Chapter Twelve
Amelia
I ncineration. Fire. Hell. That’s all that’s flowing through my veins. He rocked my world yesterday, did things I never thought were appropriate, but I couldn’t stop him for the life of me. I wanted it. I wanted to watch my stalker unravel for me. And after all that, he just slept on the floor next to my bed, not giving me what I wanted, leaving me with something I don’t know how to deal with. Hot and bothered between the legs. I couldn’t sleep all night, hot flashes attacking me every time I shifted and felt his mess in my underwear.
It’s Saturday, and Margaret has given me the day off. I exchanged numbers with Ruby last week; the customer I clicked with. I’m still not used to the phone and sometimes forget I even own it, but thankfully I saw her text to hang out.
We meet at the bookstore down the street. Ruby is already waiting for me near the fiction section, and my senses are assaulted by the scent of old paper and vanilla that seems to stick to this place.
“Hello!” she sing-songs like the sunshine she is.
I set my heavy bag down on a nearby table. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day, Ruby,” I say.
She nudges me playfully. “Good. Because I intend to make sure you leave here with at least five books.”
I glance at the overflowing stack in her arms. “I take it you read a lot?”
“Please, books are my first love.” She rolls her eyes dramatically. “You ever get lost in one? Like, really lost?”
“Not really. I mean, I’ve read, but…” I trail off.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never read a romance book.”
I shift awkwardly. “I haven’t.”
She acts like I’ve personally insulted her, which is awful because I really enjoy her company and want her to enjoy mine too. “You're missing out on a lot.”
“Aren’t all genres basically the same? I mean, books are books.”
“No. Absolutely not. There’s angst, heartbreak, spice—” She pauses, narrowing her eyes at me. “Wait. You do know about the spice, right?”
“Spice? Of course, Ruby, I literally work at a restaurant.” I’m confused as to what spice has to do with anything with books.
She doubles over with laughter. “Oh my God. Not that type of spice!”
“What type then? I mean, there are a lot—cumin, ginger, paprika…” I start listing them off using my fingers.
“Oh, this is going to be so much fun.” Ruby manages out between fits of laughter.
She scans the titles before plucking a few books from the shelves and handing them to me.
“These,” she declares, “will change your life.”
I glance down at the covers. My face burns instantly.
“Ruby,” I whisper-shout. “These men are half-naked.”
“And? Trust me, Amelia, it’s not just about the covers. What’s inside is even better.”
Curiosity gets the better of me, so I follow Ruby to the register, wondering what exactly I’ve just gotten myself into.
***
Walking back to the restaurant with those books feels like a walk of shame. I’m a mess of nerves by the time I reach my room. I drop onto my bed, clutching the book in my hands. The second I flip open the first page, I’m sucked in. My eyes widen at every detail.
People do those things?
When I think about it objectively, it’s crude. Gross, even. But when I think of doing these things with Damien… I melt. Something must be wrong with me.
And that’s exactly when the door suddenly bursts open. I jolt upright, the book nearly flying from my hands.
“You are getting way too comfortable with breaking and entering,” I sigh. Is it even breaking and entering at this point if I expect him to come and am excited for it?
He shoves his hands in his pockets like this is the most casual thing in the world. “Stop pretending you don’t like it.”
I roll my eyes. “The stalking?”
“What about it?”
I open my mouth to retort, but his gaze flicks downward to the book I’m reading. A book with a shirtless man on the cover, his muscles glistening.
Damien goes completely still. “What the fuck is that?”
“What does it look like, Damien? It’s a novel.”
His nostrils flare. “A novel,” he repeats. “That’s what they’re calling this filth now?”
“It’s not filth.” (It is, but a little white lie never hurt anyone.)
“Then tell me, little flower, what exactly are you learning from this?”
I refuse to answer.
In two strides, he’s on me, yanking the book from my hands and flipping through the pages.
“Sit down.”
“Damien—”
“Sit,” he commands, his voice as hard as stone.
Something in me obeys before my mind can catch up. God, my body responds to this man before my mind does.
“Let’s see what’s got you so red in the face.”
“ His mouth worshiped every inch of her, savoring the taste of her —”
“Oh my God, stop!” I practically throw myself forward to snatch the book from his grasp. He catches me midair like some hulk and pulls me against him.
He tosses the book onto the bed. “You’d rather learn from some pathetic fiction than from me?”
I gape at him. This man is mentally unwell. So am I, because I’m attracted to him.
“It’s just a book.”
“A book that made you blush. A book that possibly made your pussy drip.”
“ Why are you so mad?”
His thumb brushes my lower lip. “Because no one gets to teach you about this but me. After I’ve taught you everything, every filthy, beautiful thing there is to know, you can read however much of it you want. Just let me be the one who shows you first.”
What does he plan on doing? I find out a second later.
“Little flower, I’m going to eat your pussy till you pass out.”
“That’s so gross,” I blurt out without thinking. My brain-to-mouth filter evaporates around this man.
“Gross?” His eyes burn with something dangerous.
“Yes,” I answer truthfully, seeing no point in lying.
He lunges at me, yanking my dress up to expose me. A choked sound escapes me.
“Damien, stop,” I rasp, pressing my thighs together.
“I’m going to teach you how to love my tongue on your pussy, little flower. I’m going to show you how good it feels.”
He rips my underwear off, forcing my legs apart with ease, spreading me open.
“Fucking beautiful,” he growls. “Don’t you dare hide from me.”
Without warning, he licks.
The first lick—oh God. My hips buck involuntarily, chasing his mouth. My body feels like it’s on fire.
“You… you can’t. It’s dirty.” My voice cracks. “What if you get sick?”
“It’s fucking pure, little flower. You’re pure.”
His tongue flicks against me again, deeper this time. My entire body reacts against my will.
“You taste so fucking good,” he growls. He flicks the tip of his tongue against my ball of nerves, making my back arch. His mouth works over me relentlessly, his hands holding me still as I try to squirm away.
How can I hate this? How can I want this when I told myself I wouldn’t?
His mouth fully engulfs me, and the air is knocked out of my lungs as he licks me from bottom to top. My resistance slips away. My hands grasp at his hair, pulling him closer. The pressure between my legs is unbearable.
He pulls back just enough to look up at me, his mouth glistening with evidence of how much I’ve already given him.
“I told you, little flower. Your body wants this. You need this.”
“Please,” I whisper. “Please don’t stop. I can’t…”
I can’t finish the sentence, can’t say what I want. Because I know how much I’m going to lose myself to him if he keeps going.
My body jerks uncontrollably as something deep inside me unravels. My head spins. It feels so good.
“Shhh, you’re fine,” he says. “You’ve been needing this.”
When my release fades, I’m left dizzy and disoriented. His touch is much softer now, nothing like before. It’s like he wants to soothe me. He cradles me like I’m fragile, rocking me back and forth. “It’s okay. You’re supposed to like it.”
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs again. “Such a good girl for me. You’ll get used to this. You’re meant to want this, to want me. And you’ll love every second of it.”