AMIRA

 

 

I walked inside Damien’s condo with several grocery bags in my arms, kicking the door closed behind me with my foot. I spent most of the day running errands, catching up on everything I’d neglected, trying to distract myself from missing him so damn much. He’d only been gone half the day and already I couldn’t wait to be back in his arms. The thought alone made me smile as I flipped on the entry lights, throwing my keys on the table. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this happy, content, and hopeful for the future. Being with Damien was all I ever wanted, and now that I had him I’d never let him go.

No matter what.

We’d work through any obstacles thrown our way. Our love had and would always overcome anything. I was sure of it, and I knew the feeling was very much mutual. I tried not to think about the man who owned my heart as I made my way into the dimly lit kitchen, but it was impossible. I didn’t have to be near him to feel his presence, he was everywhere and all around me. A permanent fixture in my world. I once again smiled to myself remembering everything that had happened this morning and what he said.

“Amira, I’m the man who owns you, and your pussy only comes for me. Got it?”

The fluttering feeling in my belly still lingered, knowing I’d never been happier in my entire life, and it was all because of Damien. He had finally given me my happily ever after I so immensely yearned for, and this was just the beginning.

No back and forth. 

No doubts.

No arguing.

I thought about him all the time, even when I was laying in his arms. Looking up into his beautiful eyes that I felt so engrained in, seeing the life we were meant to have all along. It didn’t matter where I was or what I was doing, I just wanted to be close to the man. Needing to make up for years of lost time. It didn’t matter how many times Damien said those three little words to me, “I love you,” it felt like the first time each instance he expressed them and that was often.

Our relationship had changed in so many ways over the last two months, but at the same time it remained steady. Falling back into our natural dynamic where we laughed, smiled, and teased each other to no avail, as if no time had passed us by at all. Trying not to reflect on years of regrets and mistakes that neither one of us could change. Silently vowing to never be those broken souls again.

We no longer discussed the past, there was no point reviving ghosts or allowing external factors to bring us down, and we both finally understood that. As far as I was concerned, we buried that part of us on the beach under our constellations. Along with our pasts and demons and everything else that came between us.

I pushed away my thoughts, focusing on putting away the groceries when an eerie feeling abruptly consumed me, and I swore I heard footsteps coming from somewhere within the condo.

Closing the cabinet door, I announced, “Hello?” Looking around the open floor plan of the large room. “Anyone here?” I called out again. “Damien, is that you?”

Nothing but silence.

I didn’t think twice, instinctively walking over near the air vent by the kitchen to open the hidden safe. Grabbing one of the many guns Damien had strategically scattered around the entire condo. I flipped off the safety on the Glock, already locked and loaded just as I saw a shadowy figure out of the corner of my eye. Aiming my gun at it, I slowly walked back toward the kitchen. Maintaining a calm, steady composure. Shielding myself as best as I could with the adjacent wall. I stayed fixated on the task at hand, not allowing my mind to wander for even a second. Just as I rounded the corner, about to turn on more lights, a set of strong arms wrapped around me from behind.

I jolted and gasped, “What the fuck?”

Unexpectedly feeling him nuzzle my neck with his facial hair and lips. He rasped into my ear, “Don’t you recognize my touch, Amira?”

The familiar scent of his masculine cologne assaulted my senses like it did every time he put his arms around me, but the strong smell of whiskey was what threw me for a loop.

“Why were you trying to scare me, Damien? I could have shot you.”

With one hand he grabbed the gun out of mine, setting it on the countertop in front of us. Still holding me taut against his chest, continuing to skim his face along my neck, and ignoring my question. I exhaled a sigh of relief, relaxing into his embrace, just grateful he was home. Loving the feel of his arms around me, I redirected my attention on that. 

“You should have called me and told me you were coming home today instead of tomorrow. I would have—”

He spun me around so fast, not letting me finish what I was going to say. The next thing I knew I was sitting up on the kitchen island, and he was spreading my legs to stand in between them.

Our eyes quickly shifted to one another using the same momentum of his swift strength to move me. Placing my body right where he wanted it. I seductively licked my lips that were suddenly dry, and his intense gaze followed the movement of my tongue.

His jaw hardened, distorting his pretty boy face into an expression that I couldn’t read. However, it surprisingly hurt me in ways that made it hard to breathe.

Was it anger or pain hidden in his stare? Is that why he’d been drinking? Did something happen while tying up those loose ends?

He narrowed his eyes at me, growling, “If I wanted you to know I was coming home, then I would have fucking told you.”

My head jerked back, instantly noticing there was no humor, teasing, or playfulness in his tone. No grin or smile on his face. No sign of what was usually directed at me when he was being a smartass. I swallowed the hard lump in my throat, trying to play it off and not read too much into it.

“You just missed me that much, huh? Couldn’t stand to be away from me for another day, eh? It’s okay, you can admit it. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all afternoon, I missed you so much too.” With a smile, I went to wrap my arms around his neck, but he gripped onto my wrists, holding them in place on the counter beside my legs. “Damien—”

“Did you miss me while you were spreading your legs for Roman?”

I grimaced with wide eyes, blown away by his question. A resemblance of a grin stirred on his lips, and it was enough to silence the mixed emotions and questions soaring through my mind.

“Did he make you come like I do? How many times did he touch, kiss, or fuck you with his fingers, tongue, or cock? Tell me, Amira.” His grasp tightened on my wrists to the point of pain, digging into my clammy skin. “How many times did you scream his fucking name, wishing it were mine?”

His questions were like a slap in the damn face, one right after the other. “Are you drunk? Why are you asking me these hurtful things?”

He leaned in until his face was inches away from mine, his body looming over my frame. Making me feel smaller in his dominant and possessive hold he had over me.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Mentally.

The smell of whiskey overpowered his cologne, bewildering my senses.

“I just want to know,” he breathed out against my lips. “How many times he touched what’s mine.”

“It’s none of your goddamn business, that’s how many times.”

He smiled, big and wide. Confusing me even further. I couldn’t keep up with his interrogation, like I was on trial, and he wasn’t helping the situation when he rasped, “There’s my girl.”

The whirlwind of emotions lingered in the air, in the room, in my fucking soul.

“Did you love him, Amira? Did you love him more than me?”

“You already know that answer.”

“If I knew the fucking answer, then why would I be asking you?”

I didn’t hesitate in replying, “That’s what I’d like to know.”

He narrowed his eyes at me as if he was searching for all the evidence to back up his accusations and questions. The ones he asked and the ones that were obviously plaguing him through my tormented glare. It didn’t matter how many times I racked my brain for a response. Nothing made sense. Nothing was right. For the next few seconds we both just stared at each other, going through the motions that were running mercilessly through our minds.

Until he stated, “Is that right?” Breaking the silent barrier between us. “Well then, here’s a question we both know I have no answer to. What were you to one another?”

“Damien, what’s going on?”

“That isn’t a fucking answer. Why is it so fucking hard for you to respond to one goddamn question? What do you need from me, huh? Why can’t you just fucking listen to me for once in your life?”

Seeing this side of him emerge was like being dragged back in time to when I was a young girl, and he was trying to push me away. I thought we were long past this, there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let him do this to us again. Proving something had happened wherever he took off to today. I leaned in closer on pure impulse, never taking my focus off his vacant, hollow eyes, looking for anything to hold on to. Seeking out the man I loved more than anything in this world, and silently pleading for him to come back to me. Putting an end to whatever he hoped to accomplish here.

I felt him lightly suck in a breath before I brushed my lips against his, kissing him. Anxiously waiting to be kissed back. My mouth moved against his for a few moments, trying to break through to him. Knowing he was in there, somewhere behind the vicious monster. Hiding from me.

“I love you,” I muttered along his lips.

He groaned, somewhere in between comfort and agony from hearing me say those three words that always helped repair what was broken within us. It was the first time I’d ever heard him make that distinctive sound, and I swear I felt him shudder shortly after. But I didn’t have much time to dwell on it because he finally started kissing me back. Except, even that gesture felt different, softer, sweeter like he was desperately trying not to break me.

Hurt me.

Punish me.

Make me suffer.

A sensation like nothing I’d ever experienced from him before. For a few fleeting breaths, I lost myself in that kiss.

In him.

In us.

It may have been the sweetest kiss of my life.

I didn’t want to open my eyes, too worried of what I’d see. Of who I’d still see. My heart was pounding, my mind racing, my body yearning for him to touch me. To be with me. To love me.

I had nowhere to go.

I could barely move.

But my body felt as if it was on fire.

Like I was about to discover something that would change our relationship. Something that would change our future. Catapulting us onto a path that we would be unable to veer away from.

Why did I feel like this from just a kiss?

I was at his mercy, just the way he loved me to be. Damien was all about control, and I willingly handed it to him. Though he was teetering on the edge. I could sense his resolve shattering against my mouth with each stroke of his tongue. I could tell his thoughts were raging a war in his mind, right beside mine. Battling for who would come out on top. Both of us lost in the way he was treating me. Speaking to me. Feeling me. It wasn’t until he released my wrists and forcefully clutched his hands onto the sides of my face that I truly felt his anger and pain.

I whimpered.

He growled.

His assault turned heated, aggressive, and carnal, almost like he was trying to hurt me with his actions just as much as he did with his words. I ignored the smell and taste of whiskey radiating off his breath, allowing him to take what he so dangerously wanted and needed from me.

His presence.

His hands.

His lips.

His everything was aiding and disastrous.

Afflicting and healing.

All or nothing.

He kissed me as if he was trying to suck the life right out of me.

“Damien,” I breathed out along the very thin line of pleasure and pain.

He instantly ripped his lips off mine and tore his body away from me before dropping to his knees. In one hasty movement he had my jeans unbuttoned, champing at the bit to devour my pussy, exposing my heated skin. He kissed along my hips, sucking his way across my abdomen as he aggressively tried ripping down my jeans. Looking up at me through the slits of his now heady eyes, he twisted the seam of my panties in one hand and tugged them to the side while the other pulled the seam of my jeans further down and away from my pussy. Adjusting his seated position, he yanked my core closer to his mouth, taking a second to inhale my arousal.

Groaning, “I came home to get me some of this right here.” Not wasting anymore time, he lapped at my pussy. Continuing to try to jerk my pants down my thighs.

I shook my head unable to take anymore. Not like this. Never like this. “Damien… wait… just wait…” Grabbing ahold of his face, I made his gaze snap back up to mine. There was a familiarity in his stare, and for a second I saw him.

My best friend.

My savior.

My lover.

My monster.