Restore Me

by J. L. Mac

  “Give all of yourself to me.”

  My heart speeds in response to his demand. My chest lifts and falls rapidly. Did he just say what I think he did? I nod and swallow hard. “Okay.”

  I’ll give him everything I have to give if that’s what he needs to come back to himself and to me.

  A look of relief washes across his face. “Fuck,” he pants.

  I give an involuntary shiver and his powerful arms envelope me and pull me to his chest, our bodies crashing together. I’m lifted from my feet as he cups my ass and cradles me in his arms. Being in his arms has never felt so good.

  “Bed. Now.” His body trembles and his amber eyes are fierce.

  “Yes,” I whisper. I’m not sure if Dr. Versan would approve this method of therapy, but if this is how Damon chooses to connect, I can support him.

  He sets me to my feet and takes my hand in his, leading us to the stairs. We ascend hand and hand, not saying a word. I stop at the foot of the bed and turn to him. He’s so close to me that I could lean forward just an inch and my mouth would be on his chest. Our height difference makes my eyes level with his sternum and for the first time I notice light purplish bruising on his chest.

  “Your chest.” I lift my hands and lightly trace the bruises with the pads of my fingers.

  “CPR hurts,” he answers simply in a monotone voice.

  It’s a reminder that I nearly lost him and that it’s entirely my fault.

  “I’m sorry, Damon. I’m so sorry. I should have let you explain everythi—”

  “Hush. It’s done.”

  I nod and back off from the sore subject. I lean in to kiss his battered sternum but he backs away.

  “Take your clothes off.”

  His demand takes me by surprise; he has always undressed me. I shuck off my sandals and unbutton my jean shorts, never breaking eye contact with my Big Man. The shorts slip down my legs and pool at my feet. My lacey boyshorts follow. Damon’s gaze never leaves mine as I reveal myself to him. He feels cold and indifferent. He has always worshiped my body. Right now, he’s looking at me like a piece of meat. I don’t care, though. If this is what he needs and wants, this is what I’ll give him. With one swift tug, I pull the hem of my cotton tank up over my head and drop it to the floor. I reach around my back and unclasp my bra. The straps slip off my shoulders and it joins the rest of my clothes on the floor. I’m standing in front of him completely naked, my face burning red.

  With one hand he unbuttons his jeans then tugs them off. I can’t help but to look down at his rigid cock pushing against the fabric of his boxer briefs. The drop of moisture that has been deposited on the fabric makes my mouth water. I imagine running my tongue over the silky soft tip until it jerks and twitches in pleasure.

  “Listen to me,” he demands quietly.

  I drag my eyes back to his. I’m listening.

  “If you tell me that you’ll give yourself to me, I’ll be taking you completely. I’ll have you in every way a man can take a woman. I’ll put you on that bed, or anywhere, for that matter, and I’ll fuck you until you beg me to stop. I’ll take everything you have and then some. You asked me what I need and this is it. I need you. All of you.”

  My mouth hangs open a little and I’m sure I look shocked as hell. He’s been rough with me before and he’s blindfolded me and tied me to the bed, but nothing beyond that. It was all in the name of pleasure and nothing I didn’t agree to. I should be hesitant, but that’s what a normal woman would do. I feel myself nodding “yes” before I even register what I’m doing, but it doesn’t matter. I think I’d say yes to Damon no matter what he asked me for. I’ve only refused him once and it ended up being the biggest, most dangerous mistake of my life. Not to mention the love of my life nearly died. I won’t make the same mistake twice. I don’t want to deny my Big Man. I’m his for the taking.

  “Yes?” Damon arches an incredulous eyebrow, as if he doesn’t believe I’m willing to submit to his needs and wants, which is total bullshit. He should know that I’d do anything to have him back the way he was. It may be completely out of character for me but damnit, I love him, and I’m willing and able to give myself over if it means having the old Damon back.

  “Yes,” I blurt confidently.

  “On the bed,” he orders. I back up until my ass hits the foot of the bed. I grip the edge and scoot onto the mattress. I make my way all the way to the pillows with Damon’s watchful eye on me the entire time.

  “Turn onto your stomach.” I give him one last look before flipping over onto my stomach. He looks like he’s a million miles away and it breaks my heart seeing him so… closed off. Zombie Damon is back.

  I hear movement from behind me then the bed dips under his weight. My stomach flutters anxiously as he works his way up my bare body. A familiar fabric slips over my eyes, rendering me blind.

  Damon secures the blindfold and adjusts my arms. “Like a V.”

  I nod and allow him to manipulate my body into place. He’s using the same straps that he used before. I remember them well. With a tug, my left arm stretches out completely against the mattress. Damon leans across to secure my other arm. He pulls the strap to take up the slack.

  “Legs together.” His voice is soft and smooth but commanding all the same. His hands guide my legs together. My thighs touch, making the building ache in my core intolerable. He’s taking his sweet time tying me up. It’s torture but it’s hot as hell at the same time. My body craves him and he knows it. He bends my legs at the knees so that the soles of my feet are skyward. I feel the same supple but strong strap wrap around my ankles once, twice, three times to bind my legs together. I can hear him breathing behind me. My body is humming with anticipation and I can feel his eyes on me. It makes my legs quiver and butterflies flutter wildly while I lie here bound, blinded, and wanton.

  “On your knees. Keep your chest flat on the bed.” He grips my hips and lifts my lower body so that I can pull my knees under me. My ass is perched up in front of him like a fucking trophy piece and I’m more than glad to give it to him.

  “Are you ready, Josephine?” His voice is raspy and dripping with seduction in a way I haven’t heard before. His big, warm hands glide over my ass then dig into my hips.

  “Mmm,” I purr.

  The wide tip of his cock bumps teasingly against my slick entrance. My eyes flutter behind the blindfold. The tip breaches past my opening and he takes his sweet ass time, sinking into me inch by delicious inch. My body takes in his impressive length like I was made for him. He rolls his hips once, his cock buried to the hilt. He lets out a guttural groan that has me biting my lip. Fuck, that’s sexy. What’s even sexier is the knowledge that I’m the one making him groan like that.

  His fingers dig harder into my hips as he completely withdraws from me and then slowly slips back in. I can feel every bulging vein and ridge as it passes over my sensitized flesh. He withdraws to just the tip again and pauses there. I moan, pleading for more. I feel him lean down over me. His defined chest barely grazes against my back. One of his big hands gathers a handful of my hair and pulls just enough to make me whimper breathily. I feel him shake and tremble against me. He’s about to unleash himself on me and I couldn’t want it any more than I already do. His moist lips press against my spine tenderly. It’s a small glimpse of the Damon I know and love. It’s the Damon I want back. His mouth leaves my back and a fraction of a second passes before he rears back and unleashes like I thought he would. With one quick, deep, punishing thrust the air is knocked from my lungs. I groan and tug at the bonds holding me immobile. Damon’s hands hold my bottom half steady and centered with his cock as he drives forward, hard and deep.

  “Ahh!” he bellows, breathing loudly. His fingers dig and squeeze painfully, but it feels so damn good. Each hard thrust seems to make my stomach tighten and clench more and more. He releases my hair and brings his hand swiftly down on my ass with a resounding crack just as the tip of his perfect cock hits the deepest parts of my body. A tin
y bolt of pain races through my womb and my ass feels like it’s on fire in the wake of the spanking. His hand crashes down again and I yelp. He reaches around me and puts his masterful fingers to work on my clit. I twitch and jerk in response to his ministrations on my hypersensitive nerve endings. One finger works me in a steady circular pattern, making me gasp between moans. I’m ready to explode under his touch.

  “Fuck! Ah!” I sputter.

  My core clenches hard as I inch closer to climax. Damon’s thrusts become frantic and intense. My legs quiver uncontrollably. My arms pull and jerk in vain against the straps. My toes curl so hard that the arches of my feet cramp painfully. A firestorm buds deep in my womb and explodes violently. My veins feel like they’re filled with searing hot liquid sex instead of blood.

  My climax consumes me. It steals what little breath I have. My channel squeezes and spasms around Damon’s cock, which jerks and twitches in return. He makes one more deep thrust, drawing out my orgasm, and grunts as he empties himself into me.

  We both work to catch our breath and Damon withdraws from me, still fully erect. He quickly begins untying the strap around my ankles. The bed shifts as he moves around me to free my arms. There’s obviously no cuddling planned. I sit back on my feet then splay my fingers and roll my shoulders. Damon unknots the blindfold and pulls it from my face. I blink rapidly to clear away the haze. Despite knowing better, hope creeps into the front of my thoughts as my vision clears and I see Damon in front of me. For a fraction of a moment I have hope that when I see him, there will be life in his eyes and emotion written on his face.

  Of course, life’s a bitch and all I see in front of me is the same cold, stoic Zombie Damon that woke up in the hospital over a week ago.

  I guess I thought giving myself to him would do the trick. How fucking naïve am I? I just got fucked half to death and that’s all it was. For the first time in my promiscuous adult life I feel cheap and used.

  I lift my hand to caress his cheek but he turns and walks towards the bathroom. The door shuts and I hear the click of the lock.

  I feel hideous.

  I feel dirty.

  I have the urge to shower and wash it all away.

  I think I know exactly how Dog felt.

  ***

  By the time Damon is out of the shower, I’ve already rummaged through my clothes to find something clean to wear. I step out of the closet in my loose cotton shorts and ancient, paper-thin t-shirt and come face to face with Damon’s chiseled chest. He has a towel around his waist and even though he’s dried off, a couple droplets of water linger in the dip of his bruised sternum. I glance up at him hopefully. His eyes are just as cold as ever. I lift my hand to touch his chest but he catches me by the wrist.

  “Don’t.”

  “Stop it!” I cry, jerking my arm free from his grasp.

  Despite the fact that he could easily hold onto me, he lets go. He won’t look me in the eyes, but I lift my hand to his chest again and he stays still as a statue while the pads of my fingers trace the bruising.

  “Does it still hurt?” I ask softly as my fingers inspect the damage that has marred his chest.

  “I’ve had worse,” he mumbles, pushing my hand away and shouldering past me to go into the closet.

  I know he’s hurting but fuck! I don’t know how much of this punishment I can take. He’s talking to me, at least. He needs to know that I won’t leave him again. I’ll never desert him like that again, but this treatment is hard to stomach. I turn on my heels and march into the damn closet after him. I stand by the door and wait for him to turn around.

  “Do you hate me? Do you want me gone? Is this my punishment? Huh?!” My lip quivers and tears threaten. My heart pounds. Adrenaline courses through my veins. I’m so damn frustrated with him, with everything about him, with everything that has happened. I feel cheap, disposable, and used.

  His eyes are no longer warm, his touch isn’t affectionate, and his voice is filled with cold indifference. It claws at my resolve. He’s just not my Damon. Zombie Damon is a creepy, belligerent shell of my Damon. I can fight for him with everything I have to give, but even I have a breaking point.

  “Hate you?” he questions with quizzically raised brow. “No, Josephine. I don’t hate you. If I did, I’d give you a generous amount of money and send you away.”

  Bastard. His comment is a low blow and he knows it. He knows his money has never been my motivation for being with him. If he wants to punish me, if this treatment is my penance for abandoning him when he needed me most, then I’ll take it for as long as I can. I just hope my breaking point is far off. The fact is, this is a battle of wills between us and I don’t intend on losing

  “I don’t want your fucking money, Damon! I didn’t back then, I don’t now, and I damn sure won’t want it in the future!” I hiss.

  He prowls closer to me and I stand my ground. His stoic eyes stay locked onto mine. He comes to a stop mere inches from me. “Then what is it you want from me?” His voice is whisper soft and chillingly ominous.

  I’ve never heard him this way, and after the “taking all of me,” I admit to being just the tiniest bit scared of how this battle of wills is going to proceed. “I just want you. I want my Damon back,” I admit truthfully.

  His empty eyes stare back at me without an ounce of emotion. He steps around and leaves me standing in here alone. No response. Just his back as he walks away. I lean my back against the door frame of the closet and slide down to the floor in a heap. Familiar hopelessness swallows me up and I let it. Fuck it. There’s no running from this, so I might as well not fight it. It’s better to embrace the hurt than to struggle against it. I know this better than anyone. It’s like being swept out to sea and having to choose between battling in vain against the current or letting it take you under. I’ll let it take me under, but I damn sure hope that I surface at some point with a breath of life still in me.

  If this is what Damon’s going to be like, I’ll let him drag me under with him. I just hope that after it’s all said and done, we can come out on top. I know what he’s doing; Grams made it clear that he’s done this before. I’ll hang on for dear life. I’ll be his life raft. I’ll let him get this out of his system, and when he’s done with this shit, he’ll realize that I’m still standing and so is he. If he needs an emotional punching bag, I’ll be the best goddamned punching bag on the planet! It’s going to hurt like hell to keep feeling rejected when I want him to love me like he used to, but not having him hurts a whole lot worse.

  I want no part of life without Damon. It would be a sad existence for me. No one could possibly ever compare to him. He is my one and only. I’ll get him out of this. When he’s being a dick, I’ll tell him so. But I’ll also tell him how much I love and miss the old Damon. I’ll remind him over and over that none of this is his fault. Most importantly, I’ll get it through his thick skull that I’m not going anywhere. I’ve gone through some shit in my life, but I have a feeling that I’m in for the battle of my life with Damon. For Damon.

  I gather myself up from the floor and make my way downstairs. I find Damon in the kitchen digging through cabinets. He’s hungry. He’s always hungry after sex. Animal.

  “I’ll make you something,” I offer. He nods, without even looking in my direction, and begins to walk off. Now or never. “You can be as big of an asshole as you want to be. I’m not some dog you can just run off. I still love you, and I’m not going anywhere.” My voice has finality to it and I’m feeling brave again. Thank fuck for that.

  He pauses in his tracks for a split second, as if he’s thinking of turning around, and then continues down the hall to his office. He’s going to hide. I’ll let him hole up in there for now.

  Cooking dinner is a welcome distraction from everything, and I waste no time getting to it. My Big Man has one hell of an appetite, but he’s going to have to deal with my vegetable soup. With the irrigation thing they did to his stomach, I’m afraid to give him anything heavy.

  I
chop and boil and whisk and have dinner ready in no time. Now to bring the Big Man to the table. I’m not sure what he does in his office for hours at a time, but it definitely seems to be his happy place. I thought the library was; maybe that’s changed. I tap on the door twice then push it open. His back is to me and he’s standing in front of that cabinet again. He looks over his shoulder and nods, turning a key to lock the cabinet. He tucks the key into his pocket and turns to face me.

  “Dinner?”

  “I made soup for you.”

  “Soup?!” he asks incredulously.

  “Uh, yeah. I figured you should keep eating light food because of the stomach thing.”

  “No.” He shakes his head vehemently. “I’m fine, but I’m hungry and soup isn’t real food.”

  “Um, yes it most definitely is.” I fold my arms over my chest and scowl at his stubborn ass.

  “I’m hungry, Josephine. I’ve eaten next to nothing for a week solid. I want food.”

  “So go eat.” I shrug. “Please just eat the damn soup. It’s really good,” I plead, making sure to use a little female charm. “There’s yummy bread, too.”

  He gives me zero response, of course, just a disinterested stare, and stalks past me towards the kitchen. He walks right up to the pot on the stove and scoops up the soup to inspect it. What the fuck? I’m being judged? He bends down and opens a cabinet. After digging through the cabinet, he produces a dish and ladles out three huge scoops into a mixing bowl. Then he goes to the fridge and begins pilfering through it.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  He says nothing as he fishes out a bag of shredded cheese and covers the top of his soup with at least half the bag. I watch him with shocked disbelief. He opens yet another cabinet and snatches up an entire box of soup crackers. He can’t possibly eat all that.

  “There’s bread,” I remind him, pointing to the bakery bread and butter on the counter.

  He grabs the entire loaf and the butter dish from the counter and adds it to his pile of loot, heading back to his cave without even a second glance in my direction.