Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta'd by HollettLA.
*Giggles* Dame's a nut job, right? I'm not sure if I agree...Okay, yeah, I do. He was always so lovable and funny, but with all those things happening when he was a kid, the confusion, the fear - around a time in his childhood that he truly couldn't comprehend it all . . . Some people in his shoes, might embrace that side to life, as a coping mechanism. He was always told to be brave...you know? I'm not a psychology major, but I can see that happening. He's also got some Edward in him. And, in my eyes, Lauren having sex with a 14 y/o was rape, a molestation, not just Damion got lucky.
Whichever way you feel . . . Enjoy!
He's still my favorite character :-) Because you STILL can't help but love him, and every screwy side to him, or what he calls "the masks he wears", "the roles he plays".
Thank you!
"Riders on the Storm"
Chapter Six: Damion Part Two
"Okay." I put my hands up so she could see them. "I'll leave." I nodded.
She visibly relaxed a little.
"Kiss me and I'll go."
"Christ almighty!"
"Okay," I laughed. "I guess that's a no?"
"That's a hell no. Now get the fuck out of my house!"
I laughed all the way out the door—a pissed off, hysterical mess. All the signs were there. They all pointed to go, and then she says no—turns me down.
Confused as all fuck, I marched up the street, needing another drink, or ten.
/=/
Tonight, during the last hour, I've felt more than I ever had before. I was angry, when I never get angry. I was turned on and sick to my stomach at the same time—my belly full of excitement—because even though it felt so right, I knew us fooling around was wrong—so fucking wrong.
At least I was passionate about something, I thought, as I bumped into something. My body bounced back slightly, and I came to—realizing that I knocked someone over.
"Fuck…I'm sorry." I bent down to help the woman off the ground. She must have been carrying books. They littered the space around…but then I caught sight of her bare knee. It peeked from under the gray peacoat she wore, and the white socks she had on her calves. The demure sliver of skin was sexy as hell, but then my eyes raced back to her face.
"Are you okay?" I asked, putting my hand out.
Her big, dark eyes were wide while she stared at me, leaning back on her elbows.
"Can I help you up?"
She didn't reply, and I wondered if she was deaf.
"Hey . . . Are you hurt?" I knelt onto the ground, wanting to touch her—make sure she was all right—yet afraid she might scream. "Hey…" Still no response.
"Hello?" I waved a hand in front of her face.
"Um…" She swallowed, sitting up. "I didn't see you." She pulled her white headband from her black hair to put it back.
I blew out a breath, standing up. "You're okay?"
She nodded, refusing to take my hand. "Yeah . . . I guess." Her cheeks became flushed, and she really was gorgeous. The streetlight provided enough of a glow for me to see the freckles she had on her nose and cheekbones. Maybe I was still a bit drunk and not wearing my glasses, but I could tell her face was natural. She wore no makeup, and her skin . . .
"I'm sorry about that." I pushed my own hair back, watching her gather her books. "Lemme help you—"
"I got it . . . thanks."
"I didn't see you either—" I stopped talking when she stared at me again. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you . . . ?" I waited for her name.
She bowed her head, hugging the books to her chest. "I should go." Speedily, she walked in the opposite direction from where I was going.
"Wait a sec." I caught up to her fast.
My gut told me to do so. It's not every night you literally bump into someone who looks more like an angel than a woman. She truly does, and I wasn't being a pervert about it.
My attraction toward her wasn't like that at all.
I couldn't . . . I didn't know why I didn't want her to leave yet, though.
"I have to go home."
"Let me make it up to you," I said. "I wasn't paying attention . . . There's a bar right on Third. Can I buy you a drink?"
She stopped, unleashing her gaze on me. "You want to buy me a drink?" She pointed to herself.
I nodded. "I do…?" I waited for her name again. "Look, I'm Damion." I brushed my hand on my pants before I reached for hers, while I also wished that I wasn't such a mess.
I mean, she appeared out of nowhere.
Where the fuck did she come from?
And why the hell did I need to spend more time with her?
"I'm Maggie—I mean, Margaret Anne." She looked away from me.
I smiled. "It's nice to meet you."
Her touch was so delicate and warm; meanwhile, she barely held my hand. "I, um, I know you."
I chuckled. "You do?"
"Well…" She brushed her hair with her fingers. "You're Kylie's brother."
My mouth made an "O" shape, and I placed my hand over it. "You're Kylie's friend." I highly doubted she'd be old enough to have a drink with me.
"Sort of." She shrugged. "I should really go—"
"I'll walk you home," I sighed, having a small war within myself again. "Or…did you still want that drink?"
Her mouth pulled into half a grin. "I really—" Maggie pointed down the street.
"You know me, right? So, you know where I live," I laughed. "One drink, and then I'll bring you right home. I feel horrible for knocking you down." I tried my hardest to sound like a gentleman, and I decided that was the role I'd play with her.
She giggled. "Okay—I mean, yes." Maggie nodded and turned.
Silently, we walked side by side, and I kept my hands in my pockets. All the while, my stomach was on the verge of being queasy again—ever so curious and wanting to know more about her, and yet I wasn't scared, nor was I hesitant to ask, so why wasn't I?
"Uh, do you have a fake ID?"
She shook her head. "No, I don't need one."
"Oh." I was surprised by that, grateful she was twenty-one at least. "That's—that's cool." Suddenly relieved, I sidestepped closer to her.
"Were you beat up?" she asked.
"My brother and I . . . we got into a disagreement."
"Oh . . . What about?" That was a loaded question, especially because I honestly couldn't pinpoint a reason. "I fight with my sister all the time." She stuck her tongue out. "She's always taking my stuff."
I laughed. "I know what that's like. Kylie was a little klepto."
"Really?"
I nodded, focusing on my feet as we walked to make sure I didn't bust my drunk ass. "She was always taking my t-shirts—the really cool ones?" I chanced a glance at her and found Maggie smiling wide at me. It was nice. "She'd stretch out the necks and turn them into PJs . . . It was annoying, so I can feel your pain. Then again, I'd always take my brother's stuff, too. It must be a sibling thing."
She scoffed, yet she didn't look angry at all. "Her excuse is always, 'If I asked you, you'd say no, so'," she giggled again.
"Is there an annoying sibling handbook?" I asked.
"I don't know." She held her stuff closer.
"Can I take those for you?" I reached for her books, and she let me have them. "Where were you coming from?"
"My friend's house. I was supposed to stay over, but I can't sleep at someone else's house. I don't know why."
"You like your own bed." I gathered as we approached the avenue. "You'd like my bed."
Her brows rose.
"I mean, I didn't mean it like that. I have a great mattress . . . Uh, posturepedic." After slurring that out, I heard someone shout my name.
"Cullen!" An old buddy from high school was quick to grasp my hand, giving me half a hug.
"How are you?" I stepped back, placing my hand at the small of Maggie's back.
"Good, good. You're still at NYU, right?"
"Yeah." I noticed Maggie staring at me, and then at Michael, like she was waiting to be introduced. "And you're home," I said, remembering that he'd gone into the service after graduation.
"For a bit, yeah. I'm stationed down in North Carolina."
"Mike! Get your big dick over here!" A drunken mess of a broad stumbled out of the bar. "The cab's here."
Mike laughed. "That's my cue . . . Listen, man. It was good to see you."
"Same here." I gave him a head nod, and then watched them enter a taxi. "Sorry about that."
"It's okay . . . you're at NYU?"
"You sound surprised." I opened the door to Shenanigan's for her.
"I thought you were older, but then you don't look old," she said, crossing the threshold to stop short.
"What would you like to drink?" I asked, escorting her to the bar.
"Um, a beer?"
I couldn't hear over the music. "Belvedere?"
"Yeah." She shouted, nodding, and then winced when I held her shoulder.
"How would you like that?"
"In a glass?" she laughed. "That's all I've ever had to drink—so whichever way, I guess." Maggie was flippant.
I smiled back and pointed to a booth. "Go grab us a table." My words were slurred again, and I shook the haze out of my head.
Maggie walked away while I watched her go, as I also got closer to the bar. "Hey!" I smacked the wood, feeling really good despite that huge clusterfuck with Alex. Then I vowed not to think about her again—at least not tonight—while in the back of my mind, I wondered if I'd crossed a line with her. "She wanted it," I said to myself.
"What?" the bartender asked.
"Uh . . . lemme get a double of Grey Goose, straight up. And . . ." I saw the woman next to me drinking something green out of a martini glass. "What's this?"
"Appletini."
"Is it sweet?" I asked.
He nodded.
"Can you make one with Bel-Belvedere?" The word couldn't roll off my tongue correctly. "Belvedere." I smiled to myself.
"You got it." He backed up to fix our beverages, and I stared at the booth. I couldn't see her at all, figuring she wasn't facing my direction.
"Twenty-five even."
After I paid the man, I walked back over to Maggie to have a seat. It was awkward trying to balance her books, and the drinks, but I managed.
"This looked g-good." I placed her apple martini down in front of her.
"It's green." She stared at it.
"It's supposed to taste like candy . . . I don't know. I can go back—get it straight for you?" I offered.
"No." She waved a hand. "This is—it's perfect."
I just sat there, my mind blank for conversation.
Maggie brought her drink to her lips, taking the smallest of sips before she smiled. "Wow . . . this is good. I can taste the liquor, but it's smooth."
"Good." I sat up to lean toward her. "So—"
"You didn't see me?" She swallowed the appletini much faster.
I shook my head. "I'm sorry."
"I didn't see you either, which was weird." Her face was flushed again. "I was staring at the moon."
"Why?" I asked.
Her eyes widened. "I don't know. It was pretty? What are you studying at NYU?" She finished her beverage. "Wow…this was amazing."
"Did you want another?"
She scrunched her nose down at the empty glass.
"It's on me," I said, rising out of the booth. "I'll be right back."
This time, the bartender couldn't make the drinks fast enough, and I impatiently tapped the bar with my fingers.
Another twenty-five dollars poorer, I dropped off our drinks, and excused myself to the bathroom. I needed to take a leak and wash up a bit.
I wasn't as bruised as I'd imagined, having only the start of a black eye. My nose was a little sore, and I was able to get all the dried blood off my face. My suit was fucked, but I'd done that myself.
When I finally got back to the table, I noticed her glass was empty again. "You can knock 'em back, huh?" I teased.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Whoa—no. None of that." I snapped my fingers for the bartender to come over because I sure as hell didn't want to leave my date again. "Have as many as you want, but if you try to take advantage of me…" I waved my finger, hoping she would.
Maggie laughed out loud. "Nuh-uh." She smacked my arm.
"Another round?" The bartender twirled his finger.
"Yes, please," I said, ever-so-enthusiastic while I stared at the pretty thing across from me.
"Uh . . . can I see your ID?" He looked down at Maggie, who was trying to hide her face. "Miss?"
We both waited for her to take it out from wherever.
"It's, um—I don't have my purse."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He looked around the bar. "But if I don't see your ID—"
I sucked my teeth, pulling out my wallet. "How much will it cost for you to disappear?"
"Excuse me?"
"Did I stutter?" I handed him a fifty. "Go get the fucking drinks."
"I could lose my license—"
"Look at my ID, then." I flashed mine, hoping he knew the neighborhood well enough to recognize my last name.
He raised a brow, standing to his full height, while he also slapped my money back into my hand. "I'll be back . . . This round's on the house."
When he left, I caught Maggie's eyes with my own. "You're not twenty-one."
"Nope." She fanned her face.
"Then why did I think you were?" I couldn't figure it out, had forgotten. I'd had too much to drink tonight, and I was drunk as fuck already, feeling really good. I warily stared at the two drinks I had in front of me. "Take a sip of this. It's Grey Goose." I slid the large shot glass over to her.
She gulped, like she was afraid.
"Just shoot it back." I made the drinking motion.
Maggie took a sip, and then coughed her brains out.
"It helps if you hold your nose, too." I reached over to pat her back. "It's smoother than Belvedere…" I wondered why she took it so hard.
"I'm okay." She lightly coughed, holding her nose. "Like this?"
"Yeah." I shrugged.
She finished off the Goose, her blush going all the way to her ears.
"Whew!" I banged my fist down. "You feel good, right?"
"It's hot in here."
"Take off your coat."
She actually reached to close it tighter, like I was asking her to strip. "I'll live . . . and you didn't have to curse at him. He's just doing his job." She glanced over to the bar.
"I didn't need to…" I admitted, reaching out for her hand. "Maybe I should just take you home?"
"Okay."
"All right." I looked to the bar and moved my hand under my chin, indicating he stop mixing the drinks. "Let's go." Quickly, I downed my drink, and then shook my head of the sudden fog, blowing out a breath.
My head was nice and fuzzy as we left.
Maggie wasn't so great on her feet, walking wobbly and leaning into me, while I was leaning into her. At one point, we just kept going left, until she actually righted me when we bumped into a parked car. I was fucked, and I needed to sober up.
"I'm sorry." She barked out a laugh, and I didn't know what was funny, yet I found myself chuckling alongside her. "I keep fudging laughing—"
"Fudging?" I thought that shit was hilarious. "How old are you?"
"How old are you?" She poked my chest.
"Twenty-four . . . no . . . yeah, I'm twenty-four," I laughed at myself.
"And you're still in college?" She wore a shocked expression. "Did you get left back? I'm sorry."
"No, no...I'm out of undergrad. I'm in my third year of Medical school. I'm ahead of schedule, actually," I clarified, placing my arm over her shoulders. "You need a piggyback ride or something?"
She placed her hand on my stomach, just in time for it to jump from her touch. "I'll be okay."
"Good…" I pursed my lips, wanting to talk again. "What's so fascinating about the moon?" Looking up, I saw that it was full.
She sighed, doing the same, and we'd stopped walking. "When I don't know the answer to something, I study it, and then…it just comes to me. And sometimes I make wishes . . . I pray to God, but look at the moon."
I smiled, still staring up above. "Does it work?"
"Sometimes . . . hang on. I'll let you know."
While she focused and had her eyes closed, I became bored of the notion and decided to check her out again instead. I couldn't get a peek at her build, as she wore that heavy coat. Nor could I see her knees, but it was more than okay.
Her hair blowing in the wind had me aching to touch it—the same with her pale yet flushed cheeks. Since she was no longer holding her coat, I caught sight of a small silver crucifix around her neck.
"Are you wishing for something, or hoping for an answer?"
"Both," she said.
"'K." I stood there like an ass, not wanting to rush the magical process.
She laughed, stepping back and stumbling. "I've never been drunk before."
"Fuck." I cursed under my breath and caught her before she fell. "You all right?"
"Yeah." She held my biceps and kept her eyes closed.
I knew what she was doing, and our stances were perfect, but I didn't know if I should kiss her . . . I didn't know if I wanted to. True, I wanted to get laid tonight, but where could we go? And was I really that easy? We'd only known each other for forty-five minutes at best.
Yeah, I was that easy.
"Maggie?" I touched her cheek.
Her lids opened with a flutter. "Oh, I'm sorry." She straightened herself out and took her books from me. "I'm—I'm three houses down from you."
"You are?" I wondered why I never noticed her before.
"Yeah…My mom knows your mom from church."
"Huh," I mused. "And you know my sister? Did you graduate with Kylie?" That would at least put her at eighteen.
"What, um, what do you do for fun?"
We'd spoken over each other, and I didn't hear her. "What was that?"
"What do you do for, like, fun and stuff? Besides school." She faced me, wearing a silly grin that was adorable.
I chuckled, albeit darkly, but then I found myself looking up to the moon. "You don't wanna know."
"I do, too," she said.
I thought about telling her the truth. I mean, she wouldn't believe me anyway. "Um—" I turned to see her twirl. "Wow…were you drinking before, or…?"
"You should do it, too. It's fun."
I tilted my head to the side, swearing I'd vomit if I kept watching her spin. "You're gonna get sick."
She stopped, laughing loudly. That's when I decided to answer her. "I like strip clubs—love watching women fuck, and clipping fuckers so I can play with their blood." Before I knew it, I was bent over in hysterics. "I'm a sick fuck."
"What?" I had her attention now.
"You're gonna get sick . . ."
"No, I mean—"
"I was kidding around." I stood up straight, all my amusement gone. She's no fun. She didn't pale or gasp, or run away so I'd chase her . . . to tell her I was joking? "Holy fuck," I said to myself.
"Excuse me?" She blinked.
I shrugged. "As I was saying . . . I mostly hang out with my cousin a lot, and my brother . . . I'm a movie buff, I guess."
If porn counts, I thought.
"Me too!" She got excited. "What's your favorite?"
I quickly racked my brain for Kylie's favorite movie, but then went with Anthony's. "Titanic." I nearly pissed myself, bending at the knees, I was laughing so hard.
"I never saw it . . . Maybe we can—I mean." She smacked her forehead. "I'm being weird, right?"
I shook my head. "Not at all . . . What do you do for fun?"
"I read a lot, too, and I write short stories."
"Aiming to be an author?" I asked.
"No, not really. They're more thoughts—fantasies, stuff I'll never do."
"Why not? You're young . . . You can do what you want."
She shook her head. "I really can't." Maggie grasped her cross. "I once wrote about drinking and bars like that…"
I stopped walking. "What? You've never been to a bar either?"
"My dad calls them dens of sin."
"Wow." That threw me for a loop, even in my drunk-off-my-ass status. "Your family is religious?" Taking another peek at her outfit, it became pretty clear.
"Yours isn't?" she asked.
"No." I was honest. "My mother goes to church, and we're Catholic, but—" I shrugged. "What else do you write about?"
She blushed and hid her face. "Just…stuff."
I laughed. "Now I gotta know . . . what makes you blush like that." My finger trailed down her hot cheek.
Maggie pulled away to cover her face.
"Can you stop that?" I asked, highly amused. "You're too pretty to hide."
She shook her head and started walking again. "I should really go home—I don't, um."
"Hey." I grabbed her hand. "You're the best company I've had all day . . . You can't leave me hanging."
She stared down at our hands, but didn't let mine go.
"Okay, so we can't talk about writing?" We started walking again. "What else do you do? Do you go to school…?"
"Yup," she said. "When I'm not at school, I volunteer at the church. We host clothes drives and food drives…and we travel to other churches to feed the homeless."
I kept nodding, while everything she'd said impressed me. I'd definitely never met anyone like her before—that was for damn sure.
And the fact that we were literal polar opposites—not only because I was a sinner and she clearly wasn't—intrigued me.
"Do you enjoy that stuff? Or, do you only do it because you feel obligated?"
She sighed. "Well, I can't explain it, but…" Maggie was still walking crookedly. If she hadn't been holding my hand, I bet she'd have fallen down again. "I like helping people—"
"Even though you get nothing in return?"
"Ever since I was little . . . I always knew I'd—" She just stopped talking.
"Knew you'd…?"
"Serve God . . . try to heal the world, one small kind act at a time. They say it's a calling—that instance in your life when you just know."
"And you've always known this?" I was skeptical, as most never do anything for nothing.
"Always," she giggled. "When did you know you wanted to be a doctor?"
I munched on my lip as I thought about it. "When I was a kid, my brother was . . . he was injured, and . . . Wait, before that, I always admired Superman and Spider-man. But those doctors, they were real heroes." I furrowed my brow. "Yeah…that's the truth." I nodded.
"Do you usually lie or something?" She kept laughing.
"All the time." I nodded, although I wasn't proud of myself. "I usually tell people it's for the money . . . I'm no hero, far from it."
"What makes you say that?" She yanked on my hand. "I bet you go on to save thousands . . ."
I shrugged. "I can't tell you why."
For some reason, I wished I could—maybe just so she could see real evil, know of the evils in this world. She looked as though she'd never witnessed any of it—innocent beyond any comprehension I'd ever have. And she had no idea what the nice guy holding her hand was capable of doing. A part of me wanted to warn her, tell her to get the fuck away from me.
"Oh . . . well, regardless. I bet you become a brilliant doctor and save many lives. Just because it hasn't happened doesn't mean it won't. Regular people become even better people all the time."
I rubbed my thumb along her knuckles. "You're a good person." I wanted to kiss her heart.
She widened her eyes. "I try to be, but…it's hard."
"For you?" I played like I was shocked.
"I know right from wrong, and yet I still went to that bar with you. Um, so yeah. I really wanted to go with you, but I knew I shouldn't."
"You're right," I said. "You should have run away screaming from me."
"Am I in danger?" She grinned with this sly little look.
It made me even more skeptical, wondering what this innocent little vixen really had on her mind. She was likely playing me for a fool, lying about that God shit. "Are you a virgin?" I knew I ruined it. Whatever I had going before, I just shitted on.
"That's none of your business," she said.
"You probably are . . . what are you, fifteen?" I let go of her hand. "You hoping I'll be your prom date?" That shit was hilarious.
"No." She walked faster, away from me.
Frowning, I was content to follow behind her—make sure she got home okay. What kind of game was I playing anyway? I had no idea what came over me when I asked her to have a drink with me.
She was young, and yet I had a hard time lying to her.
By the time we'd passed my house and she opened her front gate, I was at a whole new level of confused. Nothing made sense, and I probably shouldn't have had that last double shot.
"Thanks for keeping me company," I said.
"I'm not even tired." She kept her head down.
I didn't say anything and waited for her to enter the house.
"I, um, I write about romance," Maggie whispered. "Like, sex and kissing and stuff like that—intercourse."
"Wow . . . that's some heavy shit. You rebel, you." I mock punched her shoulder.
"I knew you'd make fun."
"I'm—" I paused for the right word.
"You're being mean so I won't like you."
I looked around myself, wondering how she could read me without knowing me.
"Just saying . . . I know what you're doing." She smirked.
I nodded. "You're—" Remembering her comment from before, I wanted to tell her she was gorgeous, and that she'd have plenty of that in her future—the intercourse she was writing about. "You're a good kid—keep up the great work."
"Kid." She spat.
"Your parents think you're at your friend's house?" I looked up to all the darkened windows.
"Yeah . . . I still have some time. Did you want to sit on your stoop and talk?" She was hopeful, her eyes nearly pleading, and I couldn't understand why. "'Cause…we can't sit here," she whispered, opening the gate again.
"I'm sorry, no," I said. "I'm the last—absolute last—person you should be chillin' with." I found it funny and laughed.
"Shhh." She reached up and covered my mouth.
I composed myself, staring down to her.
And she must really want me to kiss her since she licked her lips, standing on her toes.
"Maggie." I rubbed her cheek, urging her to open her eyes.
"Yeah?" She kept them closed.
With my free hand, I massaged my forehead and looked out to the street.
Any other night, I would have never even gotten this far, meaning I never would have engaged her in conversation from the get-go. "You don't want this . . . You should go inside."
She bowed her head, standing so close I could smell her shampoo. It was floral with a hint of vanilla—sweet.
"I don't wanna go to jail." I chuckled at my joke, but she didn't.
"I'll be eighteen next month, and my friend Abigail—her boyfriend is going to be twenty. You wouldn't go to jail, but I can take a hint." She snorted, pushing off of me.
I caught her before she could leave, my hand nearly palming her ass. "Have you ever…been kissed before?"
"Lots'a times," she mumbled.
"Oh, yeah?" I was amused and reached to touch her cheeks. "Where?"
"My lips?" Her breathing picked up, her hands holding my shoulders now.
"I'm not seventeen." Again, I wasn't sure what the right thing to say was. "I'm a man, and…What if I can't stop kissing you?"
"You can kiss me."
"No, I mean—" I didn't know what I meant anymore, and I was a little dizzy.
In the drunk abyss of my mind, I couldn't understand my reluctance. I'm usually a scoundrel—but would have never engaged in conversation since I knew I couldn't fuck her. But in reality, I could. She was seventeen, the legal age of consent.
But she was good, pure, and young.
And I was none of those things.
And if I kissed her . . .
I would mark her.
Her soul, if we even have them, would likely be tainted in some way.
I was bad news.
"We can talk in my backyard." I grabbed her hand again.
She agreed, and then we walked up to my parents' house. Maggie didn't say a word, and I was quick to pull a lawn chair out for her.
"It's nothing special." Since it's fall, a large, green tarp covered the pool. There was barely any light, except for the full moon, and it was crazy quiet.
"It's nice," she whispered. "Can we sit on the grass?" She pointed before she walked over to my mother's garden.
"I guess." My suit was already fucked, so I slowly followed while I lit a cigarette.
"You smoke?" She plopped down, laughing and covering her legs.
"I do."
We sat side by side, and we both turned to look up at the moon. Some time had passed as I focused on the sky; it was clear, a dark blue, many stars were out, and it was beautiful. Neither of us said a word. I was able to hear the cars driving down the street, the occasional drunkard shouting, their voice carrying from the busy avenue that wasn't too far.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
"Nothing." For the first time in a long time, I wasn't thinking about anything. My mind was quiet, and I was content to sit and smoke my cigarette.
"Can I try it?"
"What?" I turned to see her reaching for my Marlboro Light, which made me smirk. "Sure…just…don't inhale." There was honestly one drag at the most left to it.
She never took it away from me. Maggie sighed, staring at me.
I stared right back. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Her voice was small. "Do you have a girlfriend?" She finally took the smoke from me.
And that placated me. It was satisfying to see something that had touched my mouth was now touching hers. "No, I don't…you gotta man?"
She awkwardly blew the smoke out, passing it back. "That's gross."
"It is," I admitted, putting it out on my shoe before I flicked it toward the driveway. "Do you have a boyfriend? Some little idiot always hoping to cop a feel?"
"No…boys…they don't really like me."
"That's bullshit," I said. "Maybe you're too pretty, and you intimidate them."
"No…they just don't talk to me."
We both turned to the house when the light on the porch came on. My father emerged from the sliding door, dialing on his cell.
"I—oh—crap." Maggie went to leave.
I stopped her. "That's just my dad."
"Dame?" My father squinted at us. "Is that Kylie with you?" With the light shining above him, he could barely see us in the darkened yard.
"No . . . Sonny's out looking for her."
My father didn't reply, still so fucking nosy. "Who's that?"
"My friend Maggie." Ironically, I felt like a teen again.
"From down the block?"
I rolled my eyes. "I guess."
"Hi, Mr. Cullen." She waved.
"Yo!" he shouted, widening his arms. "Get in the house!" I knew he was talking to me.
Finding this hilarious, I brushed my pants off as I hopped up.
"Should I go?" Maggie asked.
"No," I said. "I'll be right back." To make her stay, or will her to, I kissed her forehead.
Before entering the house, I peeped that she was smiling wide.
"Get the fuck in here!" My father shook me by my shoulder. "Do you know how old that girl is?"
I nodded, straightening my jacket.
"She's a fucking baby. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
I shrugged.
"You stink." He made a face, like he'd never stumbled into the house drunk before. "Take that girl home—keep your dick in your pants, and then you come right back. I mean it. I'll count the minutes."
"Ohhh, count the minutes." I waved my hands in mock horror, while I laughed my ass off. "Even if I wanted to fuck her, I couldn't get in trouble. She's legal—"
"I don't give a fuck. Your mother buys cookies from her every year. We know her parents—"
"What?" I shook my head. "Are you serious right now?" I laughed at him, public enemy number one posing as an upstanding member of the community.
He narrowed his eyes. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
"We're just talking, okay?" I brought my voice down. "I could have…done something, but I didn't. She's…nice to talk to?"
He raised a brow. "Look, you need someone to talk to, you come speak to me. You need a fucking blowjob? Hell, I can arrange that shit too." He made a whole bunch of hand gestures I couldn't follow with my eyes right now. Being in the warm house made me feel even more fucked-up. "Take the girl home—you're drunk." He paused, but knowing my father was in no mood because of my sister, I also knew it wasn't the end of his tirade. "I don't know what's up with you, but get your act together. And I can assure you that whatever she has to say isn't that interesting."
"Actually—"
"No." He waved a finger. "Your cock thinks she's interesting—"
"Fine," I relented. "I'll take her right home. I won't pass go or let her blow me." I winked.
"Watch yourself." He stared at me with that deadly glare of his, and I stared right-the-fuck back. "You serious with this shit?" He grinned, walking closer to me, and I didn't move. "Lay a hand on her, and we'll have problems." He waved a finger between us.
I sighed, backing down, because there was no way I'd win a staring match with him. Especially since he'd get bored and clock me one if it lasted ten seconds longer. "Fine."
That was the moment my brother decided to come home. We heard his keys, and then saw that he didn't have Kylie with him.
"No luck?" Dad asked.
Sonny shook his head, but his gaze lingered on me. I gathered he'd just been driving around. Maybe he went back to the city. But from the look he gave me, I knew he hadn't been out looking for Kylie.
"I can't believe this." Dad held his head. "She could be anywhere."
"She's with Peto . . . I bet she's fine." I grumbled, sick of their company already.
To my surprise, my father didn't have a smart-ass remark. "We don't know that . . . We can't find Peto either. Anyone could have her." The room became silent and tension filled it. "I should wake your mother."
"Don't." Sonny stopped him. "We'll find her. She's fine, Dad. Okay? No one has her."
"I bet Peto's having her right now," I mumbled through a whisper.
"What was that?" Dad asked because he doesn't miss a thing.
"I didn't say anything," I lied. "It's just...maybe she's out having pizza right now."
Sonny gave me the stink-eye, and I scratched my eyebrow with my middle finger.
Dad slowly blew out a breath, and then looked back to me. "Take that child home."
"Relax—" Sonny started.
I shook my head. "I have, uh, a friend in the back." I jerked my thumb outside.
My brother grinned. "Who? You scored some chick at the bar?" He was excited for me. "You wanna use my place?"
I thought about it.
"Lemme see." He went to walk around me.
"It's little Maggie," Dad said, putting his coat on. "In fact, you take her home," he told Sonny. "Just make sure she gets in."
My brother patted my back. "I peeped her the other day—she got some rack on her now, huh?"
"You know her?" I was surprised. We've lived here for over fifteen years, and I'd never seen her before.
"No, I don't know her . . . I know she's fine as fuck now, though." He smiled at Dad. "She needs a new Girl Scout uniform. She's outgrowing the one she has . . . I'll take her home. No worries."
"Fuck that." Dad spat. "You guys are nasty . . . what's wrong with youse? Did your mother and I raise you like that? To prey on little girls?"
"Pop, be easy. I was kidding," Sonny said. "And what's with the moral high ground? I get why you're concerned for Kylie, but Maggie ain't your kid, and the girls at the club aren't that much older…" My brother sounded like a fucking genius right now—logical and all.
Dad put his hands up. "We're wasting time." He knew deep down that he had no wiggle room to talk.
"I'll call a few guys—have 'em start looking, too." Sonny made for the front door, and my father followed.
No longer concerned about me, he left, and then Sonny winked while he closed the door after them.
And all of that are the reasons why I'd rather stay in my dorm. People are just too fucking nosy for their own good sometimes. Not to mention that, back at school, nearly everyone is age-appropriate.
Nevertheless, before I went back outside, I snatched a bottle of vodka from the liquor cabinet.
It wasn't Belvedere, but . . .
Maggie was lying in the grass, and it looked like she was sleeping.
"You awake?" I sat next to her.
"Yeah."
I smiled and lay by her side. "Still making wishes?"
"Just one," she whispered.
"Tell me." I turned to face her.
She matched my movements, holding her coat together again.
"What's under there?" I teased, bringing the bottle up to my lips.
"Oh, you know, my clothes…"
"What are you hiding?" I pulled on it gently, but left my hand there to test her.
"My school uniform. I was there today for one of my AP classes." She frowned. "I'm a senior at Bishop Ford."
I groaned, low and under my breath.
Having gone to the same school, I could only imagine how the uniform looked on her. I'd already gotten a glimpse at her socks—but the whole picture? Back in high school, I wasn't suave enough to have the opportunity to tear one of them shits off . . . I probably wasn't now either.
"I'm sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?" I ran my finger along the collar of her coat.
"I don't know. Misleading you?" She reached for the vodka, and I let her have it. "But...I'm very mature for my age. Can I have one of your cigarettes?"
I pulled the pack out, and then lit one for her—doubting she could do it herself. "Party it up, Church Girl."
She giggled and fucking winked at me.
Needing to get my mind out of the gutter, I stared at the moon and lit another cigarette. She got quiet, too, and I was getting back to that peaceful place again.
"Oh, the vodka burns," she coughed.
I smiled but didn't look at her. I could only imagine the funny face she was making, and I didn't want to laugh at her.
When I heard the slosh of the liquid moving around the bottle, I did peek at her. She kept taking these small yet rapid sips.
"Whoa…" I took it back. "No more."
She blew out a breath, and then the coat came off. "Whew…that stuff is hot." The white oxford shirt was a little snug around her tits, spreading the space between one of her buttons. I could see her white bra underneath. Her hips were on the wide side, and she filled the gray kilt nicely. I bet she had an ass, too—she rocked that fucking uniform.
"Okay, fine. Take slow sips. I mean . . ." I paused, in moving, breathing—in everything—as I had a moral dilemma.
I didn't even wanna think about it, so I tossed the Absolut into the garden. The glass never broke, and it landed with a small thump. "Oops," was my lame ass response.
"You're so funny."
"I am?" Now, I didn't want to look at her at all. I had enough alcohol in me not to give a fuck.
But strangely, I wanted to . . . to give a fuck.
"You are," she sighed, resting her head on my shoulder.
I put my arm around her and pulled her close. "Is this okay?" She was soft and felt crazy wonderful against me, and I wouldn't let myself think any more of it.
"You're comfy, too."
I smiled and kissed her hair. "You're really sweet." And she was.
I had no doubt as to whether I was attracted to her. But I wasn't into her the way I usually was with other broads. I felt she could be my friend?
I didn't want to fuck her—
No, I really did—and turn Daddy's Little Saint into my personal hellion, my little slut.
I already had her drinking and smoking, and how long would it be before she'd smoke my cock?
And I was back to that conundrum; meanwhile, the option to stick my cock in her will likely never be available to me.
"So are you . . . I really like you."
"You don't know me," I laughed.
"Oh, well, I think I know enough to like you," she whispered.
I dug that, because it was true. The little I knew about her, I liked a lot. "I like you, too." I smiled up to the few stars I could see. "You're cool."
"Wow."
"Wow, what?" I asked.
"No, just—wow. You like me . . . Damion Cullen thinks I'm cool." She squealed, sounding like a piglet.
I shrugged, wondering what wasn't to like. "You're like an angel . . . I feel at ease with you—I don't know. You took my previous worries away—with your presence alone." Then my lips drew a tight line, knowing we couldn't be friends. There was no way in hell we could. Even being platonic with a seventeen-year-old at my age is frowned upon—although fucking one isn't against the law.
"It's a good thing we bumped into each other, then, huh?" she laughed.
"I'm bad news," I whispered, taking my arm out from under her. "I'm not drunk enough to not care."
"What's that mean?"
I refused to look at her. "You don't need me in your life—I do bad things, and I'll leave it at that. I can't elaborate."
"Well, then stop doing bad things," she giggled. "I think you're way too hard on yourself. Everything happens for a reason…we met, and…well, I don't know what it means. But the thought of saying goodnight…I don't wanna say goodnight to you, and I keep wishing that you'll kiss me. But I know you probably don't see me that way. I bet," she laughed, "I bet you date like, models, or those really pretty girls at your school?"
I shook my head, and I felt myself shutting down a little. And I definitely didn't want to get into all the reasons why she was wrong.
"You're the prettiest man I've ever seen."
That made me grin and take a quick glance at her. "Prettiest?"
She was now way too close for comfort. "You're hot." Her face blazed red, her eyes downcast. "I see you all the time, but you never see me, and…I don't know."
I nodded. "Right…Do you usually wear glasses, because…" I laughed, and she hit my arm, only to hold my hand.
"Nope. I have perfect vision." We stared into each other's eyes for a beat too long. "20/20." She was the first to look away.
"You'd probably do anything I asked you to." That thought scared me, when nothing usually does, and intrigued me at the same time. "Huh?" I grasped her chin, turning her to face me.
She licked her chapped bottom lip, and her eyes were half-closed. "I couldn't say no before—I didn't—didn't want to. And if you're worried about that other thing—I mean, you can kiss me. It's okay. I want you to really badly." Then her eyes filled with tears, her button nose turning a shade of pink. "Did I really just say all that?"
"You did . . . and don't cry, or I'll take you home," I whispered.
"Sorry."
I nodded. "What's this other thing I'm worried about?" I took her hairband away from her head, letting her hair fly in the breeze.
"Go-going too far? I know you won't."
"I already have," I said, and I was still wanting—wanting more, wanting NOT to care. Since when do I give a fuck about anything?
"What do you mean? You haven't—you won't even…kiss me," she grumbled. "It's okay. I get it—you're not interested." She turned away.
That just wouldn't do, and I made her look at me again. "If I kiss you, chances are we'll end up fucking right here—in the grass. I'll want to stop, but I don't know if I will, and you won't tell me no."
She swallowed loudly, shivering like she was cold, before she pulled her coat up around her shoulders. "I—I—um."
I leaned my forehead to hers, helping her into it. "I'd leave your jacket on . . . but I'd steal your panties, and just lift your skirt a little." My finger drew circles on her knee. "I'd kiss and tongue your pretty little cunt until you woke the neighbors . . ." I flattened my hand, grasping the inside of her thigh, and it was the softest piece of flesh I'd ever touched. "Fuck . . ."
"What else?" Her chest heaved.
I swore my heart stopped for a second. "I'd—I'd kiss you, long and sloppy so you could taste your pussy . . ." I felt her breaths coming out labored. They were hitting my face, and I inhaled—wanting each one, while her hips squirmed. "Are you wet?" My nose skimmed her cheek.
"Um…" She tentatively placed her arms around my neck. Her soft touch at the nape of my neck, her tickling the small hairs there, did something crazy to me. "Yes." She rose to her knees, clamping her thighs closed.
My hand was still in there, held captive by her. "Do—" I stopped myself from asking her to come inside with me.
"What? Please ask me?"
"Oh, word?" I laughed at myself and the situation. I was so worked up, and we were only talking.
Then I thought about possibly turning her off again.
Then again, this bible-toting little freak has done nothing but surprise me all night.
Then I thought, fuck it. "We can go chill at my brother's apartment on Fourth Avenue . . . Nobody needs to know anything. We can do what we want, talk . . . or fuck—I can make you feel good. And then . . . I'd leave you alone . . . You said you don't wanna go home."
"Why would you leave me alone?" She moved to sit on my lap, and I let her. "Is that your…?" Maggie moved her ass to lightly graze my Glock Nine.
"No." I smiled, hugging her waist to me. "This is." I bucked my hips, and her eyes widened.
But little by little, my true self was coming back.
Because now I wanted her in that way.
And I was starting not to give a shit.
"Would you do that? Would you spread your legs for me? Let me taste you?" Both of my hands went up her skirt, just so I could brush her thighs and her hips with my fingers, an innocent gesture. "Maggie?" I nuzzled my nose to hers, withdrawing my hands so I could play with her hair.
Her nails dug into my shoulders, a small whimper coming from her lips.
"Huh?" I kissed her cheek, my mouth traveling to her ear. "Can I fuck you?"
"Yeah," she breathed, leaning into me. "Heck, yeah."
"Say 'fuck'," I gently nibbled her earlobe.
"Fuck." She squeaked, which made me crookedly grin.
"Not here," I said. "Not where people can see. It'll be light out soon."
She nodded, gulping loudly. "When will—will I see you again? After we make love, I mean."
"You probably won't . . . unless I want you again," I lied, since I knew I'd want her again, and again, and again—half in love with this chick already, or maybe just the idea of her.
"Oh…"
"And we wouldn't be making love." I pulled her hair back to expose her neck. "There's a difference between that, and some fucking—and I'd fuck you. But you'll love it either way." I nipped her collarbone. "Would that be okay? I'd go slow . . . at first."
"I'm-I'm-I'm a virgin."
"That's what makes you special." I scraped my teeth along her jaw, splaying my hand on her neck. "Tell me how wet you are."
"I don't know," she whispered.
"Touch yourself." I groaned. "And then I want you to put your finger in my mouth."
Her movements were slow as she reached between us to get under that skirt. I knew the moment she'd made contact with her pussy. She moaned, pushing her tits against me.
"Touch your clit. Roll your finger around it, and then slide it down." I tried to get my breathing under control—about to lose my shit.
"Wow." She convulsed, and I wore the widest smile ever.
"Good girl," I crooned, reaching for her hand. Her finger glistened in the moon glow, and I sucked it back gently. "Christ. You taste good." I took it back into my mouth again, swirling my tongue around. My eyes rolled, loving the taste of her arousal—the taste of her.
"Your mouth—" She licked her lips.
"What about it?" I hugged her tighter to me.
"It's—it's sexy."
"So is yours…come here." I leaned in, staring at her lips, ready to fucking go for it. I didn't give a shit if the sun would be out soon. Right here, right now, I needed—
"Da-Damion?" She'd stiffened.
"What?" I asked, pushing her hair away. "Can I mark you?" I stared at the pale flesh of her neck, just under her ear.
"Your mom—"
"My—" I pushed Maggie off of me, and then jumped up. My mother was standing in the doorway in her bathrobe with her arms folded across her chest.
"Go home." She pointed as she walked out, and I knew she wasn't talking to me.
I looked to see Maggie grab all her stuff before she sprinted out of the yard.
"Good morning," I said. "Don't you look radiant as ever."
"Good morning?" she asked, looking a mess herself. Mom had raccoon eyes and a bird's nest thing going on with her hair. It was the best sight ever. In truth, it didn't matter what my mother looked like—just her presence alone. My hard-on disappeared within seconds, and I was grateful.
"Well . . ." I looked up to the sky, trying to play this off. "The sun's about to come—ahhhh!" I shouted, leaping away. My mother had turned the hose on.
"You fucking pervert!" She kept chasing me around the backyard, and this was not my manliest hour. "Maybe this'll cool you off!" She got me in the crotch, and the force of the water fucking hurt my dick.
"Fuck!" I sounded like a girl, slouching over and running. "Ma, stop!" I hid behind the air conditioner.
"Maggie's head of the Girl Scouts!"
"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say and started laughing. "She got her Blue Balls badge tonight—" I winced when she got me again. "Look, she came on to me." I pointed to myself. "I'm the victim . . . little freaks you got running around that church."
"She's going to be a nun."
"What?" I stopped laughing.
Mom shut off the hose. "Her mother says she got early acceptance to Saint Mary's . . . I swear to Christ, if you touched her—"
"I didn't." I put my hands up. "She touched herself. I mean, I didn't even kiss her. She's still…pure."
"She's seventeen . . . you're twenty-four." Mom held her head. "What am I going to say to her mother?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Does she still want to become a nun? Or are you two in love?" My mother was buggin', or possibly still drunk her damn self. "How long has this been going on? Is she why you sneak into Bay Ridge during the week?" Using Maggie as an excuse wasn't any better than the truth. Only, it really was.
"No." Either way, I wasn't going to lie. "I just met her tonight—I'm really drunk."
Mom's jaw was set. "Go to bed, and you keep away from that girl."
I nodded. "I'll never talk to her again. I promise . . . And she should thank Jesus . . . that you woke up." I reached for the sky. "Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!" I flashed her the goofy "Dame" smile that softens her.
Mom giggled.
"Can I get an amen?" I asked.
"Damion . . . go to sleep. You look horrible." She shook her head and entered the house.
"You really saved her from damnation." I teased.
"What? So, you're older—maybe I overreacted. You know I'm a sucker for romance…She's a good girl, and I should have had more faith in you...jumping to assumptions. You're amazing…a good boy, too." She reached for my cheek.
"I'm not." I kissed her forehead. "But for a little while out there . . . I was starting to think I was." I left her in the living room, and then stumbled my way upstairs.
Thank you for reading.
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Kylie POV is up next!