Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta'd by HollettLA.
"Riders on the Storm"
Chapter Twelve: Change of Pace Part Two
Damion POV
While we walked, I maintained my distance and was stuck for conversation. I hoped she'd ask me questions or fill the silence.
She didn't.
Like someone else I know, she kept gazing up to the sky.
When we were about to cross the street, I instinctively grasped her hand. She didn't let go when we got to the sidewalk either.
It was a great feeling—her small, soft hand within my own. It was sweet, and I couldn't believe how starved for company, affection, I truly was. I craved it—even the most chaste of touches—but I didn't know if it was true, or if it was an Amelia thing.
She was just warm . . . I wanted to snuggle, play with her hair . . . cherish her as if she was my pet, worship her body.
"This place has great espresso." I opened the door to the café for her, dreading that we'd likely see someone I knew. "Only bad thing—" I stopped talking when I saw Joe and his brother sitting at a table. "It's amazing, so everyone in the 'hood comes here." I finished my thought, throwing him a chin jerk.
She didn't comment; she just walked closer to me, which was welcomed. The dimly lit coffee house, equipped with booths, tables, couches, and fluffy chairs, wasn't littered with people. I knew it would be after the movie was over, but right now all it consisted of was Joe, his people, and a couple of others.
"Let's sit—they'll come to us." And I wasn't just talking about a server as I led us over to a booth.
"How's the biscotti?" she asked, sliding in.
Instead of sitting across from her, I sat next to her to plant my flag. "I never tried it."
"You don't like sweets?" She shrugged out of her jacket.
I helped her with that and folded it over to place it on the other seat. "I do . . . I just haven't had—"
"Cullen." Joe and his brother David—the guy I yoked up last night—were standing by our table.
"'Sup?" I placed my arm around Amelia.
"Who's this—new girl?" He winked at her.
"Joe, this is—"
"Mary." Amelia shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."
Although I had no idea why she lied about her name, I respected it.
"Likewise," Joe said. "Just move to Bay Ridge, or…?"
"She's a friend of the family—came to town for the wedding." I smiled up at him.
He grinned down to her. "Shame…"
I snapped my fingers in his face. "Can I help you?"
His eyes slowly trailed back to me. "I just wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings." His face was fucked—had a black eye, cut lip—in fact, both of his eyes were darkened. I wouldn't be surprised if Sonny broke his nose.
My brother's right hook is lethal. Whenever he knocks me one, he holds himself back—that I knew, or else I'd never fucking provoke him.
I nodded. "I think you need to have that conversation with Sonny." I shrugged. "What you and Kylie do, or what you and Carli do . . ." If he'd truly played my sister, he'd be dead already. And even though what he did happened before she took off with Peto, she still did—they made him look like the fool.
"Shhh." He looked around us. "No need to repeat that."
I winced, leaning toward him. "I wouldn't repeat that shit either." Needless to say, it didn't really concern me. I cared. I also think Joe is a scumbag, but my brother had the problem, and I wanted Joe to step off.
I'm trying hard to behave, and if this fucker ruins my night . . .
"Right." Joe looked away from us, and I let my hand linger on my nine—just in case. "You remember Bianca?" he asked.
Nunzio's daughter came walking out from the back. She wore this tight red dress that hugged her curves. Her hair was down and flowing . . . all while she was putting things back into her purse. She hadn't seen me yet, and that was fine.
"We ready?" she asked him. "Oh, hey!" Bianca smiled down to me, and she may be pretty . . . but she wasn't as gorgeous as Amelia, and she carried herself like a straight up ho-bag, especially if she's with Joe now. I bet him and his brother are both taking turns with her. Slut.
I gave her a small wave.
"Movie starts in fifteen minutes—we gotta go." Joe placed his arm around her. "I'm sure you want popcorn."
"Movie?" I spoke up.
Because . . . I wouldn't put it past Joe or his brother to gang up on Peto. It doesn't matter that Joe is here with Bianca. In his eyes, Peto stole Kylie—his meal ticket—away from him. It's one thing to make your bones, to do the occasional, questionable job, or scheme to move up in rank, but it's whole other thing to fuck your way there.
I was slightly impressed by his creativity and just a bit disgusted.
Who does that?
"Zac Efron shit—this one." Joe jerked his thumb, and he's always spoken like a caveman.
"I loved him when I was a kid," Bianca sighed. "As an adult actor, though..."
"Hey." Joe gave her squeeze, jealous of her admiration.
"He has a small dick." Amelia blurted, and we all turned to her—Mary—when she said that.
"Something I should know about you and Zac—whatever?" I laughed.
"Word . . . whattaya doin' with this one?" Dave laughed at me, while Joe gave him a high-five. "If you could have Zac Whatshisface."
"This one's hung like a horse." Amelia nuzzled her nose into my neck, and I had to blow out a breath—half-shocked, and very turned on—but I masked it, going along with it. "But no . . ." She looked back to Joe and them. "I saw a picture once online . . . You are a sexy fucker . . . and you smell amazing." She grasped my chin, turning me to face her. "Take care," Amelia said, not moving her eyes from mine.
"See you later, Damion?" Bianca asked, placing her hand on my shoulder. "We should all—"
In my periphery, I saw Amelia push her hand off and away. "Buh-bye." She daintily waved to them, winking at me.
I just kept studying her gorgeous face, not wanting to look away—no matter how rude. That was the hottest thing to ever happen to me.
Talking about planting a flag—Amelia just staked a claim!
I liked it. No woman had ever done that before . . . got possessive or made a show.
My cock was hard as fuck right now.
"What was that?" I whispered.
When the bell sounded, indicating they'd left, Amelia sat back—moving away from me. "I don't know."
"Don't know?" Wanting her back where she was, I asked, "Mary?" while grasping her chin and turning her back to me.
She looked embarrassed. "I—"
"Hello, hello!" The waitress was here now—announced herself—and the spell was broken.
After we ordered two espressos and some biscotti to go—since we'd have to chill near the theater—I pulled Amelia into my side. Taking another chance on fate, it worked out this time. She didn't pull away.
"Mary is the corny alias my father gave me." She stuck out her tongue. "I didn't know them . . . but I hope you know now . . . Not with everyone, but—those guys are connected, right?"
"Yes." I pulled her hair away from her shoulder.
"Then…they should know me as Mary . . . especially here in New York. That's what my father told me. You and your family are cool, but...others may not be cool with me associating? It makes little sense to me."
"I get it." I played with a lock of her hair. "There's been beef on and off between New York and Jersey for a long time—since before both of our pops' were even born."
"Really? How do you know that?" She stared at my lips.
"I have good ears." I grinned. "But I'm more interested in what that show was about."
"Um, you clammed up . . ."
"I'm trying to be good," I whispered.
"Aren't we all...?" she spoke to the table.
My response was to smile and nod, and I'd been doing a lot of that tonight.
"Was that your ex-girlfriend?" She fiddled with a napkin. "She's really pretty."
"No." I chuckled. "Why—"
"Just…the way you acted. Sorry for being nosy."
"No," I paused when the waitress brought the coffees over. "Pry . . . ask me things." We locked gazes, and this was one of those moments where I should kiss her . . .
"All right. I'll ask." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but I didn't kiss her.
Touching her bottom lip with my thumb, I said, "You're gorgeous."
"Thanks." She smiled a really big one at me, and then covered her mouth with her hand. I didn't know why she was giddy suddenly.
I cleared my throat. "You ready?"
She nodded.
We actually went back to the car. I pulled it around to park right in front of the movie theater. I didn't know what would happen—thought we should maybe chill inside. If anything happened, it'd be my ass—that I knew for sure. I had to be on point.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
I briefly wondered why broads always asked that shit. "Honestly?" I kept staring at the theater.
Able to see inside the lobby, there was a mass of people, most of them waiting on line for popcorn and such. My only hope was that Peto and Kylie weren't hungry. They were early. Joe and them were right on time, but movies never start when they're supposed to—previews and such. Then I hoped my sister liked those commercials like I do—I never miss them, compulsively have to be there to see them.
"Yeah, honestly." She waited.
I smiled, looking away for a second. "Just…I'm happy to be here with you." And I was, very much so. "I just—I wish we had some place better to go."
Amelia lifted her hand, paused, and then just grabbed mine. "This is great. Just this."
"Cool," I whispered. "You? What are you thinking about?" Through my side eye, I saw a small group leaving the theater. "Fuck." It was Joe and David, and they'd pushed Peto out while Kylie and Bianca followed after them. "Stay here."
"What?" Amelia shouted.
Ignoring her, I rapidly left the car to run across the street. They hadn't stopped at the front. They were making Peto walk around the corner.
Can't a fuckin' night pass without drama? I asked myself, quietly trailing after them while drawing my nine and cocking the mag back.
Hopefully I wouldn't need it, but I knew Joe and David would be strapped. They're punks—would do this shit two against one. I knew they wouldn't shoot Peto. It'd be their funerals, but roughing him up wouldn't forfeit their lives—even if that's Aro's son. We men come to blows often, especially where broads are concerned. It's expected and ignored.
"Let him go!" Kylie shouted.
By now, I was hiding in the shadows, ever so curious as to how this would play out.
"You think you're so fucking slick?" Joe popped Peto in the mouth; meanwhile, David held his arms back—giving his brother full access.
"Ky, just go!" Peto called out to her. "Run!"
Peto's a good guy, I thought.
"I'm calling my dad . . . Daddy . . ." My sister was crying, her face crumbling.
Joe was fast to turn, slapping Kylie's phone down before she could dial. It hit the ground, and then she started hitting him—punching him in the chest and face as he laughed, gathering her hands into his own. "Fuckin' little whore—"
"I fucking hate you!" Kylie screamed.
Joe pushed her into Bianca. "Keep her quiet."
Bianca tried to calm my sister down, hugging onto her. "Joey, what the fuck is wrong with you? Stop this!"
"I'm gonna tell my father, and then you're both dead!" I'll be damned if Kylie didn't have a hint of a smile. It must be in our blood . . . "He'll kill you both!"
Joe grabbed Kylie's arm, pushing her into Bianca even more—making them cringe into the brick wall. "I said keep her quiet!"
"Joey!" Bianca slapped him and Kylie got him, too. Maybe I wouldn't have to do anything. They'd beat the shit out of Joe.
But then he squeezed Kylie's arm so hard, she cried out. "Oww!" she wailed, holding her bicep.
Seeing my baby sister cry like that . . . it's still one of the saddest things ever to me. I'll never know why.
"Oh my God…are you okay?" Bianca was crying, too, fiddling with her own cell. "We'll call my dad." She's a ho, but she wasn't standing by her supposed man, and I thought that was cool. If I remember correctly, Nunzio is somehow related to Aro, which would make Bianca and Peto distant cousins, or something. Fuck if I know or care, but blood is thicker than water . . . even watered down blood. And Bianca just moved here, I remembered hearing that, too. She didn't grow up with us like Joe and his brothers.
Damn. Sonny and now Joe? She fucking moves fast.
"No one is calling anyone!" Joe threw Bianca's phone across the street, and then went for Kylie again.
My sister's fist almost reached his balls, but he caught her hands.
"You motherfucker—touch her again—you're dead!" Peto fought against David, and I'd had enough of a show.
It was getting boring, and I was right here, and Joe kept hitting that poor kid...
"I'll do what I want—" Joe punched Peto again while his brother chuckled.
"Me too!" I exclaimed. "You're a dead man now," I laughed, making my presence known. "Let him go." My gaze lingered on David.
He was fast to push Peto away, making him fall onto the ground. But Peto hopped up to punch David in the nose. "Pussy fucker—"
David slammed back into the wall.
"Take Kylie and go," I told him, not lowering my nine. "Now!"
Peto wouldn't listen. While Joe just stood there, chest heaving and staring at me, David got his ass kicked by Peto.
"Gio . . . stop!" Kylie ran to him.
"You kidding me with this shit?" I asked Joe.
He widened his arms, like he didn't want any trouble. "He steals my fiancée—"
"What the fuck do you care? Honestly?" This shit was amusing, but Kylie, Peto, and Bianca were still around.
"It's principle. She was to be my wife. What the fuck would have me do, Dame?" he questioned.
I ignored Joe, even if I understood his reasoning. It was "principle".
"It's not his fault! I would have never married you!" Kylie cried. "And I'm not the bad guy." She pointed to herself. "You slept with my cousin."
"You don't owe him shit," I told Kylie.
Joe nodded. "You would have married me anyway. Trust"
"Go for it." I looked to Peto and tilted my head to Joe. He had one shot, and Peto fucking took it. He knocked him a good one—right in the nose. Joe curled in on himself, holding his face. If it wasn't broken before, it was now.
"You're such a pussy!" Peto shouted. "Look at you...not so tough now—"
Kylie pushed her boyfriend out of the way only to junk-punch Joe. "Asshole!"
"Enough," I said.
Joe had a choice, since before he even saw them in the theaters. To me, it wasn't a question of if Joe would approach them, but when and how, and would I be there? Peto could have gone back to Texas unscathed . . . if this fucker hadn't seen him, but then Joe would be lurking Thanksgiving weekend, waiting. Who knows? He could have possibly gotten to Kylie another way, while she was alone—stopped by the salon during the day? Vito's older than dirt, and all that fucker does is sit out in the car. I've ducked into the backdoor at the salon quite a few times. It's not difficult.
But back to Joe's choice—save face or ass, and he chose face, like most dumb, macho motherfuckers do. "You three—get the fuck outta here. I'm not playing." I looked to my sister.
"Come on." Peto stole her hand, dragging her away.
"Damion, no!" she cried, reaching for me, scared for me when she had no reason to be. "Let's just go. We'll tell Daddy, and then—"
"Daddy." Joe made fun of her.
"I'm fine," I said to reassure her, but my eyes never left Joe and David. "What should I do with you two?"
They shared a look.
"Don't be cute," I warned.
Joe's head whipped back to me. He wiped his hands clean, keeping them in my sight. "We just wanted to scare him—lump him up a little, all right?" Worse for wear, he huffed out labored breaths, and then stared after Kylie.
This wouldn't be over unless I ended it.
"Yeah, well," I laughed, "that's cool, but you touched my sister. For that, like I said, you're dead. The only question is how?" I enjoyed this way too much. "Have a seat—against the wall." We were in a darkened alley, and I wondered how much time I'd have to play. Being in the open like this…I've never had this problem before. "Toss your heat over, too."
Those dumb fuckers did as I said, and I couldn't believe it. Armed or not, if some guy was holding Sonny and me up? I would have charged him already—regardless.
"Um—"
Movement to my side caught my attention. It was Amelia. "I told you to stay in the car."
"Your sister was crying…" She stared at Joe and David. "I thought—um—I wasn't sure if, um—"
"Look at me," I said, digging my phone out of my pocket, but that's when I saw what was in her hand. She had a gun—lowered and half-hidden by her sleeve—yet she looked frightened. "Point it."
Her eyes widened, lifting her hand. It was in my face for a brief second.
I laughed, leaning back. "Here." I took her hand, aiming it and her nine at those fuckers—instructing her.
"Damion…" Joe said. "This shit isn't funny anymore."
"Shut the fuck up!" I shouted, but got behind Amelia. "You keep that pointed." She had a silencer attached and everything, and now I knew why her purse was so big.
She nodded. "Um, yeah."
"Don't look away." I kissed her cheek. "I have to make a phone call."
"Damion—" Joe again.
I got closer to put my heat in Joe's face. "Shut up." I kicked their weapons toward Amelia. "If they move . . . start shooting."
"Cullen, you fucker!" Joe tried to gain my attention. "Are you serious?"
I smirked at that asshole, hitting my father's name on my phone and bringing it to my ear.
"Hello…?" He was out of breath, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Everything—everything okay?"
"No," I said. "I'm at the Alpine…baby girl's fine, but we had a problem."
He was quiet for a few seconds, and I heard my mother's muffled voice in the background. Then I heard scrambling and a toilet flush. "What—"
"I need two cats and a whip." I racked my brain for a way to elaborate. "Ky's ex-roach liked the movie, too—went bananas." Now I did roll my eyes—at myself—but I needed to make sure he didn't do something stupid. Like, send Joe's father. His family lives only a few blocks over. I would have called Sonny or maybe even Aro; however, the both of them were busy.
Ever since I was a kid, I was always told to call Aro if I ran into trouble. With my father's status comes a watchful eye. Aro has always flown under the radar—and we were to always trust him.
Sadly, I never did.
But if I was going to trust anyone, especially right now when I needed help, it was my father.
"There's a roach motel in the area...a minute away."
"Okay. . ."
"Hang up," he said.
I ended the call, looking back to the scene that I never really took my eyes away from.
Amelia seemed a lot more comfortable with her gun—she used both of her hands, which were steady, and she had her feet parted, she was balanced.
"Sweetheart," Joe whispered.
"Sweetheart, nothing." She stepped closer, and I swore I was in love.
"You did good," I said, stealing another kiss on her cheek. "Gimme this."
Amelia handed it over, looking down to the ground.
"Can you go back to the car?" I asked.
"But—" Her lip quivered, showing her fear.
"It'll be all right. Take this." I gave her my gun instead. "Trust me." My eyes locked to hers. "I promise it'll be fine."
"Okay." She backed up, and then finally turned when she was paces away.
"Your ride should be here any minute—"
"Let's talk this out." Joe moved and I pulled the trigger. Not knowing what he was going to do, I figured better him than me. The shot rang through the air with almost no sound at all. It was fast; hit him before his brother even noticed. Joe flew back against the wall. He cried out, and then reached to hold his stomach.
Truth be told, I didn't want to kill him . . . not yet. When whoever gets here, I'll have enough time to give Peto or Amelia the keys.
They'd go home, and then I could play . . .
That ride showed up a lot faster than I thought. A car stopped short behind me, and Caius came out. Nunzio was driving.
"What happened?" Caius looked from me and then to Joe. "Who did this?"
"He's fucking nuts!" David shouted. "We didn't do nothin'." He was trying to apply pressure to Joe's wound.
"Dame, start talking..." Caius wore a smirk.
"No one else is involved . . . I shot him," I said simply. "Let's get them outta here."
"Hang on a sec." Caius was looking up and down the block.
"No one saw . . . except Bianca." I looked to Nunzio.
"Where is she?" he asked.
"With my sister. Up the block. She's fine . . . but she saw me with them." I tilted my head to Joe.
Nunzio lifted his hands. "You have her silence as you have mine." He was wary, and he should be.
"Get them in the fucking car." I decided I was going to run this show.
"Listen to you," Caius laughed. "We got Baby Skip ova hea."
"I look like I'm joking?"
Caius didn't think it was funny anymore. "You're cute. You seriously are. But let us take care of this. You did good." He patted my back. "The only orders I was given," he placed his hands on his chest, "were to make this whole situation disappear. So, put that down." He placed his hand on mine that held the gun. "Get your sister and get the fuck out of here."
I gritted my teeth.
"Take it up with your father, but I don't have the time to argue this with you."
I placed the silenced nine in my waist. "Fine."
"I think he's dead!" David hollered. "Someone help me."
I stared as I started to walk over.
"Dame—" Caius caught my arm.
But I felt bad for David, having to see his brother like this, and I was already kneeling down to Joe. His breaths were hollow, his skin an ashen gray. "He's not dead—" I lifted the nine, "—yet." I popped one between his eyes. "Now he's dead." It was like putting a sick animal out of its misery—a good deed.
"You motherfuck—" David came at me, but then he fell back.
Caius shot him in the face.
"Thanks," I said, right before Caius yoked me up by my shoulder.
"Get outta here now!"
Smiling, I backed away, turned, and then sprinted up the block.
Amelia, Peto, and Kylie were sitting in the minivan, while Bianca smoked a cigarette outside of it. They all had wide eyes when I hopped into the car.
"Are you—" Amelia grasped onto my sweater. "Um—"
"I'm fine . . . Ky, tell Bianca to go home."
"I heard him," Bianca said, content to walk away, yet she was still crying. I think they live a few blocks from here, too. Although, Bianca did just move here . . . I briefly thought about giving her a ride home.
However, since I didn't give a fuck about that cooz, I pulled away fast—making the tires screech. She essentially saw nothing, but I was sure it'd pique her interest when Joe was officially missing. Her father will handle that, though, I was sure.
"You have—on your glasses," Amelia whispered, taking my glasses from my face to wipe them off with a napkin. "Sorry. Here." She put them back on me, and I was fast to adjust them.
Sure that they were splattered with blood, I grinned. "Thank you."
No one saw anything—no one heard anything, and I'd always be eternally grateful for Amelia's silenced nine. Without it, well, my hands probably wouldn't have gotten dirty. I would have never taken a shot out in the open like that.
But . . .
"What are we going to do?" Kylie was still crying. She'd never seen anything like that before, except for maybe an occasional scuffle between Sonny and me.
I sighed, turning down our street.
"I hope—I hope—Daddy's gonna hurt him. I—"
"Shhh." Peto soothed her.
"And look at you . . ." My sister was sobbing.
In the rearview, I saw her attack him with a hug. Peto's face was bruised and bloodied. I was sure Kylie's arm was black and blue, too.
I did the right thing.
Whether they died in that alley or wherever Caius would have taken them, they were still going to die. It raises a flag—makes me wonder what will happen to their other brother and their father.
Knowing mine, he'd take care of those two as well, so there are no future problems.
"There's, uh—" Amelia cleared her throat, keeping her voice down. "There's blood on your face, too. Just a little."
I shrugged, but lifted the neck of my sweater to wipe it away. "I'm sorry you had to see that." She didn't see me do anything either, but she could put two and two together.
"It happens, I guess."
My head whipped to her—shocked by her admission—but then I looked back out the windshield to pull into the garage.
My father was waiting in the carport, pacing along with my mother. Luckily, Kylie was still hysterical and ran into Mom's arms, occupying her. Dad came over to my side and pulled open the door.
"Take off your sweater," he whispered. "And give me this." He stole Amelia's nine away from me, placing it in the back of his waist.
I did as he said, using my sweater to clean my face and hands again.
"You're good." He stole that from me, too—tossing it under the minivan—as everyone else just kind of stood around.
"What happened?" Mom asked, rubbing Kylie's back.
"We were playing the video game." Kylie backed away from Mom. "Then I turned around . . . Joe and David—"
"They cornered me—forced me to leave," Peto said.
"You okay?" Dad touched his cheek.
"Yeah." He nodded.
"You need some ice..." My father surveyed the damage to Peto's face. "He got you good—no stitches, though."
"I'm fine." Peto rasped.
"It's not fine!" Kylie screeched. "Daddy, they—they..." She started blubbering again.
Uncomfortable, standing in my undershirt, I fell back—trying to blend in with the car, wanting to run inside.
"That's a hot tatt." Amelia touched my arm, and my stomach jumped.
"Thanks," I whispered.
"So, what happened?" Mom looked to me, her eyes widening, trailing up and down my form. "Tell me what happened!"
I slightly shook my head no, like there was nothing to be told, as I backed away from her. She kept advancing with this odd look on her face. "Damion! You tell me—right now." Her chin trembled, her eyes flooding with tears. "Did you—did you—"
"Bella…" Dad held her biceps, placing his lips in her hair. "Relax."
"What happened?" She turned to look at Kylie and Peto. "Where's Joe now? Where. Is. He?!"
They shrugged, not saying anything, but looking to me.
They honestly had no idea.
All of which made Mom face me again. "You—" She slapped me across the face, making my head turn and Kylie gasp. "Tell me you didn't!" Dad caught her before she could attack me. "You tell me!"
She knew.
I wasn't sure how she knew, but she did.
"Damion?" Kylie reached for me as Mom collapsed, a crying mess, into Dad's arms. "Why—why did she hit you?" She looked angry at our mother.
I jerked away from them—my parents, the scene. "I'm fine."
"Mom, he didn't do anything," Kylie said. "Daddy, Damion didn't do anything wrong. As soon as something happened, he was there for us . . . Oh…" My sister got down to her knees, placing her hand on Mom's shoulder. "I know you didn't mean it."
My mother just kept crying . . .
"I sent Caius over . . . Damion didn't do anything." Dad met my gaze from over my mother's head. "Bella . . . he didn't do anything. Stop crying."
"Hey." Amelia grasped my hand.
I let it go. "I'll be inside."
The night couldn't get any crazier than it already was. Things were going amazing, very smoothly, and then . . . and then this.
Everything I touch truly does turn to shit.
My stop was the bathroom, where I scrubbed my hands and face with soap. My jeans didn't have a spot on them, neither did anything else I was wearing. But I knew the drill.
After making sure the door was locked, I stripped down, emptied my pockets, and placed my clothes in the garbage bag that lined the pail.
Maggie's note sat there by the sink, and I threw that into the trash as well. I didn't know, nor did I care what it said.
Then I showered, just let the water hit my back—needing to let go of the aggression I felt. No, I wasn't angry. Anything I'd felt toward Joe was released when I pulled the trigger.
I was more upset that my mother slapped me in front of Amelia than anything else. That's why taking a shower was my best course of action. Maybe by the time I got out, Amelia would be gone. I didn't want to see her sad, pity-filled eyes.
I was the biggest loser on the fucking planet.
Our first date—whatever tonight was—was ruined.
Once clean, I dried off, grabbed my bag of dirty clothes, and quietly entered my bedroom. Able to hear voices, I tried to listen. It sounded as though Aro and my brother were back. Of course, they likely heard what happened. Aro would run to his son, and Sonny would just run back . . .
Their muffled voices were mixed with my mother and father's, although I couldn't make out all that was being said.
Knowing I wasn't going anywhere tonight—content to hide in my bedroom until morning—I put another undershirt on and some sweats.
When someone knocked, I cringed and banged my head into my pillow. It was either Sonny, or my mother coming back to . . . I don't know. I didn't care that she hit me, that she might possibly know that her son was a murderer. I cared that she embarrassed me, as I never need any help in that department.
Silently, I opened the door for Amelia. She stood there, staring up at me, and I couldn't meet her stare. Like a pussy, I looked to the floor, and I had no idea what to say, although I knew I should apologize.
"Can I come in?" she asked, keeping her voice down. Amelia didn't give me a chance to respond. She just walked right in, standing in the middle of my bedroom. "Nice digs . . ." She looked around. "Are you okay?"
I nodded, turning toward her and studying my socks.
"Hey." She grasped my hand, pulling it, and thus me, down to her.
Her lips where soft, gentle when they touched mine.
Surprised, my stomach lurched—filling with butterflies, my cock coming to life, my heart thumping away . . . My body reacted the same way it did last night, only amplified by a thousand. This was better—my mind was blown, my heart soaring . . .
When her fingers wove into my hair, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss, my hands roamed down her back, getting two-handfuls of ass and holding her against me. Our tongues tangled, and I couldn't get enough. She couldn't either—her hands leaving my hair to claw at my shoulders, trying to climb up my body, a small moan escaping her lips. The sound was hot as fuck, made my dick twitch.
"Oh, shit—my bad." It was my father.
Amelia and I paused, locking eyes. She eventually turned away, her cheeks crimson.
"Yeah?" I cleared my throat, refusing to let go of her. She was shielding my cock since the sweatpants wouldn't.
Dad wore a shit-eating grin, standing in the doorway. I never closed the damn thing, and I couldn't blame him. "Hon, I spoke to your dad."
"Um, okay," Amelia whispered.
"Damion will show you where the guest room is," he placed his hand on the doorknob, "and I'm sure Kylie can loan you some PJs." He kept his gaze off of us as he closed my door.
"Guess I'm sleeping over," she said.
"Hey…" I pulled her back into my arms. "What was that?" My smile probably lit up the room. That kiss was . . . I couldn't even describe it. I could try, but I'd never do it justice, and I wanted to do it again, and again, and again.
"I don't know," she said. "I just—I felt like it? You looked like you needed it."
I nodded. "Thanks—"
She placed her finger over my lips. "Don't beat yourself up." Before I could ask, she continued, "You did the right thing."
"Yeah, I guess so."
"No," she said. "You did. You protected your sister, you protected me . . . you're intense, Cullen." Her smile was coy.
My mouth pulled into a smirk, as much as I wished it wouldn't. Most people find me boring and creepy, quiet.
"I finally had some use for that thing. My dad makes me carry that when I travel into New York. I hardly know how to use it."
"I can teach you how." I wanted to kiss her again, but I wasn't sure.
"It's illegal…When I saw Kylie and Gio run back to the car . . . I didn't know what to think. She kept crying—"
"So…you…you came to save me?" I didn't know what to think, either. I was impressed, felt like crying and rejoicing. She cared enough to seek me out. That thought alone baffled me. Never in my life had I ever known someone to care that much, someone who wasn't related to me.
"Everything I heard about you . . . you're this smart, quiet guy. I thought you weren't connected, thought you were empty handed. What I did was probably stupid."
"It wasn't," I said. "But you hardly know me. I just—"
She shrugged. "Maybe I am stupid. I mean," she snorted, "what the fuck was I going to do? I had the gun, but …" She left me to sit on my bed.
I followed after her.
"Like I said, I wasn't sure if you had a gun . . . and you'd said those guys were you know. I had to do something." She was rambling, talking very fast. "The only numbers I know are for my dad's people, and—"
I turned to her to face me. "Thank you."
She blushed. "You were in control, though. I didn't know what to think when I got there, and you were—you had them," she sighed.
I didn't comment, rubbing my knuckles against her soft cheek.
"It was hot—fucking sexy as hell, dude." What she said made me laugh. "I'm just being honest. I was standing there like this idiot—"
"You weren't." I shook my head.
"Meanwhile . . . I was a mix between scared and ready to mount you."
"Mount me?" I'd never heard that shit before. "Well…" Trying not to sound like an asshole, I wasn't sure how to say that she could—whenever she wanted to.
She covered her mouth. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.
I pulled her hand away. "I dig honesty."
"Me, too." She nodded. "That's how they do it in Brooklyn, huh? I mean, I know some things—know they happen. But I've never seen..."
I looked away from her. "I don't know what you're talking about."
She hit my arm.
"I'm just a med student."
"Sure." She didn't believe me.
But then we both became quiet, and this time the silence threatened to eat me alive. "You need pajamas?" I asked, going toward my chest of drawers. "I can hook you up."
"Thank you."
After pulling out some clothes for her to sleep in, I escorted her to the guest bedroom, showing her where two other bathrooms were on the way.
"Yo…" Sonny whispered.
I was contemplative, standing by the guest room while he crept over. "What?" I walked away from the door.
"What happened?" We asked each other in unison.
Sonny waved a hand. "Don't worry about me." He pointed to himself. "You iced Joe?"
I looked around.
"And things are going well?" He tilted his head to the guest room. "Dad said."
I nodded on both accounts.
Sonny slapped his hand to mine. "It'll be good, no worries."
I knew he meant everything—everything would be all right. "What do I do now?" Wondering how I could clean this up, I leaned toward him. "What should—"
"Nothing. You do nothing. You did what you did...Dad and I...we'll take care of it."
"Of course." I was sarcastic.
"Dad was able to convince Mom."
"Thank God." I let out a breath. "You didn't see how upset she was."
"You're her shining star . . . If you weren't in med school, she'd likely urge you to join the seminary." He widened his eyes. "Can you imagine what that revelation would do to her?"
"I guess." I shrugged.
"She knows how this shit works. Don't let her smiling, cookie-making, mothering ass fool you. She's just as lethal and cutthroat as Dad—maybe not as . . . close, though."
"What?" I was confused.
He put his hands up. "A story for another time." Regardless of what was going on, he wore a smile. "I wanted to talk to you about that other shit—last night?"
"What about it?" I didn't want to think about that at all.
He waved a hand. "I don't…I don't really give a shit anymore—another time. I'm exhausted."
"What happened with Katie?"
He huffed. "She was so upset…I put her to bed before I came here. She's at my place . . . Raul didn't take it well, not that I thought he would. He cried, threw shit . . . I was good, though. I didn't lose my temper. Aro tackled his ass to the ground."
I chuckled. "What else? Are you guys back together, what?"
"We're gonna take it one day at a time, figure shit out as we go, but…yes, we're together."
"Congrats, man." I gave him a hug. "I'm happy for you."
He patted my back, leaving the embrace. "Imma head out now. Just wanted to say wassup before I did." He scratched his head, looking behind me to the guest room.
I turned to see Amelia in the doorway, my t-shirt reaching her knees, and my sweats too big for her. She was adorable. "Hi." She waved to Sonny.
"'Sup?" He put his hand up. "I'm out."
"All right." I watched him go down the hall, and then turned back to Amelia.
"My close friends call me Amy . . . I just wanted you to know that."
I grinned. "I like Amelia . . . people call me Dame."
"I heard." She stared down to her feet. Her socks were pink with purple polka dots—cute as fuck.
"Did you…maybe wanna watch TV, or…?" I wasn't sure if she was tired, wired, or what.
"Sure. We can do that."
After putting the TV on in the downstairs den—away from everyone and the bedrooms—I left her with the remote to find something. It wasn't too late. At only a quarter past eleven, I entered the kitchen for some sodas. Mom and Dad sat with Aro, drinking coffee and chatting. Kylie and Peto were nowhere to be found.
"Damion." Mom left the table.
"I'm fine." I didn't want her to apologize or feel badly about what she did, no matter how badly I felt about it.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm okay," I said. "You don't hit that hard."
"I should have had more faith in you." She held my hand. "I just—I thought…well, I don't want you to know what I thought." She chuckled nervously.
Looking over her head, I saw that Dad was mouthing some shit to me. I couldn't make it out, but then Aro snapped his fingers toward Mom before he hugged himself.
"It's okay." I wrapped my arms around my mother. "I know you didn't mean it." I rubbed her back.
She hummed, holding me tightly. "I love you, baby."
"Love you, too." I went to let go, but she wouldn't. "Mom…?"
"Sorry." She smiled, going back to the table.
"I should get going . . . Peto!" Aro shouted for his son. "We're leaving!"
I grabbed two sodas out the fridge along with some chips from the cupboard.
"Oh, I should make sure Amelia is set," Mom said, about to leave her seat.
Dad stopped her. "Dame's got it—you gave her some sweats?"
I nodded. "We'll be downstairs." I went to leave.
"Hold up." Aro caught me. "Thank you." I got a hug from him, too. "I appreciate what you did, Dame."
I nodded, standing there awkwardly.
"We'll meet for lunch this week." He punched my shoulder. "I'll have something for you."
I furrowed my brow, looking to Dad. He silently rubbed his thumb to his fingertips, indicating money. "Oh…" Aro didn't have to pay me.
"You did good, kid." He met up with Peto in the hall, and then I heard them leave.
All of which just invited Kylie to come into the kitchen, still crying her eyes out. "He's leaving tomorrow, and then what just happened . . . I can't—not—without him." She broke down.
"Oh, honey." Mom ran to her. "We all had a long day. . . You'll see Peto before he leaves. But let's go put you in bed . . . You guys can hang out all day tomorrow." She ushered my sister down the hall.
"You all right?" Dad asked.
I found myself smiling. "Yes."
"That was some shit I saw."
"It was just a kiss." I tried to be nonchalant.
"All right." He nodded. "It looked like more than that, but OK." He rose from his chair, coming toward me. "Who were you tonight?"
For the first time since it happened, I thought about that. "Damion."
"And…?" He was waiting for something—something I couldn't give him.
Because even if I was myself, nothing was different.
I still didn't feel bad for ridding the world of Joe, although there was no thrill in doing it either.
Deep down, I knew I had a choice.
Joe didn't have to die.
But he did anyway.
Because I wanted him dead.
And I wouldn't make any apologies for that.
"It is what it is…" I trailed off, on my way out the kitchen. "Plus . . . you would have done it anyway."
He nodded.
I stepped closer to him. "I'm glad I didn't scare her away."
"If you didn't tonight, you probably won't . . . that should tell you something."
I didn't understand what he meant. "Uh, well, that shit with Mom…"
"Women don't care about that shit."
"What?"
He smiled. "You think you were punked by your mother, her doing it in front of your girl. But . . . women don't give a fuck about that shit. It's inconsequential. If anything, her heart broke for you. Understand?"
I didn't. "Okay."
"What you did by the theater? That proved how big your balls are . . . taking a hit from your moms? That makes 'em even bigger." He guffawed but composed himself quickly.
I quirked a brow. "Did you smoke again?"
"Yeah, but you scared me straight when you called, so…" He grabbed Amelia's nine from his back. "This is nice. Your mother used to have one just like this." He handed it back. "Silencer soldered on . . . it's illegal, assasin's pistol. I thought about getting one for Kylie . . . but it'd just scare the shit outta her."
I placed the soda in the crook of my arm to hide the nine under my tank.
"I'll do my best to keep your mother from disturbing youse." He gave me a look, almost conspiratorial. "And in the morning, you can drive Amelia home—meet her father."
"Okay," I said. "But I know Luke . . . in passing from the club—"
"That was before . . . show your respect, talk to him as Shorty's pops." He shrugged. "You know how fast things go around here."
I laughed. "I know you work your magic—get things to go quickly. People are willing to move mountains for the Skip."
"Yeah, well . . . two weeks, two years—fuck it." His eyes were glazed over, and he wore the widest smile. Then he shook his head, looking back to me. "You have to follow your gut, always."
"Uh . . ." His message was cryptic and, again, confusing. "What are we talking about?"
He walked to me, turning the kitchen light off. "You'll know . . ." He patted my back. "Goodnight."
"'Night." I shook my head, watching him go. He disappeared into Kylie's room, and then I ran downstairs.
Amelia was curled up in a blanket on the couch. Saturday Night Live was on, the room was dark despite the TV, and it looked like she was asleep.
Slightly disappointed, I placed the snacks down and sat next to her, wondering if I should wake her up or bring her up to the guest room. "Amelia," I whispered, practically breathed.
"You up?" I asked, moving the blanket to see her face. Her eyes were closed, she was breathing evenly, but then she stirred.
I backed up so it didn't look like I was in her face, even if I was waiting with bated breath for her to open those pretty brown eyes.
"Sorry." She cleared her throat, sitting up.
"No…" I waved it off. "It's been a long day."
She grinned. "It has…" She rested her head back.
"You like SNL?" I asked. "It's one of my favorite shows."
"Mine, too," she said, folding her legs under herself.
Content, I kept my eyes on the television, even if I felt all this tension to my left. It was an odd feeling, almost like someone was staring at me, only Amelia watched the screen, too. She was awake now, but I didn't want to excuse her—say it was okay she go to bed, no matter how tired she was.
I was selfish, wanting to spend every second I could with her. "There's soda…" I hoped the caffeine would wake her up.
"Thanks." She never went for it, but then giggled—actually paying attention to the show. I laughed a light laugh along with her, pretending that I was doing the same.
Leaning back, I placed my feet on the coffee table. "Oh, this belongs to you." I handed her the nine.
She grimaced, delicately taking it from me. "Should I get rid of this?"
"Probably," I whispered, reaching out to hold a lock of her hair. "Crazy night, huh?"
"Tonight . . . I didn't see anything." She raised a brow. "That's what I'll tell my father and anyone who asks me."
"Okay." I didn't know what to say to that. "That's probably wise."
She nodded, looking down to her lap.
Swallowing my nerves, I said, "We should go to lunch tomorrow, before I take you home?"
"I'd like that." She grinned from over her shoulder, that same coy smirk was back—the one that threatened to drive me crazy.
"A do-over?" I asked. "Anywhere you wanna go—Manhattan's not off limits either."
"There's a place in Jersey that has the best sandwiches—"
"No." I leaned toward her a bit. "I meant, like a date. We could try this again."
"Sure . . . But Harold's really has great sandwiches," she giggled. "A date is what you make of it. It's not all . . . flowers and expensive restaurants."
"You said you've dated," I paused, "you go on a lot of dates?"
"I said I didn't." She pulled the blanket up.
"Oh . . . but I'd say you're an expert. I don't think I've ever been on a date before. I was with Julie—" I hated that I said her name, but Amelia didn't frown or anything, "since we were kids. We'd go out for occasions . . . I'm afraid I wasn't the best boyfriend."
Amelia hummed.
Compelled, I kept talking. "We morphed into—into friends who'd fuck sometimes." I shrugged, my face falling, because the only relationship I'd ever had was garbage. She may not realize it now, but Julie did the right thing. We eventually loved each other, yet even I knew Julie was never in love with me either. We fear the unknown, and we were never alone.
"Why—why did she break up with you?"
I sighed. "She thought I was cheating."
"Were you?"
"Nope," I said. "I was taught . . . that if I wasn't happy in a relationship to leave, not sleep around. Plus, karma . . . I'd hate to be done dirty. You know?"
She nodded. "I do."
"I also respected her. But…I'd sneak away. I had shit to do sometimes—things she wouldn't understand, things I couldn't tell her." I looked back to the TV.
Amelia hit my leg. "I hate to sound cliché, but her loss is my gain."
I chuckled. "How much wine did you have with dinner?"
"Shut up." She got me with a pillow.
"You'll see tomorrow, and then you'll be like, 'Yuck! I kissed that loser'." I tried to mimic her, which made her laugh loudly.
"Never."
"Okay…" I just smiled at her. I couldn't help it.
"Um." She turned back to the TV, my staring making her uncomfortable.
Realizing that, and not interested in SNL at all, I sat back again—promising to behave myself as I closed my eyes and tried to think of things to say. At least if I was being awkward or quiet, I had an excuse, pretending to be asleep. Then she'd speak up—ask me something—and I'd open my eyes.
When the couch dipped beside me, I got nervous—wondering if she was going to leave. I was about to open my eyes, but then I felt her. She scooted to straddle my lap, resting her hands around my neck.
"Hi," I said, reaching for her gorgeous face.
She grinned. "Hey."
Our kisses were soft and chaste . . . at first. But my hands had a mind of their own—pulling her hair, holding her close, the tightest I could, never wanting to let go, and yet roaming down her back.
When I reached into her sweats and grabbed her ass to push her down onto me, I paused—my misdeeds from the night before coming back to haunt me. The last thing I wanted to do was fuck things up with Amelia.
Our lip-lock, now frenzied, carried on, but then…
Amelia pulled back, her lips still pursed, to take off my glasses. "Look at you." She rubbed my cheek.
I took my glasses from her to toss them onto the coffee table.
"You're—you're so handsome." She moved her hips, creating a friction.
I grasped her face, bringing her back to me. "You're gorgeous, funny, honest…Please tell me you're real," I whispered.
"I am." She pushed her tits into my chest. "Maybe we should stop . . . we're in your parents' house." She kept her tone hushed, too.
"They went to bed, but I get it. We can—" I brought her over to my side, which made her smile wide, "stop." I patted her head. "Be good."
She laughed and hit my arm. "You know what I mean."
"I do," I agreed and pulled her into me. "We can snuggle . . . if that's cool."
"Definitely." She curled into my side.
She smelled amazing, although I didn't know the perfume. "What are you wearing? Your perfume?" I sniffed her, fast and close like I was a dog.
"Happy," she giggled, holding my face, and I couldn't believe how chill, how awesome this was. I wasn't uncomfortable anymore, just wary—wanting and needing to behave.
We both got quiet again. I had my arm draped over her, and we lay on the couch. She was on her back, half-under me, and I rested my head on my palm. Without my glasses, I couldn't see the TV for shit. But fuck, there was no way I was moving to grab them. She was soft, her curves fitting perfectly to my body.
A few minutes later, Amelia let out a low groan, and something caught my eye. She'd clamped her thighs closed before she turned over. "You call that cuddling? This is cuddling." She inched her ass into my middle, leaving her back to me.
"Whichever way . . . I just like having you here." I caught myself—I didn't squeeze the hip I so desperately wanted to, nor did I push my half-wood into her ass. But my eyes did find her earlobe, and I nuzzled my nose to it—just under her ear, placing a soft kiss on her neck.
She sighed, tilting her head and exposing more of her skin. I kissed along her neck, and she reached back to hold my head there. My lips trailed across her cheek and found her mouth . . .
"Christ . . . you're driving me crazy."
"You?" I asked in disbelief, going in to explore her mouth. She moaned into mine, trying to pull me on top of her. That's when I stopped. "Hey, uh—"
"What's wrong?" she panted, trying to sit up.
I was still semi-pinning her down.
"Everything okay?" Her eyes widened. "Oh, you're not ready. I'm so stupid."
I laughed. "I don't know what guys you know, but we're always ready—"
"I meant because of your break-up."
"Me too." I pecked her lips. "I just—I don't wanna do something…" I held her chin, gazing into her eyes.
She shook her head. "You won't."
"Something you might regret." I placed another gentle kiss on her lips.
"I won't." She smiled. "You dig honesty, right?"
"I do," I said, pushing her bangs out of her eyes, and kissing her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, and then her lips once more. "I'm sorry."
"It's nice," she whispered. "And . . . whether or not you call me tomorrow, or the next day . . . I want you now, more than, more than I've ever wanted anyone." She gulped, looking away, fisting my shirt.
"I'd call," I nodded, turning her back to me, "tomorrow, the day after, next week . . ." Then I realized something. "How long has it been?"
"Like . . . almost a year."
"Okay." I leaned away from her, thinking and resting my forearm to my head. I knew I was getting ahead of myself. But if the reality of it was that we'd fuck and that'd be it, then I didn't want that.
And who said that had to be it?
She appeared in my face. "Hey…it's okay. We don't have to—"
"Shhh." I touched her mouth, tracing her bottom lip. "I want to make you feel good. I want to hear you say my name, make you come…but if—"
"I won't tell you to stop." She grasped my hand, placing it on her breast.
I palmed and squeezed, making her hiss. "Take this off."
She shook her head. "I'll take my bra off, but—"
I sucked my teeth, hating that we were here and not somewhere private. "I can't fuck you the way I want to."
"How's that?" She turned, reaching back, but then I helped her, unclasping and running my hands up her bare back. Her skin was smooth, like silk under my fingertips. Amelia hummed, a slight shiver making her tremble.
"First, I want you naked . . . I need to see all of you." I kissed the side of her neck. "So I can play with these tits." My hands traveled to her front, lightly grazing her nipples with my palms. "I'd pinch and pull like this…" My touch was firm, yanking those fuckers with some force. I didn't mean to be as rough, but she dug it.
"Fuck." She melted against me. "What else…" She held my head to her.
I nipped at her jaw, claiming that mouth again while my fingers tweaked her nipples. They were a nice size—not crazy big or small, her tits fit perfectly in the palms of my hands. "Are you wet?"
Amelia's eyes never left mine as she grabbed my hand and put it down my pants she was wearing, under her panties.
My chest was tight with just how excited I was, and yet my touch was gentle this time. My finger lightly slid down her lips. They were soft, her pussy bare, and she was soaked. "Yeah, you are… Because of me?" I whispered.
"Yes." Amelia spread her legs, grabbing the blanket to quickly cover us.
Now that she was open, my finger had more places to explore. She hissed when my thumb passed her clit. "You like that?"
"Yeah." She shook for a second.
It made me smile. "Can I finger you?"
"Christ—Damion." She grabbed my hand, making my finger enter her. "Fuck."
Yeah, fuck, I agreed—she was snug.
My head dipped to the side, coming around to kiss that mouth—my finger moving in and out of her at a slow pace, my thumb tracing circles, and my other hand was under her shirt, pulling her nipple.
And I was in heaven, with her just sitting between my legs here on the couch.
When she started clawing at me, her legs the widest they could go, she moaned through her nose and yet into my mouth. "Oh God…" Her hips bucked, and I increased pressure and speed—quickly inserting another finger. "Shit." She held my hand, which was knuckles deep while her pussy milked my fingers. "Fuck." Her hips rose, came back down, and then up . . .
Amelia was coming and fucking my hand at the same time, which was the hottest thing ever.
Her come face was gorgeous, and I couldn't take my eyes off her—content to stare into her eyes. Meanwhile, I wanted to calm down. I got her off, made her happy, made her smile . . . My heart was threatening to beat right out of my chest, and I needed to be stopped, or slapped back into reality.
"That was—that was amazing," she said.
I didn't reply, my hand still cupping her pussy.
She caught my gaze, her chest still heaving. "Kiss me."
My hand left her, grasping onto her biceps to bring her up to me. She wrapped her arms around me, and then she started kissing up, down, and around my neck.
My eyes rolled back with a flutter, turning away—to give her more access. But she lifted my tank away from me. I let her take it off, and then her lips trailed lower—licking, biting, and kissing my chest.
Afraid to make the wrong move, I kept my hands high—pushing and playing with her hair. It tickled my skin and felt crazy good.
She kept scooting lower and lower until she palmed my dick. Without words, or any confirmation from me, she lifted me out of my sweats.
She could have me, I thought.
"I was right." She jacked my dick, and my body jolted—her hand was fan-fucking-tastic. That was, until she placed her mouth on me. She took me back slow while I held my breath—the visual alone threatening to make me come. Her eyes met mine, and my cock hit her tonsils.
"You're beautiful," I managed to say, rubbing her cheek with my thumb, encouraging her to take it all.
She pulled back, moaning, only to come back down, using her hand to jack what she couldn't fit in her mouth.
Ready to explode, my body cringed back, grasping onto her arm and pulling her up again. "Shit . . ."
She giggled. "I was enjoying myself."
I blew out a slow breath, taking my hands off her. "Let's calm down a second." Truthfully, I was about to blow my load.
"It's okay . . . let me get you off." She grinned, rubbing her hands up my chest, biting my chin.
My lips caught hers, and I wanted to devour her. Our kisses became crazy, sloppy. We were both making noises, our bodies rocking together, and I hoped no one heard.
But then, I didn't give a fuck.
I tossed Amelia onto her back, and then pulled her sweats away. Her pussy was beautiful, bare, glistening in the light glow of the television. My hand went back there, and she was even wetter—my fingers riding that slippery slope.
"Damn." I grunted, pushing her t-shirt up with my nose and then my teeth. Her tits were perfect, and her nipples tasted amazing—like Amelia with a hint of that Happy perfume. "Can I fuck you?" I barely got the words out.
"Yes." She moaned, digging her nails into my shoulders.
Amelia kept trying to keep us covered with that blanket, but I didn't give a shit. My cock was still hanging out of my pants, so I grasped it, easing my hips between her thighs.
I held myself up, leaning my hand on the arm of the couch, reaching over her. "You're sure?" I briefly thought about running upstairs for a condom. But then I realized that I just didn't give a fuck—not right now. And if she wasn't worried . . . maybe I had no reason to be either.
"Fuck, Damion—" She sat up, crashing her mouth to mine. Her hands grabbed at me, pulled me closer and closer, until my dick was perched against her pussy.
I paused, stopped kissing her, and leaned my forehead to hers. I wanted to see her—the face she'd make.
"Damion—" She squirmed.
And I pushed forward, entering her with ease. Her shit was tight, but she was so fucking wet, I glided right in—needing a minute. "You—" I gulped, afraid for my life. What was this woman doing to me?
"Christ…you feel…oh my God." She hugged my head to her neck.
I rested there, slowly moving my hips.
And each time I'd dig into her, I'd go deeper and deeper.
"Faster!"
"No." I stopped, making her look at me. "Be quiet." My hips picked up the pace a little.
"Oh, fuck—"
I groaned, placing my hand over her mouth as I went faster. She loved that shit—moaning, humming, my name sounding all muffled and yet perfect.
And she was an enigma to me.
She saw what I'd done.
Amelia didn't see me ice Joe, but she was there before it happened. She saw me splattered with Joe's blood. She helped me. She didn't run—and she saw more of me, more of Damion, than anyone else ever had. Maybe we hadn't talked much, maybe I didn't say much, but she knew . . .
And she was under me, would be screaming in ecstasy if I moved my hand . . .
All because of what I was doing.
Something like a growl vibrated from my chest as I picked up her leg, bringing it over my shoulder—I couldn't get close enough, I couldn't get in deep enough, and I wanted more, so much-fucking-more.
"Damion." It was a whine, and I thought she was going to cry, but then I felt her grip me even tighter, felt her pulsating around me. Her head was thrown back, her chin up, her mouth open, her eyes closed . . . and then she let out a squeak, which I thought was—not only sexy—but adorable. "I'm yours . . ."
That brought me back down to earth. "What?" I was out of breath from holding it, in awe of her.
"Oh, I dunno." She started rocking against me.
"You're mine?" I asked, reaching between us, slowing down, and playing with her clit. "Tell me."
"Damion…yes." She swallowed, blowing out a breath.
"Watch yourself . . . I might keep you." I hoped that was an option.
"Promise?" She sat up, pushing me.
I nodded, falling back so she could straddle me. "Make yourself come again." My hands lifted her shirt, my mouth attacking her breasts.
"Oh, yes . . ." She scratched down my back, picking up a rhythm with her hips.
The way they rolled . . .
"Um…" She'd slowed. "Fuck—" And that wasn't a good one.
"What?" I asked, hoping no one was behind us.
She pushed against me. "I'm stupid—I mean, I'm on the pill."
"I'm clean." I rushed out, hoping she was, too. But who was I kidding? As long as my dick fell off afterward—after we fucked . . .
"Thank Christ—me too." She kissed me roughly, passionately . . . "It's been forever. Oh my God," she whined, sounding squeaky and out of breath. "I was tested, and I haven't been with—with anyone in—"
"Shut the fuck up." My hands ran up her back, up to her shoulders, and then down—holding her, my hips matching hers. "Shit." She just felt too good.
"Come inside me," she whispered, nibbling my ear. "I want it—I want you—I want—I want—" She threw her head back, only to come down on me hard. "Fuck."
My heart stopped, my body in a brief state of shock. Overcome with that, so excited, fucking thrilled by her request, I growled, throwing her back down. My cock found her fast, and I fucked her against the couch. She was practically squashed by me, but she was fine—going just as wild as I was.
It was perfect . . .
She was perfect . . .
Her pussy . . . my-fucking-God.
"Amelia…" I was going to come, felt the fire starting and spreading from my gut. With one, two, three long, mad-hard strokes, I pulled her hair—gaining access to her neck before I bit down. I needed to—to muffle my scream, which didn't stop her from moaning out a loud one when I came.
FUCK . . . I thought, and that was about it.
My mind blank for nearly the first time ever.
"Hmmm." She planted this rough, forceful kiss on my lips. "Damion...Damion...Damion. My God."
I huffed out breath after breath into her neck. "Shit." Even in the dark, I could see where I marked her.
"What?" she asked.
I pulled out and lifted my pants, and then I sat back. "I—I'm sorry."
"For what?" She pushed her shirt down, covering herself. "That was—that was . . ." she laughed.
I shook my head, pointing. "I—you have—" It was a cross between a hickey and a large bite. "I left a mark."
She cupped her neck. "Maybe—maybe Kylie has a turtleneck?" She was a genius.
"I bet she does." I nodded, grabbing her sweats from the floor.
After helping her into them, she excused herself to the bathroom. While she was gone, I started to straighten up the den. There were pillows everywhere, a fucking wet spot on the sofa, and there was jizz on that blanket. Shit. It's not even like I could turn the cushion over. The other side didn't match.
I had to sneak up into the kitchen for paper towels.
"Yo!"
"Ahhh!" I screamed like a girl. "You scared the shit out of me."
My father laughed at me.
"What are you doing up?" Maybe Sonny had experience in this department, but I didn't. I never had the nerve, or the opportunity to get lucky in this house. Julie's parents were never home, so we'd go there.
"Couldn't sleep," he muttered, going into the fridge.
"Mom up?" I was nervous as fuck when I should be rejoicing.
He shook his head. "She took a pill. She knocked out a while ago." He jerked his chin. "What's with all the paper towels?"
"I spilled my soda...on the couch."
"Downstairs?" He wore a sad grimace. "That's the nice one."
"I'm sorry."
He waved a hand, leaving the kitchen with his bottle of water.
Not sure what I was worried about, I thanked God we had a huge house. Chances are no one heard us and it was all in my head. If anything, Mom would have heard . . .
I thanked the Lord for Ambien as I went back to the den.
Amelia was sipping from the can of Pepsi when I entered.
"Hey."
She smiled at me, but then her face fell, looking about the room. "I can't believe we did this."
The sofa was fucked. "Yeah."
While I took the blanket into the garage—to bury it under a bunch of dirty towels—Amelia blotted the cushion with the paper towels.
"That was from you," I said, smirking and sitting next to her.
"No way."
"Yup." I pulled her into my side, because I didn't care about that shit anymore. "Sleep in my room."
"Oh . . . I can't. It's bad enough—"
"Then we'll stay here." I trapped her, wrapping both of my legs around her. "Pretend we fell asleep watching TV."
She turned in my arms. "I feel like I've known you longer than just today." For some reason she looked sad.
"I know what you mean." I wasn't sure if we were on the same page, but I knew I liked her a lot more than just meeting her at dinner.
She kissed my forehead. "Your mother likes me, and I'd hate to lose her respect." She slid away, getting onto her feet. "Walk me up to my room?"
I nodded, dragging my lazy ass away from the couch.
We had to be crazy quiet when we got upstairs, and I did linger by her door—hoping she'd open up and pull me in.
When a few minutes turned creepy, I left—grabbing my cigarettes to go outside. It'd been hours since I had one, and I was dying. Yet, I didn't notice while I was with Amelia.
It was colder than it was earlier, but I was good—still a little overheated and yet I wore a tank.
Under the stars, I lay on the grass—content to smoke, my mind blank.
And I was truly happy—like her perfume—for the first time in a long time.
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