by Tempest Phan
“It isn’t much.” His teeth grazed his spider bites.
Falling tears blinding me, I placed a finger on his lips to quiet him. “It is everything, Dame. Everything.”
I loved him so.
Of one thing I was certain, and it was this: Damien was mine.
Why wouldn’t he see?
Bella
The next two months flew by. We walked side by side at our graduation. My dad and Lynda were there for me. I was there for Damien. And all too soon, it was the day before I had to leave for Stanford. My dad, who’d had to fly out earlier in the week for an important discussion with Stone Law, wouldn’t see me off because he’d be waiting for me there to help me settle into an apartment right off campus. Leave it to Michael Davenport to make his only child’s departure from her childhood home at once impersonal and personal.
Dame and I walked quietly up the stone steps to my house. I could feel the panic and desperation grip my heart. I wouldn’t see him again. I’d go my own way, live my life, and he wouldn’t be a part of the day-to-day like he’d been this year. My father had made sure of it.
And Dame? He’d go on and live his life, perhaps get used to me not being in it. It had happened before, hadn’t it? I reached out and gripped his hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze.
I opened the front door, and we went upstairs. Once we were in my bedroom, my streaming station switched on automatically, as it always did at this time of day, cushioning our silence with soft background music.
I turned around and threw myself into Damien’s arms. I couldn’t help it.
“Shhhh, baby. It’s ok.” The tremor in his deep voice betrayed his own emotions.
“It’s not. We’ve been through this before. We say we’ll write, but we won’t. You’ll move on and forget all about me. And I just can’t handle knowing that.” I buried my face deeper into his chest, hating my weakness, hating the tears that fell in disgusting rivulets uncontrollably onto his shirt.
He placed a gentle finger under my chin and tilted my head to look into my eyes. His own were stormy.
“I promise. I’ll write. I’ll visit. I promise you, baby girl. Won’t be like last time.”
“You say that.”
“I mean it. Don’t hold me to what I did as a child. This is different.”
The tears continued to fall. He gently wiped them off.
“Already, I miss you,” I whispered.
Because I love you. My heart screamed. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t hear it.
“Shhhhh.” Tenderly he leaned down to kiss my forehead.
I pulled away and took his hand. “I have something for you.” I led him to the bed before walking away to my closet. I came out with a big package in my arms.
He immediately knew.
“Oh Bella,” he whispered, his eyes shattering.
“Open it,” I said softly as I placed it on his lap and kneeled in front of him, my hands laced together.
Fingers trembling, he gently pulled back the wrapping paper. Underneath was a black case.
“Oh Bella, Bella . . .”
“Open the case, Dame.”
He opened it to reveal his father’s guitar.
Shadows of tears were now gathering in his eyes, and etched on his perfect face was a love so deep and unconditional I wondered how I would ever live the rest of my life without it.
He gently set the guitar aside and came down to my level to wrap me in his strong arms.
His eyes found mine. “You got it fixed, baby doll. It’s fixed. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he choked out.
“Nothing is ever so broken that it can’t be fixed.” Tears were gliding down my cheeks.
I reached out to trace his sharp cheekbones before pulling his head down.
Tiptoeing?
No, no more.
I kissed him with all the love and desperation I felt. I should have been ashamed, but I wasn’t. I’d leave the shame and regrets for the many days to come without him.
He pulled back. “Oh, Bella baby. No, no.” He was shaking his head.
“Dame, make love to me,” I whispered.
He pushed completely away from me and turned around, his hand on his face.
“You don’t want me, do you?” Another whisper. My heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces, floating around in my blood, choking me up.
He turned to look at me, his eyes piercing mine, darkened with desire, and I saw my own despair reflected in their depths.
“Look at me,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Look at me!” he nearly shouted this time when I turned away, his near-shout a sound so foreign that it took me aback.
His voice down to a whisper, he said, “Does this look like I don’t want you? I want you.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I’ve wanted you since the first day I came back into this damn town. If I’m honest, I’ll say that I have always wanted you, that I have always craved you. I feel sick with how much I’ve always craved you. You’re everything that’s good in this world, baby girl.” He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Every. Fucking. Thing.” He reopened his eyes, and I was trapped inside the desperation reflected in their depths. “When I feel like I’m drowning in how ugly this fucking place is, all I need to do is think of you. You’re everything, baby. And I cannot mess that up. I cannot. Not any more than I already have.”
“Dame,” I whispered.
He continued, “You think I’m immune? If you only knew the filthy things I dream of doing to you. These thoughts terrify me, Bella.”
His admission, his hard body emboldened me. I inched closer to him and grabbed his face in my hands.
“Dame, I’m not fragile. You don’t need to put me on a pedestal. I want you as much as you want me. Maybe more.”
He just closed his eyes tightly, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Not possible.”
“And I’m not asking you to marry me,” I joked. “Just to touch me.”
He opened his eyes, staring me down for what seemed like ages. I could see all the emotions warring inside him through the true blue of his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” he said finally.
“Not that hard. Just touch me, make love to me. Like I’m one of your girls . . .”
He laughed bitterly, the sound wrapping around me like a dark fraying ribbon. “You’re not like one of my girls and you know it.”
The ribbon of darkness tightened around my heart.
He grabbed my hand and pushed it away from his face. “I don’t make love to those girls. I fuck them. I take what I need. They take what they need. There’s no love there,” he spat out, his voice darkness and shadows, daring me to be shocked.
“Then just fuck me.” The words just came out, shocking me. But Dame and me, couldn’t we simply be a fling?
I no longer cared about our future. All I knew was that in the morning, I wouldn’t see him again. And if I couldn’t have Damien forever, I’d take what I could tonight.
My words ignited the fuse between us. It had always been there. All we’d needed was a match. He growled a low, guttural sound, and his mouth came down hard on mine, the cold steel of his rings pressing against my lips before his tongue invaded my mouth violently, punishing. My knees buckled. He broke the kiss and swooped me into his arms.
“I know I shouldn’t accept. I should turn around and run from you, but fuck, I just can’t tonight. I’m not strong enough to continue saying no for the both of us. I spent all year saying no. I can’t anymore. I fucking can’t.” He carried me to my bed and gently set me down. In one impatient motion, he removed his hoodie and shirt. I gingerly touched his sculpted, naked chest, gently tracing the outline of his tattoos, stopping on the gothic B etched over his heart. He stopped me, grabbed my hand, and gently brought it to his lips where he pressed a light kiss on it.
“Turn back, baby doll,” he said, his voice husky. “I’m too weak to stop for the two of us unless you tell me to . . . but if you tell
me to, I’ll stop.” He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against mine. “Say no, baby. Please say no.” He pulled back and pinned me down with his eyes. “Say it so we can stop this madness.”
“I don’t want to stop. Just tonight. I’m not asking for forever, Dame. Just tonight.”
“We will regret it. It’s not right. It can’t mean anything because I couldn’t handle it if it did. There is no future where this makes any sense.” With trembling fingers, he gently brushed stray strands from my forehead. “No future, and so we will regret it,” he said with finality, caught in his strange mythology, his strange superstitions, before bending down to kiss me. This time, his kiss was gentle and soft, as if he were trying to imprint this moment in his mind.
In the background, HIM’s Resurrection was playing, its dark lyrics the perfect soundtrack to this cataclysmic moment.
Would I regret it? Of course I would. But I would regret not experiencing this—him—even more. I kissed him back with all the desperation and hunger I felt, until we were both breathing hard and he was moaning deep in his throat. He broke our kiss to peel my shirt off. I raised my arms to help him. Softly he caressed me, whisper light touches down my throat, over my bra, down my navel, making me shiver and ache for him. Gently his fingers found the hook of my bra, which he removed, hands trembling, and tossed impatiently aside.
“My precious, precious Bella. You don’t know how often I’ve dreamt of seeing you, all of you. Of doing this to you. Of being the first to,” he whispered before bending down to kiss my neck, my chest. When his hot mouth closed on my erect nipple, I whimpered from all the heat radiating down my body and pooling at the juncture of my thighs. He licked the hardened tip, took it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine, doing to my heart, my mind, what his mouth was doing to my body. He then moved to the other breast, sucking, squeezing, scraping, tugging, biting until I couldn’t take it anymore. He tore himself away from my chest to travel down the long of my abdomen, pressing featherlight kisses against my feverish skin. He unbuttoned my jeans and started to pull them down. I raised my hips to help him. I could feel that my cotton panties were soaked through. He blew lightly on me, teasing me. He bent down to kiss the core of my want, his tongue playing through the fabric of my underwear. I squirmed, wanting more, wanting to feel his mouth directly on me. I was dying.
“You’re so beautiful, baby girl. So beautiful. And so fucking wet for me.” Breath-stealing, dirty whispers that cut to the heart of me, that made me weak in the knees, that made me want to fall apart.
He took his mouth off me, tucked two fingers inside my panties and slicked them down my pussy, before bringing them to his lips and sucking on them, his eyes never leaving mine. “You taste so damn good,” he rasped, pushing those fingers into my own mouth, making me lick them, too. But all I could taste was him, and he was delicious.
He grabbed me, crushing me down onto his lap. I could feel his erection through his jeans and instinctively, I sought it, grinding against him, wanting to feel more. He groaned.
“I want you, Dame.” In response he grabbed my head for a soul-searing kiss, drowning me in a maelstrom of sensations, making me want more, more. Making me want everything. I continued to rock my hips against him, rubbing, riding him as if he were inside me. But he wasn’t, and neither of us could take this sweet torment any longer.
He shifted a little then put me down gently on the bed. In a haste, he removed my panties. I was soaking wet. He kissed me on the navel before finding his way lower, lower. His mouth closed in on me, the heat of his tongue punctuated by the cold of his spider bites. He stole from my lips a loud, breathless moan. It felt so good, and yet, not enough. I squirmed against him as he pushed me back down. He blew on me, soft, airy breaths, then his tongue found my clit and I went wild. He sucked on it, his eyes finding mine, dragging me in and not letting go, while I bucked my hips violently. I felt his finger go inside me, in and out, in and out. I rose to meet each thrust, loving the feeling of his finger fucking me while his mouth sucked me dry. I was losing it. But this wasn’t how I wanted it. I wanted him inside me. I pulled on his hair, trying to get him to come up on top of me, but he resisted me.
“Dame, Dame. I want you here with me.” The rush of pleasure told me I was on the brink of something, and I wanted him to share in this glorious moment with me.
But he wasn’t listening. He kept on sucking on me until finally I climaxed, crying out his name over and over again, exploding in a new sensation I had never known before.
When I finally came back down, his head was resting on my navel, and he was breathing heavily. I realized then, guiltily, that I’d been the only one to find release. He was still hard, shaking.
“Dame?”
“Shhhh, baby girl. Just give me a second.” He breathed out.
And suddenly I was furious with him. Furious that he had not joined me in this experience, that he steadfastly hung on to some definition of honor that I couldn’t understand. I didn’t need him to play the gentleman. I wanted him. If this was a one-night stand, then so be it.
I sat up. “What the hell was that?”
He laughed. “Well, if you need me to spell it out for you, sweetie, that was you having an orgasm.” He looked at me, eyes still smoldering. “And apparently, a really good one.”
He sounded so pleased with himself. I punched him in the shoulder. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. This isn’t what I wanted.”
He leaned back against the wall and brought the heels of his palms against his eyes, rubbing them. “I know. But I can’t give you what you want. You will hate me . . .”
“Where do you get off imposing what you think is best for me when we’d already agreed to it?”
“You’ll regret it because it can’t be more. Because it is already too much.”
“I’m just looking for a one-night stand so I don’t head off to college wondering what the fuss is all about. It won’t mean anything,” I lied.
He looked at me and I saw devastation in his eyes. Good. I wanted him to hurt as badly as I did, wanted his heart to feel like someone had taken a fork to it and slowly shredded it. Because that’s how mine felt.
His eyes were tortured, and he shut them again.
My heart broke all over, but I swept the pieces away. Today, I would live in this moment.
“Just once, Dame. I’m not asking for forever. Tonight won’t count. Let me love you this once.”
I climbed onto his lap, facing him. He was still rock hard, and his erection slid against me. I could feel desire drumming though my veins again. I rubbed against him, grabbed his hand and placed it on the resurging ache between my thighs. He closed his eyes as if he were in pain.
“Fuck me. I want you to be my first. You don’t have to be my last,” I whispered, shocking myself that I could lie so easily.
“One time to last us a lifetime,” he said finally, and then groaned and rolled over, taking me with him, pinning me down. I reached down to unbuckle his jeans. Our impatient fingers met, and he quickly got out of his jeans and boxer briefs. Suddenly, there was no barrier between us, and I could feel his sizeable erection on top of me. I reached down to tentatively caress it, feeling the satin against steel for the first time, trembling as he growled softly at my touch. All I would have to do was wiggle just so and he would be in me.
“Wait, hang on. I want to make sure you’re ready.” He placed a kiss on my nose and then flipped me over as he trailed kisses along my shoulders, down my back, all the way to my butt. He massaged it. Kissed it. Bit it. He tormented me until I was dripping wet again. Then from the back, his mouth found me. I lost all train of thoughts. I couldn’t think. I could only feel. My body was a pool of sensations almost too intense to bear. His lips tugged on me. His tongue lapping as I dripped against him. He growled, and that sound nearly pushed me over the edge again.
His mouth left me and somewhere in the distance, I heard the sound of ripping foil. I turned over to see him sheath on a
condom down his considerable length. Task done, he turned back to me.
I’d never seen him—or any man—naked, fully naked, before. He was long and thick, formidable in every way. And I knew without a doubt that tonight would ruin me in more ways than one.
He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me in for another toe-curling kiss. I was so hot for him, aching to feel him inside of me. He understood and raised himself up on his forearms, the tip of him just at my entry.
“Are you sure?” he whispered again, his eyes boring into mine.
“Yes,” I breathed out, and pulled him down.
He closed his eyes for a second, and when he reopened them, I saw resignation and desire reflected in their depths. “I know I shouldn’t but I’m not strong enough to stop,” he whispered as he pushed slowly into me, his eyes never leaving mine.
It was an odd, burning sensation, as he slowly stretched and filled me. Suddenly, an acute, piercing pain and I flinched, digging my nails into his back. He held still, the muscles in his arms straining, the veins popping as he held his weight above me.
“Baby, I’m sorry. Let me know,” he murmured, his eyes dark, so dark, as he continued to remain stone still.
The pressure eased a bit and I smiled at him, reaching up to gently caress his cheek, the stubble rough against my fingers.
How I loved him.
I moved slightly. The pain was replaced by pleasure unlike anything I’d ever felt. “I’m ok,” I said, and rolled my hips to prove it. The movement made him moan and he sank deeper into me. He continued to thrust slowly, with long deep strokes that filled me and brought me closer to climax each time. And his eyes never left me. In their depths I saw reflected exactly how I felt, too.
Despite what I’d said and asked for, he wasn’t fucking me like he fucked all those girls. He was making love to me with his body, with his eyes, with his heart. With each long stroke, he was telling me. With each movement into me, he was sharing his deepest, darkest secret. Through the darkened blue of his eyes, I could see. And I knew then and there that I was lost. After this, there would never be anyone but him for me. I closed my eyes against the bittersweet pain, and turned my face away from him as his last stroke hit the heart of me, making me gasp softly in the back of my throat and I came, vaguely hearing his release too as he bit out my name and poured himself into me.
