Alyssa stroked his cock in her hand a few times, but if it got any harder he could use it as a sledgehammer. She nudged at the opening with the urethral sound. Heavily coated in lubricant, it practically dropped inside. It was only a few inches, but Damien felt like he was speared straight down past his balls and into the mattress.
Alyssa held the sound in place and waited for him to get used to the sensation.
He didn’t expect the rush of pressure. The idea of his cock accepting penetration seemed taboo and absurd, but the feeling of fullness inside him sent him over the top. His breath came in short gasps while his body twitched. A tingle surged throughout his entire lower region. Alyssa pushed and pulled the sound in and out of his cock, slowly, and she grabbed his sac in her free hand, pulling on it slightly. Waves of intense pleasure made Damien tremble. He watched the small rod disappearing into his cock. It was a mind fuck. This woman did things to his body that he never dreamed of. A shock ran through him like a bolt of lightning, and he fell back onto the bed. The orgasm completely overtook his body, and he was helpless as he writhed in the aftermath of the thrilling new experience.
He had no idea how long he laid on the bed with his eyes closed. He caught his breath and wrapped his mind around the fact that Alyssa just fucked his cock with a metal rod. When he summoned enough strength to open his eyes, white goo covered his torso, the bed and one of his arms.
Alyssa was sitting next to him with her legs folded underneath her, leaning back on one hand with a triumphant smile. “I guess you enjoyed that, since your cum almost shot the urethral sound clear across the room.”
He knew it was an exaggeration, but he thought he might have hit the ceiling when he spewed – that’s how hard the orgasm had rocked him.
A deep breath was all that left his mouth. Words seemed to have disappeared. He nodded his head with a lazy smile and half-closed eyes. While he laid there in contented bliss, Alyssa cleaned him up and rid the bed of her instruments of pleasure.
“You’re amazing,” he whispered.
Alyssa snuggled into the crook of his arm. “No. You’re amazing, Damien.”
She worked her way into his heart from the moment they met, and he knew, eventually, he needed to let her inside his head. He just didn’t know if she was prepared for the turmoil and chaos that resided there.
Chapter Twelve
Meeting Angel’s parents was more like meeting Damien’s parents. Maybe there was more truth in the analogy than Alyssa thought, because they treated her like she was the newest member of the family. Angel’s family lined up for the introduction as soon as she walked through the door.
“Everyone! Come meet Alyssa!” Angelita, Angel’s mother, called to her family, and they dutifully appeared. Angel’s brother, Nesto, and his sister, Maria, came running down the stairs one behind the other. They were both younger than Angel, but probably only by a few years. Angel and his dad emerged from the kitchen, both wearing matching white aprons. Whatever the hell was cooking behind that kitchen door blew through the house and made Alyssa’s stomach rumble to be fed.
Angelita beamed with approval and fingered Alyssa’s hair, pulling the strands in front of her shoulder just like her own mother often did. “You are very beautiful, Alyssa. I have been waiting, without exercising much patience I’m afraid, for Damien to bring you to Sunday dinner. He is part of this family, and now you are part of this family.” Angelita kissed her cheek. “Welcome, my dear.”
Alyssa never expected such a warm and loving reception. It was a little overwhelming. “Thank you. I . . . It’s very nice to meet you all.”
Ricardo, Angel’s dad, kissed her hand and gave her a short bow. “It is a great pleasure to meet you. Damien speaks very highly of you, as does my son, Angel. Welcome to our home. Please make yourself comfortable. If you will excuse me, I need to get back to dinner preparations.”
Angel’s parents were formal and sophisticated. They had a light and whimsical Spanish accent that was elegant, and their English was refined. Nesto and Maria were more causal with their greeting and then returned upstairs, presumably to their own rooms.
“I’m so glad you finally made it here,” Angel said. “My mom’s been grilling Damien about you, and she was starting to think he made up a fictitious girlfriend.” He glanced at his mom with affection. “She thinks everyone should be married and having babies by the time they’re 25.” He spoke with so much love for his mother, and their resemblance was almost eerie. They had the same dark hair and eyes and the same bright smile.
Angelita patted her son’s cheek lightly. “That means you are going to be an old maid very soon, mijo. You better hurry and find a nice young man to share your life with.” She turned back to Alyssa and Damien. “Please make yourselves at home while I get the table setting.”
Angel watched his mother head toward the dining room. “She’s always trying to get me married off.” He sighed. “Ah, one day.” He gave Alyssa a quick kiss on the cheek. “I need to get back to the kitchen and help my dad.” He joined his father, sending another wave of delicious aroma through the house as he passed through the swinging kitchen door.
“I told you they’d love you,” Damien whispered in Alyssa’s ear.
“I know, but people’s parents don’t usually take to me so quickly because of the tattoos. I didn’t know what to expect.”
“Look at me. I have a mohawk and tattoos up to my chin.”
“That’s different. They already know you. Plus, most girls don’t have tattoos across their chest and on their arms. I’m the newcomer. I didn’t think I’d feel accepted so quickly. I expected Angelita to give me the once-over when she first saw me, but she never flinched. She welcomed me with open arms. I can tell that she looks at you like you’re one of her sons, and you know how mothers are. No girl is ever good enough for their son.”
Damien visibly withdrew, and his eyes slowly dropped to the floor.
She inadvertently hit a nerve. It was the same reaction he had when she asked him about his family over drinks when they first met. She still had no idea why the mention of his family turned him inside out. “Are you OK? I’m sorry if I said something to upset you.”
“I’m not upset.” He quickly picked his head up and made a poor attempt to shake off whatever was truly bothering him.
She tried to read his face, but whatever was lurking behind his troubled eyes would probably reside there for eternity.
Damien was helping Angelita set the table, and Alyssa needed to do a double take. They had a system – one followed the other and they circled the table. It was obviously a ritual. She watched Damien. There was a serenity about him, a light that shone inside of him, whenever he was around Angelita, and Alyssa wished she saw that light in him more often.
She didn’t want to disturb them, so she ventured into the kitchen to offer her assistance to Angel and his dad. Every step closer to the kitchen sent waves of enticing flavors through her senses, and she passed through the swinging door eager to identify the source behind the wonderful aroma. “Can I help with dinner?” The moment the words left her mouth she wished she could take them back. Angel and his dad were chefs. She didn’t know how to cook.
Angel seemed shocked at her offer. “You want to help?”
“Um. Yeah. You look like you’re going to a lot of trouble to make this elaborate meal.” The kitchen contained two ovens. Both were occupied and several pots sat on top of the stove. Angel was slicing an avocado, and his dad was in the middle of making a salad. “I can do that,” she offered.
Ricardo stepped back from the center island. “Normally, I would never allow one of my guests to work in my kitchen, but it is an honor to have such a beautiful señorita with us today. I cannot say no.”
He was extremely charming – and handsome. Alyssa pulled her hair back into a knot, washed her hands, and stared at the bowls of salad fixings, a little perplexed. There were so many ingredients.
Angel came to her rescue. “First, when you’re i
n the kitchen, you wear an apron.” He tied a white cloth apron around her waist before she had a chance to protest. “It’s all prepared. All you have to do is layer it in the bowl.” There were three different kinds of lettuce, tomatoes, onions, the avocado that Angel sliced, and black beans. “Start with the lettuces, then top it with a little bit of everything else, and start over with another layer.”
She was halfway through the salad, when Damien entered the kitchen. “I was wondering where you went. What are you doing in here?”
“Angel is showing me how to make a salad.” She realized how silly it sounded and laughed. “I mean, he’s letting me help by making the salad.”
Damien came up behind her. “You look really sexy in that apron.”
His words, in her ear, were soft and playful. She saw the teasing smile behind his eyes, and usually she had a feisty retort but not today. This was the happiest she’d seen Damien outside the boundaries of their relationship, and she savored the peace that he found in the Garcia household.
“I’ll make a cook out of her yet,” Angel called from the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen, while he spooned rice into a serving dish. He handed it to Damien. “Can you set this on the table, please? Dinner is just about ready.”
Alyssa followed Damien into the dining room with the salad, and they sat at the table next to Angelita. Alyssa felt Damien’s stare and turned to him. He had a warm smile on his lips, and his eyes were softly gazing at her. There was no tension, no hidden truths of his past that stared back at her, only a sense of fulfillment and harmony.
She flushed from the unexpected emotion that filled her heart. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Do you know how many times I sat at this table and stared at the empty chair between me and Angelita?” he whispered. “Its emptiness always reminded me that I was alone. Sometimes I thought about bringing a date – anyone – just to fill that seat, but I couldn’t bring a stranger to the table. Not here. The dinner table is for family. People close to the heart.” He put his lips to her ear. “This seat was waiting for someone special to fill it. It was waiting for you, Alyssa, and I wouldn’t have anyone else sitting beside me.”
Chapter Thirteen
After Damien brought Alyssa to meet Angel’s parents, she wanted him to meet her mother. He was nervous as all hell. He had never met a girl’s parents before. Even though Alyssa portrayed her mother as an older version of herself, there was still a generation between them and a maternal bond that carried a certain degree of judgment and suspicion.
Alyssa stood with her hand poised on the doorknob. “Are you ready to meet my mom?”
His heart ticked a little faster. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
“Just be yourself, Damien. She’s going to love you.”
Alyssa’s mother hugged her as soon as she opened the door. “You need to come with me on my next trip! I missed you!” She held Alyssa’s hands and gazed at her with a loving smile. “You look beautiful . . . and happy.”
“So do you, Mom. Did you sell a lot of paintings at the art show in Paris?”
“Enough to pay for my trip, but it was more of a convention.” She reached into the hallway and produced a large package wrapped in brown paper, obviously one of her paintings. “I saved this one for you.”
Alyssa was about to tear off the paper, but her mother stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“That can wait.” Alyssa’s mother looked directly at Damien. “I want to meet this gorgeous creature standing in your living room.”
“That’s Damien.” It was moving to hear the pride in Alyssa’s voice and receive the affectionate smile she gave him over her shoulder.
Her mother walked toward him with her arms out to the side, offering a hug. Open displays of affection made Damien uncomfortable, especially from a total stranger. There was no time to protest or react. Alyssa’s mother threw her arms around him like he was a long lost relative.
“Damien! I’ve heard so much about you. I feel like I know you already.” She drew back but kept her hands on his biceps. “I’m Melanie Taylor.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs.—”
“Uh-uh.” She waved her index finger at him. “If you call me Mrs. Taylor, I’ll kick your butt. It’s Melanie.”
He was immediately relaxed by her informal demeanor and exhaled away his nerves. “It’s nice to meet you, Melanie.”
Her resemblance to Alyssa was both parallel and contrary. Her hair was bleached pale blonde, offset by distinct black eyeliner. It wasn’t as heavy as Alyssa’s, but the contrast of Melanie’s hair made her darkened eyes stand out. While Alyssa wore deep ruby lipstick, her mother wore fire engine red. A black furry hat circled her head, a knee length leopard print trench coat was tied at the waist, and she wore matching spiked-heeled ankle boots. She was much younger than Damien expected, probably only in her mid-forties.
Melanie’s head moved side to side as she studied Damien’s face. Her eyes traveled up to his hair and over the tattoos covering his neck. “You’re magnificent. I would love to paint you.”
“Mom . . .” Alyssa rolled her eyes and stood by Damien’s side.
Melanie stepped back and looked at the both of them from top to bottom. “You’re a striking couple. You both could be the subject of my next collection.”
Damien was flattered, but he wasn’t a model. “Thanks, but I’m not really into that.”
“And you know how I feel about being the subject of one of your paintings, Mom.”
“You’re both a work of art. At least let me take your photo.” Melanie shed her coat and tossed it on the couch but retained the hat. Black tights hugged her legs and met a solid black formfitting dress that ended mid-thigh. Her platinum hair fell just past her shoulders, and a large silver skull dangled on a chain that landed halfway down the front of her dress. She was the coolest woman Damien had ever met – besides Alyssa.
Melanie dug in her oversized tote bag and pulled out a heavy camera.
Unfamiliar with having his photo taken, and unsure how to pose, Damien draped his arm over Alyssa’s shoulder and pulled her closer.
Melanie threw her head back and laughed. “That could win a prize for the best offbeat prom photo ever!” She waved them over to the dining room. “Let’s take a real photo.”
Alyssa shrugged at Damian. “Sorry.”
“It’s OK. No one ever wanted to paint my picture before, and it’d be nice to have a couple of photos together.”
“What are you two waiting for? Come sit.” Melanie had an armchair from the table placed caddy-corner in the room next to a floor lamp. She grabbed them each by the hand. “I love taking photos and painting portraits, and my only daughter hates having her picture taken. Damien, sit. Alyssa, stand next to the chair, slightly back, with your hand on his shoulder.”
“My mother can never just take a simple photo. There always has to be an intricate stage setting.”
Damien smiled up at Alyssa, while her mother snapped a series of photos. “I’m enjoying this.”
“Don’t encourage her.”
“I heard that.” Melanie put the camera down. “Enough photos. Open your painting so we can sit down and catch up before we go to the restaurant.”
While Alyssa ripped the brown paper off of her mother’s painting, Damien hung Melanie’s coat in the closet.
“I love it! It’s beautiful! Thank you, Mom.” Alyssa held up the painting. “Damien, look at this!”
It was similar to the other paintings that hung in the apartment. It was a portrait of a woman from the waist up. She had long red hair, pinned back with a big blue flower. She was naked with her hands strategically placed over her breasts. Her face was artfully painted like a sugar skull – bright white with swirls, flowers, and blackened eyes. It was the nicest of the bunch. “That’s beautiful, Melanie. It’s so cool that you paint these.”
“Thank you. Would you like to do the honors of hanging it?”
Alyssa
picked out an empty wall, and Melanie selected the proper height. They handed him a hammer and picture hook. Damien had never hung a picture or put a nail in the wall before, but it was a special moment, shared by the three of them. Melanie and Alyssa watched him as he gently tapped the small nail with the hammer and placed the painting on the hook. They stepped back to admire it together.
Melanie stood between Alyssa and Damien and took hold of their hands. “It’s perfect. Thank you for hanging it, Damien.”
He smiled at her. She smiled back, and Alyssa smiled at them both. He never expected the reward or gratification that washed over him. It was a ceremonious event that embodied the meaning of home, and it was the closest he came to feeling like he had his own family.
After they went to dinner, Melanie took a cab back to her apartment in the Bronx, and Damien left the restaurant with Alyssa on his arm. He reflected on the warm relationship Alyssa shared with her mother and their similarities, while they walked to the train station. “I really like your mom. The two of you seem close.”
“We are.” It was chilly and Alyssa snuggled closer. “It was just the two of us when I was growing up. My dad passed away when I was young. I don’t really remember him.”
“I never knew my father.” It was the first piece of information Damien offered about his family, and he saw Alyssa react with surprise and curiosity.
“Did he pass away, too?”
“No. He took off right after I was born.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
She was saddened by the admission that his father abandoned him, and that was the least horrific of the stories about his childhood. He imagined how she’d react if she knew his mother was an alcoholic and verbally and physically abusive. He didn’t know what else to say, so he stayed silent and kept walking with his head down.
Over the noise on the street and the traffic he heard a haunting voice up ahead in the distance. His body went rigid, and he skipped a step, momentarily paralyzed. He recovered without more than a sideways glance from Alyssa, but his heartbeat accelerated as the voice grew louder. It was closer. He tried not to look up because he knew she was headed directly toward him. In a matter of moments, he would cross paths with his mother for the first time since she threw him out of the house.
Punk Rock Resurrection Page 11