Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
DAMON
W e both know I can finish on my own just fine.
Dottie’s words play over and over in my mind, and I’m not proud that I have been fucking my fist for the past hour imagining her.
Fuck.
I look down at my still hard, come covered cock, and start sliding my hand up and down again, hissing when I reach the pierced head. Pulling on the bar, I groan into the empty, dark space, wondering what Dottie is doing now.
Will she entertain that tool? Maybe I should just fire him.
Growling, I pick up the pace, thinking of the last image Blossom sent me and how it sent my body to octane levels, ready to combust. I swear, I shouldn’t have anything else left inside my balls, but as ribbons of come hit my stomach for what feels like the tenth time, I pant through the orgasm, thinking of two women.
One I should definitely not be thinking about.
Leaving the mess on my stomach and thighs, I release a leaden breath and think of my options .
If I tell Dottie she can’t stay here, it will only raise suspicion, and I know my daughter—she won’t back the fuck down until I give her an answer. Arrie has a way of wearing me down and I’ll tell her everything.
The truth.
Hauling myself upright, I sit on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands and my elbows on my knees, feeling the stickiness of my cum drying on my skin. What the hell am I going to do?
Ever since I left Kerry-Anne, I have exhibited control like no man ever. I regretted fucking her in the back of my panel van after a pub crawl, but I don’t regret marrying her. Not because I loved her, but because she gave me Arrie.
She’s the only reason I stayed as long as I did.
I knew Kerry-Anne was fucking the young cop, but I hadn’t touched her for years, so it didn’t faze me. When she came to realise, I was no longer attracted to her, and I wasn’t going to stick my dick anywhere near her, she did everything she could to try to make me jealous.
It never worked.
All the designer suits, expensive heels, and makeup a paint scraper would struggle to remove off her face couldn’t disguise what she was so desperately trying to hide.
You can’t dress mutton up and call it lamb.
My phone vibrates beside me and effectively breaks me from my thoughts. Sighing, I reach for my phone and unlock it.
Blossom.
My heart ratchets in my chest while my finger shakes over her name. Opening the message, my breath catches in my throat as I read over the message a couple more times.
I hate I can’t get you out of my mind, and I hate how you make me feel.
And how do I make you feel?
Wanted.
I would make you feel a whole lot more, Blossom.
I know… and that’s what scares me.
Her online icon disappears, and I’m left sitting in the dark reading over her message, wishing I could save her from the burdens of the world she undeniably has resting on her shoulders.
It’s pathetic. Stupid, even.
I can’t even rescue myself, so how I expect to save and help anyone else is beyond me. I think of the many nights we’ve stayed up texting, and I realise she hasn’t really exposed much of herself to me. It only intrigues me more, but having Dottie on the scene has confused me.
I want Blossom, but I can’t deny my attraction toward Dottie. If I’m honest, I’ve always had a soft spot for her, and the last time I saw her didn’t exactly go well.
She probably doesn’t remember that I went to the hospital after she passed out on the stage during graduation to check on her. Her parents, of course, didn’t want to take her, but I forced Kerry-Anne to take her, and so did Arrie.
It was the last time I’d see her.
Until last night.
Groaning, I force myself to move my feet and to get myself showered and ready for bed, but I hesitate. Glancing down at my phone, I pick it up and type something I know I shouldn’t.
Are you free next week?
I don’t wait for her reply, instead, I exit out of the app and head to the shower knowing I’m about to stroke my cock to the potential of finally meeting her, finally feeling her flesh, finally giving in.
I wake to banging and clanging, cursing, I reach into my bedside drawer and grab my gun. Not bothering with pants, I creep quietly toward the noise, only to hear her voice.
Dottie.
Fuck my life.
Is the world against me, or is this karma?
I can still hear her telling me she can finish herself off, but I shake my head of the thoughts and images playing like a carousel of fuckery and focus on her in the dark.
“Dorothy?”
“Unc ─ unky Damon,” she says, giggling and catching herself on the lounge.
“Argh. I’m pretty sure I told you to stop calling me that.”
“But you are my uncle .”
“Step-uncle.”
“Still…” she says with a lopsided smirk.
“Would you not?”
She giggles again, glancing up, snaring me and rendering me fucking speechless. She doesn’t need to say shit, but I can see everything written on her face, everything she isn’t saying.
“I think you need to sleep, girl.”
“I’m fine,” she slurs, hiccupping through her words. “Did you think I’d come home?”
My cock jerks.
“I know you don’t want me here. I get it, I reallllyyyyy do. I can leave in the morning. It’s fine ─ I’m ─ I’m fine,” she stutters, ripping a piece of my heart in the process.
“Like fuck you are.”
She staggers forward, her hand to her mouth. Cursing under my breath, I rush forward and scoop her up. She melds perfectly against me, and I can’t trick myself into believing she is anything but a full-grown woman.
A beautiful woman at that.
Shit. Focus, Damon. Get her to the bathroom.
I try not to take notice of her body, her round tits or phat ass.
I. Am. SO. Going. To. Hell.
As soon as I settle her near the toilet bowl, she hurls into it like she’s been waiting for days to let it all out.
I take no notice. The only thing I focus on is holding her purple hair back and trying to soothe her. I have no idea what happened at the club, but something tells me it didn’t go the way she planned.
Fifteen minutes later, and after washing her face down with a wet cloth, and reluctantly taking off her spewed-on shirt, I slip one of mine on her and try not to look at the black lace bra she has on.
I carry her to Arrie’s room. Before I lay her down, she curls into my chest, gripping onto my skin.
I don’t think she’s realised I’m naked, and I’m definitely not about to make that fact known.
Through half lidded eyes, she glances up at me and tries to focus. I lay her down and pull the blankets up.
“Just hold me, if only for a little while.”
Hesitating, I tuck Dottie in and look at her. The moonlight shimmers in through my French doors, the breeze billowing in and blowing her hair out of her face.
She looks like a broken angel, and I just want to be her saviour, which is stupid. I can’t even save myself, let alone another human being. I wrestle with myself for a few more minutes before doing something I know I shouldn’t do .
Pulling on my boxers, I give in to her demand.
I’ll hold her, even though it is reckless and stupid ─ dangerous . Even when I feel a tinge of guilt when I think of Blossom. How is it I’m in this position, when I’ve kept myself in control and in check for so long?
Propping myself up with my hand, I look down at her. I’m going to have to put an end to whatever this is before anything else happens.
I love my daughter, and I don’t want to hurt her. And this? This would gut her.
I push her hair behind her ear, and she lets out a cute little snore. Her lips are slightly parted, and I fight to not touch her any more than I already am.
She’s under the covers, and I’m on top, but tell that to my aching fucking cock. I watch her for way too long to be appropriate, hating what I have to say to her in the morning.
Everything is so fucking messed up, and I regret coming back, but it needed to happen. Kerry-Anne finally signed the divorce papers, after ten fucking years, and I just need this shit finalised so I can finally close this never-ending chapter in my life.
She wanted money—my damn workshop—and even though I was thinking with my dick when we first started screwing around, my father’s words echoed in my mind.
You’ve adopted Arrie, and you’re about to marry Kerry–Anne. If she really loves you, then she’ll sign the damn prenup, Damon.
If she cheated on me, she got fuck all.
Shaking my head from the memories, I release a leaden sigh. Everything feels heavy and I can feel it seep deep into my skin. The last thing I remember before I pass out, is whispering in the dark.
Someone else is going to have to be your saviour, Little Dottie.