by L. J. Woods
“It is now!” Carlos sits beside Allie, kissing her on her cheek while Nate sits on the other side of Christian.
Nate looks between us, “Or it might have been a private party for two.” He arches an eyebrow my way and I give him an eye roll. “Still playing in the kingdom are we, Jo?”
My cheeks grow warm as I sit up in my seat. “I’m thanking Christian for taking care of Willow.” That is the truth.
“What do you mean?” Allie asks. “Do we finally get to know what happened last night?”
“Yeah, Scandal.” Nate looks my way again. “What happened last night?”
As they settle in, I spill what happened with Willow and Jasper. I know Christian’s itching to hear more about what happened with Damien after he left, but I’m still digesting it. He can wait.
“The jocks at this school are fucking gross,” Allie says, fists slamming on the table. “And the school keeps funding their bullshit.”
“Hey!” Chrisitan pipes.
Allie continues, “ I can’t imagine how many girls they’ve taken up to King’s roof.”
“… and boys,” Carlos chimes in, signalling for a server.
“I’m not even surprised,” Allie scoffs again. “Bunch of insecure pricks.”
“Hey, I’m right here!” Christian pipes up again, throwing a fry at her head.
“Well, if you’re going to keep hanging with us, you can expect us to bash you,” Allie says. “I’m not apologizing because you want to rub up on my girl.”
I choke on my OJ as Allie gives her brother a smirk and a lift of her brow as if she’s proud of her words. Carlos snorts and Nate gives Christian a snap before he sighs, sinking into his seat. “Fine, but let’s change the subject.”
Allie sits up. “Like how mom and dad kept me up screaming at each other last night? Did you get any sleep?”
We spend the rest of the hour talking about the twins’ family drama while shovelling food into our mouths and by the end of it all, I’ve eaten a fair bit.
My phone buzzes against the table, Damien’s name lighting it up for the seventh time since Christian and I sat down. Flipping it over, I ignore it again. I’m not going to let Damien King ruin this. I won’t let him ruin me. No matter how good it feels when he does.
* * *
Ignoring Damien’s calls for the rest of the day wasn’t easy but I somehow manage. Especially since I have Clara’s project on my mind. If a scholarship is in reach, I’m grasping for it and I’m not letting Damien and his bullshit pull me back.
After spending my last period in solace in the library, I’m feeling calmer. A little more collected. That is until I’m walking towards Henry’s Rolls Royce at the end of the day.
“Jo!”
The words come like a chorus. A deep, bassy chorus.
Turning around, both Damien and Christian stand behind me, saying my name in unison like a fucking musical. With a hard glance at Christian, Damien speaks first, “We need to talk. Now.”
“Actually,” Christian pipes up next. “I was gonna ask if you want to grab a coffee.”
Damien’s knuckles go white, his fist clenching. He takes a couple of steps towards Christian, “Back off, Perez. Or do you want another black eye?” He turns to me before Christian can respond. “We need to go to MOCHA. Now.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re right about Marion. Something’s up.”
Christian speaks up, “Can’t whatever this is wait?”
“Can’t you?” Damien bites back. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get lost, Perez. I fucking mean it.”
“King, you know I’m your friend, and I’ll always be, but I’m getting tired of this.” The two of them square up, chests almost kissing. There’s a crowd growing around us, Lea and her minions watching from afar.
“What’re you gonna do?” Damien takes that one last step to bring them nose to nose. “Go ahead, Perez.” He smirks. “I dare you.”
“What’s going on here?” Headmaster Beckett calls from behind us. “Is everything okay with you boys?” His head moves between them before his eyes land on me behind them. A bushy brow raises.
Shit.
“Yes! Everything is fine!” I pipe. If I show him I’m deescalating this, he won’t pin it on me. I’ve already gotten a slip for being out of uniform and I don’t need any more trouble from faculty. “Right?”
“Is it?” Damien asks, neither of them taking their eyes off each other. Christian’s shoulders stay rigid, and Damien’s chest puffs out. “It’s not if you’re going anywhere with this asshole.”
“Asshole? Are you still drunk, bro? Because the only asshole I see here is you.”
I see Damien lift his fist and before he can connect it with Christian’s face, I catch it. I’m trying to pull it back but I’m hanging off his arm, shoes coming off the ground. “We’re going to MOCHA.”
“Then move it along, Miss Rowland,” Beckett says. “Or is this another disturbance on your behalf?”
Groaning I roll my eyes, biting my tongue as Damien lets me drag him away from Christian. When we’re in the parking lot, by his car and away from the ‘disturbance’ he bangs his fist against the roof. “Are you fucking Perez, Medusa?”
I meet his cold, tantalizing gaze over his car, pushing the hair out of the side of my face. “Were you about to let me take the fall for your bullshit?”
He looks at me over the roof of his car, jaw clenching again before he bangs his fist against the chrome paint. I guess it doesn’t matter if he leaves a dent, he can afford to fix it. “Get in,” he demands.
“You don’t tell me what to do.”
“Jo, get, in,” he growls, but he doesn’t wait for another counter, ducking into his car.
Sighing I glance back at Christian, still on the steps with some girls around him that he continues to ignore. His eyes drill into my head, my shoulders falling as I climb inside Damien’s Lambo.
He still doesn’t give me a chance to speak when I’m inside. His smell engulfing me. “You were right.”
And that throws me off. “What?” My brows furrow when I look at his face.
“My aunt,” he says. “Marion. She’s running a scheme and I need to stop her. We need to get into Cindy’s office and find out what she knows.”
“How are we gonna do that when I don’t work there anymore?”
He presses the ignition. “We’re breaking in.”
Nine
Damien’s serious.
We’re parked around the corner from MOCHA, Damien getting comfortable in his seat.
“So, how exactly do you plan on doing this?” I ask.
“We wait.” He opens his dash, a mickey of whiskey inside. Pulling it out, he cracks the bottle open, bringing it to his lips before I grab it from him. If he’s driving me around, that’s not going anywhere near his mouth. Besides, I need it more than he does. Leaning back in his seat, he smirks at me as I take a hard swallow of scotch. Smooth. Delicious. Instant calm. Shit, we likely have the same relationship with booze. “We’ll go in after dark. I took care of the cameras unless you want to put on another show.”
“After dark?” Sitting up, my brows furrow. My shoulders drop when it all makes sense. “You could’ve waited until Christian and I had coffee.”
“I could have.”
“But you’re jealous.”
His jaw clenches before he asks, “You spend all night with me and you can’t spend an afternoon trying to figure out what Marion’s game is? She likely has something on you too.” I note that he didn’t deny his jealousy, and I hate that it makes me feel good. Why does it make me feel good?
Out of frustration, I take another swig of scotch. A long one.
“Easy, Rowland,” Damien says.
“Oh, as if you get to tell me how much I can drink.” I give him a look and take another swig out of spite. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Thanks,” he says.
“I’m not even surprised you took that as a c
ompliment.”
“I mean, thanks, for last night.”
I don’t hear an apology in there but it still throws me off. Whenever he does his sweet and sour thing it’s like whiplash. Whiplash that leaves you hypnotized and breathless. Damien King is fucking unpredictable but is that what I like about him? The intense thrill? “Why’d you leave?” I’m still not letting it go.
“Business and you looked … I dunno, peaceful for once instead of the Xena Warrior Princess thing you got going on.”
When he smirks a smile tugs at my lips. Dammit. “Don’t you think Wonder Woman is more fitting?”
“Mmm.” He looks to be thinking about his answer. “Or Catwoman. Would be hot seeing you in that suit.”
“Catwoman’s a villain,” I remind him.
“Villains are villains for a reason.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I catch a Bentley driving by us, Eden Gardens all a sudden having a resemblance to Gotham. Drab. Cloudy. Rich. I haven’t had a conversation about comic books since Zane and the guys but I get the references. “Gotham crushed them. Turned them into who they are. Relatable.”
“Are you saying I crushed you, Medusa?”
“It’s going to take a lot more than you to crush me,” I say it but I don’t know if it’s true. I have a turtle shell with a soft interior, one that Damien breaks way too easily.
He leans over the console, his finger under my chin and his touch drives me insane. I want to push his hand away but it’s like being around him freezes my brain. The part that tells me not to do something is useless around him. Is he my kryptonite? My delicious red apple? My snakebite?
My poison.
His lips come closer. “I do know how to make you come. Hard. Don’t I, Medusa?”
“Don’t,” I warn, but it’s more of a whisper, my heart the only bass booming in his car.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t act like you care. Don’t act like you don’t think I—” I pause, finding the courage to say it again. “You said I killed your father. Do you think that? Truly?”
“If not you, then who?” If he moves an inch, our lips will meet and I’m like a puppy with a treat dangling right in front of me.
I hesitate, the King in my space, me in his, but I push the words out. “You.”
“You want to know what I think?” He’s quick to respond, a cold hand hitting my thigh, pushing a leg to the side. My right leg hits the side of his door like he’s tossing aside a log but that ravenous look on his face makes any anger subside. “I think you’re as wet for me now as you were this morning.”
Two thick, long fingers come between my legs and he presses them against the fabric of my boyshorts. The only thing separating his skin from my clit. I wonder if he can feel me throbbing through my clothes. If he can feel that he was right. I am wet for him, my body betraying me again and showing how badly I want the touch of the King. And he gives me just that. His touch.
A small gasp escapes my lips when he pushes a cold hand into the band of my shorts.
“Damien,” I reach for his hand but he pins it to the headrest, his fingers finding my folds and … fuck … his touch. The way he moves his fingers like he knows exactly how to play me makes me stop. A moan escapes my lips, his wet fingers slick and quick over my nub and my hand hits the glass when his fingers move lower.
“I meant what I said, Rowland,” he growls, a huskiness in his voice, his eyes on me while I squirm and writhe against his hand. His cold palm presses against my clit when he pumps his fingers inside me. There’s no friction, nothing stopping him from having his way. If my tongue wasn’t stuck to the roof of my mouth, if my body wasn’t on fire, I’d stop him. God, who am I kidding? This feels way too good to stop. “No one sees you like this,” he growls. “Not even him.”
It sounds like he’s back to being his aggressive, possessive self and it only makes this hotter, the way he’s pushing inside me, his fingers hitting my wall. “I th-thought, we were over.” It’s hard to speak with my shorts around my thighs. I’m not sure how they got there, Damien with full access to my dripping wet hole.
“I’ll tell you when we’re done, Rowland.” He curls his fingers and it makes the whole car blur, my head falling back against the seat.
But I still have some fight in me, and I know just where it’ll lead. “Fuck you, Damien.”
“I love it when you talk dirty.” Air passes my chest when he lifts the shirt I’m wearing, his hand leaving my wrist, coming to a perky, beige nipple. When he takes it between his fingers it’s like a release and when he kisses me again, I don’t know if I can hold back. “Is that what you want? To fuck me? You’re still mine, Jo,” he growls against my lips. “Now come for me.”
His words are like magic because I do. Right then and there, all over those long fingers and I can’t fight back my loud cry, “Oh my … god!” Damien stops moving his fingers but he keeps them stiff and I can’t help but buck against them, my body shaking in orgasmic bliss. He smirks, my cheeks filling with heat, my body overflowing with desire. I’m damn near breathless when he pulls his fingers from my wetness, sticking it in his mouth like he finished eating a pastry. “Any more questions?”
My body freezes, reality hitting me like the coldness washing over me when he moves back in his seat. I’m speechless, and it’s not only from that mind-blowing ‘O’.
Damien turns on a bit of music, an old Ramones song and it only makes this confusing as fuck moment perfect. With my head hitting the backrest, I pull up my shorts, fighting the smile coming across my face. I don’t want to believe that we’re back to whatever it is we were before, I’m not that naive. But for now, I just want to chill in this moment. In my post-orgasm radiance brought on by the King.
* * *
“Jo?”
A hand on my shoulder stirs me awake and fuck, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. The sky is dark, Damien still in the same spot I left him. Sitting up, I rub my eyes. I must be more tired than I realize.
There’s a hint of a smile on his face as I get my bearings and I’ll confess, waking up to that beautiful face is something I can get used to. “The barista drove by, they closed early.” He tilts his pointy chin towards the road.
Right. We’re breaking into MOCHA. The real reason I’m here. Pushing the curls out of my face, I take another look at my surroundings. “How long was I out?”
“A few hours.”
“A few hours?”
“You looked like you could use it,” he smirks. “Not my fault I give orgasms that put you to bed.”
My mouth flattens into a straight line and he chuckles, that stupid rolling sound barrelling through me. “Was that your plan all along?”
Damien starts the car. “Get it together, Rowland. We have work to do.”
When Damien pulls into MOCHA’s parking lot, he’s right. It’s empty. No cars at all in sight. The lights inside the cafe are off. All except the ones above the bar. But I still have more questions like, “How are we getting in?”
“You’re from The Grove. Isn’t this what you do for fun? Why do you think you’re here?”
“To keep me away from Christian,” I spit back.
He doesn’t respond to that one but I see his muscles tense at the mention of his best friend. “We’ll go through Cindy’s bathroom window.” I didn’t even know she had her own bathroom.
After parking the car, he leads me around the back and I try to keep my eyes off his tight ass as I follow behind. When we get to Cindy’s window, it looks closed but he tugs it and it opens. Just like that. “She leaves her window open?” I ask, knowing exactly what that means back in The Grove: an easy payday.
Damien chuckles, “Pro tip, the folks around here don’t lock their windows. No need.”
“Right. Life of the rich and privileged.”
Damien holds out a hand and I stare at it before I say, “Don’t worry. This I know how to do.” With a boot pressing against the window frame, I hoist myself in. “Take your eyes off
my ass, Damien.”
“Want to know what I’m thinking about?” he asks.
My feet land on the white tile in Cindy’s bathroom. “No.” But that’s a lie.
The bathroom is small, and I don’t turn on the light when I reach for the door to her office. Taking a look around the space, it’s as I remember. Clean. Ornate. Pink. Very Pink. Even with the lights off Cindy’s office looks like Barbie threw up all over it.
“I’m thinking about how good my cock feels inside you when you’ve got that plug shoved way up your ass.” His words land on my ear before I even register he’s behind me, heat flooding to my cheeks again. I’m glad he can’t make out that I’m blushing.
I fight through the memories, the good feeling of his hands on my skin. “And I’m thinking about how long it is before I’m on the shit end of your list again.”
“Check that cabinet behind her desk.” I’m not surprised he ignores that.
“You know I’m not here to take your orders,” I say, moving to the cabinet. Flipping through the files, I keep an eye out for anything suspicious. “I don’t even know why I’m helping you. What I should be looking for is—”
“This?”
When I turn around Damien has a file in his hand. I recognize it. The same one that was on Cindy’s desk when I worked here. I ask anyway, swallowing hard when I do, “And what’s that?”
“The police report from the night your parents died.”
“Th-the what?” My ears start to ring, the room becoming wobbly and I can’t tell if it’s the whiskey, or what Damien’s saying.
“The police report. The one I told you Lea saw. It’s how she knew there was more to your parents’ death than you know.” He tosses it on Cindy’s desk and I collapse into her chair. “She’s not great at keeping secrets; was right under some files on her desk.”
“You knew this was here?”
“No, but I thought there was a good chance.” He heads to the cabinet where I was and starts rummaging around.