by L. J. Woods
“Mister King!”
Someone shouts Damien’s name, my head whipping towards the door. “We should go, Damien.”
He’s tapping at his phone when I turn back around before he takes my hand in his again. This time it’s firmer like he’s unlocked something inside him. “Ready to blow this joint?”
“We just cracked the case, King,” I say, searching his eyes, my body vibrating with adrenaline. “My whole life unravelled and got put back together again, and it’s all because I ordered a fucking donut.”
“What?” He looks at me, moving the chair from the door.
“Nothing.” Shaking my head, Damien leads me out of the cottage and down another path.
“Mister King!” Someone yells. “Miss Rowland! Stop right there!”
Looking behind me, there are a few men behind us, Branson and Hansen included but we’re too far ahead. The wind starts to pick up as Damien helps me over a fence into a wide-open field. When I look up, there’s a black helicopter coming down, my clothes and hair flying.
Damien holds me close as it hovers to the ground and when it’s low enough, the pilot calls us over. Damien throws the bags inside, hoisting me up. I’m way too scared of getting caught to digest the fact that I’m climbing inside a leather outfitted helicopter. Too fuelled by adrenaline to realize this is my getaway ride from the cops.
We’re really fitting this Bonnie and Clyde thing.
Damien plops in next to me. “Go!”
The helicopter churns, Damien pulling headphones over my head as we whizz into the air, the King mansion below. My eyes zero in on the rooftop, the place that could’ve been our demise. But here I am. On cloud nine. Fleeing hell with the devil.
“You okay, Rowland?” Leaning over, Damien looks over my body, the knot tightening inside again as I catch my breath.
I nod, Eden Gardens appearing below us. “Where to, King? It’s just me and you.”
Biting his lip, a smile forms on his face, those blue-greys dazzling in the sun. “Canada.”
Epilogue
Jo
Three Months Later
My gaze settles on the movement of the water, easel in front of me.
The smokey room smells like pot, peppermint and pine, making it easy to zone out on the image I’m about to bring to life. Ferris wheel to one side, a string of boats on the other. Hendrix’s vocals and guitar fill the room and being freshly baked, the muse is perfect.
When my brush touches the canvas, my feet leave the ground. A shriek escapes my lips, muffled by the concrete ceiling.
A growl leaves him, “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re gonna forget your name, Rowland.”
I’m laughing when my back hits the leather of his brown tufted chair, my heartbeat racing in his hold before he releases me. “What did you do?”
He hovers over me as he pulls off his white v-neck, tossing it on the blue metal chest we’ve been using as a coffee table. That reveals that rock-hard body, chiselled abs and pecs. The shape of his long, stiff shaft pokes through his chinos and I’m already clenching my thighs in anticipation. The look in his eyes when he trails my body tells me he already knows I’m soaking for him. Ready and waiting as always.
“Do I need another reason other than you being mine?” His chest rises and falls as his eyes trail from my tits to my bare legs. I only have a t-shirt on, boyshorts underneath but the way he’s eyeing me makes me feel like he’s undressing me right here. “Take that off, Rowland.”
I narrow my eyes. “What did you do?”
“Take. It. Off.” He strokes himself through his pants and I swear I see it throb, the excitement twisting my core. “Now. Don’t make this worse for you.” Biting my lip, giving him a cheeky smile, he growls and I squeal when he picks me up again.
“Why don’t you ever listen?” His teeth sink into my neck as I hang on, his hard cock pressing into me, throbbing against my clit before he sits me on the edge of something hard. He tugs the shirt of my head, a brush of air and the sound of his husky voice makes my nipples pucker to attention. Pushing my chest back, it hits the felt of the pool table, pushed to the far end of our loft. It’s his, along with the abstract chandeliers hanging from our ceiling, pipes between. The furry black rug is also his, but the band posters? My idea. All framed in black.
“You’re gonna fuck up the tab—fuuuck!” My fingers reach for his hair when his tongue parts my folds, swirling over my clit before he plunges his tongue inside me.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he groans, his words vibrating against my leg. “I want you. You’re so fucking smart. You’re so fucking perfect.”
His hands come under my ass, gripping my legs so he can latch me on his face while he laps and licks every inch, his tongue plunging in and out. There’s no talking to him when he’s this riled up, not that I want him to stop. My legs shake against his head, his tongue like an energizer bunny the way he’s devouring me alive. When he’s had enough, he picks me up again.
“Damien, what’re you—”
Pressing his lips to mine, everything disappears. The taste of my pussy transfers to my tongue from his and this fuzzy warm feeling takes over me again.
“Keep talking Rowland,” he groans against my lips, his hard, smooth cock sliding between my folds. “I’ll have to punish you harder.”
On his last word, he pushes himself inside me, my teeth sinking into his rigid shoulder before my ass hits something cold. His hand against my chest, his cock still inside, he presses me against it, my back near the edge, my hair hanging off. If I didn’t trust him as much as I do now, I’d be screaming. But when he thrusts inside me, I’m screaming for something else.
“Fuck me!” I demand, my legs wrapped around him, my tits to the sky.
“Like the goddess you are?” He grunts, plowing into me. “Like the queen I fucking love?”
“Yes!” Reaching for the edge of the ledge with my nails, my eyes on the clouds and the birds, Damien pulls out before he pushes inside again. Then again. Each time pushing deeper than the last until … “Fuck yes!” The tip of his cock hits my spot over and over, the sky blurring above before he pulls me inside. We collapse on the floor by the window, my easel toppling to the ground. It’s a good thing we own this place because with how many times we’ve trashed it in the same way, we’d owe a hell of a lot.
“Say it!” he growls, thrusting into me, his forehead sweaty as he pins my hands over my head. “Fucking say it, Joelle.”
I only like to fight him because it’s fun. But those three words have been flying out easier than ever the last few months. And again it does, my orgasm rolling in like the train I rolled in on. “I love you, Damien!”
“Fuuck!” He pulls on my lip when he comes, his cock throbbing inside my tightening hole. He keeps thrusting until I’m climaxing again, my body feeling like we’re floating in the air, drifting through space and time. When he pulls out, his load streaming down my thighs, that blissful smile forms on my face again.
“That’s right, Rowland.” Planting another kiss on my lips, he smiles against mine. “I’m your god. And you’re my universe.”
He collapses next to me, but I still have questions while I catch my breath. “Now, what the fuck was that about?”
He chuckles, leaning on his elbow so he can trace my naked body with his index finger. It gets the shivers rolling again. “You remember the investment I made in that foster care system? From The Grove?”
“How can I forget? Those kids really need the help. Believe me.”
“You turned out alright.” Tilting my chin higher he gives me another kiss. “And now these kids might have a better chance too.”
“What’re you talking about?” He’s speaking in riddles again
Ding!
“And who the hell is that?” Damien and I don’t really have visitors. Not ones we don’t know are coming. While we trust each other, we’re still working on other people.
We were able to get the case against us dropped thanks t
o Damien’s filthy rich lawyers. So that doesn’t mean there should be any cops at the door. Though it could be Cindy Huang coming to seek revenge for us outing Edwin’s shady campaign practices but let’s be real. Edwin Huang never gave a fuck about the town. Only its money.
Damien rises off the floor with another peck on my lips. Sweet, delicious peppermint and whiskey. “Clean yourself up, Rowland.” He winks over his shoulder, pulling his pants from the floor. “We have company.”
Ding-Ding!
“Company?” I sit up on my elbows as he tosses my shirt at me. In another few seconds, a towel comes flying my way. “Wait, you said you wouldn’t make this a big deal,” I remind him, dabbing at my thighs.
“I’m not,” he says, hand on the front door handle. “She is.”
When he slides open the large black metal door to the loft, a smile spreads across my face, shirt back on my frame. “Willow!” I’m off the ground in a flash, running across the large open space to my sister who I swear is taller already.
“Careful! I’m gonna drop these.” She steadies her balance, a large bouquet of balloons with the number eighteen on them in one hand. A pink box in the other.
Taking the box from her, I usher her in the loft before another smile hits me. Glancing at Damien, he has one too. They’re all glazed. All eight of them. “Donuts.”
Damien waggles his eyebrow, sitting on the large l-shaped sofa against the wall. “Wanna eat one off my dick?”
“Ew!” Lea’s voice comes from the door and when I turn around, she’s pulling our door open. “Is this what I’m walking into?”
Allie’s behind her. “What’re you walking into?”
I should’ve known Damien wasn’t going to be the one to listen. He never is. But I’m actually happy to see these two.
“Ask Damien,” Lea looks around, a robin egg blue bag in her hand. She holds it out to me on long red pointy nails. “Are you guys slumming it now?”
“If you call millions of dollars for this historic loft in the Old Port slumming it,” Damien pipes up. “Then yeah.”
“King.”
“Lea.”
“Let’s talk redecorating,” Lea pulls her blouse higher on her neck as she enters the space, her eyes wandering the room. Damien groans behind me as Lea babbles on about foreign interior designers. Something about the same guy who designed their apartment in the Upper East Side.
Despite what Lea thinks, our loft in Montreal is the perfect combination of both of us. Glamour and grunge. Damien insisted we have state-of-the-art appliances but I insisted on the greenery climbing up and down one side of the brick wall. He got the mega-wide big screen TV while I got the far corner by the window as my own personal creative space. Me and my easels. Some decisions, like what band photos got framed, didn’t go down without some fight but that’s what we do. We fight. So we can make it up to each other the best way we know how. With our bodies slamming together.
“You made it to the big eighteen!” Allie holds out her arms in a tank-top and jeans, “Yes, I Have a Vagina” painted on her shirt that tells me she’s fitting into NYU just fine. She grabs me in an embrace, her hair smelling like pot. “Happy birthday, Jo. We wouldn’t miss it.”
“Thanks, Allie.” I squeeze before pulling back, a whiff of pot coming off her. “Wait, how long have you been here? Did you already smoke?”
“Landed at noon and we stopped to get you a gift.” Reaching into her tote, she pulls out a large container of legal weed.
Lea pipes from the sofa, “I’m classier than that. Besides, this place could use an uplift from Tiffany’s.”
“Who’s Tiffany?” Isaac appears behind Allie, two bottles of brown liquid in his hand and now I’m sure Damien’s invited the whole squad.
“The girl from frosh week?” Christian appears beside him next, confirming it.
“Ew,” Allie turns around before she reaches to hug her brother. “What a great way to say hello.”
Christian snorts, his arms around his sister as Isaac hands me a bottle, saluting to me. “Is Lea turning you into a princess?”
“Too many pucks to your head turning you into a doofus?”
“Gentlemen,” Damien pipes up from the couch. “Drinks are in the fridge.”
“This place is sweet,” Christian looks around before coming to hug me. It’s strong. Firm. Everything I remember. “Happy birthday, Jo.” Reaching into his pocket he pulls out two tickets. My brows furrow as he places it in my hand. “Come see a game sometime.”
“Back away from my girl, Perez,” I can hear Damien’s growl from the couch as I move towards the door, peeking into the bright foyer for any signs of anyone else.
That’s when I hear his voice. “You’d think they have an elevator. Who the fuck moves to Montreal?”
“Nate?”
Footsteps pick up before Nate appears in the foyer at the top of the steps. “I’ll call you back, babe.” He says, a smile forming on his face as he saunters towards me. “You didn’t hear that, did you?”
“I did.” I smile.
“I was just … oh c’mere.” When he’s in front of me, he gives me a big hug. “Happy birthday, Scandal.”
“I thought you were in Peru.” My voice muffles, Nate squeezing me into oblivion.
“I was,” he says, releasing me so he can move inside the loft, waving at everyone. “I fly back on Sunday. Consider yourself special.”
Locking the door behind me I look at them all in our space, Nate jumping on Allie when he gets to her. They all sprawl across the sofa, chairs and rug. A group of people I wanted nothing to do with not even a year ago. Now, we’re in this beautiful space with a guy I love, my sister, and well, my new family.
“Get over here,” Damien beckons, curling his fingers towards me. “Unless you’re exhausted from our afternoon fuck.”
“I swear to god, King,” Lea pipes up, getting Damien to smirk, his eyes sparkling my way. I’m drawn to them regardless like I’m floating through the air right into his arms.
Pulling me on his lap, he whispers in my ear, his voice a deep growl, “Still wet for me, Medusa?” The others are too distracted in their conversation to hear it or to know his cock hardens underneath me.
“I forgot the cake!” Willow calls from the fridge as the doorbell rings again.
“We can order one,” Lea scoffs, pulling her phone from her itty bitty purse. “By the way.” She glances up. “Have you heard from Jordan?”
Willow’s face falls like she’s frozen and it makes me narrow my eyes.
“No,” she says before she plasters a smile on her face, but I don’t miss that look. The one she gives when she’s disappointed as fuck. “But I’m sure he’s fine.”
Allie leans into me. “He’s been MIA for weeks,” she whispers. “Texted Lea he’s fine and not to contact him then … poof.”
Wonder if he sent the same to my sister.
Damien’s phone buzzes in his lap, his ringtone chiming. He reaches under to pull it out before he taps the green button. “Just in time for my gift.” He puts it on speaker. “Valerie. Nice to hear from you.”
Who the fuck is Valerie?
“Mister King! Thank you for being in contact. I have good news, the case for Willow Rowland looks to be on our side. Jo will be in custody by the end of the summer.”
“Wait, what?” Sitting up, I stare at the phone like it’ll all make sense.
“Really?” Willow chimes from the kitchen, her round cheeks beaming.
She’s been staying at the lakehouse between crashing with the Quinfrey’s and the Perez’s. I don’t want to think about the parties she’s having on her own. She’s still my sweet little sis even though she’s been kicking nothing but ass.
“I wouldn’t lie,” Valerie confirms. “In my hands, you guys have nothing to worry about.”
Valerie doesn’t know that Willow will only be living with me part-time. Summers, holidays and long weekends. She’s hell-bent on finishing school in Eden and while the school bu
ilds up, she’ll be starting at Ancaster in the fall.
While that makes my jaw clench, I’m still learning to trust, and I’m trusting her with this.
“Happy birthday, Rowland,” Damien says in my ear when he hangs up the phone and fuck. I know I didn’t want this to be a big deal but I’m beaming. “Don’t fuck it up.”
I won’t. No fucking way. Not with these guys having my back.
We all take a minute to catch up while I catch my breath from all the excitement. But after warming up with the crew, I get so excited that nature is quick to call.
Walking to the bathroom, I’m smiling the entire way, my mind swarming with memories of Eden and The Grove. Looks like this kid from the wrong side of the tracks turned out alright.
My ass on the toilet, my eyes land on my box of tampons under the sink, my eyes narrowing in on it.
“Fuuuck,” I mutter, scratching at my head. It only now dawns on me that I don’t remember my last period. “Shit.”
Finishing up, I open the bathroom cabinet, grabbing one of our emergency tests.
Okay. Chill.
Taking a breath, I follow the instructions on the wrapper. Waiting is the hardest part as I pace the room, my mind on all the unprotected mind-blowing fuckfests Damien and I have.
“Stupid. Stupid,” I mutter, already assuming my fate.
But it felt so good. So perfect that it would be a shame to—
Buzz! Buzz!
The timer on my phone goes off and when I look on the counter …
“Fuck.”
“Jo?” Damien’s voice rings through the loft like it always does when I’m gone too long.
Taking another breath, I stare in the mirror at my reflection. I don’t look tired anymore, my cheeks healthy and rosy and without the stresses of Eden on my back, I’m feeling brighter, lighter and healthier. But this. This changes everything.
“Jo!”
Opening the door, I approach everyone in the living room. Damien notices something’s up right away, the way he leans forward, cocking his brow.