by Alexx Andria
The blunt head of his cock pressed against my wet center, prodding, searching, and I stiffened against the intrusion.
Think Charlie! Is this how you want to remember your first time?
I wanted my first time to be with someone I loved, cared for, and who felt the same about me.
Yeah, maybe it was old-fashioned and completely unrealistic but I wasn’t ready to let that illusion go. Not yet.
“Damon, please…stop! I’m a virgin!”
Time screeched to a halt as Damon heard me.
He blinked against the carnal haze. “A virgin? You mean…?” Flustered, he braced himself on his arms above me. “How…I mean…you’ve never?”
“Yes, as in I’ve never had sex,” I finished for him, blushing hard. I shifted and winced, my tied hands starting to lose blood flow. “Please…don’t force me to do this.”
“I’m not a fucking rapist,” Damon said but I wasn’t sure if he was saying it for my benefit or his.
Things had gotten out of control between us and neither of us knew how it’d happened.
But I couldn’t let him take my cherry.
“Fuck,” he groaned and pushed himself up, his cheeks flushed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”
And then grabbed his jeans and belt, stalking from the room, leaving me there on the bed, with my panties on the floor and my arms still tied behind my back.
My heart thundered in my chest as tiny pulses of pleasure continued to echo through my nerve endings as I tried to process what’d just happened between us.
I think a handshake would’ve been far safer.
Definitely less fluid-y.
Well, hell.
Now what?
I sure as hell hoped that he didn’t think we were dating now.
11
Damon
A fucking virgin?
I wiped at my mouth, still tasting Charlie on my lips. I won’t lie, it wasn’t a tragedy to have that sweet pussy scent lingering on my upper lip.
But fuck.
Was that why Davonte was so hot for the woman? A hot as fuck piece of ass like Charlie, untouched?
How was it possible?
Most girls in our circles lost their V card early, some as young as twelve.
I wasn’t into that but I knew it happened.
The cops couldn’t keep up with the shit that happened in the broken areas of Detroit.
Kids grew up fast because they had to when they lived beneath the poverty line.
Everything was for sale at some point.
So how in the sweet hell had Charlie managed to hold onto her cherry until now?
My cock ached but nothing was going to happen now.
Shit.
I shoved my hand through my hair, thoroughly agitated.
Right now, I was sitting on a powder keg of YOU’RE UP A CREEK and a fuckton of YOU’RE SCREWED.
So now what?
Well, I’d already crossed the line.
If Davonte wanted to kill me for punching him in the nose, he’ll want to tie my guts in a bow if he found out I’d just face planted in his most prized pussy.
I shifted against the flush of violence at the thought of anyone aside from me licking that tender meat and I knew I was fooling myself.
There was no way I could send her back.
I couldn’t explain it — maybe too many knocks to the head — but the facts were pretty damn obvious.
I wanted Charlie.
Did the reasons really matter?
I guess I was as bad as Davonte, wanting a woman who didn’t want me.
But unlike Davonte, I wasn’t going to force myself on her.
Not like that.
A kiss was one thing…taking a girl’s cherry was another all together.
That meant I’d better come up with a helluva Plan B for the both of us or we’d be sharing the same shallow grave.
I blew out a short breath, and once my dick had settled down, I returned to the bedroom, only to find Charlie on her belly, struggling to breathe.
Her pretty ass, plump and inviting.
There went my cock again.
“Goddamn it,” I muttered, striding to the bed to rescue her from suffocating. I scooped her up and sat her on the bed. “What the hell are you doing? Trying to kill yourself?”
Her face flushed from being face-down and she actually glowered at me as if I’d been the one to roll her over. “My arms were falling asleep! I was trying to take the pressure off, you idiot,” she hissed. “Untie me before I lose a hand.”
Time to get down to brass tacks. I pointedly ignored her bare legs and damp curls still on display but it wasn’t easy. “I’ll untie you but you gotta promise me no freaking out, you got it?”
“Just untie me.”
“Promise,” I repeated. I wasn’t stupid. “We need to talk and I don’t have time for your caterwaulin’.”
She blinked at me as if what I’d said was ludicrous but she agreed. “Fine. I promise. Just untie me, will you?”
I reached around her and quickly unknotted the telephone cord. She groaned and shook out her hands. I guess I had tied her up pretty tight.
“You okay?” I asked gruffly.
She ignored my question and scooped up her panties and pants, shoving past me to lock herself in the bathroom to dress.
I guess it made some sort of sense but I’d already seen the goods, so it was kinda moot, you know?
Still, it was a little cute that she was being so modest.
Well, if a screeching hellcat could be considered cute.
When she didn’t emerge in an appropriate time frame, I frowned and hollered, “Pinch it off. We got business to talk about.”
That got her to open the door. “You’re disgusting. I wasn’t…ugh…never mind.” She crossed her arms and glared. “Okay, talk.”
“You’re pretty bitchy for someone who just came as hard as they did. I thought that might soften your claws a little bit.”
She blushed to the roots of her red hair and if there’d been anything within reaching distance I probably would’ve been wearing it on my head.
But at least she’d shut up.
“This is how I see it…you’re right — I’m fucked. And now that I’ve…” I allowed my gaze to drop below her waist for emphasis “well, something tells me, I ain’t living this down. So, I guess we can team up and hope for the best, or we can go our separate ways and see who fares better. Your choice.”
“Oh, now you want to make a deal? That was my original plan, you fuckwit,” she retorted, her eyes flashing. “Obviously, working together is better than apart when we have a common enemy but then you were ready to package me up and deliver me like a Christmas turkey. I can’t trust you now.”
“Let’s be real…what made you think you could trust me before?”
I’d made a solid point.
She huffed a short breath, frustrated by her lack of options and my blunt question.
“Fine,” Charlie conceded, “maybe I was stupid to think I could trust you in the first place but that doesn’t exactly solve the dilemma, does it?”
“Let me make it simple for you…I don’t trust you, you don’t trust me, but together we’re going to try and not die. How’s that sound?”
“Deceptively simple,” she said warily. “Which means it’s anything but.”
I leaned back on my elbows, observing.
People watching had always been a favorite of mine. But I could watch Charlie all day and still want more.
Everything about her was alive.
Was that part of her charm?
She still pulsed with life when others had been beaten down, their spirits squashed.
“Why are you still a virgin?”
Charlie stared, shocked at my bald question. “That’s none of your business,” she finally sputtered in answer.
“I’ve tasted you, babe,” I told her with a smile at the memory. “I can still taste you on my tongue. You’re delicious, by the way.”
“Is that why Davonte is after you?” I asked, refusing to let it go.
“He doesn’t know that,” Charlie said stiffly. “That’s my personal business. It’s not like I tattooed it on my forehead.” She hesitated, then asked, “Why’d you do that?”
“Eat you like a juicy fruit?”
She nodded with a blush.
“I…hell, I don’t know. I guess if I’m going down, I might as well burn the house down as I go.”
Charlie flushed again at the words going down.
Damn, she was hot.
Collecting herself, she cleared her throat and declared that wasn’t happening again.
“Well, I’d appreciate it if we kept our relationship professional. No more…” she gestured to my mouth “of that.”
That was a tragedy. Charlie tasted like heaven, pineapples, pie and woman — the hottest combination I’d ever had in my mouth.
But I wasn’t going to force myself on her.
If she didn’t want my touch, so be it.
I grunted in agreement, getting back on topic before I could get pissed off by her rejection.
“If he didn’t know about your virginity…I don’t know why he’s so hard up over you. If we could figure out what makes him tick, maybe we could use it against him.”
“He’s a lunatic. I don’t try to puzzle out the actions of people like Davonte. I’ll never understand men like him. Or you, for that matter.”
To be lumped up with Davonte…yeah, that rubbed me wrong. Just a week ago, I might’ve been flattered. Now, it pissed me off.
“Lady, you’ve got a funny way of getting people to take your side.” I sat up. “I’m nothing like Davonte.”
“You’re a fighter, you bash people’s heads in for a living. Davonte manipulates people and destroys lives. You don’t see the similarity?”
“Not a fighter anymore,” I said, the words tasting bitter.
“Why not?”
“Shoulder injury.”
“And so they just cut you loose.”
“Pretty much.”
Her look of disgust wasn’t unexpected. “And these are the people you choose to hang with?”
“I don’t hang with no one.”
“Ah, lone wolf syndrome,” Charlie said dryly, leaning against the door jamb. She let out a long sigh. “Okay, so let’s just say for argument’s sake, I’m willing to work with you, what are you suggesting?”
I didn’t have a plan. I just didn’t want to die. At least not today and not by Davonte’s hand.
She looked at me like I was a big, dumb, sack of flour.
Maybe she was right.
“Look, I have an idea and if it works, we can not only walk away from all this but we can take down Davonte, too.”
That got my attention. “I’m listening.”
“Davonte owns The Underground because he’s got the money to own people’s lives but no one likes him. He’s a tyrant and he’s ruined more lives than he’s boosted but no one seems to have the balls to figure that out and do something about it.”
“That’s the power of money,” I said, shrugging. “So far, you’re just telling me shit I already know.”
“What if he didn’t have the money anymore?” she supposed slyly, finishing with a hard smile. “Then, he wouldn’t have the power.”
“Fuck, girl. I thought you had a real plan. Steal Davonte’s money? Are you fucking nuts? Shit…that’s a suicide plan. If I was going to do something so stupid, I’d just shoot the motherfucker and take my chances.”
“I’m not opposed to that plan,” Charlie said with a shrug. “You’d be doing the world a favor.”
I rose, freshly irritated. “I need to fucking eat and take a shower. If I go all day with the smell of your pussy under my nose…your virginity will be a thing of the past.”
I wasn’t lying. Every fresh whiff made my cock harden just a little more and right now, I needed to focus on living, not fucking.
Charlie flushed and chewed her lip, flustered. “Ummm…okay, yeah. You can use my shower. I’ll put something together for us to eat.”
And then she shot past me like a rabbit trying to evade a predator.
That’s right…run little girl, ‘cuz I already know you’re good enough to eat.
And I’m fucking hunnnngry.
12
Charlie
Maybe my plan was rooted in a fairytale but that was the thing when you were running on desperation and revenge…pretty much all logic and reason flew out the window.
I just wanted to hurt Davonte and the only way to hurt that man was to target the source of his happiness.
Money.
The sound of my shower reminded me that I’d offered to feed that hulking beast.
I deliberately shoved any thought of a naked Damon from my mind. I didn’t need that kind of imagery if I was going to keep things straight in my head.
My pelvis still tingled faintly from the pleasure he’d given me. I squeezed my thighs together, gripping the counter top for strength as another gentle wave rippled through me.
Good God.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d touched myself before — I wasn’t a nun— but doing it to yourself and having someone do it to you was completely different.
Every nerve was alive, tingling.
And I was kinda tired.
I mean, like sated.
Honestly, I would’ve loved to be able to curl up on the sofa and catch a few ‘zzzz’s.
But we didn’t have time for that.
And I’d promised to make Damon something to eat.
How domestic.
If he’d just been open to listening in the first place, I could’ve done this at his place.
I spent $40 on groceries that were rotting on his kitchen floor.
I pulled out some eggs, cheese and turkey meat from the fridge. It was the best that I could do. If he didn't like it, he could starve.
I made quick work of throwing an omelet together just in time for Damon to enter the room, still drying his head with a towel.
Bare-chested, barefoot, wearing only his jeans…Goddamn.
He wasn’t my type, right?
I just had to keep reminding myself that but as the spit dried in my mouth, I struggled with the words I was trying to say with any sort of conviction.
“Really? Why can't you put some clothes on? This isn’t a strip show and I’m not going to shove a dollar in your pants just because you have a six, um, eight pack.”
But my annoyance wasn't purely directed toward him.
Why did my stomach have to react like butterflies were jumping on trampolines?
That irritating tingle in the pit of my belly was not welcome.
Not only was an attraction to Damon completely inappropriate, it was downright stupid.
Damon McAvoy wasn't the kind of man you settled down with.
Hell, Damon McAvoy wasn't the man you shared a cab ride with.
But, again, desperation created strange bedfellows so they say.
I pushed the plate toward him and crossed my arms. “I'm not running a restaurant.”
“Looks good to me.” He grabbed the plate and started to wolf down what I prepared. Within seconds it was a memory.
“That all you got?” he asked, rising to go poke through my cupboards.
He probably had the metabolism of a hummingbird. All those muscles required major protein to maintain.
“Look, I'm not here to feed you. We're here to find a plan. You said you were hungry. I have given you something to put in your stomach. Let's move on.”
He grunted as if he'd half listened, found a box of crackers, and started munching before saying, “We can't stay here. Davonte knows where you live and he's gonna come here sooner or later.”
“Well, if he thinks you're chasing me then I think we have a little bit of time to figure
things out.”
Damon nodded as if that made sense but added, “Still not gonna do much good if anyone sees us running around. If I'm supposed to be chasing, I can't be having breakfast with you.”
“So where do you suppose we go? We sure as hell can't go to your place either.”
“That's the truth.”
He glanced around the small bungalow.
“Not a bad place.”
“My father inherited it from my grandparents.”
“Where’s your Pops now?”
“Who cares?”
“Oh, so it’s like that?”
“My dad is a gambler and a drunk. Chances are he’s face down in a bar or an alley somewhere, sleeping off a bender. He was real disappointed when I told him I wasn’t going to be Davonte’s newest whore.”
Damon accepted my answer, his gaze still roving my small house, stopping to rest here and there on the few photos I had scattered about the house in some semblance of appearing normal.
I loved my little house not because it was beautiful or cute or quaint or anything like that but because it harbored the best memories of my life, thanks to my grandparents.
To me, the house was more sentimental than anything else. But let’s get real, it wasn’t winning any Home and Garden awards anytime soon.
“Did you grow up in Detroit?” I ventured, curious in spite of my own objections.
“Born and raised.”
“So, how'd you get into fighting?”
He shrugged. “The way most guys do. Not a lot of options, school wasn't my thing and I was pretty good at punching people.”
“Do you like punching people?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did you enjoy punching Davonte?”
He paused for a long moment. Maybe he wasn’t going to answer. Damon surprised me with a small grin, admitting, “Yeah, I did. Felt good.”
Well, at least that was something. “I’m jealous.”
Damon filled a glass with water, chugged it down and then took a seat on the sofa. “All right, so what's this big plan of yours?”
If he felt a hint of the awkwardness that I did after being so intimate, he didn’t show it. I tried to follow his lead by staying on track, giving my mind something to focus on.
