Wanted: An Outlaw Anthology

by Lane Hart

  With his sleeves rolled up, Damon is getting his hands dirty and hauling ruined pieces of drywall into the alleyway behind the soup kitchen. His muscles bulge and strain against his shirt, and I can’t help but sneak peeks at him. He looks like a Grecian god, with his olive skin covered in a sheen of sweat as he works.

  He catches me staring as he comes back inside the door and flashes me a sexy, knowing grin. “You’re gonna get it later,” he mouths to me with a wink, and I can’t help the blush that spreads across my chest and up to my cheeks.

  Fanning myself, I turn away from him and get back to work. I’m helping another girl sweep up the small pieces to put into a wheelbarrow.

  The water leak made quite the mess, but the dining hall is looking better and better with every hour that passes.

  The Thanksgiving meal is tomorrow at noon, and Sue is optimistic that she’ll have the kitchen back up and running by then. I couldn’t be happier for her and everybody that will get to eat the kind of meal that they deserve for the holiday.

  By the time eight o’clock rolls around, the dining hall looks back to normal with new drywall and spackling. The refrigerator is stocked with food, and Damon even called out an electrician to check the breaker and make sure all the wiring was safe.

  We leave the soup kitchen with a sense of pride from a job well done. And it all feels like a dream when we get back to Damon’s place. The apartment is small and not really cozy, but it’s really felt like home over the past week.

  We’re both sweaty, but I can’t help but wrap my arms around Damon. Standing on my tiptoes, I lean up and kiss him. Settling back down on my heels, I look up into his eyes and tell him sincerely, “Thank you.” No other words can express the magnitude of gratitude I have for him right now. He helped so many people tonight. I don’t know if he even realizes that.

  His large palm cups my chin, and his thumb brushes against my cheek. “You have drywall dust all over your face,” he says with a soft smile.

  “Maybe we should take a shower.”

  He nods in agreement.

  “Together,” I add.

  He nods more quickly, and I laugh out loud.

  Picking me up in his arms, he carries me to the bathroom in a fireman’s hold. Setting me down on the floor, we both begin undressing each other. We move slowly, neither one of us in a hurry.

  Once we’re both naked, he turns on the water, tests it and then helps me step in before following after me.

  Using his body wash, we take turns washing each other, our touches turning eager and needy. Under the stream of warm water, he kisses me softly and sweetly. His hands drift down my body, touching every part of me as if memorizing my form.

  His tongue plays at my seam, and I open to allow him unfettered access. His tongue touches mine, and then completely dominates as he devours me with a soul-searing kiss.

  I can feel his growing erection pressing into my stomach, and I reach between us to stroke his hard length. He groans into my mouth, and I love it. I love when he lets go.

  His adept fingers find my clit, and he rubs me gently. God, he knows just where and how to touch me.

  When I get close to the edge, he suddenly pulls back and turns me around in his arms. Pressing me up against the tiled wall, he drops to his knees behind me. His mouth finds my clit and latches on the little nub, causing me to cry out his name. His tongue licks at my seam and drifts up to the place where I still remain a virgin.

  His tongue plays with the rim of my puckered hole, and it drives me insane. I didn’t realize it could feel so good. “Damon!” I cry out.

  He hushes me before dragging his tongue back to my clit. I slap my hands against the tiled walls as he brings me to the edge once more and stops abruptly. “Please!” I beg him.

  Rising, he tells me, “I’m going to make my girl feel better in just a minute.”

  My girl.

  His girl.

  His words are like a drug to me, and I feel high off of them.

  Taking his thick cock in his hand, he drags the head up and down my seam, teasing me. “Is this what my girl wants?”

  “Yes!” I plead, needy and hungry.

  “Tell me what I want to hear then,” he says.

  And, god, do I love his kinky side and his love for dirty talk. “Please, Damon. Please fuck me with your big cock.”

  He releases a deep growl that sends a shudder through me just before he lines up his dick and enters me in one, brutal thrust, not stopping until he’s fully seated inside of me.

  I cry out from the pleasure mixed with pain as my body tries to adjust to his girth. “Oh, god!” I moan.

  Growling again, he nips at my earlobe with his teeth before dragging his incisors down the sensitive column of my neck. His teeth nip at my shoulder as he slowly pulls out of me completely only to slam back into me once more.

  A loud groan escapes my mouth as my fingers try to find purchase against the wet tiled wall.

  Damon’s fingers dig into my hips as he begins to fuck me relentlessly then. Every thrust strokes my inner wall in just the right spot, sending me spiraling towards the edge of pleasure. I’m so drunk with lust that I barely notice his right hand leaving my hip and moving to my backside.

  The tip of his finger entering my asshole has my eyes snapping open. “Damon,” I warn.

  “I want to take you here, Victoria. I want to be your first for every hole in your gorgeous fucking body.” His finger strokes my tight channel, and the sensation is incredible, better than I would have ever expected. “I promise to make it feel good,” he assures me, and I trust him.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  Pulling out of my pussy, Damon fingers me, gathering my wetness and bringing it up to my puckered hole. One finger becomes two and then two become three as he tests my readiness, easing in and out of my tight hole gently. I lean my head against the tile, trying to keep myself calm.

  “Relax,” he tells me as he lines his head up with my back entrance. “I’ll be gentle. I promise.” His lips land on my shoulder. Finding my clit once again, he strokes me as he slowly begins to push inside of me.

  At first, I’m resistant and it’s painful, but the pleasure he’s doling out on my clit has me accepting him inch by inch.

  When he’s fully inside of me, he lets out a low growl. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You feel so fucking good.” His fingers pinch my clit, and I cry out in surprise. “That’s my girl, taking my hard cock so deep inside of her tight, little asshole.” He strokes my nub gently again as he tells me, “I’m going to move now, Victoria.”

  His thick cock feels gigantic inside that forbidden place, and I can’t help but grit my teeth at the first few thrusts. After the initial pain is over, however, all I begin to feel is intense pleasure, pleasure like I’ve never experienced before.

  “Please, Damon,” I breathe, not really knowing what I’m even asking for. Maybe for him to stop. Maybe for him to keep going. I don’t know. I’m losing focus from the mixed pleasure and pain clouding my mind.

  He brings me to orgasm over and over again as he fucks me, so many times that I lose count and they string together in an endless litany.

  With one final thrust, Damon crushes me to him as he comes inside of me, filling me up until his release spills out around his thick cock. “Fuck, Victoria,” he whispers into my ear as he holds me in his arms.

  I stay in his arms like that for a while as he presses kisses over my cheek, jaw, neck and shoulder. It feels good. So good.

  When his cock softens, he gently pulls out of me and washes me all over again. My limbs are trembling, and I can barely stand on my own two feet by the time he helps me out of the shower.

  Damon dries me off and wraps me up in a soft, warm towel. Towering over me, his dark green eyes swallow me whole as he gazes down at me.

  “I love you, Damon,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. I didn’t really analyze my true feelings for him until this moment, but I know they’re true. I love him. I think I’ve love
d him ever since the moment I first met him.

  His dark green eyes seem to cloud over, and I’m afraid he’s not going to say the words back to me. Perhaps I made a huge mistake, and I’ll forever be known as the idiot who told a guy she loved him when he didn’t feel the same way about her.

  But before I can try to backtrack or take the words back, Damon leans down and locks his lips over mine. The kiss is possessive and demanding. His fingers run through my damp hair as he holds me in place, taking full control of that kiss.

  And when he finally pulls back, he stares into my eyes as he tells me, “I love you, too, Victoria.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Damon

  Victoria told me she loves me.

  And I said it back, just like the normal, doting boyfriend would.

  I don’t know whether I lied to her. At this point, it doesn’t even matter whether I have feelings for her or not. I’m one step closer to my revenge, and that’s the only thing that should matter.

  I should be happy that everything is going exactly as I had planned.

  So, why do I feel like such a fucking asshole?

  Victoria left early this morning to help Sue with the soup kitchen’s preparations for the Thanksgiving dinner tonight.

  I promised her I would show up in time to help serve the hundreds of homeless that will be showing up for the free, hot meal.

  In the meantime, I’ve been plotting and planning against the only person in this world who actually loves me. Like lining up a bunch of dominos, I have to get everything in place and hope and pray they don’t collapse before I’m ready.

  By the time I get to the soup kitchen, the operation is in full swing. Victoria is busy in the kitchen. I stop in the doorway and just take a moment to breathe her in.

  Her hair is up in a messy ponytail. She’s wearing a simple, long-sleeved shirt, black yoga pants and sneakers. She has flour on her cheek and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face.

  Fuck, she’s beautiful.

  I almost want to put a stop to everything that’s going to happen tonight, tomorrow, next week…

  But I can’t. I have to think about my family and getting my revenge for their deaths. I don’t want their suffering to be in vain. Justice needs to be served…

  “Don’t be shy, Damon. Grab an apron,” Sue tells me, breaking me out of my reverie.

  Flashing her a grin, I take one of the black aprons hanging on a hook and wrap it around my waist. I’m wearing a light green button-up shirt and black pants, and the special gift I have for Victoria is currently burning a hole in my pocket. The small box feels like it weighs twenty pounds instead of twenty grams.

  Victoria turns, and her smile takes my breath away as she says, “There you are. I was wondering if you were going to show.”

  “You’re here. So where else would I be?” I ask, laying it on thick. I scoop her into my arms and give her a big smooch, earning us some cat-calls.

  Slapping me playfully in the chest, she pulls out of my arms and says, “Let’s get to work. We have a lot to do.”

  I soon learn firsthand that Victoria isn’t kidding about the workload. I didn’t realize how much preparation went into making a meal for close to a thousand people. According to Sue, the Thanksgiving meal at the soup kitchen always brings in the most people.

  As the dinner starts, Victoria and I stand side by side. I dish out the mashed potatoes while she dishes out the corn.

  A lot of the homeless recognize her and praise her for being a good and caring person. I, of course, already know all this, but it’s nice to hear that she’s widely known for her good deeds and kind soul.

  I realize halfway through that I can’t stop smiling. Damn, it feels good to give back to the community and especially to the less fortunate. I know what it’s like to be homeless and hungry. And sometimes just the simple act of someone being there for you with a hot meal can get you through another day on this earth.

  When I spot a man in the doorway, my smile slips, however. I recognize him from the articles in the newspaper. The same man I spoke to on the phone earlier. He gives me a nod, and I give him the same back.

  The line has slowed down considerably, and so I take it as my chance to do what must be done. Turning to Victoria, I take her hand in mine and stare into her beautiful blue eyes.

  “Victoria, there’s something I need to ask you.” I reach into my pants pocket and pull out the ring box before flipping it open behind my back.

  Her cute brows furrow on her forehead. “Sure, Damon. Anything,” she says.

  Getting down on one knee, I hold out the ring and look up at her. Her other hand goes to her mouth as she gasps, and there are collective reactions around the entire kitchen and dining hall. All eyes are on us as I tell Victoria that I want to spend the rest of my life with her. “I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but I just can’t imagine my life without you in it. So, I hope you will do me the honor of being with me forever. Will you marry me, Victoria?”

  She hesitates for only a second before she exclaims, “Yes! Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

  I place the ring on her finger before capturing her in my arms and kissing her like our plane is going down. And when we surface for air, I can see the reporter with his cell phone trained on us, taking photographs of the whole thing, just like we had planned.

  When I look down at my beautiful fiancée, I lie and tell her, “We’re going to be so happy together.”

  I crush her to me once more, no longer able to bear to see the look of happiness on her face, and ultimately knowing that sometime, in the very near future, I’ll be hurting her more than anyone ever has in her entire life.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Victoria

  The next morning at Damon’s apartment, I’m eating a late breakfast while he’s in the shower. While I’m staring at my engagement ring, still in disbelief, my cell phone rings.

  My father’s name comes up on the caller ID, and I frown. It’s highly unusual for him to call unless he needs something.

  “Papa?” I answer.

  “I have to read about my daughter’s engagement on Page Six?” he roars into the phone.

  I drop the piece of bagel in my hand. “Page Six?” I croak before jumping out of my seat like I’ve been shocked.

  Glancing around the room, I notice The Post lying on top of Damon’s coffee table. He picked up a copy while grabbing us coffee and bagels this morning. Snatching up the paper, I unfold it while my dad continues to rant and rave through the speaker.

  Sure enough, there is a huge blurb about my engagement to a handsome stranger and several pictures taken of Damon proposing to me at the soup kitchen. My knees threaten to buckle under me, so I move to the couch and collapse as I stare at the photos.

  “I didn’t…there wasn’t…I didn’t see any paparazzi there,” I whisper, completely confused.

  “Victoria! Victoria, are you even listening to me?” he yells.

  “Yes, Papa,” I say, stunned.

  “How long have you known this man? When did you meet? Who the hell is this…Damon Romero?” He spits out question after question, and I have a hard time keeping up.

  Before I can even answer one of them, he stops me by saying, “You know what…why don’t you bring him here for dinner? Then I can ask him myself.”

  Worrying my lower lip between my teeth, I think about his offer. I want to say no, but I know my father would find some other way to get Damon in his clutches. So, I reluctantly tell him, “Sure. That would be great.”

  “All right. If you don’t have plans Friday night, bring him to the house for dinner.” I hear ice clinking in his glass as he takes a drink of something. It’s probably scotch, his favorite. “I want to get to know the man who stole my daughter’s heart.” He pauses before saying, “And then, your fiancé can ask me for permission for your hand properly…like a real man.”

  I grip the phone harder. I knew he wasn’t going to make it easy on
Damon. My father can be intimidating, to say the least, so I hope I’m not making a mistake when I say, “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  "Great. I'll have the chef whip up something fancy to celebrate your engagement,” he says.

  We end our conversation and hang up. Just as I'm setting the phone down, Damon emerges from the shower. He has a white towel wrapped around his waist, his hair is damp and wild. I watch mesmerized as several droplets of water cascade down over his strong, muscular shoulders, chest and then down over his rock-hard abs.

  I've never been so tempted to lick water off of someone's body before, but oh my god, am I tempted now.

  "Who was on the phone?" he asks, running a hand through his thick, haphazardly sexy hair.

  I shake my head, breaking myself out of my sinful thoughts. "My father. He wants us to have dinner with him Friday night."

  Damon looks surprised at first, but quickly schools his features. "That's a great idea."

  "Look, Damon," I start, but he doesn't let me finish.

  "I know what you're going to say, Victoria, and it's okay. I won't let your father intimidate me." He sits down on the bed next to me and pulls my hands into his. "We're getting married. It's natural for your father to want to meet me…and grill me with questions about my intentions for his daughter."

  "He said he wants you to ask him for my hand in marriage," I say with a grimace.

  He tilts his head to the side and gives me his signature, sexy smirk. "Honestly, he has a right to be mad for me not asking him for your hand first."

  Crisis completely averted, I hook my hands around Damon's neck and pull him in for a passionate kiss. When he pulls away, he asks, "What was that for?"

  "For being absolutely, positively perfect," I whisper against his lips.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Damon

  I’ve waited years for this moment. But, now that it's finally come, I'm having second thoughts. I know it's because of Victoria and what has developed between us, but I can't let my feelings for her cloud my judgment.