by Ashley Logan
“It’s nowhere near over,” he says next to my ear making me shiver as he inhales deeply. “Mmm, you smell so good. All fresh flowers and sunbursts.”
Pulling away for self-preservation purposes, I clamp down on the desire he sparks within me to keep myself in check as I cast a glance over my shoulder at our snazzily dressed spectators. “Where are you taking us?”
As if suddenly remembering we’re not alone, Damon follows my gaze and straightens. “Wow. You guys look awfully dressed up for burgers at the drive thru.” Shrugging, he shakes his head. “Ah well, go jump in the limos and we’ll see if McDonald's has space for us to dine in.”
With a hearty chuckle, Benji rushes for the door. “Have fun with the honeymooners, slow-pokes!” he calls as he heads out. Damon raises his eyebrows and I explain that Bruno and Scar are already out in a limo. Rolling his eyes, Damon kisses my forehead.
“Jenkins?”
“Yo.”
“My manbag,” Damon says, holding out his arm for it. Hanging the leather bag on Damon’s arm as if it were a hook, Brad rolls out the door, followed by the others, leaving us alone to lock the apartment. Carefully sliding the leather strap over his head so as not to damage his boutonniere, Damon closes the door behind our friends and the auto-lock clicks shut.
“We’re not going too?” I ask, almost hopeful that he’ll take me straight upstairs. Feeling my cheeks heat a little at the thought, I bite my lips together as Damon’s close proximity makes my pulse begin to rocket.
Watching me closely, Damon kisses my forehead again. “Alexa, I love the way your mind works,” he says with a sigh as his arm drops to the small of my back and he guides me to the side door that leads to the garage. “If I hadn’t worked all day to make this night unforgettable, I would take you upstairs right now. As it is, I’m going to torture myself a while longer and stick to plan A, because I want the best for you. For us.”
Opening the door, he fetches his keys from his bag and the lights on his car flash at us. “Right now, the best is not sharing a limo with horny honeymooners or anyone else. I need to drive so I don’t get any time to work out how to remove that dress of yours, because I’m fairly certain a chauffeured drive across town will give me ample opportunity to do so, and I doubt company will keep me from the need to test my theories once I have a definitive plan of action.”
“So driving is preventative of a worst-case scenario?” I tease, as Damon dons his hooks and opens my door for me.
“I don’t think worst is the superlative I’d use to describe the ‘dumping your friends on the side of the road, and ripping your dress off with my teeth’ scenario, because I think the outcome would be very rewarding, but driving will definitely minimize any such risk of that occurrence and keep the evening on track. Given that the outcome of plan A promises to be much better than scandalous limo sex, I think it could be described as best. Your thoughts?”
“Hard to say,” I begin softly as I sit in his car and pull the belt over my shoulder. Holding my tongue, I nod for him to get in his side. Not taking his eyes off me, he closes my door and walks around to his side. A little pale as he gets in, he relaxes as I stroke his thigh while he pulls his belt on. Pushing the start button, his eyes drop to my hand.
“You keep that up, I’m going to get out again,” he warns. “Finish your thought,” he suggests as I retract my hand with a smile and he hits the garage door opener.
“I was merely going to point out that it would be a difficult decision for me to make, because I don’t know the logistics of plan A, but the thought of you inside me as soon as possible is highly attractive.”
Exhaling roughly, Damon pulls into traffic and grits his teeth. “That is exactly why I am driving,” he says, his husky voice strained. “It’s more authentic this way anyway. You’ve had time with your friends in a limo, and now it’s just us and the City of Lights,” he says cryptically. “You are my first and only love, Alexa. We have so much in common, you and I. The things we enjoy, and the things we’ve missed. We’re only just beginning to really live.”
“We are,” I agree with a nod, returning his sexy grin with a smile of my own. “Are we in your old neighborhood?” I ask, catching sight of a street sign.
“My favorite restaurant is out this way,” he says with another smile. “They happen to make great food, in a nice, yet not overly pretentious setting, and they also have wheelchair access.” His eyes fall on mine as he turns a corner and they linger a moment before he returns them to the road. “I invited Sam and Larry, but they said it wasn’t really their scene. They hope you have a nice night.”
Stifling a laugh, I nod. “It was sweet of you to make the offer, but I understand where they’re coming from.”
Looking a little relieved, Damon nods. “I wasn’t exactly surprised when they declined, but I try to be inclusive,” he says, parking and pulling on the handbrake. Ahead of us, our friends are spilling out of the limos onto the curb outside a restaurant called Dutch’s. Coming around, the car, Damon opens my door and removes his hooks, holding his elbow crooked towards me. “M’lady?”
“Why thank you,” I reply, folding my arm through his. My cheeks are starting to ache from all of the smiling I’ve done today, but I can’t seem to stop.
We file inside with the others to find ourselves the only customers and the tables arranged in two long lines, decked out with candles and shiny gold confetti. The atmosphere is warm, festive, and romantic, and I grin up at Damon as he pulls out a seat for me.
“I won’t be a moment,” he whispers in my ear as Kat sits next to me, beaming at us. Moving off towards a smartly dressed woman near the bar, Damon greets her with a hug and she leads him off to the side as she gestures to the others and then her ears. Turning back to Kat, I roll my eyes.
“I know. He couldn’t be more perfect.”
“You said it,” she says with a grin as a waiter sets sparkling glasses of bubbles in front of us, gesturing to Kat which one is hers. Raising her non-alcoholic grape juice, Kat clinks it to my champagne. “To sparkle girls and boys.”
Repeating the notion with a content sigh, I take a sip of liquid gold.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
DAMON
Talking to Shelley near the door of Dutch’s, I check to see if everything is on schedule. We both look up as the door opens and three men in suits step in, eying our group with curiosity. Shelley steps forward and greets them cordially.
“I’m sorry gentlemen, you must have missed the sign on the door. The restaurant is closed tonight for a private function.”
Looking around with interest, the man closest to her adjusts his tie and leans forward to speak in Shelley’s ear.
“I’m sorry Mr. Stone. This booking takes priority this evening. I can offer you a quiet setting after eight, but I’m afraid until then I can’t help you for any price. May I suggest you return shortly after eight?” she says politely. His eyebrows plummeting, the man steps closer to her.
“Good evening, gentleman. I’m afraid I may have outbid you this evening,” I say, planting myself at Shelley’s shoulder. “But as the lady says, the space will be free in a little over an hour. Perhaps your Sunday evening business meeting can wait until then? There is a place just down the street if you’d like a beverage while you wait,” I suggest in a firm tone, as the man gets out his wallet. “I have a large wallet too,” I add with a frown.
Studying me a moment, the man’s eyes come to rest upon my stumps as I fold my arms. Looking around the room again, he regards me carefully. “Did you buy these companions?”
“Excuse me?”
“Is there a problem here?” Bruno asks, arriving at my shoulder. Cursing under his breath, he holds his hand out to the guy. “Mr. Stone.”
“You know this jackass?” I ask, eying Bruno and keeping my no-hands firmly away from any chance of handshaking.
“Ah, Mr. Stone is sort of my boss,” Bruno says with a forced smile. “Jenkins and I are painting his building.”
“Hey boys, what’s the hold up? The lady-of-honor wants a word with her man so she sent me over to snap your suspenders hard enough to make your nipples sting,” Ireeni says, pushing her way between Bruno and myself.
“She said that?” I ask at the same time as Stone says “You?!”
Reeni’s smile fades as she turns from my face to see Stone. Folding her arms across her chest, she gives him one of the deadliest looks I think I’ve ever seen. Glad my nipples are safely protected from her, I watch Stone’s face change in an instant. No longer wearing the hardened glare of a man who doesn’t take no for an answer, he’s softened completely.
“Come to ruin another party moneybags?” Reeni says with venom. “We’re none of us for sale, so take your wee friends and skedaddle before I curse you with the voodoo,” she says, wiggling her fingers at him. “A plague on all your fancy fucking houses,” she chants, her almond-shaped eyes widened and crazed in accompaniment. Her fingers finish casting their fictitious spell and her face returns to its previous, pissed-off expression as she points a warning finger at him. “And stop putting your business cards in my envelopes, or I’ll use your contact details for evil. I know all sorts of magazine subscriptions you don’t want turning up in your business mail and scaring your secretary. I don’t care how much you pay her, she’ll tell her friends about them; I guarantee it.”
Studying her face carefully, Stone raises a hand and the guys behind him step back out to the street. Bowing ever so slightly, he begins to retreat too. “Enjoy your evening, Ms. Kamran. Apologies for my ever-offensive presence.” Looking to Bruno, he gives a nod of acknowledgment. “Jackson.” Taking one more, almost sorrowful look at Ireeni, the guy leaves.
“What the fuck was that about?” I ask, utterly impressed. “Ireeni Kamran, your methods are very effective.”
“Thank you,” she says with a curtsy. “I was born a bitch and my skills have only sharpened with age.”
“Do I need to start bouncing him from the club?” Bruno asks her warily.
“Nah,” she says with a shrug as she swats the air. “He’s harmless and he pays well.” Shooing us back to the tables, I notice her glance over her shoulder at Stone’s retreating form and have to wonder what the story is between them. Then, turning back to find Alexa grinning at me, I forget about everything else.
Unable to keep my eyes off her, I find myself making it through dinner in a daze. With her hand warming my thigh, and her laughter warming my heart, I figure I must be about the luckiest man alive.
“You said there wouldn’t be pie,” she says, giving my leg an excited squeeze under the table as mini lemon meringue pies start arriving from the kitchen.
“But then I remembered that we like pie,” I say innocently as one is set before her. She shifts in her seat and my eye is drawn to her thigh as a sliver of skin is exposed by the split in her skirt. Her hand leaves my leg and guides my closest no-hand to her thigh, moving it slowly along the strip of bared skin.
“We do like pie,” she agrees, taking some onto her spoon and raising it to her mouth. Closing her eyes, she gives a soft moan of approval as I continue to stroke her thigh.
Leaning in, I suck the trace of gooey meringue left on her bottom lip. “Mmm. Sweet.”
“Damon?”
The way she whispers it, almost breathlessly, sets my body humming. Her hand returns to my thigh and her eyes meet mine. Filled with something I’ve come to know as the warmest, most accepting love on the planet, and something I read as intense desire, her gaze sends sparkles over my scalp and tingles throughout my body that seem to resonate intensely when they reach my crotch. How the hell am I going to make it to the end of the night?
With a voice corrupted by need, I answer in a hoarse whisper. “Yeah?”
Her delicate hand on my thigh squeezes a little and then travels higher. “Are you taking me home soon?”
Concentrating hard on not giving us away, I clear my throat and look about the table. “Mmm. Soonish,” I say, pulling my hand away from her leg and returning Brad’s smile awkwardly. “Finish your pie.”
“Will you help me?” she asks, offering me a spoonful.
Eying her warily, I look at her sideways. “You’re not going to ‘accidentally’ drop that in my lap and disappear beneath the table are you?”
“Of course not,” she says, her cheeks flushing a little as she smiles innocently.
“Alexa Carrington, you are simply delicious.” Shaking my head at her, I steal the pie from her spoon and foil her plans. “Don’t you dare get pie on me before our night is over.”
Huffing a small sigh, she rolls her eyes in an exaggerated manner before scooping up more pie and giving me a teasing smile as she treats it slowly to the heaven of her mouth.
“I don’t think I’ve ever wished I was pie before this moment,” I whisper, transfixed by her lips. They curl immediately as she tries not to laugh. “Right now, I want to be pie so bad.”
Chewing slowly, she regards me a while. “You are pie,” she says, leaning in and letting me taste the sweetened lemon of her lips.
“Turd pie,” Brad mutters under his breath next to me, reminding me that we’re not alone. Just as well too, because if Alexa and I keep going on this trajectory, we’re never going to make it through the evening of fun I have planned. Groaning, I pull away from her succulent lips and force my eyes anywhere but on her, while willing my dick to go down.
Most people have already finished and are chatting and laughing over their glasses as they politely avoid staring at Alexa and myself. Clearing my throat, I address the whole table. “If everyone would be so kind as to finish what you wish to, the cars await.”
My jaw tightens as the hurried sound of Alexa’s spoon on her plate alludes to her eagerness to get going. The thought makes another tremor of delight run through me.
“Done. Let’s go.” Shoving her chair back, she grabs me by the elbow and gives a swift tug.
Feeling an unsettling heat spreading up my neck and filling my cheeks, I make no sign of moving. “I - ah, just need a second, babe.”
Alexa looks at me for a moment, then past me to Brad. The two of them crack up so hard that soon the whole table is laughing. At me. My dick shrivels faster than a leaky balloon.
“That’ll do it,” I say with a smile as I leave my chair. “Nothing like a public shaming to deflate a man’s... ego. Let’s get out of here.”
I PULL THE CAR UP BEHIND the two limousines as our friends are climbing out of them. Alexa watches them intently, and I watch her. A slight furrowing of her brow alerts me to her confusion, but she turns to give me a genuine smile.
“Thank you for giving me and my friends such a lovely day, Damon. I’ve felt like a princess all day.”
Kissing her softly, I smile. “By the time the night is over, you’ll feel like a queen, Alexa.”
A little shiver runs through her and her eyes darken. Glancing out the window at the neon sign of Beyond, Alexa presses her lips together. “You didn’t want to go to your place tonight?”
Suppressing my smile, I shake my head and get out of the car. Shrugging out of my hooks and jogging around the car to her door, I offer her my arm as she climbs out.
“You know, I was thinking about how much I love you, and how lucky I am,” I say, dropping my arm to her waist as I guide her forward. “Lucky that I found you. And that you let me join the collection of broken things that you love. I feel at home with you. Wherever you are, I feel safe. We have a lot in common, Alexa Carrington. So much in common - even though we’ve had very different lives growing up. We’ve both missed some important milestones,” I say, pulling open the door to the club that Bruno has purposely left propped open for me. “But we can catch up together.”
Holding the door open, I usher her inside. Alexa’s eyes lift immediately to the sparkling banner as she walks into the foyer. Stalled mid-step, her breath catches as her eyes widen, taking on a glassy shine as they return to mine.
“Alexa, hig
h school is over for you now, and the life you want is just beyond that. I graduated high school early, with so many ideas of what I wanted to do in this world, I couldn’t choose between them, but I can finally see the life I always wanted now that you’ve opened my eyes.” Tilting her chin up with my no-hand, I kiss her gently and stroke her cheek as a tear trickles down it. “While we’re here, together, in love, with our whole lives ahead of us, will you please go to the Prom with me?”
Wrapping her arms around my waist and squeezing, Alexa grins up at me. “I’d be honored.”
Offering her my elbow, I sigh with pleasure as she links her arm through mine and nods her head. We step forward and the doors open inward automatically, thanks to Bruno and Benji watching the cameras and waiting for their cue.
Alexa gasps as we enter the club. Swiveling her head from side to side, she takes it all in. Using sparkles as the theme, the boys and I have decorated the club while the girls were out all day. Everywhere she looks are flowers, golden balloons, reflective gold decorations, fairy lights and flickering, battery-operated candles casting a magical, welcoming glow. Music begins to play and Alexa’s attention is drawn to the stage as the curtain begins to rise.
Again, she gasps as the band comes into view, and her grip tightens on my arm as she grins up at me with a smile as wide as her eyes.
“She insisted I fly her band in so she could be part of it,” I say with a shrug as we give Haz a wave. She misses a drumbeat to return the wave, but keeps right on playing, her grin as big as I imagine mine must be. “They’re called The Fuzz, and they’re not half bad.”
The others are leaning casually at the bar, or having their pictures snapped by the photographer in the extremely sparkly corner, set up for shooting memories of the night. Kat arrives in front of us, holding her hands behind her back.
“We didn’t even need to vote; it was so obvious.” Pulling out a real tiara, and a fake golden crown, she dubs us Prom king and queen. Setting our crowns on our heads, Kat clasps her hands together in front of her and gives an excited squeak. “You guys are perfect.”
