Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
DOTTIE
W hy am I so hot and sore?
I groan and grip the pillow tighter, scissoring my legs together in hopes it will dull this delicious ache forming in my core. It is too early, and I am too bloody sore. What the hell happened last night?
Then it hits me like a damn freight train, and I snap upright, feeling dizzy from the sudden movement. I can still smell him, and is that coffee?
I don’t see him. I do however see the coffee and a note on the bedside table. Leaning forward, I reach for the paper and palm the mug in my other hand. Unfolding it, I start to read.
Be at the garage by ten or your ass is mine.
Tin Man xox
He can’t be serious, but I’m not ready to test that theory, so I haul my ass out of bed, scull my coffee, and head toward the bathroom. I have an hour until I need to be there, and a shower is in order if I’m going to be anywhere near that man.
I shiver at the memory, and my lady bits tingle at everything he did last night. At everything he said and promised me, but one thing sticks out the most, and as the hot water hits my skin, I fight the urge to touch myself.
Oh, Dorothy, you have no idea who you’re messing with. Last night we barely scratched the surface, and now, now that you are mine, I am going to have all of you.
Am I his?
Of course not. He’s delusional. There is only one way this ends and that’s with me having a broken heart and losing my best friend. I can’t let that happen, but I also have to finish this fucking mural, so I can go home to Sydney.
I shower quickly, get dressed in my painting gear and get the fuck out there.
It’s quarter to ten when I arrive at the workshop, and being a Sunday, no one is working.
Slipping my key into the lock, I open the door and head for the reception area where I find another coffee on my desk and a box with a ribbon wrapped around it.
What the…
Looking over my shoulder, I grab the takeaway cup and sip the black coffee.
Throwing myself into the office chair, I unwrap the box, and I gasp when I see the contents. Grabbing the small envelope, I open it and read the contents.
Blossom. Today you will wear this while you paint the mural. If I return, and you aren’t, it will be another night of orgasm denial for you, and this time you won’t come. Don’t test me.
Yours, Tin-Man xox
Swallowing, I take a second to compose myself before withdrawing the contents with shaky hands. The white apron is bloody tiny, and will barely cover my tits, let alone the fact it opens at the back. There is a small cap for my head and a pair of purple heels that I will break my damn neck in.
How the fuck did he find these so quickly?
I don’t give myself time to think. I shimmy out of my overalls but leave my thong on; he didn’t say anything about underwear.
Smirking to myself, I put the apron on, not surprised I have mega side boob, or the fact that one of my tits won’t stay contained in the skimpy material, and walk toward my painting stuff.
Standing back, I look at the graffiti on the wall that I use as a scale with my paintbrush resting on my bottom lip. Moving forward, I start the outline of the Holden EH, and then I’ll move onto the Ford Mustang after that.
I don’t know how long I work on the mural, as I’m consumed by the art and allowing my creative outlet out to play, that I don’t hear, see, or feel Damon until he wraps his arms around my waist and his scent wafts up, startling me.
“Mmm, don’t you look good enough to eat.”
I lean into him with a smile; but catch myself and move away. His hand tightens on my waist, and he pulls me back into him, inhaling and running his nose along the column of my neck.
“Tsk, tsk. Are you being a brat again?”
“I’m trying to paint, Uncle Damon.”
“Blossom.”
“Tin Man.”
Damon chuckles, then licks up the side of my face, causing goosebumps to rise over my flesh. I want to say something smart to him, but the more he licks and kisses my face, the more I forget my damn words .
“Cat got your tongue, Blossom?”
“Asshole.”
Palming my tit, Damon pulls on the nipple ring, and I bite back the moan bubbling up my throat. He’s barely touched me, but I can feel how wet I am by the saturated thong I’m wearing.
As if hearing my thoughts, the hand that was around my waist moves to palm my ass before slapping it.
“What the fuck?” I hiss, and I feel Damon smirk against my cheek.
“Did I say you could keep these on?”
“Well, you didn’t tell me that I couldn’t.”
“Such a sassy little mouth. Maybe I should fuck it so you can’t speak. Would you like that, Blossom?”
I swallow the lump in my throat, gripping the paintbrush in my hand and thinking of how to respond, but when he palms my ass again, I release the moan I didn’t realise I was holding back.
“Such a needy, pretty girl. I bet your thong is dripping.”
“Why don’t you check for yourself,” I say, brazenly, and Damon’s hand moves from my ass to rest on my hipbone.
And then I have a stupid fucking idea, one that will probably get me punished.
So just as his hand skims the top of my thong, I whirl around slash the paintbrush down his cheek, coating it in fire-engine-red while I take a few steps away. Damon looks at me. The line of paint that cuts through his eye and cheek makes him seem more dangerous than he is.
Then he smirks, his brow lifting the red paint, and he looks downright sinister.
“Oh shit,” I whisper.
“Oh shit, indeed.”
He closes this distance between us, and his hand tangles in my hair, causing me to gasp. Damon bites down on his lip, and I start panting like a dog in fucking heat.
How he does this to me I will never know, but he makes me forget why I shouldn’t be standing here, half-naked with a man more than twenty years older than me.
Damon’s smirk deepens and then he’s stepping away from me. My chest rises and falls quickly, and I look at him confused, wondering what kind of game we are playing. Crossing his arms over his chest, I see the evil plan he’s hatching in his dark blue eyes.
“Get upstairs.”
“Ex─excuse me?”
“You heard me, Dorothy, don’t make me ask you again.”
The use of my full name sends a wave of disappointment through me that I can’t describe or understand, slicing through the lust and playfulness I was feeling moments ago.
With my head down, I move past him, but his arm comes up and the next second we are chest to chest. He pushes my chin up, so I have to look at him, and I hate the feeling of tears prickling my eyes.
What the hell is going on here?
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Allow yourself to believe you are anything but the Goddess you truly are.”
“What?”
“It’s written all over your pretty face. I want you more than my next breath, but we need to discuss a few things.”
“What are you talking about?”
Running his free hand through his hair, he sighs.
“Upstairs, beautiful, and I will tell you everything.”
Anxiety settles in, but I force myself to breathe through it. A few seconds ago, Damon seemed ready to punish me for painting his face, but now, now he seems pensive, almost scared, and I don’t know how to unpack that.
Turning my face away from him, I walk around him, put the lids on my paint and drop the paintbrush in some mineral turpentine so it doesn’t dry out. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time and it unnerves me.
Once I’m satisfied my paints won’t dry out, I move toward the locked door that leads to the staircase up into his apartment without looking at him.
The door is already open, so I make my way up the steps, hearing Damon sigh and curse behind me.
I’m not sure what he’s about to tell me but I guess I’m about to find out.
Stepping aside, I wait for Damon so he can open the front door. I feel ridiculous standing here in this skimpy outfit with paint all over me, and I admonish myself for not bringing my stuff up from the office.
Pulling out his keys, Damon slides the front door one into the hole and turns. A click sounds, signalling it’s unlocked. Damon kicks the apartment door open and motions for me to head inside. Suddenly feeling awkward, I give him a small nod and walk inside.
The door slams behind me and I jump. Breathing in a staggered breath, I head for the loungeroom, my cheeks heating when I see the lounge he caught me masturbating on.
“I can’t get that image out of my head either,” he says from behind me, his breath fanning the shell of my ear.
Closing my eyes, I remind myself why we came here and straighten my spine. Once I feel somewhat under control, I open my eyes and walk toward the couch.
Damon kicks off the doorframe and sits in the opposite lounge from me.
“When I started texting you through that site, I hadn’t expected it to eventuate. I was lonely, and I just wanted someone to talk to, someone who didn’t know me,” he says, giving a tired laugh. “But that backfired.”
He looks away from me and reaches underneath the small table beside the couch and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. He doesn’t pour the liquor into the glasses; he just looks at them. I quirk an eyebrow but stay quiet, sensing he has more to say.
His eyes come back to me.
“Kerry-Anne and I were never a match made in heaven; and the only reason I stayed so long was Arrie. Until I couldn’t.
I’m sure Arrie has given you all the sordid details about the split, but to be honest, it was long before then that both of us had left the marriage.
Kerry was cheating on me, and once I found out, I never touched her again, not that we were sleeping together anyway… ”
He goes silent and looks away, seemingly lost in thought. I sit there in this stupid as fuck outfit and wait, wondering what the hell is going on and what we are doing here.
Everything we are doing is wrong, but I can’t find it in myself to stop. I know Arrie won’t approve of whatever is going on with me and Damon, but right now that seems like a conversation and worry that doesn’t have to be had.
I know I’m fooling myself, but I want to be selfish a little longer.
“After I left that witch, I realised what I had been missing all my life, why I felt trapped and how I couldn’t be myself.”
Damon pauses, pours the whiskey into the shot glasses and stands up, bringing me one. I want to ask him what he was going to say, hell, I need to know what he’s going to say, but I can see it in his eyes when he stands in front of me that he’s working on how to say whatever it is.
With his hand outstretched, he offers me the drink, and I take it. Our fingertips brush and a bolt of electricity pulses through me.
I hold in the gasp, but I see it in his eyes. He felt it too. Stepping away, he gives me his back and moves back to the lounge to sit. Even though he’s only a few metres away, it feels like more. He sculls the liquor, hisses and faces me.
“I don’t know how else to say this, Dottie, but I’m a Dom. I have certain desires ─ tastes, needs and wants, something I found out about myself when I left. These past ten years I have lived the lifestyle of one, even while on the road.”
“A Dom? As in BDSM?” I hear myself ask.
I had wondered.
His eyebrows hit his hairline before they smooth back out and I see his eyes darken. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, and I’m curious as to what is going on in his mind.
“You’re familiar with the terms? Have you…?”
“Oh god no!” I rush out. “I’ve just read a lot of books is all.”
“Really?” he smirks, and I want to wipe it off his face with my fist.
“Yes, really, asshole.”
“That mouth is going to get you into trouble, Sweet Dottie.”
Giddiness rises within me, but instead of showing him I’m affected, I quirk a brow. He has more to say. He shakes his head with a smile on his face before looking back to me. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, assessing.
“We know that what we are doing is… unorthodox. However, we are adults, Dottie, and if we are to continue seeing each other, it is my duty as a Dominant and a decent fucking human being to be honest with you. There is no relationship without trust, especially one with this dynamic. So , I need to know, Blossom, are you ready for this? Because this is who I am.”
Is he really asking me if I want to be in dominant/submissive relationship?
“You mean, do I and will I accept you in your entirety?”
“Yes,” he says, simply.
“Yes.” I reply without hesitation.
“Good girl. Looks like we have some hard limits to discuss,” he says with a cheeky smile, and I swallow the saliva catching in my throat.
What have I gotten myself into now!