DAMON

Talking to Shelley near the door of Dutch’s, I check to see if everything is on schedule. We both look up as the door opens and three men in suits step in, eying our group with curiosity. Shelley steps forward and greets them cordially.

“I’m sorry gentlemen, you must have missed the sign on the door. The restaurant is closed tonight for a private function.”

Looking around with interest, the man closest to her adjusts his tie and leans forward to speak in Shelley’s ear.

“I’m sorry Mr. Stone. This booking takes priority this evening. I can offer you a quiet setting after eight, but I’m afraid until then I can’t help you for any price. May I suggest you return shortly after eight?” she says politely. His eyebrows plummeting, the man steps closer to her.

“Good evening, gentleman. I’m afraid I may have outbid you this evening,” I say, planting myself at Shelley’s shoulder. “But as the lady says, the space will be free in a little over an hour. Perhaps your Sunday evening business meeting can wait until then? There is a place just down the street if you’d like a beverage while you wait,” I suggest in a firm tone, as the man gets out his wallet. “I have a large wallet too,” I add with a frown.

Studying me a moment, the man’s eyes come to rest upon my stumps as I fold my arms. Looking around the room again, he regards me carefully. “Did you buy these companions?”

“Excuse me?”

“Is there a problem here?” Bruno asks, arriving at my shoulder. Cursing under his breath, he holds his hand out to the guy. “Mr. Stone.”

“You know this jackass?” I ask, eying Bruno and keeping my no-hands firmly away from any chance of handshaking.

“Ah, Mr. Stone is sort of my boss,” Bruno says with a forced smile. “Jenkins and I are painting his building.”

“Hey boys, what’s the hold up? The lady-of-honor wants a word with her man so she sent me over to snap your suspenders hard enough to make your nipples sting,” Ireeni says, pushing her way between Bruno and myself.

“She said that?” I ask at the same time as Stone says “You?!”

Reeni’s smile fades as she turns from my face to see Stone. Folding her arms across her chest, she gives him one of the deadliest looks I think I’ve ever seen. Glad my nipples are safely protected from her, I watch Stone’s face change in an instant. No longer wearing the hardened glare of a man who doesn’t take no for an answer, he’s softened completely.

“Come to ruin another party moneybags?” Reeni says with venom. “We’re none of us for sale, so take your wee friends and skedaddle before I curse you with the voodoo,” she says, wiggling her fingers at him. “A plague on all your fancy fucking houses,” she chants, her almond-shaped eyes widened and crazed in accompaniment. Her fingers finish casting their fictitious spell and her face returns to its previous, pissed-off expression as she points a warning finger at him. “And stop putting your business cards in my envelopes, or I’ll use your contact details for evil. I know all sorts of magazine subscriptions you don’t want turning up in your business mail and scaring your secretary. I don’t care how much you pay her, she’ll tell her friends about them; I guarantee it.”

Studying her face carefully, Stone raises a hand and the guys behind him step back out to the street. Bowing ever so slightly, he begins to retreat too. “Enjoy your evening, Ms. Kamran. Apologies for my ever-offensive presence.” Looking to Bruno, he gives a nod of acknowledgment. “Jackson.” Taking one more, almost sorrowful look at Ireeni, the guy leaves.

“What the fuck was that about?” I ask, utterly impressed. “Ireeni Kamran, your methods are very effective.”

“Thank you,” she says with a curtsy. “I was born a bitch and my skills have only sharpened with age.”

“Do I need to start bouncing him from the club?” Bruno asks her warily.

“Nah,” she says with a shrug as she swats the air. “He’s harmless and he pays well.” Shooing us back to the tables, I notice her glance over her shoulder at Stone’s retreating form and have to wonder what the story is between them. Then, turning back to find Alexa grinning at me, I forget about everything else.

Unable to keep my eyes off her, I find myself making it through dinner in a daze. With her hand warming my thigh, and her laughter warming my heart, I figure I must be about the luckiest man alive.

“You said there wouldn’t be pie,” she says, giving my leg an excited squeeze under the table as mini lemon meringue pies start arriving from the kitchen.

“But then I remembered that we like pie,” I say innocently as one is set before her. She shifts in her seat and my eye is drawn to her thigh as a sliver of skin is exposed by the split in her skirt. Her hand leaves my leg and guides my closest no-hand to her thigh, moving it slowly along the strip of bared skin.

“We do like pie,” she agrees, taking some onto her spoon and raising it to her mouth. Closing her eyes, she gives a soft moan of approval as I continue to stroke her thigh.

Leaning in, I suck the trace of gooey meringue left on her bottom lip. “Mmm. Sweet.”

“Damon?”

The way she whispers it, almost breathlessly, sets my body humming. Her hand returns to my thigh and her eyes meet mine. Filled with something I’ve come to know as the warmest, most accepting love on the planet, and something I read as intense desire, her gaze sends sparkles over my scalp and tingles throughout my body that seem to resonate intensely when they reach my crotch. How the hell am I going to make it to the end of the night?

With a voice corrupted by need, I answer in a hoarse whisper. “Yeah?”

Her delicate hand on my thigh squeezes a little and then travels higher. “Are you taking me home soon?”

Concentrating hard on not giving us away, I clear my throat and look about the table. “Mmm. Soonish,” I say, pulling my hand away from her leg and returning Brad’s smile awkwardly. “Finish your pie.”

“Will you help me?” she asks, offering me a spoonful.

Eying her warily, I look at her sideways. “You’re not going to ‘accidentally’ drop that in my lap and disappear beneath the table are you?”

“Of course not,” she says, her cheeks flushing a little as she smiles innocently.

“Alexa Carrington, you are simply delicious.” Shaking my head at her, I steal the pie from her spoon and foil her plans. “Don’t you dare get pie on me before our night is over.”

Huffing a small sigh, she rolls her eyes in an exaggerated manner before scooping up more pie and giving me a teasing smile as she treats it slowly to the heaven of her mouth.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wished I was pie before this moment,” I whisper, transfixed by her lips. They curl immediately as she tries not to laugh. “Right now, I want to be pie so bad.”

Chewing slowly, she regards me a while. “You are pie,” she says, leaning in and letting me taste the sweetened lemon of her lips.

“Turd pie,” Brad mutters under his breath next to me, reminding me that we’re not alone. Just as well too, because if Alexa and I keep going on this trajectory, we’re never going to make it through the evening of fun I have planned. Groaning, I pull away from her succulent lips and force my eyes anywhere but on her, while willing my dick to go down.

Most people have already finished and are chatting and laughing over their glasses as they politely avoid staring at Alexa and myself. Clearing my throat, I address the whole table. “If everyone would be so kind as to finish what you wish to, the cars await.”

My jaw tightens as the hurried sound of Alexa’s spoon on her plate alludes to her eagerness to get going. The thought makes another tremor of delight run through me.

“Done. Let’s go.” Shoving her chair back, she grabs me by the elbow and gives a swift tug.

Feeling an unsettling heat spreading up my neck and filling my cheeks, I make no sign of moving. “I - ah, just need a second, babe.”

Alexa looks at me for a moment, then past me to Brad. The two of them crack up so hard that soon the whole table is laughing. At me. My dick shrivels faster than a leaky balloon.

“That’ll do it,” I say with a smile as I leave my chair. “Nothing like a public shaming to deflate a man’s... ego. Let’s get out of here.”

***

I PULL THE CAR UP BEHIND the two limousines as our friends are climbing out of them. Alexa watches them intently, and I watch her. A slight furrowing of her brow alerts me to her confusion, but she turns to give me a genuine smile.

“Thank you for giving me and my friends such a lovely day, Damon. I’ve felt like a princess all day.”

Kissing her softly, I smile. “By the time the night is over, you’ll feel like a queen, Alexa.”

A little shiver runs through her and her eyes darken. Glancing out the window at the neon sign of Beyond, Alexa presses her lips together. “You didn’t want to go to your place tonight?”

Suppressing my smile, I shake my head and get out of the car. Shrugging out of my hooks and jogging around the car to her door, I offer her my arm as she climbs out.

“You know, I was thinking about how much I love you, and how lucky I am,” I say, dropping my arm to her waist as I guide her forward. “Lucky that I found you. And that you let me join the collection of broken things that you love. I feel at home with you. Wherever you are, I feel safe. We have a lot in common, Alexa Carrington. So much in common - even though we’ve had very different lives growing up. We’ve both missed some important milestones,” I say, pulling open the door to the club that Bruno has purposely left propped open for me. “But we can catch up together.”

Holding the door open, I usher her inside. Alexa’s eyes lift immediately to the sparkling banner as she walks into the foyer. Stalled mid-step, her breath catches as her eyes widen, taking on a glassy shine as they return to mine.

“Alexa, high school is over for you now, and the life you want is just beyond that. I graduated high school early, with so many ideas of what I wanted to do in this world, I couldn’t choose between them, but I can finally see the life I always wanted now that you’ve opened my eyes.” Tilting her chin up with my no-hand, I kiss her gently and stroke her cheek as a tear trickles down it. “While we’re here, together, in love, with our whole lives ahead of us, will you please go to the Prom with me?”

Wrapping her arms around my waist and squeezing, Alexa grins up at me. “I’d be honored.”

Offering her my elbow, I sigh with pleasure as she links her arm through mine and nods her head. We step forward and the doors open inward automatically, thanks to Bruno and Benji watching the cameras and waiting for their cue.

Alexa gasps as we enter the club. Swiveling her head from side to side, she takes it all in. Using sparkles as the theme, the boys and I have decorated the club while the girls were out all day. Everywhere she looks are flowers, golden balloons, reflective gold decorations, fairy lights and flickering, battery-operated candles casting a magical, welcoming glow. Music begins to play and Alexa’s attention is drawn to the stage as the curtain begins to rise.

Again, she gasps as the band comes into view, and her grip tightens on my arm as she grins up at me with a smile as wide as her eyes.

“She insisted I fly her band in so she could be part of it,” I say with a shrug as we give Haz a wave. She misses a drumbeat to return the wave, but keeps right on playing, her grin as big as I imagine mine must be. “They’re called The Fuzz, and they’re not half bad.”

The others are leaning casually at the bar, or having their pictures snapped by the photographer in the extremely sparkly corner, set up for shooting memories of the night. Kat arrives in front of us, holding her hands behind her back.

“We didn’t even need to vote; it was so obvious.” Pulling out a real tiara, and a fake golden crown, she dubs us Prom king and queen. Setting our crowns on our heads, Kat clasps her hands together in front of her and gives an excited squeak. “You guys are perfect.”

Applause erupts from our small crowd of friends. Feeling my cheeks warming, I look to find Alexa blushing too. Her eyes meet mine and she gives a nervous giggle.

“Care to dance, my queen?”

“How can I refuse my king when he is so fudge-caking amazing?” she replies, pulling me into the open space before the band as I signal to Harriet.

The Fuzz immediately stops what they were playing and start a new song; Grouplove’s Ways To Go. Eying me strangely, Alexa allows me to pull her close, swaying to the deep beat. Her eyes ask the question and I smile as the beat changes slightly and I spin her away.

“It’s the song Haz was listening to when we danced in silence,” I explain with a grin as Fletch, the lead singer progresses from soft tones to the husky wail of a practiced rocker. The music kicks up to a great dance beat and I break into the same stupid dance moves I did when we danced in my parents den. Only one beat behind, Alexa cranks out a wicked spin and starts bouncing around me. Soon, everyone joins us on the dance floor. Even Brad is rolling around and rocking out, unable to resist the catchy tune.

When the song ends, The Fuzz launch into a host of other awesome dance songs that keep us moving and grinning.

“You want a drink?” I ask Alexa, wiping my damp brow.

“Love one!” she cries, over the music. Whisking her off her feet. I carry her to the bar.

“Just so you know; the punch is definitely spiked,” I warn her as she reaches for a glass of the sparkling pink liquid. “I’m trying to make this night memorable.”

Giggling, she sips at her punch as Nate sets two glasses of water in front of us before leaving the bar again for the dance floor.

“I don’t think I could ever forget a night like this,” Alexa says, putting her drink down. “Especially when you have a professional photographer recording it for me,” she adds with a laugh as she pulls me over to the photo-booth. “I suppose you’re going to collate a fake yearbook for me too?”

“You know it’s disturbing sometimes how good you are at reading my mind,” I reply with a smile, pulling her in for a kiss as Pete the photographer snaps away. After a few photos of us, we’re joined by the whole crew, and it’s just as I imagine friends would behave on Prom night.

Eventually, I pull Alexa back to the dance floor for another boogie. The Fuzz end one song and I pull Alexa close as they begin another, slower one.

“Let it be?” she whispers, looking up to me with those gorgeous eyes.

Smiling, I bend to kiss her, lifting her and spinning her around. Leaving her feet to dangle, I press her to me, swaying to the beat as I rest my face against her neck, breathing her in. Moaning at what her scent does to me, I nuzzle deeper, whispering. “I don’t ever want to put you down.”

Her fingers weave into my hair as she rests her cheek to my head. “Then don’t,” she whispers back. As I drift around the floor with the woman I love, I lose myself in how she makes me feel.

Of course, as soon as her fingers start traveling over my shoulders and down my arms and sneaking between us, the feelings she evokes become a little too much for public display. A low growl rumbles in the back of my throat as I lift my head and lower her a little.

“I know this might sound presumptuous,” I say, kissing the tip of her nose as I search her eyes, “But I booked a room upstairs, if you’d like to make this party a private one?”

“Oh thank God,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. Wriggling free from my arms and dropping to the floor, she begins pulling me towards the door, then stops. “Do you think it’s wise to leave your little sister in a strip club unsupervised?”

“Kat’s in charge of that situation until they call Mom and Dad to collect the band,” I reply with a laugh, sweeping her into my arms and carrying her out the door. “I’ve thought of almost everything.”

“Almost everything?” she asks as I set her back on her feet in the foyer.

“You might need to let me in,” I say, gesturing at the keypad with a sigh.

With a little giggle, Alexa uses my suspenders to pull me down to her level. “Damon, I’m going to let you in so good, you’ll never want to leave,” she says, running her tongue over my bottom lip and sucking it into her mouth as her fingers play over my scalp and down my neck.

Groaning, I lift her, pressing her to me in an effort to have more of her touching me. The thin fabrics between us barely seem to matter as her nipples crest to hard peaks against my chest, reminding me of what she is wearing under her silky, flowing dress - nothing. Cut low in front, she’s definitely not wearing a bra, and as I graze her thigh through the slit in her dress, a pleasant sparkle bursts through me when I think of her constant absence of underwear. My need strains hard against her, rearing to go after weeks of torturous waiting.

“Mmm. The door,” I moan into her mouth as my body begins to understand that this time, it’ll finally get what it’s been aching for - once I can make it up the damn stairs. If the door doesn’t open soon, it’s going to be kicked in.