Chapter 4 #2
The crowd of college students, damn near shoulder to shoulder, chugging beers and chaotically dancing, had barely been able to part enough to let us through.
Beer cans, abandoned solo cups, and fragments of chips crushed beneath my motorcycle boots as I followed Gemma toward the back of the house, where Chad claimed he’d be waiting.
The kitchen was littered with more party trash. A couple of large kegs were set up on the island, with a line out the door for whatever shit beer they’d sprung for to fuel this not-so-little soiree.
Chad wrapped his arms around Gemma. When the friendly embrace lingered too long, Gemma wriggled out of his arms and stepped back to me. His disdainful gaze locked with my own. He’d been infatuated with her since our childhood.
“You got the shit?” he asked, running his hand through his golden-blonde hair.
“You got the cash?”
He nodded once toward the sliding glass door behind him. “Yeah, Kevin’s got it, out back.”
Gemma reached into her purse and handed me the bag, which contained the other half of the goods.
I knew— as long as Chad knew —if Gemma had enough drugs on her to do a decent stint behind bars, he wouldn’t risk setting me up.
Not if she’d go down with me. I smiled a get fucked grin while he glared at me.
“I’m gonna grab a drink,” she said softly against my ear. “Come and dance with me when you’re done.”
Kevin and I exchanged the variety pack of party drugs, which included Ecstasy, Special K, and the classics, Cocaine and Mary Jane, for the jacked-up price of forty-five hundred bucks.
These preppy rich kids could easily afford it on their parents’ dime.
I left Chad’s minion and went in search of Gemma.
I expected to find her relatively close to where I had left her, since the exchange took all of three or four minutes. Having found no trace of her downstairs, I made my way up to the bedrooms on the second floor.
“What are you even doing with a loser like The Omen when you could be with a guy like me?” Chad’s grating voice drifted into the hall from a bedroom door left slightly ajar.
I leaned in closer. “You know I’m going to an Ivy League.
I’ll be a lawyer like my father. All of his influential connections will be mine, too.
You’d be happier with me, Gemma. I’ll be able to give you things that creep can’t, probably never will.
He’s going to end up dead or in prison like his dirtbag brother. You know it’s true.”
“ Chad… come on,” Gemma groaned with such exasperation it made me wonder if this had been a tiresome conversation they’d had before, and on more than one occasion.
“No! You come on!” his voice raised with salient agitation. “What do you even see in Rosemary’s Baby anyway?”
“ Enough with the demonic jokes already!”
He scoffed back at her. “Yeah…you must be sick of it… Living with that demonic joke! Tell me what you see in him. Is it the bullshit Bad Boy aesthetic he’s got going on? I can be dangerous too, Gem…if that’s really what you’re into.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she demanded. He had my curiosity piqued as well.
“His brother is the one who killed those two guys… Not Damien . Though he’s bound to follow in Dominick’s footsteps and land himself in prison, too.”
“Well, I’m going to retrace my footsteps back downstairs to find my boyfriend and another drink.” Gemma sighed. “This conversation has gotten ridiculous.”
“You know you and I make more sense than you and him. You dress like a thrift shop Morticia Adams , but we both know you’d be happier in Chanel, on the arm of a man who’s actually got a bright future, who’s going places other than prison.
You know our parents would be thrilled if we got together, and your father would be more inclined toward generosity if you were with me. ”
“What I know is that you’re drunk , Chad. Enjoy your party.”
I smiled and removed the Zippo she’d given me earlier. A cigarette between my lips, I lit up, then gazed down at the engraved words again… True Love… Is that what this was?
The door swung open, and she was standing before me, surprised, cigarette smoke swirling around her form.
“Damien… How long have you been standing there?” she asked, fingers nervously smoothing the fabric of her long, black skirt.
“Long enough,” I replied, allowing a grin to pull at my mouth. I eyed the disgruntled Chad, still standing in his room behind her. Gemma stepped into the hallway with me. “Another drink, darling? Perhaps a Vodka Blush …with a garnish of tannis root, of course.”
“ Dirtbag ,” Chad muttered under his breath. I didn’t quite hear him over the music thumping downstairs. Though having been called a dirtbag my whole life, the motion of his lips had been easily discernible.
I looked him over in his Khaki pants and polo shirt. “Guys like me wouldn’t exist without guys like you, Chad .”
“I guess that makes me a God to you.” He sneered, obviously missing my point. I wondered if the Rosemary’s Baby joke about the drink suggestion went over his head as well.
Though I wanted to laugh, I managed to retain a stony expression. “God’s dead, Chad … Make a move on my girl again, you might end up that way, too.”
The slick smile slid off his face. “Yeah…we’ll see about that.” His gaze shifted to Gemma. “Your parents are coming to my mother’s dinner party next week. We hope to see you there.”
“We’re busy.” I curled an arm around Gemma’s waist and pulled her against me.
Tipping her chin up, I brought my mouth to hers, libidinously claiming it with a deep kiss.
When I turned back to Chad, I stared him dead in his glaring eyes and taunted him.
“You should know, Chad , and envision my words as they embed in that simple mind of yours…m y tongue has claimed every inch of her…inside and out. As above, so below.”
“Get the fuck out of my party, psychopath!” he snapped. Clearly, I’d pushed him over the edge.
H er back arched up from the mattress beneath us, arms straining against the crimson ropes of silk around her wrists, which were bound and secured to the bedposts.
The red candles on the night tables cast her naked body in a soft glow. The flames reflected off the double-edged blade of the ruby-encrusted athame I dragged between her breasts, traveling down the length of her sternum.
“What is this shit about joining Chad’s family for dinner?” Despite the calm tone in which I had asked, the exchange between Gemma and her long-time admirer had stirred a level of jealousy within me.
“Nothing… I’m not going…” she’d replied, licking her lips in anticipation of where I might take things…
Arguably one of the most potent forms of ritual magick, sex magick combines orgasms and blood, resulting in the ultimate magickal force.
In hindsight, I should have considered the energetic bond our rituals for manifestation and protection would form between us, even if Gemma wasn’t always aware of my true intentions during our intimate activities…
“Damien…” she groaned my name.
“What, pet ?”
“Can’t you just untie me?”
I pressed the tip of the blade to her taut nipple, twisting the point until she expelled a sharp hiss. “Now, why would I do that?”
“Don’t you want to try making love… normally … for once ?”
“ Normal is subjective, pet .”
“You know what I mean.”
I pressed the cold steel of the blade flat against her other hardened bud and watched the way her pale breast swelled along its edges. If I’d dragged it, the blade would have left lovely parallel cuts of crimson on either side of her areola. My cock hardened at the thought.
Gemma never minded a little knife play, though she had rarely ever consented to being cut. My desire to see red upon her porcelain flesh was barely sated with the substitution of red candle wax.
Kinks are often derived from trauma. After the bloody night that changed the course of our lives, I developed an affinity for knives.
Though I didn’t teeter on the edge of knife play for long.
I wanted to experience more than their reaction to the sensation of my cautious blade upon their skin.
It was more than that edging fear of what I might do to them.
The mind fuck of it all had simply become foreplay.
For me, mind fuckery and knife play had only been a gateway to darker proclivities.
There is something I find quite erotic about the way blood percolates from a little puncture…the beautiful sight of precious garnet or ruby, rising from female flesh. I loved adorning my conquests with thin cut strings of crimson jewels decorating their bodies.
Binding and powerful in magickal practices…the draining of life force from an enemy…the sight of blood soothes me now.
“Can’t we try it, just once?” she pushed. “I promise not to do anything you don’t like.”
With an exasperated sigh of my own, I removed the athame from her body and slashed at the silken ropes, freeing her. Her pleas for normalcy in our bedroom had become a frequent occurrence, and I wondered to what extent she wanted to change me.
With a surprised, albeit satisfied expression, she slipped her wrists from the ropes and sat up to stare at me as I leaned back on my heels before her.
“Can you put that knife on the night table? Let it just be us , tonight?”
I begrudgingly obliged.
“You’re okay with this?”
“I’m under the impression it’s this or deprivation.”
“ Deprivation?” She shook her head. “You’re so dramatic, Damien.”
Dramatic…
“Alright. Let me tie you back up, then. Doesn’t have to be to the bedposts. I can bind your wrists to your ankles instead.”
“ Damien ….”
“ My point .”
“Why does it always have to be like this?”
I wondered why it was becoming an issue. “Why don’t you just kiss me before the moment is lost completely, ” I growled, attempting to subdue the undercurrent of resentment from being distinguishable in my tone.
“Just tell me to stop if I do something you don’t?—”
With growing impatience, I grabbed her and silenced her with a rough kiss. Her hands ran up my shoulders and cupped my face as she kissed me back. I allowed it.
“ Let me ride you ,” she whispered, then dragged her warm, wet tongue across my lips. “I promise you’ll like it.”
“You’re really pushing it tonight.” I ducked my face away from her demanding mouth, sinking my teeth into the base of her delicate neck until she squirmed in protest of the pain.
Gripping her arms, I quickly maneuvered her onto her back. Hovering above her, I slid my hands down to her wrists, pinning her to the mattress. She’d always been so… submissive . I wondered where all this had been coming from…
“You’re so much stronger than me, Damien,” she whispered, barely struggling beneath me, as if she wanted to demonstrate and instill her inability to overpower me. “Let me show you how good it can be. Let me please you… You don’t have to do anything. I’ll make it so good for you, baby.”
I tried not to sneer as I released her and squeezed the head of my cock in hopes of keeping my erection. Reluctantly, I lay on my back, head against the pillows.
Gemma immediately straddled me, wearing another eager, albeit surprised expression.
She positioned herself on top of me, taking care not to touch my torso.
After situating herself, thighs spread wide, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of my hips, I watched her drag her fingers across her tongue.
She wrapped them around my cock, and I held my breath, willing my racing heart and mind to slow, or at least pump blood where I needed it.
I forced my hands to the back of my skull, fingers threaded together, feigning a comfortable acceptance while she worked my shaft. I glanced at the knife on the bedside table.
“Don’t look at that. Look at me ,” she pleaded, cutting into fantasies that had barely begun to play in my mind.
I shifted my gaze back to her. “You’re so beautiful, Damien,” she purred, rubbing the head of my cock against her clit as she rocked her body slowly and sensually. “My gorgeous fallen angel.”
Beautiful… Gorgeous… Not pretty…
My panicked mind summoned memories of Mary Margaret.
She had also referred to me as a fallen angel.
Although Gemma was a beautiful woman by societal standards, figure-wise, I often fantasized about Mary Margaret’s thicker thighs parted beneath that Catholic school uniform…
her plump body teasing the promise of both comfort and pleasure…
“Do you like this, baby?” She tapped the head of my cock against her clit, then forced it between her lips, moving me up and down the length of her wet slit.
I gritted my teeth and willed my body to cooperate…
She was growing impatient as well.
I tried not to wince when her fingers dug into the crown of my cock, shoving the head inside herself.
She leaned forward, attempting a different angle. Her hand pressed against my lower abdomen.
“ Gemma…” I warned.
“ God damn it,” she bit out with obvious frustration and slid her hand off my stomach to plant it against the mattress, still endeavoring to force me inside of her. Losing her balance again, she gripped my hip in an attempt to steady herself.
“Gemma!”
“Fuck!” She pushed off me, repositioning herself to settle between my legs. “Just let me blow you for once! ”
I’d suffered enough humiliation by this point. I snatched her by her throat and slammed her back down to the mattress.
“Damien!” she protested against my roughness. I forced her over onto her stomach, face down into the comforter.
“Don’t fucking move,” I snarled, shoving off of her. “I’ll make you regret it if you disobey!”
I ripped the belt from my discarded jeans and quickly returned to our bed. I grabbed her arms, wrenching them behind her back, and used my belt to secure them together.
“On your knees,” I growled, planting a hand at the back of her skull, forcing her to remain face down. Angry and appetent by then, I slapped her ass. Hard. She maneuvered herself into the vulnerable position.
“Damien!”
“You want to humiliate me?”
“ What? No…”
“Keep it up, and I’ll wrap a rope around your fucking throat. Tie you to the bedpost and drag you to the edge while I fuck you! See how wet true asphyxiation gets you!”
“Jesus!”
I grabbed my cock, hard and throbbing, and angled myself into alignment with her entrance. “ Not in this fucking bed.”