer him refuge from the chaos, a place where he can truly be himself. I can give him the peace and tranquility he deserves, no matter what the world throws our way.

When I glance over, his eyes are closed, and he’s sleeping. I give a soft, contented smile as I snuggle closer, falling asleep securely in his arms.

The next morning, as we’re getting ready to head to the sound studio, an angry Derrick calls Cass. With a grimace, Cass answers his phone. “Yes, Derrick?”

Cassidy and I can both hear Derrick’s loud voice coming through the phone. “What the hell happened last night?”

Cass sighs. “A drunk guy didn’t like that his girlfriend asked for my autograph and photo.”

“Well, her friend caught the whole thing on her phone and posted the video on social media. It’s gone viral,” Derrick states in a harsh voice.

“Don’t you always say that any publicity is good publicity? I didn’t do anything to provoke him. It can only show that the other guy was in the wrong,” Cass points out calmly.

“He called you a washed-up family man, has-been,” Derrick fires back. “That is not good publicity.”

“What would you have had me do? The guy was drunk, unreasonable, and looking for a fight,” Cass mumbles wearily. “He even threw a punch. Personally, I think I handled it as well as could be expected.”

Silence greets him on the other end of the phone. Finally, Cass states, “Goodbye, Derrick.” And disconnects the call.

When Cass turns around, Cassidy already has her phone out and is watching the video. “Oh, my gosh! Dad! That guy tried to hit you!”

Cass grimaces. “Cassidy, the guy was inebriated. His swing didn’t even come close.”

“But still. Why didn’t you call the cops and have him arrested?” she says, showing her indignation.

Cass lets out a deep breath, clearly trying to find the right words for Cassidy, who looks horrified and outraged by the video.

“Because if I had every person arrested who tried to pick a fight with me,” he says, “I’d be spending more time in court than on stage. People get riled up sometimes, especially when they’ve had too much to drink. You learn to let it go.”

Cassidy frowns, still staring at her phone. “But, Dad, that’s not fair! He was totally out of line, and you didn’t do anything wrong. You were just being nice to his girlfriend. Why do people act that way?”

Cass places a comforting hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring smile. “Unfortunately, not everyone’s going to be kind or rational, sweetheart. And sometimes, when you’re in the public eye, people look for any reason to tear you down.” He pauses, searching her face for understanding. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being me. Or stop being there for you and your mom.”

Cassidy glances between us, her expression easing as worry gives way to understanding. “So… you’re not upset about what he said? About his comments–his insults?”

Cass chuckles, the sound warm and rich. “Nope. In fact, I take the family man part as a compliment, so I must be doing something right. Besides, that is not the worst thing he said about me. Calling me a has-been was way worse. But who cares what someone like him thinks?”

Her face relaxes, a small smile breaking through. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

I step closer, reaching for Cass’s hand, feeling a surge of admiration for his strength and resilience. He’s dealt with the pressures and dark sides of fame since the beginning, but now, standing beside him, I see how he’s made peace with it and learned to protect what matters.

Cass gives my hand a firm reassuring squeeze, then looks back at Cassidy. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get to that sound studio. We’ve got music to make.”

Cassidy grins, her excitement overpowering any lingering frustration. She slips her phone back into her bag, her eyes lighting up again as she remembers what the day has in store.

As we head out of the hotel room and down to the lobby, Cass keeps his arm draped around my shoulders. It’s a simple, protective gesture, but it makes me feel safe and supported. This is the side of him the tabloids miss—the deeply caring man I’m lucky enough to know.