DAMON: A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel (11 page)

“
W
hat the hell was that
?” Tricia said, closing the hotel room door behind them. Damon had dripped water all the way up, and now it pooled on the carpet as he stood undoing his belt.

“He was bothering you,” Damon growled, keeping his back to Tricia. She was furious with him, but that didn’t stop the slight quickening of her heart as his drenched jeans fell to his ankles, his boxers equally soaked and contoured around his thick thighs.

“I was handling it,” she hissed. “I didn’t need you to…”

“He needed to learn a lesson,” Damon barked, interrupting her. He pulled his shirt up over his head and Tricia willed herself not to admire the strong muscles of his back, the tightness of his biceps covered in ink.

“And what, you’re G.I. Joe? You reserve the right to run around teaching ‘lessons’? You nearly drowned him, Damon!”

Now, Damon leaned down, gathering his clothes into a bundle and walked them towards the bathroom. Tricia followed close behind, the conversation far from over.

“Stop walking away from me,” she demanded, knowing how shrill her voice sounded but not caring. She was growing cold, her own skin still wet, her bathing suit turning icy in the air conditioned room. Goosebumps rose over the flesh of her arms and legs. She followed him into the bathroom, stood with her arms crossed as he tossed the wet clothes into the bathtub. When he turned to her, naked except for the boxers that hugged every inch of his lower torso, she fought back the urge to glance down.

“He had his hands on you,” Damon growled, eyes like a green and verdant wall of ivy, impenetrable and solid.

“So what? No one asked you to be some gypsy vigilante. I was
handling
it, Damon. I don’t need you to protect me from half-pint little ginger kids,” she snapped. Her body was cold on the outside, but inside she felt a slow heat building, unwanted. She couldn’t help it. He stood there basically naked in front of her, every muscle tight and glistening.

“I can’t see another man with his hands on you,” he growled.

“Well, maybe you should learn to stand it, because…” she said, not really thinking about what she was saying anymore, her mind torn viciously between rising desire and roaring anger.

“Because why, Tricia?” he barked, stepping in closer. Finally, she let her gaze drop.

“Because…because…” she felt her mind spinning away from her like a ballerina. The barely-there cover of his boxers did nothing to hide the hardness between his legs. Long and thick and…

“Stop trying to answer that,” he growled, and reached out with one hand, yanking her to him in a single tug. Her face flushed as the hardness pressed against her upper thigh, her hands automatically coming to grip his biceps. “I’m the
only
man who’s going to have his hands on you. And you know it. Don’t you, Tricia?”

Her words caught in her throat. He reached up, his body relaxing slightly, his eyes going tender. He ran his fingers through her damp hair, the tangles and curls catching them at her scalp.

“Don’t you?” he whispered, leaning down so that his lips were close enough for her to feel the breeze of the words slip between her own.

“Yes,” she said back, her body feeling like a slow curling line, two points reaching toward each other. “Yes, Damon.”

And then he kissed her, and the lines met, completing the circle. Her heart swelled behind her ribs. He ran his tongue across her lips until she opened her mouth, their tongues meeting in lusty abandon, her arms around his neck. The kiss darkened, deepened, their passion meeting, peaking, breaking. Damon slipped a hand around one breast, his palm warm against the cold, wet fabric of her bathing suit. Her nipples had been erect from the cold, and now they stood painfully hard, his thumb making her stiffen as he rubbed across it.

“Get out of this,” he growled, pulling away to whisper in her ear. His words were a hot swirl of wind on her flesh. “And then come to me.”

He backed away then went to the door, leaving her trembling behind him. Tricia stole a look in the mirror, saw how he’d left her flushed, her eyes smoky and lidded with lust. She peeled off the swimsuit, leaving it in a black puddle on the floor. Her body was all goosebumps, cold, needy.

She followed him out into the room, saw him waiting for her, sitting on the bed, naked. His cock was impressive, thick and long and hard as a diamond between his legs. Tricia moved to meet him, but he held his arm out, stopping her progress.

“Let me look at you first,” he growled, starting at her eyes. His dark gaze followed the curve of her cheeks, down her long, slender neck, to the frame of her collarbone. She let her head roll back slightly, feeling his eyes like hands moving down her body, across her rounded breasts and down the curve of her stomach, over and around her wide hips, to her trimmed delta, the glistening triangle where her thighs met.

He growled, turned the hand that held her at bay into a hook pulling her in close. He grabbed her ass in both hands, leaning forward to take first one nipple and then the other into his mouth, gently swirling the hard buds with his tongue, giving her warmth where she was cold, making her moan and arch her back for more.

Damon watched her squirm in his grip. He drew one hand around to her torso, palm on her stomach, thumb pressing between her lips. He found her wet, hot and ready. Growling, he dipped his thumb into her center then drew it upwards, pressing against her clit. Her whole being jumped at his touch, the demanding pressure. Pulling on her ass, he backed up slightly onto the bed; she lay her hands on his shoulders as he forced her to straddle him, his cock pressing against her slit while his thumb played and teased her clit.

“Damon,” she breathed. “You’re so…”

Her voice trailed off into a throaty moan as he pulled her down further while thrusting his hips upward. She took him in, inch by inch, feeling him stretch and fill her aching pussy. Her knees sunk into the mattress, his hand firm on her backside, his thumb torturing her clit with small circles. She closed her eyes, threw her head back, and sank down until she hit bottom, until his whole cock was buried in her warm center. The size and heat of him throbbed inside her.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his tone forcing her to obey. She spread her knees slightly and looked down. Slowly, she tried to rise, but found him holding her tightly in place. His thumb sped up around her clit, adding to the network of pleasure that was building in her womb. “Don’t fucking move.”

“How am I…” she started to say, but was silenced again when he began to thrust upwards from below, his thumb on her clit ripping up her resistance. He was strong enough to move her how he wanted to move her, one hand pulling her up and down in time with his own thrusts. His thumb never stopped circling, flicking, pleasuring her clit.

Tricia felt heat rushing to her ears and cheeks as she looked down into his eyes, letting him command her body like the captain of a ship. He didn’t drop his stare as he leaned forward to take one nipple between his lips again. Fire shot through Tricia’s veins as his huge cock filled every inch of her, thrusting against places inside her that no one had found before.

She knew she wasn’t going to last long with him grinding himself deep inside her, his thumb torturing her clit, his mouth moving between her breasts. Her breath was already coming fast and heavy, her fingernails digging into his back.

“Oh, my God, baby,” she moaned as he shifted his hips, digging even deeper into her pussy. “Too fucking good…too
fucking
good…”

“You’re gonna come for me,” he growled against her flesh. “Look at me when you come, Tricia. Look at me so you know exactly who made you feel so fucking good.”

“Yes, Damon,” Tricia groaned, and now she had to disobey, she had to move against him. Her hips worked on their own accord as his thumb flicked over her clit, his cock grinding her sanity to bits, her muscles tensing to the point of pain. She looked into his dark eyes, feeling her passion rise in a torrent – she was going to come, just like he wanted, she was going to break apart in his arms, she wanted to, she wanted to do anything he wanted, she wanted to be his to command…

“You’re mine,” he growled, and slammed up into her, holding her down, feeling her hips undulate against him, felt her clit tighten under his thumb.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck, yes! Damon, I’m yours, all yours, all fucking yours, Damon, fuck, I’m gonna, I’m gonna…”

“Come, Tricia,” he growled, and gave her clit one last, hard flick, pushing his cock so deep into her that her thighs clenched around him, her body relenting, the torrent exploding as she came, her pussy contracting around his hugeness, juices spilling around him and onto his thighs, her arms clutching him close against her bucking, shuddering body. “That’s right, just like that, just fuckin’ like that…”

Tricia had barely recovered when she felt him stand up, holding her in both arms, then plunging her back onto the bed, on her back, his manhood still buried into her wet slit. Immediately, he began to thrust into her, long, hard strokes that only drove her climax deeper. His teeth closed around the flesh of her shoulder, his hands pinning her down, taking what he needed from her soft and pliant flesh. And she wanted to give it, needed to give it.

He fucked her selfishly now, and it only got her off more; the feeling that she was his to use, whenever he wanted, however he wanted. She rolled her hips to meet his strokes, feeling her clit press against the base of his shaft as he buried himself in her again and again, growling and biting at her flesh. He’d leave bruises, and she wanted them. She wanted him to claim her, to finally take her. With each driving, violent thrust, she felt her pleasure budding anew. Her arms clutched around his shoulders.

“Damon,” she muttered into his ear. “Damon, come in me, I want you to come in me, I want to come with you…”

The words seemed to drive him into a frenzy, and he pulled away, his hands on her arms, holding her down as he slammed into her. She lifted her knees, letting him slip deeper into her pussy, reaching those soft and needy places that so few could reach.

Her skin flushed, an icy warmth up her spine, everything a contradiction and everything necessary and everything swelling and reaching and peaking until he found it, found what they needed, buried himself in tight and burst inside her, feeling her pussy clench around him, milking the cum from his cock as she was swept up by her own climax, both shuddering and bucking in time while he emptied into her, giving her all he had – and watching, feeling, her take everything.

“Oh, shit,”
Tricia moaned, sliding off of him when it was done. She tumbled onto her back, the cold air conditioning welcome now as it cooled her heated flesh.

“I thought it was pretty good, myself,” he said, grinning over at her. “But to each their own…”

She was confused for a moment, and then realized he was joking; she groaned, biting back a smile. No one had ever made her feel that way – ever. Her body still tingled all over, still felt like it was barely even touching the bed beneath her. She closed her eyes, savoring this prolonged afterglow. When Damon spoke again, his words fell softly against her ears, and she didn’t bother to stop her smile from spreading.

“
There's the perfect amen. You're your own gospel. And you bring good news to me…
”

“Who’s that?” she asked, still with her eyes closed.

“Patricia Spears Jones,” he said, his voice a deep rumble.

“Oh,” she said, and suddenly felt like laughing. He’d tried to make things serious. She wasn’t having it. “I hope you don’t think I’m a cheap date, by the way. I
still
expect to get that fancy dinner you promised.”

She opened her eyes just in time to squeal as he launched himself over her, pinning her down to the bed, wiggling his hips above hers slightly as his mouth came down to nip her neck. Amazed, she felt him growing hard again between her legs as he played his tongue along her collarbone.

“Well, I was distracted the first time,” he growled, coming back up to her ear, his words making her stomach fill with a flurry. “I didn’t get a chance to make sure you’re worth the expense.”

He bit at her ear playfully, and she laughed, pushing at his chest; her strength was nowhere near enough to move him, but he pulled away regardless. She wiggled her own hips slightly, letting her thighs part again.

“Mr. Volanis, that is
extremely
rude, and quite uncouth,” she said, feigning offense with a pout. But then she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down again and sighing as the head of his cock slipped between her slit once more. “Which just happens to be the way I like it.”

She felt, rather than saw, the smile on his lips as he nuzzled against her neck, then gasped as he plunged forward, burying himself inside her again. And holding him close, Tricia felt something strange happen inside her. As confusing, and unexpected, and impossible as it was, she felt what she’d been craving the whole time she’d been in Kingdom.

She felt like she’d come home.

D
amon and Tricia
left Charleston behind, feeling quite bad for the maid who had to deal with their mess of bedsheets and the evidence they’d left behind. Tricia had the brilliant idea to leave their leftovers from the restaurant in the mini-fridge, along with a note and a generous tip. Hopefully the cleaning crew would enjoy the braised lamb, beet salad, and cornmeal-dusted catfish as much as Tricia and Damon had enjoyed them the night before. Damon, for one, had enjoyed the sight of Tricia in her green, silky dress more than anything put on the table before them, a fact that made her blush when he revealed it.

They stopped in Savannah, Georgia for an early lunch, strolling hand-in-hand through the plazas and parks, coins in fountains and art students posing as artists all along the streets. Damon wanted to see some of the landmarks from
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil,
which Tricia hadn’t seen. She didn’t even feel like she needed to see it after Damon was finished telling her about it; his eye for detail, his absorbing way of speaking, the way he captured the subtle things that made a film a film, left her feeling like she’d watched the movie unfold in her own mind.

It was as romantic a day as Tricia could imagine for herself, but something nagged at her. Something big.

She couldn’t forget the anger in Damon’s eyes when he went after the kid at the pool. This was a man who’d killed. This was a man who fought. His battered knuckles told a story – but she wanted to hear that story from his own mouth, not just the scars left behind. And she needed to know, now, where they were headed – Miami, of course, but for what? She was diving head-first into this whole thing. She needed to make sure there was water in the pool before she leapt off.

If Damon noticed this subtle change in Tricia’s attitude, he didn’t mention it or let on.

The air on the highway grew saltier and saltier as they entered Florida, palm trees like a postcard welcoming them to The Sunshine State.

“I was too young to remember living in Florida. We only stayed for a year or two, right after I was born. But my uncle worked in the everglades for a long time,” Damon said. “Had some good stories about snapping turtles and alligators. He had this little dog, Chev, who had a sixth sense for gators. He would sit on the porch with Chev and pick ‘em off with his shotgun. And my great-grandmother, she lived down here after ditching my great-grandpa. She ran off with a smuggler, during Prohibition, this Cuban bootlegger who played trumpet in a Mambo band. They’d sneak liquor in instrument cases and…”

“Damon,” Tricia said, looking out the window as though she could soften the blow that way. “I want you to tell me now.”

“Tell you what?” he asked, feigning distraction as he changed lanes. She sighed and turned to look at him.

“You’re too smart to act like you don’t know,” she said. “You don’t play games, remember?”

“I remember,” he said, and she noted the way his knuckles flexed around the steering wheel. “It’s just…it’s a hard thing to explain. It’s a hard story to tell.”

She bit her lip. If he didn’t tell her, if he didn’t
want
to tell her, she wasn’t going to make him; how could she? But it would also mean that he didn’t trust her. And that hurt. Because she would have trusted him with anything, including her life. He’d already saved it once.

“You don’t have to,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me anything. But I wish you would.”

He was silent for a long moment, staring at the road ahead, the sweeping tango of cars.

“I want to, Tricia,” he finally said, his voice heavy. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to tell. I think maybe you could understand. I think maybe you could…”

His voice trailed off. She reached forward, covered one of his tight, battered knuckles with her hand, just gently enough to let him know she was there, that she would try, if only
he
would try.

“It was a long time ago,” he said, and he closed his eyes.