VEGAS follows you home

by Sadie Grubor

  "Oh, yes, Damon. Right there, please!" she begs.

  Chest heaving, she arches her back as her orgasm invades every part of her being. She cries out my name, wailing her release.

  I look down as her pretty little cunt contracts around my cock. Watching the sheen of her come coat me with each thrust, I release with a roar of her name.

  Allowing her legs to drop back to the mattress, I wrap her into my arms and roll us to our sides.

  With our breathing labored and sweat coating our naked skin, we lie in silence, sated.

  Soon, Olivia's breathing is even, her body lax. Cradling my head in my left hand, I gaze down on her, brushing her hair from her face.

  "I can't let you go," I whisper, planting my lips to her forehead.

  Olivia

  My head throbs and the soreness in my body immediately assaults me with flashes from last night. Baseball game, drinking with Scarlett, Damon helping me into the apartment, and then we…oh, hell! I slap my hand to my face and rub.

  Not again, Olivia. What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you keep doing this? What is it about this guy that allows you to turn into a wanton sleaze in the matter of one evening?

  Peeking through the fingers currently covering my eyes, I see Damon sleeping peacefully. In the relaxed state, I see more familiarity between Alex and him. Everything from his marriage trick in Vegas, to barging in on my life, to having sex last night rushes to the forefront of my mind.

  Anger begins to simmer and knot my stomach. Yes, I drank too much in Vegas and last night, but that didn't stop him from getting me into bed either time. Anger grows to rage and I react. Reaching out, I roughly shove Damon away from me and climb out of bed.

  "You asshole!" I scream, standing next to the bed, naked. The shriek reverberates throughout the room and I grab my head, trying to calm the hammer thrashing my skull.

  "What the hell, Olivia?" he croaks, his voice still full of sleep.

  "You had sex with me while I was drunk — again! What's the matter with you?"

  Stomping to the bathroom, I slam the door. The sound echoes around my aching skull, causing me to wince once more as I lock the door.

  As I turn on the shower, Damon begins knocking from the other side of the door.

  "Olivia?" He knocks hard. "Open the door. We should talk."

  "Go to hell!" I shout.

  The knocking ceases.

  Slipping into the shower, I try to let the water rinse away last night. The way he caressed my body, tasted me, took me, claimed…

  "Stop it, Olivia!" I say out loud, shaking my head as I begin scrubbing my body.

  As soon as I turn the water off, his knocking resumes.

  "Please open the door!"

  "Go to hell, Damon!" Grabbing the toothbrush holder, I throw it at the door. Brushes scatter in opposite directions as the holder breaks into two pieces.

  "I'll break down the door if I have to!" he shouts.

  "Go ahead, dickhead. Break down your own bathroom door! Cause that screams sane, you psycho!" I snort, laughing at his threat.

  Wrapping a large towel around my body, I meet my own eyes in the bathroom mirror. A memory of us in bed pushes its way into my mind.

  What did I do? This isn't just his fault. He stopped when I told him and then I…

  I cover my face with my hands and a heavy thud begins against the door. Jerking my head to the door, I step back until I'm against the far wall.

  The hinges give way after the third hit. Damon shoves the broken door out of his way.

  "You are insane," I seethe, no longer caring who is right or wrong. "You need help, Damon. Serious fucking help!"

  "I warned you," he growls. "You aren't going to run and hide in the bathroom this time."

  He crosses his arms over his chest.

  "I know you feel more than you let on. I could tell last night."

  "That was the alcohol, jerk." I step forward, squaring my shoulders. "What does it say about this relationship if I have to be drunk to fuck you?" I raise one eyebrow in challenge.

  Pain flashes across his face and I want to instantly take back the harsh words. I'd been drinking, but he'd stopped. I'd been just as weak.

  "Yes, you had been drinking, but you seem to only let your guard down when you’re drinking. You know, they say there is truth in drunk talking." He raises his own challenging brow.

  Part of me wants to slap it off his face, the other wants to straddle his face and fuck it.

  Shoving his chest, I maneuver around him and the broken door, making a beeline for the annulment papers. Once in my hand, I turn to find Damon's scowling face less than a foot from mine.

  "Sign them," I order, shoving the papers into his chest.

  He doesn't even look down, his eyes remaining focused on mine.

  "Sign them, Damon. You promised. I came out here as you asked and I've lived with you like a family, now I want you to fulfill your part," I say, shoving the papers at his chest once more for emphasis.

  He grasps my hand and pulls me to his chest. The papers crumple between us.

  "I can't," he says on a sigh. "Can't you see how much I feel for you?"

  His eyes search mine.

  "Don't do this to me," I whisper, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

  His other hand comes up to caress my cheek.

  "Olivia, I can't let you go. I need you."

  Slapping his hand away, I shove him back.

  "No, you need help. Professional help. You just busted down a door," I spit out.

  "I know you feel more than you—"

  "You're delusional." I step back from him.

  His jaw clenches, the muscles twitching.

  "I won't sign them, Olivia. You might as well throw them away."

  "You bastard." Stepping forward, I slap his face. "I hate you," I growl.

  He turns and calls back to me over his shoulder.

  "I'll be in the shower." He stops at the broken door. "We need to leave in a bit to get Alex and meet my mother this afternoon."

  He disappears into the bathroom.

  Sinking to the floor, tears stream over my cheeks. Fighting to calm myself and not wanting to be in the room when he's done, I grab clothes and dress quickly.

  In the kitchen, the smell of coffee fills the air. With a heavy sigh, I pour myself a cup and carry it to a large leather chair at the far end of the living room.

  The blinds, still half shut, dim the morning light. Pulling my knees to my chest, I sip at the hot, black, liquid caffeine and reflect on everything.

  Knowing there would be a risk to playing along to this family fantasy of his, I stayed strong to the task of getting the papers signed. Even when he brought up my painful past and I wanted to call it off, I pushed on toward the goal.

  However, I hadn't expected a different side of him to emerge. There are moments, more and more each day, where I see him and not the stalker. His genuine desire to please Alex and me, to take care and make us happy, and the way Alex has bonded with him in return. For Alex to have someone to call dad…it feels better than I thought it would. It's something I hadn't realized was missing before.

  And then there’s last night.

  Groaning, I rub my face. Yes, I drank too much — again — but I remember everything. I've been so focused on playing along, somewhere along the way, he's slipped in.

  He didn't force me to cuddle against him in the car, allow him to massage me on the couch, or to slip his hands over my body next to the bed. Last night, the alcohol released all the repressed feelings — my attraction to him, how endearing I find him, and the security I haven't felt in forever. He wouldn't leave us and I find comfort in the fact.

  How the hell did I let this happen? Did I really want him to stop last night, to sign the papers this morning?

  The answer hits me so quickly, I almost dump hot coffee on myself.

  No, I didn't.

  This realization infuriates me, but doesn't stop the memory from my conversation with Scar
lett.

  "Olivia, he is so different with you. Hell, he wasn't this attentive to Rebecca — at least not when I was around. Things were so upside down with those two, not that I was privy to the details of their relationship. We weren't very close."

  "What do you mean?" Looking at her, she shoves another drink at me.

  "Rebecca didn't want to come around much." Scarlett shrugs. "You've met Mama Millie, right?"

  The look on her face makes me burst out in laughter. I nod.

  "Well, she was never a big fan of Rebecca, and with the way Millie is with Damon…I mean, you have to know that—"

  "The way she is with Damon?" I ask, glancing over to Damon while sipping the delicious drink.

  "Ah, you have yet to get the full experience. I'll just apologize now for what's to come." Scarlett smiles. At my confused expression, she huddles closer to me and continues.

  "Mama Millie is a controlling bitch who has run Damon's life for him since he was a child. You know he started medical school, right?"

  I nod.

  "Okay, well, like his father, medicine was Damon's passion. Millie was not having that. He met Rebecca in college and she became his everything. This rebellion of Damon's, as Millie called it, was not taken lightly. However, she's smart. She didn't want to risk pushing Damon away, but when she wants something, she makes sure as hell she gets it." Scarlett sighs heavily. "Olivia, Millie basically forced Damon into taking charge of B.I.G."

  "I thought she was ill and he stepped in to help?"

  Scarlett snorts.

  "That's what Damon thought, too. Hell, that's what everyone still believes."

  "It's not the truth?"

  "Hell no!" She snorts again. "She is an amazing actress. Didn't she put on a good show when you met her?" She raises her eyebrow.

  "Sort of. She started coughing and Damon called her out for faking—"

  "Oh, she's good." Scarlett grins. "That woman is something else." She shakes her head.

  Before I can ask anything further, she jumps from the seat, pulling me with her. Next, we are pushing against the large glass windows and screaming toward the field.

  Bringing the mug back up to my lips, I realize it's now cold. With a sigh, I set it down on the table beside the chair. My thoughts drift back to before the baseball game and the phone call I walked in on. He was clearly trying to hide something.

  Had it been about Rebecca and DJ? Why would he keep more from me instead of being open when I gave him the chance?

  The sound of Damon descending the stairs prevents me from dwelling on my thoughts any longer. Looking over my shoulder, he stands at the bottom of the stairs, eyes locked on mine. Unable to handle the weight of his stare, I look away from him. Anger boils in my stomach. All the confusion, lies, drama…I just want out.

  "Olivia?"

  I ignore his attempt for my attention. Instead of leaving me alone, he comes closer.

  "Olivia, last night—"

  "Last night is yet another example of how you take advantage of a situation."

  Still not looking at him, I keep my tone level and cold, emotionless. Slowly, I take a deep breath and stand, facing him.

  "Last night is not, was not—"

  I don't allow him to finish.

  "I don't know why you think I want to be with you."

  This time, my words not only feel like acid on my tongue, they also act as another slap to his face. A small twinge of regret and guilt knot my stomach; regret for the words I just said and guilt for unleashing my frustration with myself and the situation on him.

  "I know I said I would sign the papers, but I know you feel the change. You feel our connection, even if it’s just a small one. But that is enough to try, isn't it?" His hands grab my shoulders, holding me tightly. "I'm falling in love with you and I can't just let you walk out of my life without a fight, Olivia."

  Shaking my head, I shrug off his hands.

  "You…how…you can't possibly be falling in love with me. You hardly know me, Damon," I stutter over my rebuttal.

  "You're wrong and you know it." He grins. "I am falling for you and I will fight for you. I cannot sign you out of my life like you're asking me to do."

  He reaches out for me, but I step away.

  "Don't touch me."

  Grabbing the coffee mug, I hurry around him toward the kitchen. Depositing the mug in the sink, I lean, press my hands to the counter, and breathe. Hating the fact that part of my feels a small amount of happiness at his confession, I focus on the over-the-top stalker and bullying behaviors he's displayed.

  "Olivia—"

  "We need to get Alex."

  Not wanting him to see the tears forming in my eyes, I avoid looking at him when I exit.

  "Shit," he growls low.

  Slipping into a pair of shoes, I wait for him next to the door. When he gets close to me, I move away. Knowing his touch becomes a catalyst to the feelings I don't want, I'm sure to keep the distance between us.

  The elevator descent and car ride are silent and uncomfortable. When we reach his father's home, I exit the car without acknowledging him.

  "Are you going to give me the silent treatment for the rest of the day?" he asks with annoyance.

  I don't look or speak when we reach the door; instead, I press the doorbell.

  The Knyght's butler greets us, motioning for us to enter. Damon's hand grazes my lower back, so I walk a step faster. He sighs.

  "Good morning," Damon's father greets from over his newspaper. "Heidi is gathering Alex's things." Folding his paper in his lap, he motions for us to sit.

  I step to the lone antique chair and sit, taking my first look at Damon. His nostrils flare as he sits alone on the loveseat.

  Heidi enters the room with Alex on her hip.

  "How was he?" I ask.

  "Perfect, of course." She smiles, setting him on his feet.

  "Momma!" Alex runs into my arms, allowing me to hug him tightly. Fighting back the tears threatening to expose themselves, I kiss his cheeks until he's pushing to get away from me.

  Once on his feet, he turns to Damon.

  "Daddy!" He rushes to climb into his lap.

  "Hey there, little buddy." Damon repeats my hugging actions.

  Our visit is brief, since we are going to Millie's, so we collect Alex's things and Damon carries him to the car. Before I can leave, Heidi pulls me aside.

  "Olivia, please give him a chance."

  I open my mouth, but she puts up a hand.

  "He is so…so…you make him Damon again. He's more himself than I've seen in such a long time. You both complete him, make him whole again." She hugs me tight. "And don't keep my handsome little angel away too long." Her smile is broad, dazzling.

  In the car, Alex is the only one making any sound. Damon tries to talk, but I refuse to submit. My thoughts are all over the place and right now, I need to focus on lunch with Millie.

  It's clear Millie doesn't want me in Damon's life, so, as crazy as it is, she's become my only ally. But, at the same time, I fight the urge to do things just to spite the self-righteous snob.

  Pulling up to her home, a feeling of unease washes over me. After taking a few deep breaths, I finally exit the car and follow Damon inside. Her butler shows us to a large white and lavender room. Mildred Banks is sitting at a round table, facing the entrance of the room.

  "Damon, darling," she gushes in an overly dramatic fashion. "I'm so happy you are joining me today."

  Her eyes flicker to me and I feel Damon tense.

  "Olivia, dear, you look lovely today."

  I don't know her well, but it's clear something is going on.

  I wonder if she poisoned my food.

  "Mother." Damon nods, stepping forward and kissing her cheek. "Thank you for having us."

  "And there's my lovely grandson." She leans toward Alex, rubbing his back.

  That is one too many lovelies, if you ask me.

  Alex burrows his face into Damon's shoulder.

  I don
't blame you, baby. I wish there was an armpit for me to hide in, too.

  "He's so shy." She tries not to sound irritated. "You will need to bring him over as much as possible so he gets more familiar."

  Unless as much as possible means twice a year, if you're lucky, not happening.

  Brunch is served and conversation is surprisingly light. Mildred inquires about the things we've done to enjoy New York. She even offers an invitation for us to stay in her home during future visits.

  I remain quiet, forcing polite smiles. Unsure of her overly nice and sweet behavior, I'm still suspicious.

  "So, Damon, have you seen Dr. Strikner since you've returned?" Mildred casually looks at Damon.

  His jaw tenses, the muscles flexing.

  "Not recently," he growls through clenched teeth.

  There's a weird glint in her eye, like she's enjoying his discomfort.

  How can a mother purposely manipulate her son?

  "So, he's not aware that you’ve remarried?" she asks, glancing to me, obviously looking for my reaction.

  When neither Damon nor I speak, she presses her hand to her chest.

  "I'm sorry, she does know about Rebecca and DJ, does she not?" Fake innocence oozes from her.

  "Yes," he growls again. "She knows, Mother." Damon turns hard eyes on her.

  She nods and turns to me.

  "And you're still around after learning about the horrible night and all of the skeletons in my Damon's closet?”

  This is my opportunity to choose a side, to work her distaste for my presence in my favor. With a glance toward Damon, my heart aches. The sick and devastated look on his face makes up my mind.

  "Damon has been very open about the tragic loss of Rebecca and DJ," I respond, straightening my spine. "He's told me about it all."

  I don't have to look at him to feel his eyes on me. Sure he's shocked by response, I turn my gaze toward him. My intentions are to reassure him, but the mask of panic he's wearing catches me by surprise.

  "Hmm, is that so?" Millie's question pulls my attention to her smug face.

  Oh no, what did I do?