The Dirty Dozen: Damsel Edition

by Kay Maree

  “I’ll move in with you,” Lani whispers.

  “And?” I press, pinching her clit between my thumb and forefinger.

  “And I’ll call you next time I see, Simon.”

  Hearing that perverted motherfucker stared at Lani’s tits for twenty minutes before telling her he’d be available whenever she needed him had me wanting to punch the asshole in the throat. It simultaneously had me seeing red and wanting to fuck the shit out of my girl for meeting with the douchebag without me to begin with.

  Needless to say, it shouldn’t come as a shock which one I picked. That could also be because I haven’t caught up with the weasel yet, but mark my words, I will. Simon and I will be having a lengthy conversation about keeping his offers and his eyes to him-fucking-self in the very near future.

  “Good girl,” I groan into her neck as I feel her start to convulse around me.

  My thrusts increase, prolonging her orgasm and drawing out mine. The intensity of her heat wrapped around me and the tightness of her pussy clamping down on my cock has my balls drawing up tight. A few long, hard strokes later, I plant myself deep and come with the force of a freight train.

  Minutes or it could be hours later, while I stroke my hand gently down Lani’s back, my mind drifts to how perfect it’ll be when this is how we’ll soon begin and end every day. With Lani in my arms, in my bed, sated from the touch of my hands, mouth, and cock.

  Yeah, fucking perfect.

  Chapter Ten

  Lani

  It’s been four weeks since graduation and three and a half weeks since I moved in with Blake and started working at Savage Skin. My parents weren’t happy that I was moving out or in with Blake, especially as they didn’t even know we were dating. But seeing as they haven’t been interested in having so much as a conversation with me that doesn’t begin and end with them trying to change my mind about college, what did they expect?

  It has gotten to the point that aside from the few random text messages I send them each week checking in and asking how they are - which they may or may not respond to depending on the day - we don’t speak at all. It breaks my heart that mom and dad can’t find it in theirs to be happy for me, but I hope with time they will come to see how unfair it is of them to ask me to set aside my dreams to live theirs.

  With Burke and Brendan's help, Blake and I moved into a gorgeous two-bedroom apartment on Grand Avenue. The brand new apartment complex, complete with a swimming pool, barbecue area, and state of the art gym is only a few blocks away from Savage Skin and surrounded by trendy coffee shops, antique stores, an art gallery, and a few boutiques.

  It isn’t somewhere I saw myself living, but I have to admit the area has grown on me. Having always imagined myself in a little house on a quiet street with neighbors I like and a big backyard, it took some adjusting when Blake first stood me where we’d be moving.

  The hipster vibe of the newly revamped downtown area attracts young professionals, not mechanics, construction workers, and tattoo artists. Not that there’s anything wrong with those jobs - Blake and I can attest to that - it’s just that we don’t really fit in is all.

  About a week after Blake and I moved in, I sat down with Brittany over lunch and told her how I felt. When I finished speaking, she promptly burst out laughing and then reached over and patted my head as if I were some poor delusional child.

  “I’m not sure if I should feel flattered or offended,” Brittany smirked, taking a long drink of her soda. “You do realize that I live in the same apartment complex too, right? Not only that, but I’ve spent half my life being judged for what I look like not who I am. So for you to say that you don’t feel like you belong is like saying I don’t, and that’s bullshit if I ever I heard it.”

  Not knowing how to respond to that but hating that I upset her, my eyes teared up and I felt my lip start to quiver. Especially since Brittany and I have become close since I started at Savage Skin.

  Heading Uncle Max’s warning, I was cautious of her at first but it didn’t take long for her brand of sweetness and crude sense of humor to grow on me. Now, a week later, I view her as more than just a friend; she’s my best friend and the sister I never had, even more so than Cindy who I’ve barely seen of late. Which is why knowing that I’ve offended her hurts me more than I can begin to explain. Simply put, I couldn’t bear to lose her friendship over my stupid lack of filter and closed mindedness.

  Placing her hand on mine, Brittany sighed, “Lani, I get that your parents messed with your head, but you can’t let their opinions of others warp how you view the world. I was lucky; my dad and my brother encouraged me to do whatever made me happy. They didn’t care if I ended up a janitor or a high-court judge, as long as I’m safe and happy. Because in the end, babe, that’s all that matters. Life is too short to devote all that energy into living up to the expectations of others, especially when you’ll only end up miserable in the process. Sure, you dating and then moving in with Blake was fast, but so what? You guys have secretly been in love with each other for years, so I say, If it feels right, do it. And yeah, inking skin is a far cry from some stupid degree in art history or business management, but you’re helping to create memories, memorializing milestones, and you’re doing it making people happy. That’s as noble a profession as you get, honey.”

  Absorbing everything Brittany said took me less time than it took to slide out of the booth and wrap my arms around her, apologizing profusely for being a judgmental cow.

  Once I had gotten myself together, Brittany extracted herself from my death grip and nodded to her plate. “Now, how about you let me get back to that bacon-filled burger of deliciousness and we discuss something more pressing, like the hottie that dropped you off the other day?”

  Ah, Burke. I thought I saw interest in her eyes when she watched him walk back to his truck after walking me to the door.

  “I have no idea who you’re talking about,” I say, feigning confusion.

  “Sure you don’t. Let me jog your memory then,” she replies around a mouthful of food. “Tall, dark, handsome as fuck, and an ass I’d like to bounce quarters off. That ring any bells?”

  Pretending to consider her description carefully, I nod. “Now you mention it, yeah, but it could have been any one of the four Kensington brothers.”

  “You mean to tell me Blake’s parents produced more than just your gorgeous hunk of man meat? Next time you see them, tell them that on behalf of the female population, I thank them.”

  I couldn’t contain my laugh if I wanted to. Brittany is just too much sometimes, but that’s one of the many things I love about her. “I’ll be sure to do that,” I giggle. And I will. Sylvia and Ben will get a kick out of it, that’s for sure. Especially, Ben. He would love Brittany’s no-holds-barred personality and her quick wit.

  Which gets me to thinking. “Why don’t you thank them yourself? Blake’s parents and his brothers are coming over in a few weeks once we’re settled for a house warming party,” I tell her, hoping she’ll take the bait.

  “Hmm, let me see,” Brittany taps her chin. “Hot boys, free food, and I don’t have to get changed out of my sweats seeing as you live just upstairs. Count me in.”

  After making her promise to be there to even out the testosterone imbalance and her promise not to bring anything except herself, we finish eating and head back to work, all the while vowing to let go of my preconceived notions of people and Brittany laughing at my predicament.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lani

  My conversation with Brittany was two weeks ago, which brings us to now, the night of Blake’s and my house warming gathering. I hazard to call it a party, since his parents will be there and I don’t see things getting wild, but it will be nice to have people over to see what we’ve done with the place.

  Blake was adamant we start decorating as soon as we got unpacked. He said he wanted our apartment to be a home, not just somewhere we crashed and I agreed with him. I want
ed our space to be somewhere we came home to at the end of a long day to relax and the sterile white walls and bare granite countertops were anything but homely.

  Seeing as Blake refused to let me use any of my savings to help with rent or the deposit, and Ben and Sylvia had already bought us a couch and dining setting, I had enough money to buy the bedroom set I fell in love with the moment I laid eyes on it.

  The headboard is tall and padded with gemstone rivets outlining it and the base. I bought two glass-topped beside tables with the same light grey fabric as the headboard to match, along with the chest of drawers set against the far wall beside the two high-backed deep purple chairs, upholstered in velvet.

  Blake wasn’t sold on the chairs at first, but he couldn’t deny they looked awesome when he saw the dark grey and black bedding I bought as well as the faux cashmere throw that matched the chairs perfectly.

  I didn’t want our home to be a representation of just me; it had to be about us, which is why I went with navy and forest green for the accents in the living room. A large ottoman in navy sits tucked into the L-bend of the grey sectional we bought with green and navy patterned cushions scattered across it.

  What tied the whole room together, though was the huge, framed black and white photo of a 1970 Dodge Challenger I found at an antique store. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to have it. After paying for it and thanking the lady behind the counter profusely, I called Burke who came over to help me hang it so that I could surprise Blake when he got home. And surprise him I did. But honestly, I would do it a million more times if Blake thanked me every time the way he did that night.

  So now, with our house ready, the pulled pork I put in the crock pot before I left for work cooking, and Blake expecting me home any minute, I make my way out the back door of Savage Skin, jiggling the handle ensuring it locked behind me.

  My heart races at the sight of the man who is bent over beside my Jeep. From my position pressed against the wall to the back of the parking lot, I can’t make out his features but I know it’s a man. His dark, short cropped hair and his height makes it a dead giveaway.

  He hasn’t noticed me yet, nor do I want him to. I have no idea what he’s doing, other than trying to break into my car and I don’t plan on sticking around to find out, either. So with my over-sized purse clutched to my chest and my back to the wall, I move as quietly and quickly as possible back the way I came.

  The crunch of gravel under my boots has his head whipping up, which is when I get my first good look at him. Simon. The man who interviewed me about his dad’s apartment. What the hell?

  Stopping what he’s doing, Simon turns and walks toward me. “Ah, I was waiting for you,” he states, not slowing his approach.

  Before I know it, Simon is standing a foot away, caging me against the wall with his arm, his rancid alcohol-laden breath permeating the air around us. My first instinct is to knee him in the balls and then scream for help, but as if sensing my intent, Simon quickly inserts his thigh between my legs, spreading them apart.

  What is it my Uncle Max said to do in situations like this? That’s right, keep them talking. Keep them talking until you can find a way out, attract attention or catch them off guard.

  “Why ar-are you here? Why are you doing this?” I stutter, my words coming out stunted, filled with fear.

  “Why?” He repeats, looking at me as if I should already know the answer. “You know why,” he snarls. “You were supposed to be mine. The second I saw you, I said to myself it was fate that brought you to my door.”

  I don’t interject to tell him that it was actually his dad I thought I was meeting, or that it wasn’t fate it was merely the promise of a clean, cheaply priced apartment that caused our paths to cross. Instead, I keep quiet and pray someone, anyone walks by soon.

  Dipping his head close to my ear, Simon growls, “When you moved in, I was going to court you. I would have sent you flowers and gifts, and then asked you out to dinner. After you’d gotten to know me, I would have asked you to be my girlfriend then eventually we’d get married and have babies together. We’d make beautiful babies, don’t you think?” He murmurs, running a hand up and down my arm.

  I can’t help the shudder of revulsion that courses through me at the thought of being intimate with anyone other than Blake. A shudder, Simon doesn’t miss and can’t mistake.

  With one hand wrapped around my throat, Simon slams me into the cold concrete behind me. My head ricochets off the wall immediately making my eyes water and the edges of my vision to become blurry. The feel of his fingers clamping down around my neck has the panic I had managed to tamp down to rise and my hands to come up to claw at his. My desperation only serves to make Simon laugh; his expression darkening with every gasping breath I fight to take.

  The parking lot dims. My legs threaten to give out. I can feel myself getting weaker with every passing second. The terror of being utterly powerless and at his mercy is overwhelming, but it’s the inevitability of never seeing Blake again, not being able to grow old with him, kiss him or touch him again that has my tears flowing freely down my face.

  “If you’d just done what you were supposed to and moved in, none of this would be happening,” Simon spits. “You made me do this; you forced my hand, Lani. I could have made you fall in love with me. We could have been happy together.”

  There’s no sadness or remorse in his voice, just inflection and resolve. Simon truly believes every sick, twisted word he says, which only adds to my previous assumption that he is indeed batshit crazy.

  In an almost detached way, as if I’m here but not here, I feel the hand not wrapped around my throat traveling south to the button of my jeans. His slow, fumbling movements speak volumes to the amount of alcohol he’s consumed as he struggles to get my pants undone.

  Just as the lack of oxygen steals my consciousness and Simon steals something else, I hear a woman’s voice scream, followed by a loud thud and then the sweet relief of the pressure around my neck falling away. My legs crumple beneath me, no longer able to hold up my weight, and I slump to the ground. Gasping for air, my hands fly to my throat as I look up at my would-be rescuer.

  Brittany’s tear-filled greens eyes stare back at me, looking me up and down as she pulls her phone out of her back pocket. “I need the police and an ambulance. A woman has been attacked in the back lot of Savage Skin. Yes, Main Street, next to the florist. Yes, the guy is still here. No, he’s not going anywhere. Please hurry,” she commands.

  Hanging up, Brittany dials someone else, all the while never taking her eyes off me. “Dean,” I hear her say. “Call Blake and have him get his ass to the shop. Lani’s hurt. I’ve called the police and ambulance, but she’s going to need him when they get here.”

  Brittany doesn’t say goodbye, she simply pockets her phone and crouches in front of me. With both of her hands free, she pries mine from my throat and assess the damage.

  “Oh God,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry I didn’t leave earlier when I should have.”

  “Don’t,” I croak. “Please don’t.”

  “No talking,” she shushes. “No talking until the paramedics get here and can take a look at you.”

  My eyes close as Brittany’s arms wrap around me and they don’t reopen again until I hear the sounds of sirens in the distance.

  Chapter Twelve

  Blake

  Red and blue flashing lights are the first thing I see when we screech to a stop a few shops down from Savage Skin. Two police cruisers and two ambulances block the street and pedestrian traffic from getting any closer, but that won’t stop me from getting to my girl.

  When I got the call from Dean telling me to get to Savage Skin, that Lani had been hurt, I thought I was going to die. My heart stopped, my lungs seized, and the Earth ceased to spin. If it weren’t for Burke shoving my ass out the door and into the passenger’s seat of my car, I think I’d still be standing frozen in the last place my world felt who
le.

  “Get your shit together, brother. Lani’s gonna need you,” Burke’s gruff voice commands as he guides us through the crowd that’s formed.

  With one clear goal in mind, my panicked gaze lands on the sight of a woman in handcuffs being escorted to one of the police cruisers. Recognising her bright purple and pink streaked hair immediately, I race toward her without giving a thought to who I’m shoving out of the way.

  Burke’s moves with me, his eyes narrowing on my target before he roars, “Get your fucking hands off her.”

  Both men, with hands clamped firmly around Brittany’s biceps warn, “Stay back.”

  “Like fuck,” Burke barks in response.

  Brittany’s head whips up at the sound of his voice, but her attention is solely on me when she informs me, “Lani’s in that one,” nodding at the first ambulance. “Go. Hurry,” she urges, not seeming to give a shit about her own predicament.

  I knew my girl and Brittany were close, however, seeing her restrained, knowing that she was the one who called it in, there’s no doubt in my mind, Lani and Brittany will be friends for life. And I couldn’t be more grateful for Brittany taking my girl under her wing than I am right now.

  Not willing to waste another second, I take off in the direction Brittany told me, leaving Burke to deal with whatever the hell is going on with her. The back doors of the ambulance are open with one medic crouched beside the stretcher and the other sitting on the seat to his right.

  My heart beats erratically as I take in the scene in front of me. Blankets cover Lani’s shivering form up to her chest, her face is streaked with tears and her hair is tangled around her had. My soul aches at the sight of her, wanting nothing more than to scoop her into my arms and tell her everything will be okay. However, it’s the dark purple bruises around her delicate throat stops me in my tracks.