Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
DOTTIE
I wake up while it’s still dark and find myself on the couch.
What the hell?
Then I remember.
Damon.
Dexter.
Beers.
I scoot off the couch, grab my phone off the coffee table, and fold the blanket up.
How I could sit there watching the show without ripping him a new one, or moving closer to him surprised me.
There is a fine tether between us, one that we must never cross, but I can’t deny there is a part of me that wants to jump all over that damn thing.
Walking toward the room, I falter when I hear a garbled moan from Damon’s room. I move to the door, trying to peek through the slit, but all I can see are shadows in the darkness.
“Fuck,” he groans, and I clench my legs at the sound.
Resting my back against the wall, my laboured breaths are the only thing beside his moans I can hear in the hallway. I should move, leave, do something other than stand outside his door listening to him, but my feet are rooted to the spot.
My phone vibrates in my hand. I know it’s the Tin Man.
Opening the message, I stay where I am and bite down on my tongue to stop any sounds. There is a picture of him in black and white, sheets tangled around his legs and the bottom half of his stomach peeks through. But what I can’t stop looking at is the outline of his hard cock.
God damn. That thing is huge!
Damon growls something low and deep, and I force myself to my room. I feel hot and needy, my pussy pulsing around fucking nothing. I need to fix this incessant ache before it capsizes and snows me under.
Throwing caution to the wind, I rip Damon’s shirt off and grab one of my clit stimulation toys from the bag. I don’t bother warming myself up, I place the damn thing on my clit and turn the fucker on.
My back bows off the bed instantly, and I grip the sheets as my hips move in tandem to the air pulsing of the toy. A string of curse words leaves my mouth, moans and whimpers following. I’m not quiet, and a part of me revels at the thought of Damon being able to hear me while he masturbates.
It feels so dirty.
Filthy.
And when my phone vibrates and I open the picture, I find another black-and-white image, this time with his arousal all over his inked abdomen. It spurs me on and sets me off, and within ten seconds I’m coming hard, a muffled cry leaving my mouth even though I’ve bitten down on my wrist.
When I finally come to my senses, I turn the toy off and place it beside the bed, looking at the image, trying to see his tattoos, but it seems he blurred them out .
I’m meeting this man in less than a week. Five damn days. I need to stop thinking of Damon.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t hear the door open until Damon speaks.
“I thought I told you to be quiet tonight.”
I say nothing, allowing his threat and promise to linger in the air.
“My sweet, sweet, Dottie, what am I going to do with you?”
I remain quiet, waiting to see what he does, knowing that in the dark we can hide.
We can pretend.
“Do you like getting off, knowing I can hear you?”
His voice gets lower, closer. Still, I say nothing.
“Does it turn you on knowing that I can hear your sweet moans and whimpers, knowing I’m hard, lying in my bed alone?”
My breath catches and my pussy clenches and throbs with need. Still, I remain silent. When the bed dips, I let out a small gasp.
“Does it still hurt, baby? Would you like me to show you how it feels to soothe that ache? To take it away?”
A sharp intake of breath is the only answer I give him, all while my body feels like it’s about to burst into flames from his words. I should tell him no, tell him he needs to go back to his room, that we can’t do this, but I don’t.
It’s stupid.
Reckless.
“Answer me, Dottie,” he demands, his fingers trailing up and down my calf, causing me to jolt.
“We─we can’t, Damon.”
“I know,” he answers, his voice dripping with melancholy. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to. ”
His fingers move higher and higher. My body breaks out in goosebumps, and I’m frozen in place. I should move or do something, but I don’t. I wait. For what, I don’t know.
His fingers stop on my upper thigh, gripping it and tearing a moan from my throat and a growl from his. Our breathing is the only thing to be heard in the small room, and I try my hardest not to move, not to do something to break the spell we are under.
“Maybe in another time, another life I could have given you what you need and want, Sweet Dottie, but I can’t. I fucking can’t,” he says in frustration. “I want nothing more than to dip my fat fingers into that pretty little thing, whisper sweet nothings across your flesh as I taste you.”
“Damon…”
“Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“Please…”
“Dorothy.”
“Please.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
“I’m so ─ sorry… it just…”
“Just what,” he growls, the bed dipping with his weight again.
“Hurts.”
A guttural groan leaves his throat, and it sounds like crunching gravel.
“You need to stop.”
“I know,” I finish on a whisper.
“But you don’t want to. You think we can play pretend in the dark, sweetheart? Like what we are doing right now isn’t wrong?”
I nod, even though he can’t see me.
“Once I start, I won’t be able to stop,” he answers in a strained voice .
I know he’s waiting for me to give him an answer, anticipating God knows what, and when he moves to leave, two words leave my mouth, two words that will change what happens from here.
I won’t be able to take it back, and I know there will be repercussions, but I say them anyway.
“Do it.”
Growling, he’s between my thighs in a second, his nose trailing up my inner thigh, inhaling, while his hands grip each side of my thighs.
“Fuck. You smell divine, Dottie. Like forbidden fruit. Fruit I shouldn’t taste, but fuck it, I’m already going to hell.”
Then his mouth is on me, sucking, licking, nipping at my flesh while he kneads my thighs before slipping his finger inside of me. My back leaves the bed, my hands threading through his dark hair.
“Oh, my fuck!” I cry out, and Damon’s chuckle vibrates on my clit, sending me soaring.
It doesn’t take long for me to reach the peak, and just as I’m about to throw myself over, he curls his finger up and makes me squirt and come at the same time.
“Damon!” I scream, and he growls into my pussy, lapping lazily as the aftershocks slowly leave my body.
I lay there spent, breathing heavily, and when the bed moves with Damon’s weight, I try and find him in the dark, but I can’t. I follow his breathing and find his shadowed silhouette.
“You can’t stay, Dottie. You need to leave tomorrow.”
“What?”
“I ─ fuck!”
I jump from his outburst, feeling the sting of rejection, and wondering why I keep putting myself in these kinds of positions .
“Dottie, please, I need you to understand,” it comes out strangled and dripping with agony, a plea if there ever was one.
A tear slides down my face. Arrie’s face forms in my mind, and I heave back a sob.
What have I done?
“I know, baby, I know. Arrie will never find out. This is our one stolen moment, the one time we allowed ourselves to be selfish, but I can’t be under the same roof as you now that I’ve tasted you, felt you, Dottie. I just can’t,” he says, his sadness tainting what we just did.
But I deserve it.
I watch his shadow through blurry eyes, and with each step he takes away from me, I feel my heart splintering, my soul shattering, and my resolve faltering. It needs to be done though.
We crossed that imaginary line in the sand and jumped over that mother fucker. The heavy weight of sadness and betrayal hangs in the tense air between us, and before he disappears through the bathroom and into his room, he stops, and so does my heart.
“I still want you to do the mural, but I understand if you don’t want to.”
With that, the door closes, and he’s gone, leaving me to my despair and betrayal, wondering how I’m going to look at Arrie when I see her next. My best friend, cousin, and Damon’s daughter.