Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
DAMON
M y name from her lips doesn’t prepare me for the onslaught of emotions. My sweet, beautiful, broken, Dottie. I don’t answer the silent questions in her eyes that I’ve missed so much, instead, I step through the door, scoop her up in my arms and cradle her to my chest.
Sobs break through immediately, and she clings to my shirt, making my damn heart splinter into a thousand pieces at her pain. I can feel it as if it is my own.
Kicking the door closed with my boot, I move around the room until I seat us on the lounge, still cradling her in my arms. I hush her, telling her it will be ok.
That I will be here for her in whatever capacity she needs, that I will love her and give her my strength if that’s what she needs, that I will give her everything.
But she only answers with more tears, and it breaks my heart all over again. Smoothing down her hair, I hold her close to me, enjoying the heat of her body and the feel of her in my arms, grateful I can at least offer her this piece of solace and support .
After what feels like at least an hour, Dottie sniffles and pushes off my chest. I smile down at her and swipe the tear from her lips.
“I’ve missed you, Blossom.”
“I’ve missed you too, Tin Man.”
“How are you feeling, baby, what can I do for you?”
“I – I feel numb.”
I nod, remembering how I felt when I lost my dad. Swallowing, I push the sweaty hair from her forehead and kiss it.
“That’s normal, Blossom. It’s not easy losing a parent. And regardless of the relationship you had with your mum, Mani loved you, and she’d hate to see you suffering like this.”
“Can you tell me some memories you have of her please, Damon?”
I smile down at her as a few come to mind.
“What kind of memories?”
“Happy ones.”
I give her a nod, and she sighs, clinging to my shirt and curling back into me.
Moving through the happy memories I can remember, I tell stories of her mother’s youth, before the light was undeniably stolen from her eyes.
I knew her before I met Kerry-Anne, having gone to high-school with her, and although I know the life she lived and the trauma she experienced, she still found a way to smile and laugh at school.
I think it was the only place she could escape to safely.
But I don’t tell Dottie that, and I definitely don’t tell her the times I’d seen Mani out of school with and without her dad, her face drawn, her eyes hollowed out, or the sadness that hung off her like a second skin.
I push those memories as far back as I can, because not even I want to remember them .
I tell her about times I saw her at the roller skating rink with her speed skates, the devilry in her eyes when she lined up and jumped over nine people, or the gymnastic competitions she won.
I even told her about the sexy leg competition her father entered her in, and how he lost his shit when she won, because everyone was looking at her legs.
A few sniffs and some laughs later, Dottie and I are silent, clinging to each other as we lie in the hotel bed.
Silence hangs in the air, so many unspoken words left stagnant in our throats, but when she moves in my hands and turns to face me, I see the shift in her demeanour and the brightness in her eyes.
“What?” I ask, and she smiles at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Not trusting you or our relationship. For leaving you.”
I release a deep sigh, my arm moving to rest on her hip.
“It’s ok, baby, I know why you did it.”
“You do?”
“I do. But I don’t want to talk about all of that tonight. I just want to be here for you, ok?”
She looks at me, her eyes crinkling as if assessing me. Her features morph before my eyes, her eyes brightening even more and her cheeks flushing, and when she runs her long finger down my chest, my breath hitches.
Wrapping my hand around hers, I shake my head even though a part of me wants to lose myself in her, but this isn’t about me, hell, it’s never been about me. It’s always been about her, and that’s the way I like it.
She swallows hard, her eyes shimmering, and I want to kick myself when she tries to rip her hand from mine.
“Let go.”
“Blossom.”
“Damon. ”
“You’re hurting, baby.”
“Don’t tell me what I’m feeling, Damon. That’s a dick move.”
Closing my eyes, I count to ten and open them. What I see slays me open.
The insecurity.
The pain.
The rejection.
Rolling us so I’m on top, she lets out a little yelp when I cuff her hands with mine.
“It’s not because I don’t want to, Dorothy. I won’t take advantage of you when you’re hurting, when you’ve lost your mother and were sobbing your damn heart out only minutes ago. You have to know that.”
Fresh tears slide down her face and hit the pillow.
“I just want to forget,” she says barely above a whisper. “Please.”
“Dorothy.”
“Damon.”
“Blossom, you don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
“Please, Sir, I need you to take the pain away. Make me forget, just for a little while. I’ve missed you so fucking much it hurts, and I need to feel you… need you to do this for me.”
Just like that, my armour disintegrates, my walls crumbling along with it.
“Are – are you sure?”
“I need you, Sir.”
Cursing, I bring my lips to hers, tentative, gentle, but all consuming. My cock grows harder between us feeling her beneath me, and when she rolls her hips, I almost nut in my damn jeans.
Breaking away from the kiss, I look down at her and cradle her face .
“I fucking love you so much, Dorothy. You are mine, and I am yours. Forever.”
“Then make love to me and prove it.”
And who am I to deny her?
Kissing her lips once more, I unlink our hands and crawl off the bed and stand before this goddess of mine. Unhooking my belt from the loops, I throw it on the floor, rip my shirt over my head and toe out of my jeans, standing bare before her.
Her pupils dilate, teeth biting into the pillow of her lip, before she releases it and licks it. Holding back the groan lodged in my throat, I crawl back on the bed and slowly undress her.
She is exquisite and I know this woman is going to be the death of me, but at least I’d die a happy man. Lining myself up at her entrance, I bring her hands up and position them at the headboard.
“Keep your hands there for me, baby, and don’t move them. Be a good girl for me, ok?”
“Yes, Sir,” she breathes, and it sounds like a hymn.
Leaning down, I kiss her again, our tongues exploring, lost in memories of the many times we’d kissed before. I deepen it, my hands threading through her hair, opening her up further for me.
And she does, she gives me everything, painting words and apologies on my tongue with hers, as I do the same with mine. Pulling back, her eyes are blown wide, her cheeks red as we both pant heavily.
Glancing up, I make sure her hands are holding onto the headboard before I slide inside.
“Good God, fuck, Blossom. I forgot how hot you feel,” I groan, holding still.
“Holy shit, move, please.”
Moving into the cobra position, Dottie moans and I fight not to start hammering into her. She needs me, her Dom, her partner, and not some sex-junkie needing a fix after not having a hit for weeks.
Balancing myself on one hand, I bring the other to her face, stroking down her cheek and plucking her lip from her teeth. She quickly replaces it with my thumb, sucking, and I damn nearly come in my pants.
“Blossom,” I growl, and she smiles around my thumb.
Shaking my head, I grin back and start slowly seesawing inside of her, feeling her pussy grip my cock with each push and pull. I can feel her muscles tightening around me as her hands clench the headboard. Her eyes stay on mine, her whimpers and moans blending with my groans and growls.
Moving faster, I force myself to keep my orgasm at bay, especially when she starts jutting her hips up to meet mine, her clit grinding on me.
However, when she screams my name while she comes, I near detonate right on the spot.
She keeps her eyes on mine the entire time even though her body shakes from her orgasm, and I swear she looks more beautiful than ever.
But it’s her cries of pleasure and that loving, lust-ridden look that triggers my climax, and I come hard, her name leaving my lips as I spill my seed deep inside of her.
Lowering myself gently, I roll us over, so she’s cradled in my arms. The moonlight bounces off her skin, illuminating her features.
For a brief moment, I think she might be asleep, but then she lets out a contented sigh.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being here for me, for saving me from myself. I love you, Damon Woods.”
“And I love you, Dorothy May Wilmott. ”
She sighs again and I smile, selfishly hanging on and taking this moment, because I know the next couple of weeks are going to test us in more ways than one. I only hope we are strong enough to keep it together and that she allows me to be here for her.