by Mazzy King
“Fuck, Damien,” she says raggedly.
I turn her around and dip my head to taste her nipples, sucking and teasing and nibbling, just a little bit. Her panting gasps fill the air after a few minutes, and I know she’s ready.
“Slide those panties off for me,” I murmur, climbing onto the bed.
Nancy complies, slipping them over her hips.
“Now show it to me.”
She bites her lip and places a knee on the bed. My mouth floods with saliva again. She’s neat and trimmed, and her lips are puffy with excitement.
“Now climb on my face, sweetheart,” I whisper.
I help her onto the bed. She’s trembling as she swings a leg over my chest.
“I—I’ve never done this,” she confesses.
I smile up at her, pulling her toward my face. “You just tell me to stop if you get uncomfortable…”
With that, I pull her hips down, and her wet pussy meets my eager tongue.
“Oh, fuck!” she cries, grabbing the headboard.
I reach in deep with my tongue, scooping eager mouthfuls of her. She’s extra sweet and gushing wet. I grip her ass cheeks to help prop her up and eat her thoroughly. Slowly, her hips start to move as she loses herself in the pleasure, and before long, she’s riding my mouth and tongue with slow rolls of her hips, greedily using my face to bring herself to her end, and I could not love it more.
“I’m coming,” she cries, her hips moving faster. “Oh my God…”
She quakes hard above me, her juice flooding my mouth. I hold her firmly so she doesn’t keel over, then maneuver her onto her back and lavish kisses all over her belly, breasts, neck.
“How are you?” I ask into her skin.
She draws in a deep, shaky breath and looks at me. Then she trails a finger down my chest, my abs. “Ready for more.”
I sit back on my heels and spread her legs, draping them over my thighs as I dip two fingers inside her. I find her G-spot and massage it rapidly, then lower my mouth and suck her clit at the same time. Her moans build to a scream as she explodes again.
Precum leaks out of my cock as it begs me for release. Nancy’s still trembling and gasping as I lean over her and slowly slide inside her tight, wet pussy, making her moan again.
“Okay?” I whisper.
She grabs my hips. “Don’t fucking stop!”
I bite my lip, smiling, as I start stroking her with slow, hard thrusts. I want her to feel every single one deep in her marrow. I want to fill her with heat, bring her to a simmer, then watch her boil over when I turn up the heat.
“Look at me, baby,” I ask, touching her face.
Nancy opens her eyes and gazes up at me.
“I’m here for you,” I tell her. “Anything you want. Anything you need. Anything you crave. You come to me. I’m yours.” I lean down and tongue-kiss her deeply. “Are you mine? Does this sweet, tight pussy belong to me?”
“It’s yours,” she gasps. “I’m yours. I’m all yours, Damien.”
I cup her head with one hand, her hip with the other, and I take us over the finish line, plunging into her hard and fast.
With a scream, she shatters a final time, the sweetest time. The feeling of her coming on my cock with it buried so deeply in her tight, wet heat pulls me over the edge after her. With a deep groan into her neck, I flood her with my seed, cock pulsing hard.
Pulling away from her would be the death of me right now, but I’m afraid of crushing her.
“No,” she whispers weakly, pulling at my hip when I start to move away. “Stay there. Stay inside me.”
“That’s a surefire way to make me hard again,” I reply, kissing her slowly. “And then I’ll keep you up all night.”
“I want to feel you get hard inside me,” she replies, her fingers tracing long, luxurious stripes up and down my back. “And I want you to take me. All night.”
“Anything you want, love.” I trail my lips to the pulse in her neck. It’s still racing. “Your wish is my command. I’m going to take care of you.”
She turns her face toward me. “Do you promise?”
There’s a naked plea in her eyes. They’re open and vulnerable and full of need and fear. This fierce woman who’s been hurt so terribly is lying before me, belly up, neck exposed.
But I will never, ever go for the kill.
I gently kiss her throat. “I swear.”
7
Nancy
The alarm goes off, jolting me from the soundest sleep I’ve had in a long, long time.
My face is smooshed to Damien’s chest, and there’s a little puddle of drool on his skin. Oops.
I hastily wipe it off as I sit up. He stirs and blinks at me while I turn off the alarm. “Good morning,” he says. “Wow. You’re gorgeous first thing in the morning. How’s that possible?”
“What?” I exclaim, blushing, running a hand through my hair. “You’re just flattering me.”
He smirks and reaches for my hand, placing it on his long, thick length hidden under the sheet. “Does this feel like flattery?”
He took me four times over the course of the night, and somehow, he’s ready for more. I’m in awe. But despite the ache between my thighs, I can’t help but fall into his arms.
With the sunlight streaming across the bed, and in the messy tangle of sheets, Damien bends me over and takes me hard from behind, one hand wrapped around my hair, the other gripping my hip. And I absolutely love it. He’s made tender, passionate love to me. We’ve had a quickie. And now, now that he knows I’m not breakable, that I like a little roughness when I feel safe, he fucks me hard, pulling my hair firmly, until I come all over his cock.
I’ve discovered I’m multi-orgasmic. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s made me come.
He grunts his approval as I moan into the pillow, my juice splashing his groin with little squirts. “God, I love making you come,” he growls. “It’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
He releases my hair and grips my ass in both hands, spreading me apart to reach even deeper and pulling another climax from me as he rides me to his own end.
We lay panting, the sun warming our already heated skin.
Damien plants soft kisses all over my back. “Let’s take a nap, and then I’ll feed you.”
“You can cook?”
“I know my way around a kitchen.” He trails a finger down my spine to my rear. “And I promised you I’m going to take care of you. That means making sure you get a good meal.”
“I like cooking too.”
“Good,” he says, leaning over to kiss my cheek. “Then we can cook together.”
“Will you wear an apron?” I tease.
“Yup. If you’ll wear my T-shirt…with nothing on underneath.” His lips follow the path of his fingers on my back, trailing kisses all the way down to the top of my ass. His hands part my thighs, and he tilts my ass up, exposing my aching sex.
My heart pounds as I look at him over my shoulder. “Damien…”
“I’ll be quick.” His lips close around my clit.
Being eaten from this angle is a brand-new experience, somehow more intense, and I come like a thunderclap in no time at all. Then my groan turns to frustration as I check the clock again.
“I have to get ready for my sister’s gift-opening brunch.”
“Okay.” He kisses my temple. “I don’t want you to miss that.”
“You’re invited too,” I add, sliding out of bed.
“Are you sure?” He tilts his head, smirking. “Since this was just supposed to be one night, and everything.”
“Ha-ha. I’d say we left that in the dust, oh, about twelve hours ago.” I scamper into the bathroom and take a record-fast shower, then get dressed in a sundress and low-heeled sandals. Damien’s dress shirt is unbuttoned over his snug undershirt.
“I was thinking we could drive separate,” he says. “I should go home and get a change of clothes. Wouldn’t want to send the gossiping tongues wag
ging.”
“I’ll give you a wagging tongue,” I murmur playfully. “Okay. I can meet you out front. It’s at the Waterfront Hotel, where they stayed last night.”
Outside, he kisses me deeply, then opens my car door for me.
“Hurry,” I urge, clinging to him.
“I’ll be quick,” he promises.
We head our separate ways and I drive to the hotel. It’s such a grand, sprawling building, with vintage touches from when it was first built in the 1920s. In fact, it has its own little museum inside, with information and original artifacts and items dating back to its inception.
I made it with twenty minutes to spare. I’ve already given Darby and Harlowe my gift—a travel voucher for two nights at this stunning bed and breakfast in York Bay, redeemable any time in the next eighteen months. Instead, I make a beeline for the museum and take my time strolling through the exhibit. I’m a history buff, and things like this really get me going.
Finally I head outside to meet Damien, taking a side exit to walk past the little courtyard garden. The air is crisp and fresh, the weather perfect.
And I’m in love.
The thought makes me stop in my tracks. Where the hell did that come from?
“Ridiculous,” I tell myself. “It’s not possible. I like him a lot.”
I love him.
“Shut up,” I mutter. But a slow smile spreads across my face. Whatever I feel, I like it. It’s scary. It’s brand-new. But it makes me feel good. He makes me feel good. And I think, for the first time in a long time, I’m ready to try. To really try.
With Damien.
I follow the curve of the path around the building toward the front. I don’t see his truck yet. Then my stomach knots. What if he changed his mind? What if he was just in it for the sex? What if he got what he wants from me, and played me like the trusting idiot that I am, and now he’s off laughing somewhere, with no intention of coming here?
What if I just made a monumental mistake?
Anxiety claws at my throat.
“Get a grip, Nancy,” I hiss. “Get a fucking grip.”
It’s so hard to breathe. And now I feel sick.
“Nancy?”
The male voice makes me whirl around, heart in my throat. I’m ready to laugh at myself. I’m ready to fly into his arms and tell him what a dork I am. How utterly ridiculous. But how happy I am to see—
What the fuck?
Curtis strides toward me, wearing a dress shirt and slacks. He looks better than the last time I saw him, but—but—
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand. I meant for my voice to come out hard and forceful, but it rises into a little terrified squeak. Because seeing him walking toward me now makes me think about all the other times he—
—grabbed me by the hair—
—slapped my face—
—threw me against the wall—
—shoved me to the floor—
—walked toward me.
I skitter backward like a spider. “Stay away from me, Curtis.”
“I just want to talk to you,” he pleads. “I knew this was the only way to see you.”
“How did you even know where to find me?” I demand.
“We still have mutual friends on social media. I heard Harlowe was getting married today. I asked them to get me the details,” he admits. “I know it seems kinda fucked up, but it was the only way for me to get in touch with you, since you moved and changed your number.”
“And why the fuck do you think I did that? To get away from you! And by the way, you’re violating the protection order I have against you.” I keep sidestepping him and backing away, my eyes glued to him.
“I came because I need to tell you I’ve changed,” he pleads. “I’ve been working on myself this past year, and I’m in a really good place now. But I need you in my life, Nancy. Nothing is as good as it could be without you in it.”
He holds a hand out toward me and I swat at it. He pulls it back before I make contact.
“I’m clean now,” he says. “I have a good job. I’m even looking to relocate here from York Bay.”
“I don’t care,” I snap.
“I’m so sorry for everything I did to you,” he says, clasping his hands in front of him.
This makes me stare at him.
He’s never once apologized to me.
“I was dead wrong,” he continues. “I had no right to touch you the way I did. To hurt you. And I just really need you to know how sorry I am for all of it.”
I’m speechless.
“I’m going to this church,” he says quietly. “And I’m doing therapy there with the pastor. It’s made me see how bad I treated you. How much wrong I did. And I needed to say I’m sorry.”
“Oh,” is all I can muster.
He gives a small smile. “Do you think maybe we could grab some coffee sometime? My treat, of course. Just to catch up. No pressure at all.”
I draw in a deep breath. Something inside me has shifted in a weird way. I never knew how much I needed him to take accountability for what he did, but…I guess I did.
“Thank you, Curtis,” I say softly. “For…the apology.”
“Don’t thank me for that,” he says, shaking his head.
“No, I… I guess on some level I needed to hear you say that.”
“Well, I’ll keep saying it, because I’ll never stop being sorry for that,” he says. “There’s so much more I want to tell you. What do you think about that coffee meetup?”
I’m already so, so late for Harlowe’s brunch. I’m vaguely aware of my cell phone buzzing nonstop in my clutch purse, but I ignore it for the moment.
“I appreciate the apology. I appreciate that you say you’ve made changes. I even appreciate that you’re going to church.” I draw a deep breath. Damien’s face flashes through my mind. I think of his hands, his mouth. The look in his eyes when he told me he belonged to me. That he would take care of me.
I hardly know Damien, but it feels like I do. It feels like he’s supposed to be in my life. That he’s going to be very, very important to me. That he could change my life. Better it.
The man standing before me, the man I spent years with, the man who did everything he could to destroy me, is familiar, but so different. Is new, but so much the same. Is earnest. Open. Apologetic.
“I accept your apology,” I say slowly, “but I don’t know what to do with it. There’s…there’s a lot I’m still unpacking on my own.”
“I know,” he says quietly. “I know. I just…needed you to know.”
“I can’t get coffee with you,” I whisper. “I can’t see you. I can’t be around you. Not now, not ever again. I can’t get past what you did to me.”
His brow wrinkles, as if he’s confused. “But…I apologized.”
“You did. But that’s not enough. That will never be enough.”
“Then let me make it up to you.” His voice has taken on a sharp edge.
“You can’t, Curtis,” I say flatly. “It’s not possible for you to make anything up to me. You should never have come here.”
In a flash, he reaches out and snatches my arm in a painful grip. “I drive an hour to see you and beg for your forgiveness, and this is how you treat me?”
All those times when he hurt me, when he tried to destroy me, come rush back, and I can’t breathe. “Let me go,” I utter hoarsely. “Curtis, get the fuck off me!”
“No,” he says through his teeth, and yanks me forward. “We’re going to go someplace nice and quiet, and we’re going to have a long talk. And when we’re done, you’re going to see things my way.”
“No!” I try to scream, but he grabs my face, like he did so many times before.
“Don’t fucking touch her.”
The voice, deep and steady, booms out behind us.
Curtis releases my face but not my arm as he turns sharply to find Damien standing behind us, his fists clenched. “Who the fuck’re you?” He looks from Damien to me an
d back. “You fucking my girl or something?”
“She’s not your girl,” Damien says calmly. “I’m only going to tell you one more time. Get your fucking hands off her.”
“Or what?”
All I see is Damien’s hand chopping down at an angle, a flurry of arms, and Curtis whirling around. His grip on me is gone instantly and I stumble back.
Damien has him on the ground on his stomach, one knee between his shoulder blades, cranking back one of Curtis’s arms. His other knee pins Curtis’s other arm to the pavement.
Damien lifts his gaze to mine. He’s so calm, as if this is a simple, everyday occurrence. “You said you’ve got a protection order against him, right?”
I nod rapid, unable to speak. His voice is so gentle now.
“Why don’t you call the cops?” he says in the same soft-spoken tone. “I’ll hold him until they get here.”
Curtis screams curses at him.
“What the fuck is happening?” Harlowe cries out behind me.
“Shit!” I hiss, turning.
She looks absolutely stunning in her short, white sundress, her golden-brown hair curled and pinned on one side. But there’s a mask of horror on her beautiful face as she shifts terrified green eyes to me.
“Nancy, what?”
“He found me,” I tell her. “Curtis. He knew where I’d be, and he came here to talk to me. Then he—he grabbed me!”
Behind Harlowe a crowd of our family forms and my humiliation is complete.
“What’s going on?” Mom exclaims. “Is that Curtis?” She turns to stare at me. “Did you invite him?”
“No!” I scream.
Harlowe pulls me into her arms.
Darby shoulders past us and jogs over to Damien, then whips out his cell phone. I feel terrible. He just got married. He shouldn’t have to deal with this. No one should.
My dad briefly hugs both Harlowe and I. “It’ll be okay, girls,” he murmurs, then walks over to join the small crowd around Damien and Curtis. Curtis is still thrashing, and Damien is still holding him fast, sill totally calm, even flashing my dad a friendly smile as he approaches.