I nod. When she leaves my room, I sigh in relief and flop back down on the bed. My heart is thudding in a blind panic. I know that my mom would go crazy if she knew what I was really doing – meeting a wild man in the woods and having crazy sex with him.
In fact, to most people, Damien would cut an intimidating and frightening figure. But whenever I’m with him, I know that I’m cared for. I know that he would never do anything to hurt me, and I feel absolutely safe with him.
***
The next morning, I get up early and get dressed. I still haven’t done any studying, but I figure that I’ll be far less distracted at school than at home. I know the library will be packed, and as much as I’m dreading studying, I’m glad for the crowd. If I’m not alone, I won’t be able to think about Damien.
At least, that’s what I hope. Last night was another torrid night filled with dreams of him, and my heart is still thudding as I walk downstairs to grab some breakfast before leaving for school.
“Good morning,” Gina says sweetly. “What would you like, Miss Emma?”
“Nothing complicated,” I assure her as I settle down in a chair.
“I have some leftover batter from your father’s waffles,” Gina says. She shows me the bowl and I smile happily – even from here, I can smell the delicious buttermilk and cinnamon.
“That sounds good,” I say. My stomach rumbles and I flush and bite my lip. Gina pours the batter into our waffle maker and gets to work washing the dishes. As she works, she hums to herself and the sound is strangely soothing.
“Here you are,” Gina pronounces. She slides a plated waffle with whipped cream and strawberries toward me. “Would you like anything else?”
“Orange juice, please.”
Our chef passes me a glass of freshly-squeezed juice and watches as I drink it. I know that it’s practically all sugar, but I can’t give it up – there’s just something so refreshing about a glass of orange juice in the morning.
When I’m finished eating, I wash my hands and grab my bag. I go into the pantry looking for Gina to thank her, but she’s nowhere to be found. I frown as I walk back to the kitchen with my hands on my hips.
That’s when I hear the sound of my father’s angry voice coming through the wall. My heart leaps into my throat and I cover my mouth with one hand so I don’t accidentally make a sound. Sneaking down the hallway, I press my ear to the door of my father’s office and listen.
“God damnit, I told you!” My father’s voice yells into the phone. “I’m not taking no for an answer!”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I listen to his deep growl. There’s silence for a moment – presumably the person on the other end of the phone is trying to craft some ludicrous excuse. I know that I should be getting along. My father hates it when I stand outside of his office. Once, when I was a child, he slapped me across the face for eavesdropping. But it’s like my feet are glued to the floor. I can’t move, even if I want to.
“That’s more like it,” comes my father’s reply. I hear the creak and strain of his leather executive chair as he kicks his feet up. “I thought so.” His booming laugh fills the air. It’s an evil sound that chills my blood and I shiver.
I don’t know how I know that my father’s a bad man, but he is. Call it intuition, or maybe it’s years of living under his roof. I’ve witnessed countless cruelties, small and uncaring, and summed together they make Jason a twisted monster. Finally, I force myself to scurry away. Grabbing my backpack from the foyer, I head outside and into the bright sunshine.
When I get to campus, the atmosphere is quiet. Classes are finished for the semester and I make my way to the library. Of course, I can’t help but think of Damien. The last time I was here, I was doing research on him. Part of me is tempted to ignore my studies and go right back to stalking him on-line, but I know that I can’t do that. My grades are precarious enough as is.
No need to make things even more tense at home.
“Hey, Em!”
Turning around, I see Lacey standing in the library foyer with a huge pile of books in her arms. Her blonde hair is tied up in a greasy knot on the top of her head and she looks exhausted.
“Hey,” I say. I raise an eyebrow. “You look like you didn’t get much sleep.”
My friend groans. She sets her pile of books down on a table and yawns, rubbing her jaw with the fingers of one hand. “I didn’t,” she says sourly. “I’ve been up all night cramming for History.”
I sigh. “I still need to get started. I fell asleep with my books untouched.”
Now it’s Lacey’s turn to look suspicious. I’ve never been a good student, per se, but I’ve usually always been good about cramming at the last minute. And we’ve reached the point of do or die, so my buddy shoots me a strange look.
“I think we could both use a little fuel,” she replies. “What do you say we head to the Union? They have those great breakfast sandwiches. Come on, my treat.”
Even though I’ve already eaten, my stomach rumbles at the thought of a breakfast sandwich. It seems like the kind of thing Damien would prefer to fussy waffles: a big toasted English muffin crammed with sausage and cheese and eggs dripping with butter.
“I knew that would get you,” Lacey says slyly. She links her arm with mine. “Besides, now maybe you’ll finally talk to me.”
I turn to her and frown. “Talk to you about what?”
Lacey grins. “Exactly,” she says. “That thing – whatever it is – that you’re hiding from me.”
A hot flush spreads across my cheeks as we walk out of the library. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say innocently. “I’m not hiding anything at all. Why would you think that?”
But Lacey doesn’t answer. She just grabs my arm and pulls me across the courtyard. My heart thumps nervously. Hopefully she doesn’t ask too much … because what will I say?
Chapter Ten
Damien
Emma.
Just the sound of her name makes my heart leap into my throat. I can hardly think about her without my cock twitching or my stomach clenching in a knot.
What is about her that makes her so much different from any other woman that I’ve known? It’s more than just her innocence: I had plenty of virgins back when I lived in the world. The real word, that is, with other people as neighbors, friends, enemies, and confidantes.
But none of them had Emma’s charm, sweetness or naïveté.
It’s like she knows something that the rest of us don’t, some arcane knowledge of how to be happy and peaceful in a world that’s so cruel and desperate.
Either way, whatever it is, she’s been haunting my thoughts since I left her on the road for the second time. This time, I didn’t hide and watch her walk away. I was afraid that the sight of her plump ass swinging from side to side would make me leap out of the woods and grab her. As much as I hate to admit it, I can feel myself starting to get attached to this strange little girl.
I want to show her things. Mostly, I want to show her dirty things. I want to show her how to fuck me like a pro, how to take my cock up her beautiful round ass. I want to show her how to deepthroat my cock until her jaw aches.
But there are other things, too. Things that happen to be a little more important than just sex. I want to show her how it’s possible to remove oneself from the world and live remotely. I want to show her that it’s okay to shun those whom we’re supposed to care for just because we happen to share blood.
That’s what scares me. It’s one thing for me to lust after this girl. Who wouldn’t? She’s got insane curves and bashful brown eyes. But the fact that I’m thinking about how it would feel to keep her in my life long-term is frightening. I haven’t had those kinds of thoughts about anyone in so long that it feels alien now.
While she’s never talked about her family, I get the sense that she and her parents aren’t exactly close. After all, she was missing for almost a whole day and she wasn’t even worried about the
m looking for her. That alone spoke volumes to me. If I had a girl like Emma for a daughter, I’d never let her out of my sight.
God, except there aren’t many girls like Emma. I’ve been with my share of women. Dozens. Hell, probably even hundreds. And not a single one of them has listened to me the way that Emma does.
With a sigh, I get to my feet and swagger into the kitchen. I’ve got a pot of stew on the stove and I take a wooden spoon and stir, leaning in close to inhale the fragrance of version and herbs. I wouldn’t normally eat stew this frequently: as a solitary man alone in the woods, variation in diet is one of the only opportunities I have to entertain myself.
But Emma loves my stew. So now, I always make sure that I have some on hand in case she comes sniffing around my door once again.
God, I feel like a coward. I wish things weren’t like this – I wish that I was a normal man, who lived in town. I wish that I was a normal man who could take Emma out on real dates. She seems like the kind of girl who loves ice cream parlors and movie-theater popcorn. We could go out to the movies, then get dinner and dessert afterwards.
I bet she could eat a whole forty-ounce steak by herself.
The thought of Emma eagerly wolfing down some red meat followed by ice cream and chocolate syrup makes me grin, against my better judgment. I close my eyes as I picture how happy she is when she eats: like she’s found heaven on earth.
She looks almost as happy eating as she does when she’s riding my cock.
My manhood twitches and stiffens in my pants and I groan, opening my eyes and leaning against the counter. The whole cabin is filled with the rich, meaty scent of stew and the smell is only contributing to my building arousal.
For a moment, I slide my hands into my pants and wrap my fingers around my cock. My hands are rough and calloused – they’re nothing like Emma’s soft little mitts – but it feels good, anyway. I start to move my hand up and down, groaning and grunting as my fingers massage my shaft. With my other hand, I cup my balls and begin to knead. I picture Emma’s pink lips open and waiting for me, her pink pout opening as I slide my cock towards her mouth.
I want to fuck her raw. I want to ride Emma so hard that she can’t walk after. She’ll be so sore that I’ll have to carry her to the bathroom and give her a shower as my cum leaks out of her pussy and drips down her plump thighs.
God, I wish the brunette was here. I’d give that curvy young thing the night of her life. And I’d have one hell of a time letting her go in the morning.
But it’s better for her if she stays away. She’s a sweet, innocent girl and I’m nothing but an animal. I’m nothing but a wild beast who lives in the woods.
A wild beast with a rap sheet and a penchant for ruining lives no less. Fuck me.
So yeah, Emma has to stay away. Every time she comes here and leaves, it’s harder for me. It’s harder for me to say goodbye and watch her disappear into the town that ruined my life.
But when I hear the knock at the door, I practically shit myself. Yanking my hand free from my pants, I wipe my fingers on my thigh and cross the room. My heart is thudding as I wrap my hand around the door handle and yank it open, expecting to see Emma standing there with a sweet smile on her angelic face.
Except Emma’s not standing there. There’s no sight of her luscious curves or shy brown gaze. Instead, there’s a man standing there in an Armani suit with a briefcase tucked under his arm. The sight of him makes me scowl.
I haven’t seen him in years.
“Damien, I need to talk to you,” he says in a high, nasally voice. “It’s important.”
My arousal vanishes completely and I’m left with an acrid, bitter taste in my mouth that reminds me of vomit. My stomach turns and twists and suddenly, I’m nauseous. Pushing past the man, I stumble out onto the porch and vomit.
“Hey man,” the suit wheezes. “Nice to see you, too!”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and turn to face the man with a glower. He’s standing there with an amused smile on his wide face. In the years since I’ve seen him, his brown beard has gone almost completely grey, and his hair is streaked with white at the temples. He still looks as foppish as ever though, with shiny shoes covered in mud and a gold Rolex glinting at his wrist.
“Jed,” I say in a tired voice. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I step back into the doorway, closing it around me so that Jed can’t come inside my domain. “I thought we agreed – no surprise visits.”
“Well, it’s hard to get in touch with a man who doesn’t have a phone,” Jed jokes. When I don’t laugh, his grin fades and he shakes his head. “Come on, Damien. I’ve got news. Good news,” he adds. “News that you’re definitely going to be interested in.”
I start to close the door in his face but Jed sticks his foot in the door so it catches his Gucci loafer. He howls in pain but I don’t ease up, staring at him and wondering what he could possibly have to say to me.
“Ouch!” Jed squeaks. “Damien, come on! Don’t be such an ass! Let me in!”
I sigh and step back to open the door. Jed limps inside, glaring at me as his wounded foot drags across the ground. What a pussy. I roll my eyes. Even when Emma had her sprained ankle, she was still up moving around. I didn’t do anything more than bruise Jed and he’s acting like I cut off his damned foot.
All I can do now is hope that wherever she is, Emma’s not about to show up and make an appearance. Jed is the last person I want her to meet. I’m still not ready for her to find out about my past.
And I’m not sure that I ever will be.
“Why are you here?” I ask warily as Jed drops down into a leather armchair by the fireplace. He doesn’t answer, instead cradling his wounded foot and letting out a pitiful whimper.
“You got a first aid kit around here?”
I groan under my breath and stomp into the kitchen where I grab the meager kit from under the sink. I bought it back when I first moved out to the woods, anticipating lots of cuts and scrapes. But after the first couple of weeks out here, I was so used to being banged up that I didn’t even notice. And now my skin has practically hardened like some kind of reptilian hide.
The price I pay for being an animal instead of a man.
“Yeah. Here.” I walk back into the living room and pass Jed the kit. He takes his shoes off, wincing again at the mud caking the expensive patent leather, and puts his feet to the fire. I see blood covering his right foot and I realize that the door must have scraped his toes.
Oh, well. He’s always been the world’s biggest pussy.
We sit in silence punctuated with Jed’s little cries of pain as he dabs hydrogen peroxide on his cuts and covers them with all of the band-aids in the kit. When he hands the box back to me, I smirk.
“You want a kiss and some orange juice, too?”
Jed glares at me. “Fuck off,” he mutters under his breath. “I come all the way out here to the middle of nowhere, just to give you good news, and you repay me with a fucking bang on my foot. Thanks for that.”
I snicker. “Next time I’ll make sure there’s a real candy striper here, okay?”
“Very funny,” Jed says drily. He sighs and leans back in the chair. He looks fatigued, like he’s been working long hours with little sleep. “Now about the case.”
My heart sinks in my chest like a lead balloon.
“If I’d known you were coming here to talk about that, I never would have let you inside,” I say gruffly. “That’s not fucking funny, Jed. That case is long over and it should stay buried, where it belongs.”
“That’s just it, though,” my lawyer says. He clears his throat and passes me a sheaf of paperwork printed with tiny letters. I frown as I hold the papers in front of me and squint. “It’s not over.”
“I’m a convicted felon,” I snort rudely. “Somehow, I don’t think anything is going to change that.”
“Will you listen to me for a fucking minute, Damien? I found something big and it’s going to help you.”
I stare at him, more in disgust than disbelief. A tidal wave of emotions crashes through my body but I do my best to ignore them as Jed rambles on.
“I don’t see how anything could possibly help me at this point,” I say in a low growl. “I spent years in prison, Jed. I did hard time. Nothing is going to erase that. Nothing can make those memories go away.”
Jed raises an eyebrow at me. “I get it. I get that you suffered in that hellhole called Rikers. But we’ve caught a break,” he says. “I finally found evidence that Jason Hadley was plotting against you from the beginning. Or do you not want to hear about it?”
I sigh. For a long time after I was convicted and sent to prison, I dreamed of hearing those exact words. I dreamed that Jed would come to visit me with hopeful papers tucked in a briefcase. I hoped that something would happen – anything! – to uncover the truth and I’d be able to walk out of prison the very next day, a free man.
But my hope began to dwindle after years of being locked up with no end in sight. I’d been sentenced to ten years and I’d served eight. Getting released early for good behavior wasn’t the same kind of thing as getting released on my own merit. Everyone in the world still thought I was a criminal, and at this point, I’m not sure anything’s going to change that.
I wasn’t even sure if Jed himself cares, to be honest. More like this is a way for him to rack up additional legal fees. Because whenever he looks at me, I’m sure all he sees is a money tree that sheds dollar bills. In fact, if it weren’t for my massive bank account, there’s no way he would have taken this case.
But maybe the years under lockdown have made me hard and cynical. Maybe my lawyer did believe in me and my case, and things just went awry. Can I afford to take that risk and trust another human? I take a deep breath, trying to assess the situation.
“What did you find?” I ask warily. “And why did it take so long?”
Jed clears his throat. “It’s all there,” he says. “It looks like Jason was planning ahead of time to trick you. If you look at the bank statements for his offshore accounts, he did a lot of transfers in the two months before he had you arrested and convicted for embezzlement. It looks like he was trying to make sure that his own part of the fortune was secured before turning on his partner.”
His Filthy Game: A Romance Compilation Page 24