Showmance

by L.H. Cosway

  “Thank you. This is my friend, Rose,” Damon went on, pressing his hand to my lower back as he introduced me. “She works on the show with me as a choreographer.”

  Lizzy gave me an impressed look – a genuine one. I couldn’t even hate her for being fake. “Wow, that must be very exciting.”

  “It has its moments.” I mustered a smile for her.

  “How have you been, Lizzy?” Damon asked, and the woman flushed with pleasure before offering her hand, where a diamond sat on her ring finger.

  “Wonderfully! James and I tied the knot just last year.”

  “I heard,” said Damon. “Congratulations.”

  Somehow, the news that she’d moved on to someone else after Damon and gotten married caused the pressure on my chest to lighten up.

  “Well, I better get going before those two disappear on me,” she said, eyeing her kids, who were halfway up the street. “You look good, Damon, happy. I’m glad you found someone.” Reaching forward, she gave his hand a soft squeeze before hurrying after her little ones. I glanced at the man standing beside me to find him reddening slightly. Was he embarrassed by what she’d said, assuming we were together in more than just a friendly capacity?

  “I suppose it’s only to be expected that you’d run into your ex when you live on an island,” I said in an effort to break the silence.

  He rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing wryly down at me. “I hadn’t seen her in almost a year, actually. I heard she was seeing someone, though. I’m glad she’s happy.”

  “She seems really lovely,” I said as he took my hand again, leading me in the opposite direction Lizzy had gone.

  “She is lovely. But she’s not you,” he said, as though trying to let me know he no longer had feelings for her. We walked towards the beach, sitting on the sand to drink our coffees and eat the pastries we’d gotten back at the café.

  A few hours later, Damon took me to his favourite pub for dinner, and we both ate a massive meal of roast beef, gravy, and potatoes. I was fit to burst by the time some of the bar workers began setting up a stage area. Not long after that, a Scottish folk band arrived to play for the small Saturday night crowd that had gathered.

  There were two fiddle players, an acoustic guitarist, a guy with a thin whistle, and another man playing the bagpipe. I was giddy with excitement, feeling like I was getting a real authentic experience as I clapped along to their set. At one point, several men and women got up to dance, and, after a lot of cajoling on my part, I finally managed to get Damon to dance with me. He’d had a few beers over the course of the evening, so he wasn’t as stiff as he might’ve been. He was also far more confident in his dancing abilities now than he’d been back when we first met. In fact, when we stepped onto the dance floor, he pulled me to him, bringing our bodies flush together. I let out a surprised laugh, enjoying his forwardness as we started to dance.

  “Why, Mr Atwood, is that a whistle in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?” I asked teasingly.

  Damon smirked and glanced at the guy on stage with the whistle, then brought his mouth over my ear. “That’s not a good comparison.”

  My eyes gleamed, merry with the beer we’d drunk. “No?”

  He grinned, and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. “Nah. You should’ve said didgeridoo.”

  I barked a loud, boisterous chuckle, loving how relaxed and flirtatious he was being. Sure, it was the alcohol, but I also thought it was being on the island. Damon was at peace here, and it made my heart swell.

  The music was very vibrant, full of life and colour, and our movements were vigorous to match the speedy tempo. I felt sweaty and hot, but I loved every second. When one song came to an end and Damon ran his hand from my neck all the way down my spine, I shuddered. A familiar tight feeling returned to my belly as butterflies flittered all about. I loved it when he acted all manly like this, manoeuvring my body how he pleased.

  “You’re so beautiful right now,” he said, lips on my ear.

  I wasn’t sure if that was the alcohol talking. My hair was sticking to the sides of my face, and my dress felt glued to my skin. The heat inside the pub had continually increased as the night wore on, especially now with lots of people up dancing.

  “Are you tired?” Damon asked, his voice raspy.

  I shook my head. “I’m never too tired to dance.”

  “Well, I am. We should head home.” He was being insistent, but he didn’t look tired. All of a sudden my pores tingled as I imagined why he wanted to leave.

  “You’re too drunk to drive,” I said.

  “Taken care of. I’ll call for a taxi.”

  I was surprised that they actually had taxis here. In the end all I did was nod, allowing him to lead me outside, where the air was blessedly cool on my sweat-soaked skin.

  The journey home was quiet and filled with tension. When we arrived back at the cottage, I got out while Damon paid the driver. Stepping inside the house, I felt a sudden bout of nervousness to be alone with him, and quickly muttered something about taking a shower before I locked myself away in the bathroom.

  I could hear Damon talking to Charlie as I stepped under the spray, hoping the water might wash off some of my sexual frustration, but no such luck. Even when I was out and wrapped in a towel, I still felt edgy. The need for some kind of physical contact had me buzzing with adrenaline.

  I went inside my room and put on some pyjamas, listening as Damon continued to restlessly potter around the house. I wanted to go to him, but I wasn’t brave enough. Instead, I got into bed, flicked off the lamp, and tried to sleep.

  It was useless.

  My pulse was loud in my ears, too fast, my thighs practically quivering with unspent sexual energy. I heard Damon finally go inside the bathroom and the shower turned on. After a few minutes he emerged, the floorboards creaking under his feet as he went inside his room. I tossed and turned, trying to summon up the courage to go to him. In the end I slid out of bed quietly, padded down the hall, and gently knocked on his door.

  A loud, agonised sound came from behind it, my name a warning on his tongue. “Rose.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “You probably shouldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Silence.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was thick and gravelly. “Because I want to be inside you, and if I look at you right now, my restraint will break.”

  His words, though they were almost begging, spurred me on. Pushing the door open, I stepped inside and found him standing by the window. The curtains were still open and a pale sliver of moonlight shone over his body. He wore nothing but a towel around his hips, and I couldn’t help letting my eyes trace the pleasing contours of his muscles.

  His gaze was dark and full of uncertainty.

  “Would it be so bad to break?” I whispered. “I want you, Damon.”

  That made something snap in him. Within seconds he was across the room, his hands sinking into my hair as he lowered his mouth to mine. I moaned into the kiss, needing it more than air. He began to move forward while I moved back until my legs hit the edge of the mattress. He never broke the kiss as he lowered me onto the bed, his towel falling off in the process. My pyjamas were thin, and I gasped into his mouth when I felt his hot, thick erection pressing into my bare thigh.

  “Jesus, fuck,” he swore, his mouth moving from my lips, over my chin, and down to my throat. He pressed his teeth to the tender hollow, growling as his hands gripped my hips.

  “Damon,” I moaned, tingles fluttering through my body. I was already wet when he reached down and slipped a hand inside my shorts. He touched me lightly, his fingers parting my lips as he tested my readiness.

  “Perfect,” he breathed, his mouth a gasp at my neck. The word seemed to echo through my skin, reverberating into my pores. My legs fell open as he started pulling my shorts and underwear down my thighs. Next he pulled off my T-shirt, baring my breasts to him. Even in the dark room I saw how his eyes glittered
as he soaked in the sight of me. I felt nervous and exhilarated all at once.

  I was naked, but so was he, and we both just sort of stared at each other. It felt surreal. I was here with Damon, about to cross a line that couldn’t be uncrossed, and I’d never been more certain of anything in my life. Neither of us was drunk, but the alcohol was still vaguely present in my system, making me brave.

  I reached out and gripped his neck, pulling his mouth down to mine. I slid my tongue along his lower lip and felt him shudder, and then I kissed him. We kissed for a long time, just drinking each other in. I loved the feel of his hard, bare chest pressed against my breasts. After a while I grew overly aware of his shaft rutting desperately at my inner thigh. I wanted it closer.

  With one hand still on Damon’s neck, I moved the other down between our bodies, gripping his hot cock, squeezing it lightly. He groaned noisily, the slide of his tongue in my mouth growing frenzied at my touch. I jerked him a few times, mostly just getting acquainted with the feel of him. Then, unable to wait any longer, I guided his tip to my clit and rubbed a slow circle. I gasped into his mouth at the same time his breathing turned erratic.

  “Rose,” he rasped. “God, Rose.”

  “I want you,” I whispered, continuing to move his cock over my clit. I could’ve come from that alone, but Damon grew more desperate, his hips jutting, seeking entrance. I let go, and the tip of his penis slid just the barest inch inside me. Damon grunted and withdrew. He held himself above me, just quietly panting for a few brief moments.

  “I’ll get a condom,” he breathed, and I nodded, words failing me.

  Just as he moved to get off the bed, I put a hand on his arm. “Wait,” I whispered.

  Damon froze, his dark eyes meeting mine in the moonlight. “What is it, petal?” he asked, reverence in his voice. I loved it when he called me that. He didn’t do it often, only when he was feeling particularly fond. It made it that much more special, because it was so rare.

  I swallowed for courage. “I don’t want to use protection.”

  “Rose,” he said, his cautioning voice almost a groan, his expression frustrated and torn.

  “Just listen. I’m clean. Julian made me get tested after Blake. And I know you’re clean, too. You said yourself the last person you were with was Lizzy, and that was years ago.”

  “Yes, but —” he started to protest, but I cut him off.

  “And I’m on the pill. Please, Damon, I need this.”

  At that he laughed softly, running a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “You think you need this? You have no idea how much I fucking need it. But you don’t have to impress me, Rose. I’ll have you any way I can get you.”

  His last statement made my heart too full, the sentiment too lovely for words. “I’m not trying to impress you — I just want you,” I murmured, staring at him meaningfully as I pulled his body back to mine. It was true. In that moment I had no reservations, none at all, even though I knew I probably should. Having sex with Damon skin to skin was going to make me fall in love with him, but I was too far gone to care.

  His cock pressed between my legs again, and he cupped my face. I sucked in a breath as he just took a moment to stare at me. “You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful, kind, clever, and exceptional woman I have ever met,” he said, completely sober.

  He spoke openly, without any of his usual self-consciousness, and my heart pounded, emotion overtaking me. “And you….” I said, my voice catching. “You are the most remarkable man I’ve ever known.” I felt like my words were weak and childish compared to his, but his expression transformed into one of absolute rapture nonetheless.

  Climbing back over me, he kissed my lips, my chin, my neck and collarbone, before mouthing my breasts with a fierce hunger. He sucked on one of my nipples, and I let out a loud moan that seemed to echo into the silence of the cottage. Damon’s cock nudged close, almost slipping inside me but not quite. Then he drew himself up, his eyes seeking mine as he pushed in. My breath caught in a gasp as he slowly filled me. He buried himself deep, and I felt myself clenching around him.

  “Wow,” he breathed, the word barely audible.

  I could do nothing but gaze at him, a flush breaking out over my entire body from the sheer sensation of having him inside me. His hips started to move back and forth in a tantalising rhythm, his thickness hitting every sweet spot, the push and pull of him the most incredible thing I’d ever felt.

  I arched my spine so he could go deeper, and a rough breath escaped him as his movements started to quicken. For a moment we both went so quiet, just completely lost in one another. All I could hear was his deep, uneven breathing, the slap of his body against mine. I reached up and sank a hand into his hair. It wasn’t long by any stretch of the imagination, but it had certainly grown out since I’d taken him to get it cut all those weeks ago. I loved the silky feel of it, giving it a little tug as he continued to make love to me. A soft chuckle escaped him as he lowered his mouth to mine. I expected him to kiss me, but he didn’t, not at first. Instead, he whispered against my lips.

  “You like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then keep doing it.”

  I pulled gently once more, and a low groan rumbled out of him. He caught my lower lip in his and gave it a teasing bite, the sharp sting sending a shooting pleasure through my belly. My hand left his hair to move down over his shoulder, feeling the dips and curves of his muscular back. I adored how his muscles moved, almost jumping under my touch. He was so sensitive to it.

  He kissed me fully then, sliding his tongue along mine, our mouths melding as his hips thrust relentlessly in and out. We were still kissing when he reached down between our bodies, his deft fingers finding my clit and rubbing it in a way that had me curling my toes. He just seemed to know my body without having to learn it.

  “Come,” he urged me, his mouth dropping from mine as he rose up to watch me again.

  I swallowed thickly, still panting as he hammered home. “I can’t normally…when you’re inside me, it’s hard for me to….”

  “You can,” Damon grunted. “You can. Just feel, Rose.”

  I closed my eyes for a second, clearing all thoughts from my mind as I focused on the sensation of him filling me, of his fingers teasing at my nerve endings, coaxing me to a most heavenly pleasure.

  “Your eyes, petal, open them,” he begged me.

  I opened my eyes, immediately losing myself in a sea of deepest brown. And that was how we stayed for the longest time, our bodies moving together, our gazes locked. Damon alternated between slow lovemaking and fast, hard fucking. His need for me was evident in every single thrust. It felt like he could go all night, like he enjoyed the feel of being joined with me far more than the orgasm he chased.

  I felt how incredibly wet I was when his thumb pressed hard on my clit. It was that intense pressure that sent me over the edge, and I came more fiercely than ever before. Damon’s movements stilled, his eyes finally closing as my sex convulsed around him.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he swore, as though unable to handle how good it felt.

  I couldn’t speak, far too exhausted from such an acutely intense orgasm. It felt like I’d been waiting for it my entire life. Damon bent to kiss me, and I was open to him in every way. I was soft and pliant beneath him, would have let him do anything in the world to me right then. He started to move again, and when he did, the sensation was intensified. I was tender after having just come, so the push and pull of his cock was unbearably pleasurable.

  His lips were still on mine, our tongues tangled in an erotic dance, when his movements grew more frenzied. He thrust into me hard and fast, letting out the most sensual yet masculine sound as he came. I felt his wet heat fill me, my thighs clenching around his hips as he emptied himself. I purred at him, whispered incomprehensible, sweet little nothings as I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth.

  Damon fell onto his side, pulling me with him as he dragged the covers over our sweaty, sex-soaked
bodies. I curled into him, nestling my face in the crook of his neck as he placed a kiss to my temple.

  “You feel like heaven,” he said when we each finally caught our breaths. “And you taste like honey.”

  I let out a quiet, tender laugh and snuggled closer, savouring his heat. “Heaven and honey, I can live with that,” I teased, and he palmed my breast, pinching the nipple as though in reprimand.

  After that we just lay there, letting our exhaustion pull us under.

  I woke in the middle of the night, still wrapped up in Damon, his scent and his warmth surrounding me. He was right about us being together feeling like heaven, because this was certainly as close as I’d ever gotten to a celestial experience. I ran my hands through his hair, and he stirred a little but didn’t wake. His breathing was deep and even.

  Staring at his beautifully masculine profile in slumber, I wondered if I hadn’t already fallen for this man a long time ago, long before we’d ever known the sublime union of each other’s bodies.

  Twenty-Three.

  *Damon*

  I woke to sunlight and an empty bed. My sheets smelled of Rose, still carried the lingering warmth of her body as I ran my hands over the soft cotton. She hadn’t been gone long. I could hear music playing from the kitchen as someone moved about, the clink of plates and utensils amid what sounded like “Across the Universe” by The Beatles.

  Getting out of bed, I threw on some clothes and went to find the woman I’d spent last night making love to. There was a pressure right in the centre of my chest, a sense of urgency that was at the same time pleasant. It was the feeling of finally having my heart’s desire mixed with the panic of being apart from her, even if we were only separated by a room.

  It was a frantic sort of fulfilment. Everything was too new, too fresh, for me to feel at peace. Some old, forgotten instinct had me wanting to drag her back to my bed so I could sink inside her again and again.