by L. J. Woods
He does, but not without giving me that sexy chuckle. “But you’re the strongest girl I know. As strong as I am and I’d be an idiot if I didn’t draft you.”
“Draft me, huh?” I look at my knees under the water, knobby and pointy. “This feels like groundhog day because this sounds familiar.” Albeit with more hockey jargon.
He looks out the window next to us as if he’s thinking before he meets my eyes again. “That’s why I want to make it official. Us.”
“Y-you do?”
More water sloshes out the tub, filled to the brim. Only then does Damien turn around to turn off the faucet. He smiles before he lets out a laugh like he can’t even believe himself. “Yeah, Rowland. Don’t make me say it.”
“Say it.”
“Be mine,” he shoots, his eyes lowering in that hungry way that sets me on fire. “All mine. And only mine. I’m not taking no for an answer. No copouts. No bullshit.”
“What if I say no?”
“I said that wasn’t an option.”
“Except that it is an option.”
“Well if you need convincing, I can give you that.” He looks at my knees and smirks like I’ve given him a challenge. Placing his hands on each knee, he spreads my legs. “I was a lifeguard-in-training at fourteen. And that means I can hold my breath very long.” His hand trails down my leg, the water soothing my aches and pains. “And you know what they say about headaches.” A finger lands between my folds, a jolt flowing right through me.
“No,” I exhale, his touch blurring my mind. “What do they say?”
“It’s better with an orgasm.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond before he dips his head underwater and his tongue hits my clit. A burst of excitement and pleasure follow like I’m shot with a bullet of electric waves.
Damien’s warm mouth on my clit underwater feels amazing. His slick tongue rolls over my nub, his mouth filled with water when he sucks and pulls. It’s a new sensation. A damn good one and he doesn’t get up when I try to pull him away in fear of him losing his breath. Instead, he reaches under my ass, fixing me on his tongue and doesn’t stop until I’m bucking on his face, my moans resounding around the bathroom walls.
When he finally lets up, he’s like a swimwear model rising from the ocean, water pouring down his dark hair and angled face. My body is on fire and I only want more. Now. He must see it on my face because he pulls me on top of him, his cock hard beneath me and I can feel it twitch beneath my folds. “I want you to know how bad I want you, Jo,” he says, sliding into the middle of the tub and pulling my legs around his hard waist. “Trust me?”
Before I can answer, he thrusts up, his cock nearing my entrance before I stop him, “Wait, we don’t—”
“I want all of you, Jo. No pussy-footing around it. Are you, y’know … ”
“Clean?” I’ve never done this before. Not even with Zane.
I’m pretty keen on staying protected. I know the risks and I know what I’m not ready for. But the way Damien has me in his arms, the way he’s looking at me, begging me for him to trust him makes me give in to him. To all of him.
I nod, “Yeah, I am.” That I know for a fact but this is still new. “I-I’ve never done it without anything.”
“Me either,” he says. “But if you trust me, I’m clean too. I make sure of it.”
“Why, ‘cause you’re a slut?” I’m teasing and he knows it but he doesn’t move, my wet folds hovering above that massive, satisfying beast. He searches my eyes, holding me in place and he’d stay like this forever until he gets an answer. I know he would.
If I can trust him with my life, I can trust him with this, right? “I trust you, Damien,” I say, looking him in those eyes. The minute I do, his cock parts my folds and he thrusts into me, his arms around my body, his chest against mine.
“Say it again.” His words fall on my lips but I have the strong urge to kiss him and keep kissing him.
“I trust you.” Pressing my lips to his, you’d think I was starving, the way I’m devouring his kisses, my grip tight on his body. “I want you.” He bottoms out inside of me and … oh god, it feels, “So. Good.”
The words are a whisper when they escape my lips. He feels too good to even talk, too good to even express how good it is. Damien raw inside me is the complete opposite of how I felt yesterday. I’m in paradise. Full ecstasy with his hands around me, giving me that comfort, that care I was looking for.
When he lifts my hips, pulling me down on his shaft, he asks again, “Do you trust me, Joelle?” I can’t answer when his fingers force into my mouth, the taste of soap on my tongue but I hold onto them with my lips, sucking them as if it’ll make him go faster. Harder.
His words ring in my ears and it’s like he’s getting off on this. On whatever bond we’re making, like I’m about to sign that deal with the devil again, except this time, I know the devil has a heart.
“Yes!” I let the word fall out of my mouth as he grips my ass, slamming me against him, his cock impaling me again and again, the more I moan, “Yes!”
“Fuck, how can I ever let you go?” He’s faster, his wet balls smacking against me, my ass smacking against him. The water slaps around us, but I don’t need its help. I’m already dripping for Damien, his cock throbbing inside me as our bodies move.
The more I squirm, the more he holds me in place as if he doesn’t want to let me go. Ever. His breath is hot and heavy. His groans and grunts getting more frantic, his thrusts quicker. The room starts to blur, my headache clearing the more he drives his cock inside me. My eyes start to close but he’s quick to stop me, “You know better than that. Eyes on me, Jo. I want to see that face you make when you come on my cock.”
“Fuck, King!” I moan, begging for more.
“Yeah, that one.” He thrusts harder, keeping his pace when he knows I’m almost there. “Fuck, Jo. Say it. You know what I want to hear.”
“Oh my god, I—” His cock hits that spot and I crumble, my body collapsing against him as he holds me up. A hand comes to my chin so I do what he says, eyes on his. He gives me that lusty, hungry look that I’ll never get enough of. Damien King is mine as much as I’m his and what’s a queen without her, “King! I’m yours! So fucking yours!” The words escape my lips as I ride that last wave, my body like a feather, my brain a fuzz. As I reach my climax, he lifts me off with a loud grunt before he’s fisting his cock.
In seconds, he explodes, a burst of creamy goodness dripping down his shaft like a dipped banana and it’s mesmerizing to watch. He stares into my eyes as he blows that load and when a smirk fills my face, one fills his too.
“I’ll never get tired of hearing you call me, King.” He leans over, reaching for the towel but I’m staying right here, in his lap. “And I’ll never tire of hearing you say you’re mine. I want the fucking world to hear it and I’ll make you scream it until they do. Now, how’s that head?”
“Better,” I smile, my voice rocky and hoarse, my face beaming from his words. From that orgasm.
“Better now that you trust me?” I look down but he tilts my chin up, those eyes dancing around my face. “I’m going to prove to you that you can, Jo. That’s a promise. And I don’t break my promises. You of all people know that.”
Twenty-Five
“I’m going to eat you alive.”
My hand lands on something hard, and when I pull back the covers, Damien’s gone, a blank canvas in its place. “Damien?” I call, but after waiting a few minutes, there’s no other answer.
Looking over at the canvas I rub my eyes and take in a breath. I don’t hear any sounds coming from the house. It’s quiet, but it’s kind of peaceful. Damien stayed by my side all yesterday, like the last time I almost kicked the bucket. He even picked up Willow to hang, leaving after hours of making sure I’m okay. And when the headache and nausea went away, he went right back where he belongs. Beside me. Inside me.
Thinking about us intertwined together only makes me wish he was here. So where the fuck is he? Rolling my eye
s I scratch at my head. God, I’m as obsessed as he is.
Looking over at the canvas, there’s a note attached in messy writing.
Everyone deserves a re-do. We have ours, now here’s yours.
Yours. King.
I don’t quite understand what that means but it’s poetic, a puzzle like always. Seeing the canvas gives me bittersweet feelings since my ship with Clara left a long time ago. While I want to paint, I don’t have the inspiration. Not yet.
My phone vibrates, a buzzing coming from the floor. Damien’s name lights up and I reach over to answer, “So, you’re not here?”
“Can’t get enough of you either, Medusa.” His voice makes me miss him in an instant. “Did you get my message?”
“Yeah, you’re like the fucking riddler.” My head flops against the headrest, my eyes wandering the room. I was wrong about Christian’s feeling like home. This feels so much better.
Another laugh comes from Damien, a clicking in the background that sounds like a car’s indicator. “I didn’t mean for it to be something to decipher. I spoke to Clara.”
“What? About my project?”
“She agreed to give you a do-over.” Sitting up, I pull the phone from my ear to look at it, making sure I’m not dreaming. “Jo?” his voice bellows through.
“How?” Putting the phone by my ear again, I chew on my lip. “Did you threaten her?”
He laughs again but I wasn’t even joking. “No, I told her I did it.”
“What? Won’t you get in trouble?”
He scoffs, “I don’t get in trouble, Rowland. But that’s why I spoke to Beckett. He wanted me to take a suspension to show they don’t play favourites but they do. Told him I’m dropping out anyway.”
“You are? Rich people drop out?”
“To make money they do. I wanna give this thing a shot. See if I can run this entire business.” My fingers graze the canvas while I listen to his words. I’m annoyed he took this into his own hands, and while it’s easy for me to get pissy at him for telling me what to do, I’m fucking grateful. A smile pulls at my lips as I pull the canvas in my lap, staring at it. Crisp. White. Then he reads my mind, “It’s a blank slate.”
“Kind of like us?” God, I sound basic. Closing my eyes tight, I’m hoping he doesn’t think the same.
“Yeah.” When he agrees, it makes me exhale. A blank slate with Damien King. Who knows where this’ll go? Besides the bedroom. “Enough of this sappy shit. I left some breakfast in the kitchen. Eat that and get to work on your project. You have a week.”
“Wow, King.” He’s putting in the effort to take care of me and that’s something I’ll have to get used to.“Wait, where are you?”
“It’s time I fix something else.”
“You’re speaking in riddles again.”
He chuckles. “Trust me, Rowland. Keep doing that for me.”
“You’re impossible,” I groan with a bite of my lip.
“I’ll be back later and when I do, I expect to see you naked,” he says. “I lo—” My breath stops in my throat. Is he about to drop a bomb? “Love seeing you naked. See you soon.”
He ends the call as a long exhale escapes me and that’s when I realize my heart’s pounding. Bringing my hand to my chest, I try to calm my nerves when my stomach grumbles, breaking me out of my thoughts.
My appetite is finally knocking and that breakfast sounds enticing. It’ll be enough to get me out of my head, and my mind on this canvas.
Who knows? Damien could be the inspiration I need.
Tucking the canvas under my arm I head for the stairs.
Time for a re-do.
* * *
Damien makes me spend the week with him, Willow stopping by whenever she’s taking a break from her new squad. Which of course, isn’t for very long, as long as she knows I’m stable and alive.
I spend most of my time after school working on my art project, old school rock playing in the background to get me in the zone. Damien’s sound system is even better than the one they have at the Archibalds, bass vibrating the floors. With no neighbours to call the cops for being too loud, every day’s my own little party.
I say my own because even though Damien’s there every evening with a bag of food and another round of mindblowing sex, he’s always gone come morning. A routine I know all too well.
He wants me to trust him but every time I ask him about what he’s doing, he says, “Business”. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Business for everyone is different. For Zane, it was beating someone until they gave him the money they owed, or offloading a pile of drugs. For Cindy, it’s running her cafe somehow. And for Damien, well, I’m not sure what that entails.
Speaking of Cindy, I haven’t forgotten what Damien told me about someone at the school starting that fire. I meant to ask Lea but she’s out of the picture. I mean completely out of the picture. It’s Wednesday and I haven’t even heard her cackle through the halls.
On my way to class, something nudges my shoulder, canvas slipping from my fingers. When I look up, Allie lowers her brows as she straightens her glasses on her nose.
I shoot her a small smile, “Allie, hey.” She hesitates to answer, her hair in a ponytail, eyes red. Allie looks as bad as I did before Damien’s last party. “I’m sorry I was rushing to—”
“Sorry for bumping into me or sorry for being a selfish asswipe?” Pulling her tote higher on her shoulder, she glares at me through her cat-eye lenses.
Shit. I forgot she doesn’t hold back. That’s why we get along so well. Standing up tall, I apologize, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have never said anything or outed you two like that.”
“You know her mom sent her to St. Meredith’s?” I don’t know what this is, my brows furrowing but Allie explains, “It’s a boarding school for girls in Montreal.”
“Wait, Cindy found out her daughter’s into chicks so she sent her to a school with all the girls?”
“Yeah,” Allie scoffs, a smirk pulling at her face but she steadies her glare. “Far away from me. So thanks.”
Wait a minute. “You didn’t even tell me you were a thing to begin with!”
“Yet you told the entire school.” Allie sounds exasperated but she avoids drawing a crowd, keeping her voice low. Another sign that she and Lea are so completely different. I want to tell her she’s better off without her, but I know she’s hurting way too much to hear that. “All because I left you at the club?”
“No! I was angry and upset. I felt alone and I don’t know who I can trust but,” I stop, hearing myself. “That’s no excuse.” I look in her eyes, the lights above reflecting off her glasses. I’m trying to show her I’m sincere. I still don’t know whether they’re working together but Allie’s reacting like someone who was in … love? The bell rings and I know I don’t have much time, “Allie, I’m sorry.”
“You couldn’t trust me?” She stares at me like I said something about her mom. “But you can trust King? You ditched my brother in Cabo. I mean, yeah, he can be an entitled dick but he didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve that.” Fuck. She’s reading me like the Sunday paper. “When you came here I thought you’d be different, but you and King deserve each other.” She wrinkles her nose, eyes glossy. “Chances are, you’ll feel as alone next week when he drops you again.”
Her words sting but I try to remind myself she’s hurting and mad. When she turns to walk away, it’s like a knife in my stomach. Heading down the hall, I try to push it out of my mind, at least for now. I have to win Clara back and I need that art mark to be scholarship worthy.
When I get to the class, Clara’s sipping a cup of tea across from a red-haired man leaning against her desk. He’s in a green suit, striped tie and hair combed in place.
“Jo! I’m so happy you took my offer to redo the finals. Had I known what happened, I would’ve given you the option sooner. Those boys get away with too much.” Clara walks over to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “You can always talk to me, Jo.�
�� She gestures towards the gentleman, his cup in hand. “This is Elliott. He’s from the Department of Art and Film at Harvard.”
Ho-lee shit.
I can barely speak when he reaches out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Jo. I’ve heard great things. I’m excited to see what you have for us, Clara insisted I be here for the big reveal.”
So she does believe in me. That prank must’ve done a doozy on her if she thought I let her down so easily. I try to steady my breath as I take his hand. “Thank you.”
He smiles as Clara gestures to the easel and I approach it, taking a beat while I put it in position.
This is it.
My time to shine.
* * *
An A-plus.
An A-fucking-plus.
This might be the first A-plus of my entire existence.
And I’m stoked!
Damien’s been sending his limo to get me from school but when I get outside this time, he’s right there waiting for me. He’s sitting on the hood of his car like this is some sort of teen romance movie in his leather jacket. It’s open, black shirt clinging to those pecs and with those aviators on his eyes, he looks ready for a closeup. From me.
Girls glare as I walk down the steps but my eyes stay on him. Only him.
When I get to where he stands, canvas in hand, backpack on, he smiles before he lifts his shades and pulls me into a long deep kiss. It’s cold but he’s warm, my cheeks heating the longer our lips stay together. Like at that dance before everything changed, he doesn’t care who sees it.
My feet are off the ground and I let out a high-pitched noise before I demand an answer, “What are you doing?” He wraps my legs around his torso before he’s climbing the stairs with a stupid smirk on his face. When we reach the top he keeps me up with one hand, the other pulling my head in for another heart-melting kiss.
He breaks only to say, “I want everyone to know who you belong to.” I’m still hanging on when he clears his throat, his voice a boom, even in the cold winter air. Looking around I realize how many people are around us. It’s at least half the school, all chatting before heading home or to extracurricular activities. “If anybody lays a breath on Rowland, you’re dealing with me!” He looks at me with a lustful, hungry gaze. “She’s mine! Understand?” With a pull on my lip, his teeth sink in my skin. He makes me his once more, his lips like sweet kryptonite.