by Celia Crown
I don’t trust him enough to let him in, but I trust him that he will never hurt me.
Damon Maverick is confusing.
He makes my heart do funny things, and sometimes they are bad. I get distracted by filling my head with thoughts of him. I often catch myself watching him and guarding him even when I know he is more than capable of protecting himself.
“You saved me.”
My eyes flash up to his. Those words plague me as I sit up and lean away from him. My legs are tucked at my side, but I move them to the front as I bend them as a barrier between us.
I’m not a savior. I’m a killer with one goal in mind. I don’t have the time or effort to become someone’s savior when I barely have the mental capacity to save myself.
Human instincts are meant to save oneself before any other, but I’m still in a limbo of pain.
“Hera,” Damon sits up too and wraps his hand around my wrist; one firm tug has me tumbling into his chest.
“You saved me,” he repeats, this time his voice is stronger and adamant that I hear him.
His legs cage me, and I could easily break free from the confines. I never do well when someone tries to trap me, so I react horribly in those times. I don’t want to hurt Damon, but if he continues to persuade me into a place where I’m not ready to be in yet, then I will hurt him in order to protect myself.
“Stop—”
The warmth of his palm runs down my spine, soothing the fraying nerves as I shiver reckless in his arms. He holds me up with impressive resilience. It’s a small brush of his hand at my spine that steadies the churning of my thoughts.
“You gave me this freedom.”
I didn’t. I just gave him the chance to fight for his own life. I wasn’t sure how it would turn out. On the one hand, he could die, and Abel would lose his prized fighter. On the other hand, he could survive, and he would have his freedom as the rules have indicated.
I just wanted Abel to lose Damon one way or another. I haven’t really thought about what would happen to Damon after that.
I certainly wasn’t expecting things to progress to this hotel room where he’s spilling his guts to me.
“This is not the Damon in chains. This is the Damon that you freed. I’m given a chance to do what I want without boundaries, and it’s all thanks to you.”
I shake my head softly. I silently plead him to stop.
“I want to do the same for you.”
My heart comes to a shuddering stop as my hands lay uselessly on my lap. My ears are ringing, and I hate the buzzing that my fingertips feel. Everything is out of control, and I have no way of reeling back the power that I’m losing.
I don’t want to be here.
“I want to save you.”
Damon hugs me to his chest, suffocating the muffled protest in my lips as my face mush to his naked chest. The tattoos on his body change every time he breathes, but they are just black blobs in my vision.
My eyes aren’t concentrated on anything other than the sway of the room.
The only way I know how to get control is a way that I never want to use on Damon. He doesn’t deserve the manipulation of Hera. He deserves to have the best of the best. Those aren’t things that I can provide, but this is about me.
I’m selfish, and I want to do what I want.
I jerk out of his hold, climbing onto his lap to reach his lips. Our mouths clash with teeth and tongue, but he returns the affection with fervor as he crushes my body to his. The heat burns through the nightgown, forcing my nipples to harden and scrape against his bare chest.
He matches my impatience with a hand pulling the nightgown up over my head while my blonde hair falls over my shoulder in messy waves.
I have nothing underneath, and when I tug the waistband of his pants, he doesn’t have anything underneath either.
His thick and long cock twitches; a prominent vein runs along his shaft and a bead of cum drips down from the head.
He’s the biggest that I have seen, and the touch of him is hot against my palm when I wrap my small fingers around the impressive girth. My fingers don’t touch and my mouth waters at the phantom stretch of my jaw when I go down on him.
I do exactly what my thoughts are telling me to. Damon’s hand leaves my hair as I scoot down to between his legs without taking my eyes off his massive cock, leaking and angrily red.
I marvel at his size. Damon throbs in my hand while I lick the tip with one firm swipe. Preparing to take him down my throat, I wrap my lips around the head and stroke his thick shaft up and down.
He doesn’t have a taste to him that triggers anything, but he is too big when I support my bottom teeth with my tongue, so they don’t scrape him. His hand comes to my head, holding my hair back and he growls with his baritone voice.
His control is impeccable as he doesn’t buck his hip, but I still choke a bite at the girth. My jaw is at its limits, and there is still more of him to take. I lift my head up. His wet cock pops from my mouth as his hand pushes my skull back down.
He’s greedy for my lips, and I’m more than happy to bob my head. His groan fuels me and the drops of his cum coats my tongue.
I pat myself on the back for doing a good job. I’m taking him with an approving purr from his chest, and it’s the only thing that I want to hear.
The humming and moaning vibration forces his hips to buck, shoving him down deeper in my throat. I choke with wide eyes, tears gathering at their corner and my fingers help him along as he thickens quickly.
My tongue rubs the underside of his cock, tracing the vein and mapping out the pulses as he moans through straining muscles.
Hot cum spurts down my throat, thickly coating my mouth and swirling into my throat with viscosity. I tighten my lips when I pull up, dragging the remaining of his cum into my mouth as I swallow with one breath.
My hand refuses to let go of his cock and he’s still hard, excited with a twitch and sensitive with a dull throb.
I want him.
He lets me take control, and maybe in some part of him, he knows that I need this. I need to feel myself again, and I’m treading on a fine line between fragility and insanity. Neither of those emotions is good, especially when I can hurt Damon to erase these feelings.
I climb on his lap, rocking my bare pussy on his wet cock. His shaft nudges my clit. A fire builds in my tummy as I push myself up with a hand on his chest. He lays on the bed, beautiful and patient.
My eyes dart away. I can’t look him in the eyes and discover emotions that he can feel for a monstrosity like me.
I shift my mindset and try to think of him as nothing but a warm body for me to use, but I can’t. My mind is branding his face, his body, and his name into me, and I’m terrified of letting him know.
I’m scared for myself.
“Hera,” his chest rumbles; my eyes briefly meet his as the black of his hair contrasts with the white pillows. “Do whatever you want, I’m here.”
Don’t say that, my mind pleas, please don’t say that.
I shake my head, metaphorically throwing out those words and physically to tell him to stop trying to break down my already delicate walls that took years to build.
The tip of his cock nudges my slick folds, parting them and finding my small hole as I brace myself for the girth that will knock the air out of my lungs. Damon’s hands on each side of my waist stop me, and I look down at him. The gentleness in the obsidian hues cracks open a door in me that leaves me surrendering to his scent that takes ownership in my lungs.
“Slow,” he says, “Don’t hurt yourself.”
I don’t want him to be kind to me. I want him to be like other men, so he doesn’t stand out anywhere in my memories. I want him to take control and make me forget his name because he shouldn’t mean anything to me, but my traitorous heart swells at his affection.
Damon still has the right amount of control to make me not feel lost, but he doesn’t take more than I give him, or I would be cornered like a wounded animal
.
To prove that he has no intention of taking anything from me, he lays back and stroke the skin under his thumb. His cock runs along my drenched slit and slips pass my little hole; the stretch burns and it’s only the head.
I still have the shaft to get through, but this pain provides a strong distraction as I brave through the sting. Pleasure kisses the path of the ache, igniting a line of fire as his cock parts my coiling walls.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he hisses through a groan.
My ear picks up his compliment, and my heart stores it between the stitches that I pulled the pieces back together. My lips won’t move; they want to call his name as moans filter out as I sit on his lap to get used to the fullness.
There is a first for everything.
As a habit, I wrap my small hands around his thick neck. Damon doesn’t respond to the threat. He simply stares at me with defiance and obvious kindness. Tightening my grip around him and bouncing on his cock, the stretch feels too electrifying and breathtaking.
My thighs shake, and my neglected clit gets a firm roll between his fingers when he had sneaked a hand between us. The pace I set jumps in jerky moves as he’s relentless when he pulls mewls from me.
Rough sex has been my go-to, but this slow tempo is a wrestling match in my heart. I feel protected and loved. The confession lays on my tongue—I want to tell him that I’m scared and he has to protect me. He can’t leave because my heart is just starting to heal.
My vision blurs as I lean over him; the curtains of my blonde hair flush a feel of déjà vu in me. My cheeks burn with shame. I don’t want to feel this way, but it feels right.
The first drop of tear falls on his cheek, splashing and rolling down to the side as everything in me freezes. The pause and the panic have nothing to do with the way he looks at me—understanding and patience, there is not an ounce of judgment in them, and I hate him for that.
It would be so easy to group him with other people, the people with no faces and no name, but he’s Damon Maverick, the first man to look at me and accept that I was not okay.
My hands fall when he leans on his elbows, his tongue licking to bottom of his lip as he steadies me when I lay my forehead on his chest.
“No, don’t look!” I claw my nails into his chest.
“I won’t look.”
I press my lips together, wondering what is wrong with me. Deciding that these emotions are a one-time thing, I wind my arms around his neck and let him take the control. I want to go along with what he has in mind, but he can’t see me like this.
The sheerness of my façade crumbles when he curls his arms around my body like a shield, and the rumbling of his chest resembles a purr.
He’s reassuring me.
This man is really something else.
A thrill shoots through me as his familiar scent whiffs into my nose when I hide my face into his neck. This is a safe place for me.
No one can see me, and I can’t see anyone.
A low guttural growl pulse through his chest, forcing me to take the vibration and the thickness of his cock being hammered into my pussy. He’s gentle and slow, but the raw power behind his thrusts turns me into a needy, little girl.
I need more.
I grind down my hips against him, needing more and desperate to feel the coiling muscles in my tummy. I need to cum with his cock breaching my small hole. It’s repeating itself in my mind as Damon does all the work.
The thrusts come in short and tight rocking motions; the tempo is not something that I’m used to, and it’s definitely welcomed as he angles his hips to brush the spot that starts an ember of flames in my stomach and sparkling stars behind my eyes.
“I’m here, Hera,” he whispers, running a hand down my back. “It’s okay. Go ahead.”
I’m not sure what he’s saying without any context, but as soon as he said that, my body snaps tightly. The nerves in me crackle wildly as I tremble in his arms; he fucks through the orgasm that I didn’t know was there.
It’s too blinding, too much, and too quick. I choke his name, wailing into his neck with tears lingering on my fluttering lashes. A hiccup breaks my uneven breathing. He starts to pummel up my quivering walls and take the initiative of a chase for his pleasure.
My hips rock, attempting to get him to grind on my clit because I’m a greedy girl who wants more from him. He gives it to me wordlessly as he changes his angle to trap my clit in a frenzy of pleasures.
Our bodies rock in tandem, finding a pace that Damon likes the most as I hang onto him. His back would be laced in red lines as my nails claw to find purchase in indecisiveness. Damon is constant through and through; he puts me first, and my pleasure comes before his as he makes me cum again.
It’s a turbulence of emotions and a furry of soreness that light up the muscles in my body. My small pussy swallows his cock down and milks him with much effort. He rewards me with a growl and a bite to my shoulder.
The thickness of his cock catches on my slit as the small hole stretches even more to accommodate the new girth. It’s unfamiliar and scary, but Damon soothes me with a breathless whisper of my name.
Thick cum spurts inside me, coating the coiling muscles and running down from where he has me tightly stuffed. There is too much creamy thickness that it leaves with my drenched pussy trying to suck it back in.
The clearness doesn’t come yet, but I’m still coherent enough to regret what I’m about to do. It’s better for him not to be involved in something that will hurt him in the long run. This is my mistake, and it’s a mistake that I’m willing to make because it’s vengeance that kept me alive all this time.
Damon plops down on the bed. The rich gold from the chandelier in the room gives him shadows that remain ominous as I discreetly reach over to the pillow beside him.
There’s a pop of a cap, wetness on my finger, and a gentle caress to his lips, and he’s out cold on the bed with the drug instantaneously rendering him into darkness for hours.
I hope this will keep him away.
Chapter Nine
Damon
If this is her way of keeping me at arm’s length, then she has another thing coming.
A little drug won’t change my mind about her. There is no betrayal or resentment running through me as I would have expected when I woke up to an empty bed two days later.
Whatever knocked me out has lingering side effects of dizziness and a nauseated stomach. I spent the whole afternoon trying to get the effects under control by doing breathing exercises and working the drug from my system.
Sweating it out works the best, and I’m starting to think that Hera’s style is non-confrontational when she needs a quick escape.
Whatever she’s running from or to, I’m going to be there at the end of the line and reprimand her for doing something so dangerous. She doesn’t trust me enough to bring me with her, or she’s simply running away like a coward.
Either way, I’m going to find her, and she’s going to learn that she can’t just brush me aside.
There is a reason why I’m one of the best fighters in the ring. I’m hostile and persistent; she’s the goal that I’m working towards to permanently insert myself into her life.
I’m close but not close enough to make her stay.
That woman doesn’t understand the concept of truth, and on some level, I can sympathize with her.
I grew up with no one to lean on, and I learned to trust my instincts rather than people, but somewhere along the way, Hera became a confidant in my life.
I told her things that I never thought I would bring up ever again and telling her about my family is a sign of trust that I’m giving her even if she’s still struggling with her own problems.
It’s why I’m here. She can trust me, and if she can just get that fact into her damn mind that I’m not going to betray her.
Well, giving up is not my motto.
Hera will learn to live with that. Once my teeth have sunk in, she’s on the hook for me,
and she’s going to take responsibility for stealing my heart like a damn thief.
I control my exasperation as I leave the hotel through a back entrance. The first thing I need is to track her little ass down. Going back through my memories, I release a vexed breath when I recall that she is particularly close to that middle eastern man from before.
“Fuck,” I swear up a storm when I smell the alleyway.
I don’t want to ever see that man again because my jealousy might accidentally land a fist through his chest for touching what’s mine, but I need his help. He should know where I can find Hera but seeing him and knowing that Amir was once a man in her life irks me to no end.
This jealousy is ridiculous knowing that Hera didn’t care for anyone other than me.
Yes, I know she cares for me.
That is the fact that I am positive about.
She could have killed me on multiple occasions, but she didn’t, and she stayed with me for far longer than any other people who had been used and tossed aside.
When I get to the place where she had met up with Amir, he was there with a cigarette between his teeth.
We’re both big men, but my tats run up around my neck.
“She’s not here,” he says, straight to the point with a puff of smoke.
“I know,” I snap with a glare, “I need to know where she would have gone.”
Amir slicks his hand through his hair, black as mine. His eyes are impassive with disinterest. “You were with her.”
I click my tongue with an aggravated sigh, “What of it?”
There is a hint of irritation in his voice when he says, “You were the longest.”
My eyebrows curl in confusion, but he’s speaking before I could get a word out as to why the hell is he being so cryptic.
“Hera is a lone wolf. She doesn’t take anyone with her,” Amir takes another smoke, “But, I do see what drew her to you.”
I’m sure she saved me from Abel as a plan to get a rise out of that cowardly man, but this aftermath is nothing any of us had imagined and yet here we are.
“Where is she?” I ask again, this time with more haste.
