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Authors: D. Nichole King

Love Always, Damian

BOOK: Love Always, Damian
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Love Always, Damian

 

 

d. Nichole King

 

 

Love Always, Damian

 

Copyright © 2015 by d. Nichole King. All rights reserved.

First Print Edition: May 2015

 

 

Limitless Publishing, LLC

Kailua, HI 96734

www.limitlesspublishing.com

 

Formatting: Limitless Publishing

 

ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-147-8

ISBN-10: 1-68058-147-3

 

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

 

Dedication

 

For Virginia Pierce,

a wonderful CP, writer, and person,

who lost her battle with cancer on August 9, 2014.

Until we meet again, my friend.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

Damian

 

The box under my bed taunts me. I ignore it. This year, I won’t succumb to its cries.

“Fuck this shit.” I roll off my bed and search the dresser for my keys. Not there.

Where the hell did I put them?

I yank the door open and round the corner into the bathroom. Nothing but the usual.

Out in the living room, I throw the cushions off the sofa and check the chair and the coffee table. A handful of loose change, a couple of empty condom wrappers, three McDonald’s French fries, and a ten-dollar bill, which I pocket. No keys.

“Goddammit!”

I stomp into the kitchen and grab Dylan’s motorcycle keys from the drawer. Dude never misplaces anything. Predictable bastard.

Apparently he heard me because when I get back to the living room, he’s standing there.

I glance at him on my way past. “Borrowing your motorcycle.”

“What are you doing, Damian?”

Turning around, I dangle the keys in front his face. “Borrowing. Your. Motorcycle.” I repeat it slowly, enunciating every word so maybe he gets it the second time.

“That’s not what I mean,” Dylan says, but I already know that. Each May is the same, and he’s got my MO down by now.

“I’m not asking your permission.”

“Last day of finals is tomorrow.” My roommate is annoyed. “Look, bro, it’s been four years since Ka—”

Suddenly, I have Dylan pinned to the wall, my hand around his throat. I squeeze hard enough to make him understand. “You’re my best friend, man, but I don’t need your psychobabble bullshit again. Not today.”

Dylan sighs and nods as best he can.

I take a step back, letting go of him. He rubs his neck and a pang of guilt zips through me. Dude means well.

“I can’t deal with this right now.” I flip the keys into my palm and walk out the door.

I love the sound of Dylan’s motorcycle when I rev it up. The noise drowns out everything, especially the shit in my head. Her memory hasn’t faded, not even a little.

Speeding down the street, I don’t think. The route is on autopilot in my brain.

I park in my usual spot and stuff the keys in my pocket. It’s Tuesday night, so the lot is almost empty. Good thing, too, because tonight I want to be alone.

Loud music assaults me as soon as I walk in. I don’t even look around to see who’s there. No need; everything I want is behind the counter.

“What’ll it be, Damian?” Max asks.

“Tequila. Straight up,” I say, pounding my fist twice on the wood.

“Sure thing, man.”

I don’t sit on a stool, and I don’t wait. On my way to a booth in the corner, I shoot a passing glance at the guys playing pool. I recognize a couple of them from school. For them, tonight is about relaxing. For me, it’s about forgetting.

I slide in, running my fingers through my hair. The way her dark eyes still pierce through my mind guts me to the core. They’ll always haunt me.

“Damian, my love, my final wish is for you to let me go.”

I can’t do it.

“Two tequila shots.”

I almost jump out of my seat at the sound, but when I stare at the waitress, I realize the voice didn’t belong to
her
. Of course she would never have said that. She hated me drinking.

I give the new girl a quick nod. She turns, and I down the first shot, watching the way her ass sways as she walks away.

Flipping the glass over, I send a wave to Max then knock back the other one. He usually cuts me off at ten, and tonight, that won’t take long. It won’t be enough to drown her out of my head, but it might be enough to make the images fuzzy.

“Are you happy, Damian?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. What the fuck kind of question is that? A knife stabs me through the heart and I want to vomit.

I hear two more glasses hit the table in front of me, forcing my eyes open. My gaze darts to the nametag on the waitress’s t-shirt, barely above her left nipple that’s poking hard into the cotton. I lick my lips.

Cameron.

I guess she’ll do.

“Another round,” I say.

As I wait, my mind takes me back to that morning and how Kate waited until sunrise to leave me. Maybe it was her way of reminding me.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? No matter how dark it gets, the sun always rises and starts a new day. The darkness is forgotten.”

God, I miss her so much. Everything about her.

Cameron sets two more shots on the table, and I don’t look at her this time. I’m gonna need more alcohol for that.

I rub my face with my palms.

“I’ll always be with you.”

Fuck, no!

I jab my fists into the seat, pain racing through my knuckles. She fucking left me all alone! She’s gone and I’m here. It’s not fucking fair.

The sting of tears threatens, so I kill the shots, one right after the other. I slam the last glass on the table too hard, but I don’t care.

When Cameron comes back over, she sets two more in front of me and says, “Rough night?”

I huff and down the first one. “You could say that.”

Her bare thigh is so close to me. I can’t wait to feel it up later.

“Bring me two more if you would,” I say.

She bites her lip. “Um, I don’t know. Max…”

“Just bring me the fucking shots. Max and I have an agreement.”

Cameron peers over her shoulder at the bartender. Getting confirmation from Max, she swings around. “I’ll be right back.”.

I lean back, rubbing a finger over my lip, the alcohol finally kicking in.

“You have a whole life in front of you. Don’t waste it. Don’t dwell on the past.”

Cameron saunters over with a tray of my last two shots of the night. I stare at her thighs, already imagining what they taste like.
I’m moving on, baby. Just like you told me to.

“Thanks,” I say as she sets them down. “When are you off?”

She hesitates. “Um, like, now. My boyfriend is picking me up.”

Well, shit.

I down the last two and go up to pay my tab. My buzz is decent but not enough. It’s never enough anymore.

“Thanks, Max.”

“See ya, man.”

Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I take my time walking across the parking lot to Dylan’s motorcycle. I pull out the keys and rev the engine. Her face isn’t gone, but it’s barely recognizable now. Exactly how I want it.

Slowly, I back out and notice Cameron standing against the side of the bar, hugging her arms from the chill.

Stood up. Sweet.

I pull up next to her. “Need a lift?”

“Uh, no. Toby should be here any minute.”

Toby Stanton, maybe? If so, Cameron might be a great lay.

“Toby should have been here by now,” I say, reaching out to her. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

She bites her lip again, and I hope to know what that feels like in about ten minutes.

Cameron sighs and takes my hand. “I live on campus—Frederiksen Court.”

I help her up behind me, her arms slipping around my waist. Smirking, I say, “Hang on.”

We peel out into traffic, the wind slamming against my face. Cameron nestles her head into my back and holds me tighter. She says something, but I can’t hear her.

On the way back to mine and Dylan’s apartment—off-campus—I take a shortcut. By now, I just need to get Cameron naked. Fuck everything else.

I park beside my BMW and cut the engine.

“I said Frederiksen Court,” Cameron says, confused.

I climb off, then back on, facing her. “I said I’d take you home. This is where I live.”

“Toby—”

“—is off fucking someone else and forgot about you.” My hands find her knees and begin to slide up her thighs. Damn, they feel as good as they look.

She frowns, but doesn’t say anything. I’m right and she knows it.

Taking in every inch of her skin, I run my palms up her inner thighs as what I said sinks in. To let it go deeper, I kiss her neck, sucking on the flesh. She’ll cave. They always do.

“He’s probably working out late at the gym,” she says, trying to convince herself.

“Yeah, probably not.” I switch sides, and she tilts her head, letting me continue. Down below, I move her panties to the side to massage her. She stiffens a little, gasping.

“Toby…he’s a…a National Champion boxer. He—uh—” She pauses, her breaths becoming shallow, just how I like it.

Yep. Toby Stanton. This is gonna be good.

She swallows. “He works out a lot.”

I grunt. “I bet he does.”

I
know
he does.

She nods. “He does.”

Her hips slowly move against the pressure I’m putting on her, and I crush my lips onto hers. I’m not surprised when she returns the kiss with fervor. Toby only dates the feisty ones.

My fingers start to slip over her, and I can’t take it anymore. I have to get my mouth on that.

When I let go, a disappointed gasp escapes her. I help her off the bike and lead her inside to my room.

My shirt is over my head before I have the door closed behind me. Kicking it, it slams closed. I don’t take the time to lock it.

Cameron fumbles with my belt. Fuck that. I pull her close, slide my hands under the waistband of her skirt, touching every inch of the smooth skin hiding beneath. Walking her backwards to my bed, I lean into her until she sits and I can finish the job, tossing the skirt and her panties across the room.

I undo my belt and jeans, stepping out of them. Toby is clearly out of her thoughts now. She moans in excitement. Now to get the rest of her clothes off.

Gliding my palms up her thighs, I take a short detour between them.

“Oh, yes!” she cries out as I slip inside of her. I finger her until she’s on the verge of coming.

Pulling out, I chuckle, knowing it’s about to get a whole lot better real quick. She frowns, giving me puppy-dog eyes.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back,” I whisper in her ear.

She throws her head back with a smile on her face.

I grab the bottom of her shirt and begin to lift it, but it won’t move past her chest. She’s pinned her nametag to her bra.

“Oh, Cameron,” I groan. I hate that I have to take the extra time to undo the damn thing.

“Sorry,” she says, panting. Music to my ears. “Here, let me.” She turns the top of her shirt inside out, unhooking the pin. “There. Oh, and this is my friend’s nametag. I forgot mine. My name is Katey.”

Someone just punched me in the stomach.

“Don’t leave me, Katie. I’m gonna fuck up, but don’t leave me.”

“Get. The fuck. Out,” I breathe.

Her brows furrow. “Excuse me?”

“Get the fuck. Out of here.” I gather up her clothes and shove them in her chest, knocking her backwards a little. “Now.”

The pathetic expression on her face doesn’t faze me. She means absolutely nothing to me.

I throw the door open and don’t look at her as she shuffles out, undressed from the waist down.

“How am I supposed to get home?”

“I don’t give a damn,” I say and slam the door in her face.

A stunned second later, she screams, “You’re a fucking asshole!” from the other side.

I collapse on the bed, my face buried in the blankets.

Yeah, Kate, I know. I know.

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