Chapter 13
thirteen
Walking through the front door at Revamp is a bittersweet feeling today.
Usually, this place brings me nothing but joy.
I feel a sense of pride when I help someone find a new outfit they feel comfortable and confident wearing.
But with everything going on in my life right now, I don’t want to be anywhere but next to Dalton.
That’s where I feel the safest. Before the front door even closes, Malcolm is in my face.
“You’re late Magnolia,” he bites out, teeth clenched. What crawled up his ass today?
“Early is on time, Magnolia. On time is late,” he says, his daily manta grating across my nerves.
“Back off, Malcolm! I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.” I see the surprise in his eyes. I’ve never spoken to him, or anyone else, that way in my life. But it felt good, powerful. I owe him nothing.
“Watch the way you speak to me, bitch!” He snaps, gripping my arm tightly.
Before I know what I’m doing, my fist connects with his nose and a sharp crunch rings through the silence. A sharp yelp sounds, maybe from him or maybe from me. Blood pours from his nose as a dull pain radiates across my knuckles. I have never hit another person in my life, but damn, it felt good.
“You bitch! What the fu-” he starts, but I cut him off.
“I quit, Malcolm. Go fuck yourself,” I snap, pick my bag up and walking back to the front door.
Anxiety doesn’t slam into me until I’m out the door and halfway down the street to my house.
My heart races as I grip the strap of my purse.
Pinpricks break out across my skin as I pant out heavy breaths.
What the fuck did I just do? And why did I love the way it felt?
I’ve never had a panic attack until right now. Digging furiously through my purse, I scramble for my phone. My nerves calm slightly as my hand wraps around the device, my fingers dialing Dalton’s number without a second thought. It rings barely twice before his voice comes through the speaker.
“Hey, baby. Miss me alr-” His flirty voice is cut off by my panicked tone.
“I need you. Now.” My words are rushed and clipped as my heart pounds against my ribs. It doesn’t make sense for me to feel such anxiety right now, but I do. That’s mental health for you, I suppose.
“Where?” He says, the sound of keys jingling in the background.
“My house. I’m almost there,” I say, walking up the steps to my apartment. The line disconnects as I fumble with my keys.
Finally, I get the building’s door open, and I race upstairs to my apartment. Slamming and locking the door behind me, I fall onto the couch, drawing my knees up under my chin as the anxiety flood my system.
I hit someone. I quit my job. Both were necessary evils, and I have no reason to feel such anxiety over it.
But I still do. I absolutely love Revamp, and I don’t know where this leaves me for the future.
But everyone has their breaking points, that point when you just can’t carry the weight of everything swirling around in your mind and heart. Apparently, this is mine.
Blood pounds in my veins, the ambient noise around me fading into the background of my racing heart. I rock back and forth gently, hoping the motion will ease some of the nervous energy continuing to build inside me.
A heavy pounding against the door has me scrambling from my seat and racing to open it.
Throwing it open, I collapse in Dalton’s arms. I barely register the gun in his left hand as he backs us up into the apartment and closes the door behind him.
I cling to his soft cotton t-shirt, letting the feeling of the cool material against his hard chest soothe me.
“Do I need to clear this apartment, or is this a different kind of problem, angel?” His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it. It takes me a few moments to realize what he’s asking. Clear my apartment? He’s asking if there’s an immanent threat facing us.
“No need to clear, just a little menty b,” I snort out a laugh and he relaxes slightly, setting his pistol on the bar as he wraps both arms around me. He holds me so securely, like I’m precious to him. And I’m starting to believe I am.
“What happened, Mags?” He asks, kissing my hair softly. I’m still clinging to him, but he makes no move to push me away.
“I punched Malcom in the face and told him I quit,” I say, explaining as simply as possible. He tenses beneath my hands, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye.
“What the fuck did he do, Magnolia?” He asks, his voice deeper and darker than I’ve ever heard before.
“It’s nothing specifically that he did today. I mean, he grabbed my arm but-” Fire blazes in his eyes and I feel my core clench. Before Dalton, I never would have said violence turned me on.
“HE WHAT?!” He shouts, and from any other man I might wince, might feel unsafe. But hearing his outrage at any man putting their hands on me.
“Calm down, I’m okay. Really, he didn’t hurt me.” I rub my hands up and down his chest soothingly and I feel the tiniest bit of tension leave his body, even though his eyes are dark and furious.
“He has no right to touch you, Magnolia.” He won’t look me in the eye, but I know he’s contemplating the consequences of murder right now.
“You’re right, Dalton. He has no right to touch me. The only man who has any right to my body is you,” I say, my palm resting against his cheek as I drag his eyes to mine. “Only you, honey.”
Before I can breathe, his lips are on mine, not asking but demanding, firm, needy.
Like he’s desperate to taste the sincerity in my words.
His kiss is sensual, always exactly what I need at any moment.
His lips trail down my neck, a moan slipping from my lips as he picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist before he walks us into my bedroom.
We fall onto the bed, his body heavy on top of mine as he pushes my shirt up to kiss my stomach, my hips, every inch of skin he can find.
“Every single piece of you tastes like heaven, angel. Tastes like mine.” He growls against my skin and I melt into the mattress. The world outside this room could burn to the ground and I would die happy now. He peels my leggings off, groaning as he realizes I’m bare underneath.
“I love knowing my pussy is bare underneath whatever you’re wearing.
Knowing I could lift one of those pretty little dresses you love to tease me with and slide my cock inside you at any time, any place.
” I shiver at his words, the heat of his breath fanning across my inner thighs as he shoulders his way between my legs.
“Yours,” is all I can manage before his tongue meets my center in a long, languid stroke.
“Mine, Magnolia. And I’m gonna take you any way I can because you belong to me.
This perfect fucking body is mine.” He nips at my clit and I groan loudly.
I feel an unfamiliar pressure pushing against the tight muscles of the one place I’ve never even considered an option sexually.
“This exquisite ass will be mine. I’ve been dreaming about it since the first time I saw you in one of those fucking dresses. ”
“But I haven’t-” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Have I ever hurt you, angel? No. I’m not gonna start now.
I’ll make sure you’re ready to take me before I do.
But I will, because this beautiful body belongs to me and I’m gonna claim every inch of it.
” His tongue darts out, tasting me gently before he closes his lips around my clit and sucks hard.
“Oh, fuck!” I yell, burying my fingers in the shaggy hair on top of his head. I pull shamelessly and he groans against me, making my skin tingle. His thumb presses against my ass and my orgasm crashes through me.
“That’s my girl. Come for me, angel,” he says.
My back bows off the mattress as I ride the high, letting the feeling flow across every nerve ending in my body. This man owns me, wholly and completely. But for once in my life, that kind of ownership doesn’t scare me. I want to lean into it, embrace everything that makes me his.