The Stars Landing Deviant

by Jessica Gadziala

  "Alright," he said, heading toward the stairs, "let's get the fuck out of here before I change my mind and take you back to my room."

  He took me to a restaurant forty minutes outside of town, a small expensive Italian restaurant with a chef who greeted him like he was family. Dane sat across from me, drinking wine and telling me about his family who lived in Florida. Which made the compass with the south-east arrow make a lot of sense.

  Outside of the bedroom and the challenge that was trying to get a woman into bed, Dane was actually really laid back and clever. He smiled more. He laughed. But not the flirtatious or condescending kind of laugh I was used to, real genuine laughter.

  I wanted to fuck him right on the dinner table.

  "Why not just cut ties with EM Corp then?" he asked as we slid out of the booth.

  "I don't know," I said honestly. "I really liked it at first. I never would have had the opportunity to travel like I have gotten to travel in working for them. I've been to all of the major cities. I've seen most of the landmarks. It's been a good experience. But lately, well, I haven't really had any down time in between. I actually sold my apartment in the city," I laughed, sliding into his sleek black late model muscle car.

  "What? Are you living in a hotel?" he asked getting into the driver's seat, putting the key in the ignition but pausing to look at me.

  "I moved into my office," I said, smiling.

  "Your office? Seriously?"

  "I mean New York rent is ridiculous. And I am barely there a few days a month. It would be wasteful to keep an apartment I spend no time at. It's not as bad as it sounds. I have a nice office."

  He looked almost sad for a moment before turning his eyes out toward the window and turning the car over. "You ready?" he asked.

  "For what?" There was more? Oh, please tell me there was more. I didn't care how pathetic it made me, I just wanted to spend some more time with him.

  "It's a surprise," he told me, turning the car back onto the busy street and driving for the better part of a half an hour before pulling into a parking lot, hopping out and practically bouncing over to open my door.

  I looked at the building, taking in the sign and turning back to him with wide eyes.

  "You're... getting another tattoo?" I asked.

  "Nope," he said, taking my hand and pulling me forward, "but you are getting one."

  "What?" I said, trying to plant my heels, but I was nowhere near strong enough to stop him. "No I'm not."

  "Yeah you are," he said, opening the front door.

  The inside was a lot more upscale than what you imagine when you think of a tattoo parlor. The floor was light tile, the walls a warm sand color, with collections of flash drawings in thick black frames. There were even large potted plants in the corners by the windows. "This is nicer than I expected," I said, looking at the framed pictures.

  Dane's hand went to my lower back, solid and reassuring. "So what are you getting?"

  "Dane, I'm not..."

  "Come on," he said, nudging me with his shoulder. "Someone who loves words as much as you has got to have some she wants on her forever."

  The problem was... what? I had fallen into countless books. I had fallen in love with so many different strings of words. They all touched me. At different times. They were all stitched into me. Buried deep in my marrow. Which ones could possibly mean more than the others?

  "Alright," a guy said, coming out from the back in a black t-shirt and jeans, his arms and hands covered in bright, vivid ink. "You ready?" he asked, looking right at me. Like this was something Dane had planned. Like he had thought and called ahead.

  I looked up at him, his perfect, beautiful face, his rare and radiant golden eyes. His hand rubbed absentmindedly across my hips. And suddenly, with blinding clarity, I knew. "Yup," I said, taking my eyes off Dane to smile at the artist.

  Dane led me to the back room as I was asked questions and lay down on the table. I was getting it on my side, right under the band of my bra. Hidden. Private. I picked out a font and took the hand Dane offered me as the tattoo gun started buzzing. I got up off the table a while later, moving to look into the mirror. The delicate script was neat and thin lined, like lazy handwriting.

  how ardently

  It was perfect. Maybe it was stupid of me, I thought as I looked at Dane's reflection in the mirror, talking rapidly with the artist. Of all the words to pick, to pick those. Because I knew what I was in for. I knew that this wouldn't last. I wasn't foolish enough to mistake hope for reality. One day, likely very soon, Dane was going to move on. And I was going to be alone.

  But I also knew with a certainty that made me realize I had never known the feeling before, that I was completely, all consumingly, stupidly... in love with Dane Broderick.

  I also knew that it was something that would be burned in me. If I lived to be a hundred, a part of me would always belong to him. A part that no one had ever been able to touch before.

  So that feeling deserved a place on my skin. It was a gesture which seemed small considering he was branded all over my heart.

  "So what does it mean?" Dane asked, coming up toward me and wrapping his arms around my waist, looking at my reflection in the mirror.

  I resisted the urge to blurt it out right then and there. Because that would be such a bad move. It would ruin a perfect day. "It's from 'Pride and Prejudice'," I told him instead, sliding out of his arms. "So what now?" I never wanted this day to end.

  "Well there was this other thing I had planned," he said, dropping cash on the table I had been sitting on and leading me outside.

  "But?" I asked, sensing there had to be a 'but' coming, and feeling more sad about it than I should have.

  "But," he said, opening my door and reaching inside, pulling the lever to move the front seat up, reaching out, grabbing me, and pushing me into the backseat. "I think we are going to be too late."

  "Oh really?" I asked, struggling to sit up as he came in with me, slamming the door behind him.

  "I believe so," he said, sitting down casually on the seat, looking out toward the street.

  "Why's that?" I asked, watching him.

  "Well," he said, shaking his head. "I seem to be stuck in the back of my car with a complete nympho."

  "Me?" I laughed, slapping his arm. "You're the one always..." he glanced at me and patted his lap three times and I choked on my laugh. "I'm not a dog," I said instead, smiling.

  "Come on," he said in a coaxing, talking-to-a-scared-dog tone, "be a good girl."

  "You're such an ass," I said, but I was kneeling on the seat, hiking my skirt up so I could straddle his lap.

  "Yup," he agreed, quickly undoing his belt, and the front of his pants, pulling his hard cock out and looking down at it, then at me. "But you like my cock too much to care."

  "Well," I said, pursing my lips, "that is true."

  He chuckled, reaching into his wallet and putting on a condom before snaking his hand up under my skirt, pulling it up higher and running a hand over my heat. "I knew it was commando," he said, his eyes bright as he slipped a finger inside me, then quickly back out. He held his cock with one hand, the other resting on my thigh. "Alright," he said, looking at me, "be a good little slut and ride me."

  I flinched at the word, it bringing forth all kinds of negative connotations. But I was in the backseat of a car of a guy I wasn't technically even dating in a tattoo shop parking lot where anyone could see us... about to have sex. So... yeah... maybe I was a little slutty after all. I smiled at Dane. And maybe I was okay with that.

  I lowered myself down onto his hardness, feeling it fill me, pressing against different places than it had before, and groaning. I moved my hips back and forth slowly, then in small circles, feeling his cock press hard against all my walls, stoking my desire faster than I had expected until I was riding him hard and fast, the car rocking wildly and the windows steaming up from our heat. My breath was coming out frantic and uneven a
s I tried to reach for the orgasm that was playing an infuriating game of keep away.

  Dane patted my ass, pulling me upward a few inches, then quickly started thrusting upward into me, his face a mask of barely holding it together control. Once I got the rhythm, I pushed down as he thrust up, taking him as deep as possible, feeling him hit the back wall of my pussy and crying out each time until I finally grabbed hold of my climax and felt it shoot through me, making me groan out his name and my legs shake uncontrollably.

  I collapsed against him afterward, him still inside me, his hands casually resting on my ass.

  "So," he said a long time later, the windows already starting to clear, "you can't tell me that, as far as dates go, this wasn't one of the better ones."

  "It was perfect," I said, then cringed. That sounded too... girlfriend-y. "I was fed, poked with a needle a few hundred times, and came."

  His chuckle was deep and low. "I wasn't wrong, you know."

  "About what?" I asked, sliding slightly away from him.

  "You really have become a bit of a hussy."

  "That was the plan, wasn't it?" I asked, climbing off of him and pulling my skirt down.

  "Pretty much," he agreed, zipping his pants and clasping his belt. He reached for the door handle and climbed awkwardly out, too much of a man for such a small space. I followed no more gracefully in my binding skirt and high heels.

  "How about you stop over my apartment tomorrow and help me pick out some paint and furniture?" he suggested, getting back into the driver's seat.

  He didn't need my help. I knew he was perfectly capable of picking out his own colors and fabrics and everything. But he was still asking. Because he wanted to see me. Which was more than I thought I would get from him. "I'd love to," I said, smiling at his profile.

  Twleve

  Cordelia

  I brought my caddy full of ideas. And as I walked down the street, already mostly abandoned at eight at night, I was regretting it. I looked ridiculous. Besides, he probably already had a bunch of his own ideas. But it was too late to go back. I walked around the back of the bar, climbing the stairs quickly and knocking on his door.

  He opened it a minute later, covered in dust and paint and who-knew what else. I found it entirely too sexy. "Hey," he said, stepping aside so I could pass.

  He had finally sheet rocked the walls and there were outlines of masking tape on the floor where the kitchen would be eventually. Toward the far end were two rooms closed off. I assumed, his bedroom and spare room or game room or whatever it was that he was going to use it for.

  "You've gotten a lot done," I said, turning to offer him a small smile.

  "Yeah," he agreed, wiping his hands on a rag he had sticking out of his back pocket. "It's coming along. What do you have there?" he asked, pointing toward the caddy.

  "Oh, just... design stuff," I said, feeling awkward. But it wasn't just me. For once. There was something odd between us, something almost formal for people who had fucked like rabbits for the past few days. "Did you... already have some ideas in mind?" I asked, shifting my feet uncomfortably. You wouldn't guess that just a day ago, we were having the easiest, most natural first date ever.

  "Oh, I have some ideas alright," he said, his tone off.

  "Okay well..."

  "Put that down," he said, nodding toward my hand.

  With drawn together brows, I bent and put it down on the floor. "Alright."

  "Take your clothes off."

  "What?" I asked, starting to smile but the look in his eyes stopped me.

  "I said take your clothes off," he said, his voice almost angry.

  So it was a booty call after all. The whole pretense of needing my help with designs was completely unnecessary. I would have happily answered any booty call from Dane.

  "I'm not going to tell you again," he said darkly. "If you don't take them off right now, I'll cut them off." Then, to drive his point home, he reached for a pocket knife and flicked it open. "Your choice."

  I felt a stab of desire deep in my belly as I slowly reached for the buttons of my shirt. So tonight I got to see dominant Dane again. I was entirely too turned on by the idea. Which was weird for me. I had never been the kind of woman who has been into alpha men. I didn't like taking orders. I didn't like the coldness. But when it was coming from Dane, I was putty.

  Stepping out of my panties, I stood there for a long time, fighting my insecurity as he stared at me.

  "Get on the fire escape."

  "What?" I asked, my eyes wide. There's no way he could have said what he just said. Just... no. "No."

  He moved closer, quickly reaching out, grabbing my nipples and twisting them between his fingers, making a groan escape my lips. "You like that?" he asked.

  "Yeah," I whimpered.

  "Then do what you're fucking told and get out on the fire escape," he growled, releasing me and stepping back.

  He was tense, I realized looking at him. There was tightness in his shoulder and jaw. His hands kept clenching into fists. Something had him in a mood. Maybe that was why he needed me to be more submissive than usual. And if he needed that to feel better, I really couldn't fight it.

  "Dane... the fire escape..." I could submit. I couldn't be naked in public. I just... couldn't.

  "Then leave," he shrugged, looking even more frustrated.

  If I left, I wouldn't see him again. I knew that with a sense of complete certainty. Because I would be walking out on him when he actually might need me. It said something that he wanted me. He could have called Amanda who was better at taking orders, or any of his other women. But he wanted me there.

  I took a deep breath and walked numbly toward the window, pushing it up and stepping out before I could rethink it. It was only a few seconds later that he followed me out, but it felt like hours. My throat was closed in a vice and my heart was slamming in my chest. I brought my hands up to cover myself as I glanced nervously down at the street.

  "Put your hands on the railing," he instructed and I did. "I want anyone who looks out their window or takes a nighttime stroll to see my dirty little slut up here, begging for me to fuck her."

  It was the "my" that did it. It took away the fears and doubts. It quieted the swirling anxiety inside. I doubt he was even aware of the slip himself, but I heard it. He didn't say 'a dirty little slut', he said 'my dirty little slut'. It was small, but it was something and I was grabbing onto it like a lifeline.

  "Spread your legs," he told me and I spread them wide. I felt two of his fingers shove inside me, thrusting wildly until I was moving against him with need. "Open your mouth," he told me, turning his fingers to stroke my G-spot. I let my lips fall open and before I knew his intention, his fingers pulled out of me and he shoved them into my mouth. "See how good you taste?" he asked. His fingers pressed down on my tongue. "Lick every bit off." And I did, but his fingers stayed inside, spreading wide and holding my mouth open.

  Then his cock was inside me, hard, just shy of painful, each thrust shoving my hips against the railing, making the metal bite into my bare skin. His free hand moved up to the front of my throat, pushing down, making it harder to catch a breath. His cock shoved hard against my front wall, pinching each time he did so and in a sick way I enjoyed the pain, I pushed back against him, feeling my pussy grab at him, shamelessly needing relief.

  But then he pulled quickly out of me, releasing my neck and taking his fingers out of my mouth. "On your knees," he growled and I quickly moved to comply, the grates painful on my legs. "Open you mouth and stick your tongue out," he told me, watching me. Then he was stroking his cock, looking down at me with unfathomable eyes, his breath coming out harsh and ragged. Then it hitched as he cursed and he pressed the hardness down on my tongue as his hand stroked once more and he came fast and hot into my mouth, dripping down onto my tongue. I swallowed, then without any further directions, closed my mouth around him and took him deep, sucking hard. "Fucking Christ," he groaned, his h
and slamming down on the top of my head.

  He pushed me backward, reaching down and pulling me back onto my feet. Some of the tension was gone, replaced with something else. Something deeper, a wonder, or an amazement. Something that was a mix of happiness and confusion. Then he slammed me back against the wall of the building, dropping down onto his knees, and pulling one of my legs over his shoulder. His tongue moved between the delicate folds and his fingers thrust quickly back inside me. I was already so close, more turned on than I think I had ever been in my life. Beyond reason. Beyond simple need. It was something else. It was something stronger. When his tongue found my clit, I flew into an orgasm that I swear had me seeing through time and space

  and the universe. I cried out loudly, holding his head against me as I rocked against his face.

  He turned his face slightly, biting hard into my inner thigh, hard enough that I would have marks the next day, a perfect outline of his teeth.

  "So I was thinking a sectional for the living room," he said, sounding calm and unaffected while I was friggen falling apart.

  "You can't be serious," I said, looking down at him.

  "Well if you have a better idea," he said, looking up at me and smiling.

  I shook my head, pulling my leg off of his shoulder and putting it numbly down on the ground. "How do you do that?" I asked, watching as he slowly stood up and zipped his pants.

  "Do what?"

  "Go from sex to normal life stuff so fast?" I felt like I needed to curl up in bed and recover for a week.

  "What's wrong, princess?" he asked, leaning his back against the railing, "do you need wine and roses and to be told you're the..."

  "Fuck you," I said, ducking to go back into his apartment. He could really be a dick. And maybe I immediately forgave him for it because I cared about him... but I wasn't going to act like it was okay.

  "Come here," he said, his voice soft, almost sweet and it had me pausing and turning. "Come on," he said, holding his arms out. I walked toward him and his arms went around me, pulling me against his chest. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. "I'm sorry I'm an asshole all the time," he said, sounding slightly amused.