Chapter 18
Damian
She’s never going to remember me. I refill my glass of bourbon, down it, then give up and drink straight from the bottle. It’s still early, but I don’t fucking care. The booze isn’t doing anything. Dragons have a high alcohol tolerance. Sadly.
I can’t get Kat’s horrified expression out of my head.
I never expected her to forget right then, while still lying naked next to me.
If I’d known, I never would have had sex with her.
Who am I kidding? I’d still have stolen that moment for myself.
Nothing would make me trade that away. It was pure heaven to be with her like that again.
And that’s why I don’t deserve her.
If given the chance, I’d make love to her all over again even if it meant having to see that terrified expression on her face. Selfish. I’m so fucking selfish.
“Fuck!” The last of the bourbon swishes as I wave it through the air. “The goddess should just smite me right here and put me out of my misery.” I raise the bottle and look to the ceiling. “Hear that?!”
Of course, no one answers.
My apartment has always felt empty, but now it feels like a tomb. The sparse furniture, too pristine compared to the lived-in comfort of Kat’s home. This place drips with wealth, but not love. It’s heartless. Just like I am.
So different from Kat and Lincoln. The connection the two of them have is so loving and warm. Truly familial. I want that so bad. But what kind of relationship can I have with my son if his mom doesn’t remember me?
It’s better if I stay away. They don’t really need me. I’ll only complicate their lives. I’ll fuck everything up.
Like I fucked up this morning.
I finish the bourbon and open a bottle of scotch.
A floating feeling settles into my muscles.
Finally. My head feels a little lighter, and I lay back on the couch, remembering the tight squeeze of Kat’s pussy around my cock.
I haven’t showered, unwilling to wash her away.
With my eyes closed, I can see her hovering above me, glistening with a light layer of sweat.
She throws her head back as she cups her breasts.
I’m never going to forget how she looked this morning.
The sounds she made. Fucking hell, she was so perfect.
And I ruined it. Or the goddess did. Why the fuck did she forget me?
There’s no way she’ll let me touch her like that again now. I’m sure Otto will explain everything, but she’s not gonna want anything to do with me after this morning.
I squeeze my raging boner through my sweatpants, trying to get it under control. But I can’t get her out of my mind. The salty taste of her skin when I sucked her nipples still lingers on my tongue. I should have made her sit on my face.
Why did she forget? Why the hell did she forget? I circle back to that question over and over with no answer.
Each time I feel worse about myself. But each spiraling thought also draws me deeper into the memories of this morning.
Between my second bottle of liquor and my third, I pull my shirt off, finally feeling more than a slight buzz.
I smash into the coffee table when I try to kick off my pants.
It breaks, the wood cutting my hip. But I don’t care. I barely feel it.
All I feel is loss. Madness. It’s like I’m losing her all over again.
I stand up and stumble into the kitchen naked. The only alcohol I have left is a bottle of tequila. I don’t like the stuff and only have it because Otto wanted to make margaritas. Was that really only a few days ago?
He sucked me off that night. Right against the floor-to-ceiling windows in my living room. He wrapped that perfect mouth around my cock and sucked the soul right out of my body.
I open the tequila and take a swig from the bottle. It spills down my chin and onto my chest.
Drawn by another memory I’ll never be able to repeat, I stand in front of the window, looking out over New York.
I can’t see Kat’s apartment from here, but I still stare in that direction.
Somewhere over there she’s hearing the story from Otto, panicking that she had sex with a man she doesn’t remember.
Or has she already forgotten Otto’s explanation?
I guess I’ve never tested someone else telling her when I’m not around.
Will she always remember the story now even if she doesn’t remember me?
Or will it slip through her mind over and over?
Why the hell did she fucking forget me when I was right there with her?
“Goddamnit!” I hurl the bottle at the wall, and it shatters into thousands of little pieces. Just like my heart and soul.
Fuck, I’m pathetic. I sound exactly like the whiny asshole I am.
I should be out finding a solution, not drunk and wallowing.
But I don’t know if she even wants to fix this.
It would probably be better for everyone if I just let her and Lincoln move on with Otto.
They’ll be happy together. A perfect, happy little family.
And I’ll… I’ll…
I’ll live off the memory of this morning.
I press my palm against the window for support, lean my forehead against the cool glass, and grip my cock. Angrily fucking my fist, I curse the goddess, myself, the cards life dealt me.