The Dirty Dozen: Damsel Edition

by Kay Maree

  Steeling myself against rejection, I tell her, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, baby. If anyone is owed an apology here, it’s you.” Faye fervently shakes her head, no, but I don’t stop. I can’t. “I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know for scaring you that day. But most of all, I’m so fucking sorry it’s taken me so long to tell you that. I planned on giving you a few days to cool off before coming to apologize, but your dad said you refused to see me.”

  “Dante, please,” Faye’s voice breaks.

  “Shh,” I console her as the first tears fall.

  Giving her more of my weight, I breathe in her unique scent – bitter chocolate and spice with a hint of something sweet – and kiss the top of her head tenderly. It’s rare these days that I get to touch her at all, let alone hold her, so I intend to memorize every second of this in case it’s the last time I get to do it.

  “Now, you want to tell me why you’re so upset? We’ll circle back around to the rest of the shit we have to talk about later.”

  “Not particularly, but you’re not going to let this go, are you?” She sniffs.

  “Not a chance,” I confirm, backing off so that I can take her hand and lead her to the couch. Pulling her down onto my lap, I instruct, “Talk to me, baby. Whatever it is, I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

  Faye averts her eyes, but opens her mouth and lets the words flow. Horrible, painful words. Words that tear me apart inside, and at the same time, put me back together again, giving me something I haven’t had forever when it comes to her. Hope.

  “Do you remember the Christmas your parents bought you your very first drum set?” She asks. At my nod, Faye smiles. “Me too. I saw the way your eyes lit up, the way your hands shook as if you couldn’t contain yourself any longer. Even as a seven-year-old kid, you had so much energy, so much passion for the unknown. Everything was an adventure to you. It didn’t matter if it was scary or dangerous, if you were on your own or with a big group of us, you were always the first one to jump in with both feet, consequences be damned.”

  I’ll admit, she’s not wrong. All my life, I’ve lived wild and free. My mom says I was born with an adventurous spirit that refused to be tied down. I’m at my happiest when I’m trying new things, seeing different places, and experiencing everything life has to offer. But I don’t see what that has to do with Faye and me.

  “The first time you picked up a set of sticks and began banging away with no idea what you were doing, I knew you’d found a piece of yourself that you weren’t old enough to know was missing. It wasn’t just me, though, Dante. Everyone saw it. Collectively we knew you were destined for amazing things. I never found that. Or not the way you did, anyway,” Faye sighs.

  “Found what, gorgeous?” I frown.

  “My passion. That one thing that makes me feel alive, free.”

  Rubbing my cheek across her temple, I kiss her nose. “You mightn’t have found it the way I did, but you definitely found your niche, baby. You’re a tiger in the boardroom, and you’ve taken My Addiction further than we’d ever have gone on our own. You’re magnificent to watch when you’re working, Faye,” I assure her, meaning every word.

  Heat floods her cheeks at my admission, and Faye ducks her head attempting to hide her embarrassment. “I know I’m good at what I do. And most days, it’s a bonus that I enjoy it too, but it isn’t the same thing, and you know it. Being able to negotiate a better deal with a venue or secure merchandise at a lower price isn’t my life’s ambition, either.”

  “What makes you feel alive then, baby? You said you’d found it, just not the way I found the drums,” I push.

  “You,” Faye answers almost inaudibly. “You make me feel alive. But, Dante, that’s not enough anymore. Me hanging on and coming along for the ride as you and the guys make huge successes out of yourselves isn’t right. And it’s not something that’s sustainable long-term.”

  “Say again,” I demand.

  My blood boils at hearing her describe it like that. If Faye thinks for a fucking second that she hasn’t earned her spot with the band, I’m here to disabuse her of that stupid notion.

  “It’s true, Dante,” she murmurs sadly. “I’ve never felt more alive and free than when I with you, but at the same time, I feel as if I’m losing myself. You are a force to be reckoned with; a man with a huge personality with even bigger dreams, and a heart of gold that would do anything for anyone. Me included. And you have. You’ve made sure I have a place here with you, Cole, Dylan, and Tate, but I’m beginning to see that all this is temporary. It’s a stepping off point before I find what genuinely makes me happy, what fulfills me, and makes me whole.”

  “Jesus, baby,” I hiss. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were leaving. Not just the band, but me.”

  Fuck, I hope I’m wrong here. I hope I’ve misconstrued what Faye’s trying to tell me, but I fear that’s wishful thinking.

  “I am,” she states simply, and in doing so extricates herself from my arms.

  Putting a few feet of space between us, Faye looks at me with her heart in her eyes. I can see the love she has for me; I can feel it coming off her in waves. Her body tells me one thing – that she wants and needs me – but the words coming from her pretty pink lips say another.

  I know which one I’m going to believe, which one I’ll trust. And hopefully, my instincts don’t fail me now because I have a feeling this is the biggest risk I’ll ever take.

  Chapter Eight

  Faye

  Getting the words out was hard. Terribly hard. I don’t think Dante understands it hurt me just as much to say them as it hurt him to hear them. This decision – the one to leave the band after I’ve found them a replacement manager – didn’t come easy. It was something I gave a lot of thought, but in the end, for me, knew that I had to do.

  Backing away from him, Dante closes the distance between us in three large strides and shocks the hell out of me but covering my mouth with his. He runs his tongue over my lips, probing, nipping, demanding entry, and I let him. I let him in, opening my mouth for what turns out to be an all-out assault.

  Teeth, tongues, lips, Dante uses everything in his arsenal to make my head spin and shows me what it feels like to finally be kissed the way I’ve dreamed about for so long. Dante is giving me my first real kiss, the one I had been saving just for him.

  Needing to touch him, I wrap both of them behind his neck and thread my hands into his hair. Pulling out the leather band keeping his ponytail in place, I tug on the strands, drawing Dante closer.

  I want to feel him, even if it is only once. I want his warm skin on mine, his mouth exploring parts of my body only I have touched. But most of all, I want his thick, impossibly hard cock buried deep inside me.

  With flexibility I didn’t know I have, I climb his body like a tree and wrap both of my legs around Dante’s hips. His large calloused hands, from years of playing the drums, grab hold of my ass, erasing what little space was left between us.

  The hot, hard, pulsing length of Dante’s cock rides up and down the seam of my jeans, making my pussy ache to feel him filling me. But when he rotates his hips, grinding his erection against my core, the ache turns into desperation which has me panting, wet, and hungry for him.

  In the back of my mind, I know I should probably be worried about having sex for the first time. Anxiety about whether the pain will be excruciating, if I’ll be any good at it, or if Dante will even like what he sees when he gets me naked and beneath him should have me freaking the hell out. However, I’m strangely calm about the whole thing. The reason for which is because this is Dante we’re talking about, and I know for a fact he would never hurt me.

  Regardless of the fact that sex is a relatively new concept to me – at least, physically; Dante is the first man I’ve allowed to touch me intimately, after all – I don’t know what to expect after the deed is done. Do I stay and cuddle with him afterward, or do I get dressed and leave? Does taking thi
s step with him make me his girlfriend, or just another one of many women lucky enough to find themselves sharing his bed for the night?

  However, during the deeply passionate kisses that leave me breathless, the reverent touches that make me shudder, and the heated looks Dante gives me while he’s discovering my body one slow inch at a time it’s infinitely harder to shake the feeling that this is different. That what we’re about to do means as much to Dante as it does to me, if not more.

  And Dante proves me right when he tears his mouth from mine, stares into my eyes, and walks us with slow, measured steps to the bed. “You don’t know how happy it makes me, knowing that you saved yourself for me, do you?” He asks, his voice filled with love and adoration as he lowers me gently onto the mattress.

  “We’ll take it slow this time, Faye. I can’t promise you it will always be like this; that’s just not the kind of guy I am. But just this once, I’m going to go against everything that’s screaming at me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight, and let you dictate how this is going to play out.”

  Now that scares me. Dante telling me that I’m in charge isn’t what I’d expected from a man like him. A man that likes control and power in all things. My hope was that he would lead, and I would follow. That Dante would show me what it feels like to be thoroughly loved by a man who knows what he wants and has no qualms in demanding it from his partner.

  Deciding that he won’t know unless I tell him, I shake my head and share, “You’re what I want, Dante. I’ve waited for a long time for you, and although it’s sweet you feel the need to be gentle with me, that’s not what I want. I want what we have together to be real, even if it does hurt at first,” I finish, gesturing to the rigid length of him rubbing against my stomach.

  Not wasting any time, Dante doesn’t reply. Instead, he comes down over the top of me and crashes his mouth down on mine again. There is nothing sweet and gentle about this kiss, though. No. This one is desperate, hungry, ravenous even as Dante plunges his tongue into my mouth and takes what he wants. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t coax. This is claiming at its best.

  It feels like I’ve been waiting forever to kiss Dante, or in this case, for him to kiss me. I’ve fantasized, had wet dreams, and fingered myself to climax for years while thinking about what it would be like to kiss this man. Sex aside, not that I want to take that off the table, kissing Dante is amazing in its own right.

  There is no adequate way to describe Dante’s unique taste, other than to say, he’s intoxicating. Delicious. Addictive. When his tongue teases mine, stroking, tangling, with strong, sure strokes, Dante increases the grip he has on my hair. His fist wraps around a large section of it, angling my head until it’s exactly where he wants it before he dominates my mouth, demanding I give him everything. Which I do; gladly.

  I run my hands over his body, exploring the hard planes of his back over the top of his shirt, and take great pleasure in the way he shudders on top of me as I dig my nails into his shoulders. Giving me more of his weight, Dante grinds his cock against my pussy almost restlessly as I continue to map every inch of his body that I can reach.

  My breasts are swollen and tender, crushed against his chest, yet still covered completely. My nipples are hard points now, and they’re begging for his hands or mouth to relieve some of the ache he’s so intent on creating.

  Feeling them pucker, Dante lets out a low growl, and his hand leaves my hair to. travel to the hem of my tank top, ripping it off in one fluid movement. Dante’s hands discover that I’m not wearing a bra long before his eyes do, and he begins to stroke up and down my spine, soothingly as I silently beg him for more.

  Cupping the underside of one breast, Dante’s eyes lock with mine, and I’m stunned at the avid hunger and lust I see. Seconds later, Dante distracts me but lifting my breast to his mouth and circling the tight bud of my nipple with his tongue.

  Sparks of pleasure and discomfort sizzle as Dante blows cool air over my left nipple, causing it to tighten further. Suckling gently, he takes it between his lips into the hot cavern of his mouth, giving me mere moments to get used to the sensation before drawing it in deeper and sucking hard.

  It is like there is a direct link between my breasts and my core because the harder Dante sucks the wetter I become. That along with feeling the length of his cock at my thigh, the heavy weight of his body on top of me, causes me to squirm restlessly wanting more of him.

  Rotating my hips to communicate that I want and need more, I moan loudly as Dante’s cock throbs in time with our heartbeats and the head of his dick bumps against my clit.

  A rush of fluid dampens my panties, and fear that I’m dangerously close to coming after only a few heated kisses, the sensation of his shaft sliding up and down my covered pussy, and Dante’s mouth on my nipples.

  But thank fuck, after what feels like he’s been teasing me forever, but is more likely only a few minutes, Dante breaks the connection of our mouths, pulling back to look at me.

  Breathing heavily with one hand still fisted in my hair at the base of my neck, he rasps, “Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want me, Faye. Tell me you don’t want this, because if you don’t, I’m going to claim your sweet, virgin pussy, your mouth, and your ass if you let me. So if you don’t want this, you have to put a stop to it because I can’t.”

  Tugging on his long hair, trying to pull Dante in for another kiss, I meet resistance. He doesn’t move an inch, simply stays still, hovering over me, waiting. The deep brown eyes I fell in love with on sight are trained on my face, searching for answers to questions he hasn’t asked. But he doesn’t need to. I know what he wants to know. I know what he needs to hear.

  My hands rise to cup his face, my thumbs brushing against the rough stubble on the underside of his jaw. “I don’t want you to stop. I’ve spent years fantasizing about what it would be like to be right here, under you, touching you, having you touch me. So if you even think about stopping I might just have to kill you.” Dante blinks at me as if he’s coming out of a trance before gracing me with a blinding, white smile. “This is what I want. You are what I want,” I say in what I hope is an imploring tone.

  Dante’s chest is heaving, his breaths coming even faster now. Every muscle in his body is coiled tight, like a spring that’s waiting to snap. I know he wants this too, but he’s fighting it. He’s fighting the hunger and desire that I gave into the first time he touched me tonight.

  As Dante works to regulate his breathing, he presses a series of soft kisses over the uppermost swells of my breasts. “If you’re absolutely one hundred percent sure, then I’m going to tell you exactly what’s going to happen next, baby.” Whimpering, I clutch his biceps. “First, I’m going to strip you bare, lay you out across the bed so I can look at you. I want to see what’s mine; all of it. See what I’ve been waiting to claim. Next, I’m going to touch you. I’m going to run my hands all over your luscious body, squeeze those lush, full tits, and finger fuck your tight, wet pussy. When I know you’re ready for me, when your juices are dripping down your thighs, I’m going to tell you to take hold of my dick and guide it into your cunt.”

  Humming a sound that’s a mixture of approval and nervousness, I bury my face in the hard muscle of Dante’s chest. I’m not embarrassed by his dirty talk, quite the opposite; I’m turned on and oh, so ready for him.

  Continuing to work my nipple, pinching it between his fingers, Dante uses his wonderfully hard cock to apply more pressure on my clit. “I won’t taste you this time, baby. I’m too worked up, and I want to take my time with you. A few days should do it. A few days licking and eating out your sweet pussy should tie me over for an hour or two before I need to fuck you again,” Dante growls, low in the back of his throat, making his chest vibrate against my lips.

  Sensing how close I am, how much I need him, and where, Dante rises to his knees and tears my jeans and panties down my legs. He throws them across the room and removes his shirt, giving me an up close an
d personal view of his magnificent chest.

  The hard ridges of his abs, perfect defined pectoral muscles, broad shoulders, and a hint of the delicious V at the waistband of his jeans has me inhaling sharply. Dante’s body is flawless. Everything about him screams impossibly male, from his strong, work-hardened hands to his massive cock straining the fabric of his jeans. And he’s mine. For tonight, at least, he’s all mine.

  A shiver of unease racks me when Dante angles himself off the bed and stands beside it unmoving. Has he changed his mind? Does he not want me after all? But those thoughts are erased when he demands, “Put your hand between your legs and open that pretty pussy up for me so I can see what’s mine.”

  Complying immediately, I trail my hand across my chest, over my breast, and down my belly until it’s resting just above my mound. I haven’t done this before, touched myself in front of anyone. But with Dante, I find myself willing to do almost anything to please him.

  Using two fingers to form a V, I ply apart my pussy lips and show him what no one but me has ever seen before. Dante’s eyes harden as he takes in the puffy, pink lips of my pussy, and the wetness coating the inside of my thighs. Taking this as a good sign, I manipulate my clit with the heel of my palm and arch my back at the first tingling’s of my impending orgasm.

  In a split second, Dante is naked, having stripped off his belt, jeans, boots, and boxer briefs. His cock is thick and long, but I already knew that. What I didn’t know was that it has to be, at least, eleven inches of circumcised perfection.

  Stretching up to his belly button, the mushroom shape head is red and angry. Drops of pre-cum leak from the slit at the top and slide down his shaft, making me want to reach out and taste them with the tip of my tongue.

  Actually, I want to do more than that. I want to trace the prominent vein on the underside and take Dante deep into the heat of my mouth. More than anything, though, I want to taste him. I want his come filling my mouth as I swallow and savor every drop of what Dante has to give me.