We Will See

Savannah

If I have said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times before.

Damon Henley is a colossal douchecanoe.

“You want to repeat that, Shortcake?”

His voice drops a few octaves and the jab to my height doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Nope. You heard what I said. Now get out of my way.”

I stand taller, my head higher with my goddess-like pride and fire.

My mouth runs slightly faster than my hands do.

And he can get both.

“Why? So you can go ~fuck my brother~?”

He steps closer to me. His words are like grenades with the trigger pulled out.

Any second and we will blow up.

“Maybe, get out of my way.”

I refuse to back up, to bow down or back off.

The threat in his dark eyes, the sound that if I’m not mistaken was a growl.

All of it makes me want to run.

Damon puffs out his chest, standing taller and trying to intimidate me.

I won’t let him see that it’s working.

“Get. Out of. My way, little D.”

That does it.

Damon has his hands on me, one in my hair the other at the base of my neck and squeezing the sides.

The wall behind me hits hard, Damon’s lips, like heat-seeking missiles, lock on to mine and don’t let up.

His tongue is licking every inch of my mouth and I love it.

But with the rational side of my brain still clicked on, I shove him away.

Like the ~good girl~ I am trying to be.

He looks even more pissed.

When I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, he actually slaps it away.

I slap his cheek and shove him back, going to walk away and get out of here, but Damon doesn’t let me.

His front to my back, his arms are bound around me to hold me in place.

“He won’t want my sloppy seconds.”

One of his hands jerk my shorts down, the rub of my jean shorts scratch my skin, and with everything I have, kicking and bucking like some wild mustang Damon is set on breaking in, he still manages to get them off me.

“Touch me and I’ll rip your dick off and mount it on a plaque above my bed!”

He rushes us forward, making my face smudge up and stick to the chilled wall.

“What the dusty fuck?!”

His knee makes me sit slightly on it as he folds my shirt up and rips my back clasps off and tears the straps so I’m in nothing but my T-shirt, panties, and sneakers.

“Get off me, Damon!”

He moves to my hair and jerks my ponytail loose, his slender, nimble fingers weave into my long honey-colored hair, mussing it up, shaking it, messing it all up to give me a Tasmanian devil type look.

The whole time I’m trying to free my arms from being stuck in the valley of my boobs and pinned to the wall.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Damon drops his knee, taking me by the shoulders and flipping me back.

His knee wedges between my thighs, making me spread before falling down on him yet again.

He works fast, snatching my wrists and caging them above my head with one hand.

His other jerks the collar of my shirt down where his lips attached and suck up the soft tender flesh there.

I hate myself for it but I am so turned on, when his lips started sucking on my neck I moaned.

I couldn’t help it, okay!

~It felt so, so good.~

When he bit down, my panties spontaneously combusted and turned to smoldering ash. I know I am leaving a wet spot on his pant leg, but that’s his fault.

He sucked on my neck in four different places before biting my collarbone and my shoulder.

I didn’t even realize what I was doing until his hand held onto my right hip and the feeling of his nails leaving marks on the skin there made me work faster.

I am, fucking myself, on his…knee.

That’s what I’m doing.

My hips rocked and grinded on his jeans-clad leg, the friction and the soft rough feeling between my legs and rubbing of my lower lips felt too good.

His lips working along my shoulder and neck, the collar on my T-shirt forever ruined, much like my self-respect.

“A-Angel.”

I moaned the nickname I had gifted him with oh so breathlessly, and even the sound of my own voice sent me higher.

The groan he gave me back, the hold on my hip turned bruising and the way he kissed the area below my jawline and above my boobs so softly, so gentle and caring, it was everything I needed.

My back bowed out with my orgasm, shattering and shuttering through me.

My eyes closed, too hooded with lust to remain open a second longer, his hold on me never loosened, his kisses never stopped.

My orgasm hit hard in waves that left me limp and weak.

Only staying above the water I had willingly drowned in because Damon was my life raft, if it wasn’t for him I would have crash-landed on the ground in a puddle of Jell-o made bones.

He kissed me, again and again.

Moving up my shoulder and following the path he had made back up the curve in my neck and under my chin till he laid down more tender and sweet open mouth kisses to my jawline, cheek, and finally my lips.

This kiss, this kiss was…

The one you see in movies, under fireworks, and the guy just proposed, some dog runs around in the background, the girl’s dad lives, and her brother comes back from war type romantic bullshit movies you cringe at and watch during Christmas.

This was a ~making love~ type kiss.

Which made it all the worse that I had effectively ~made love~ to his…knee.

Now, I don’t embarrass easily when it comes to what I want sexually.

I never have.

It’s natural. I might have some fucked-up fetishes, but I was never embarrassed.

I wasn’t one of the girls who hid the fact she played with herself. It was private, sure, but never something I thought of as dirty or degrading in any sense.

I watched porn, had a healthy understanding of what I wanted in the bedroom, and wouldn’t let anyone take that from me.

Yet…humping…Damon’s…~knee~?

And to the point I could honestly describe it as ~love-making~?

That…that’s…

That’s fucking embarrassing!

He gently let me go, setting me to my feet and kissing my forehead with that same tenderness.

Then, he shot me that sinister grin and I felt the pit in my stomach grow.

In 2.4 seconds Damon had the door open, shoving me out of it and throwing me my jacket and purse.

He slammed the door shut and dragged me by the arm back up the hallway to the bar full of people.

While I was still braless, pantsless, my hair looked like a tornado hit it, my shirt’s collar was wrung out, my neck was covered in fresh kisses, bite marks, and big ol’ purple hickeys, my lips swollen from our kissing, and my pussy juices soaking my panties!

He shoved me forward into the middle of the room. I tripped, landing down on my knee and flashing those behind me my light blue “how you doing?” Joey from Friends panties.

The bar erupted in cheers, wolf whistles, catcalls, crude comments, and attaboys.

When I got back to my feet, I dragged my T-shirt down to cover my ass and the front of my wet panties, staring at Damon in disbelief.

My mouth open and jaw unhinged at what he has just done.

My heart was being devoured by my stomach acid and flipping.

“~See you tomorrow, Shortcake~. Thanks for that, it was—”

He kissed his first three fingers in an outwards motion.

My anger spiked to ungodly levels and, like the hot-headed, hot-blooded woman I am, like the goddess I have been forgetting about…

I did not let my crown fall.

Not at Damon’s feet.

Not in this bar.

Not at the hands of this unprecedented and unbelievable douche.

I straightened my back, squared off my shoulders, and raised my head high and proudly.

My jacket swung around me, my arms slipping into the sleeves, and my hair swept out to lay down the back.

My purse tossed over my shoulder, a feisty despicable little smirk crossed my lips in that biker bar, where I stood in the sea of people staring at me in nothing but a wrinkled and messed up “soft emo” T-shirt, my blue Joey panties, black Converses, and my dad’s leather jacket.

He wanted his brother to think we had just had sex. This was Damon laying some type of imaginary claim over me.

~You want to be exclusive?~

~That’s one thing.~

~But to humiliate me and use me.~

~Not in this fucking life.~

“Oh, well this is kind of…embarrassing but…”

I stepped back, walking backwards to the door behind me.

“Not worth a second go. Thanks, but, no thanks, Angel, you’re nice to look at but…not for much else.”

His eyes grew ten sizes; I walked faster.

The crowd simmered down, muffling their laughter except for the pierced older brother who was sitting at the bar that I was so close to now.

“Right, so when you were cumming with my name on your lips that meant what?”

He said it loud enough for the whole bar to hear.

“But did I, though? Without me taking over we both know I would have never gotten there. Your finger, tongue, and dick game is whack at best. Nothing but a lousy lay.”

I clicked my tongue, then looked over at his brother, who was nursing his Budweiser and eyeing me.

Giving me his undivided attention.

“Hopefully it doesn’t run in the family.”

I winked at him and Damon blew a gasket.

Before he could storm across the bar, I ran out the doors and down the block.

I’m not sure if he came after me, but I ran as fast as I ever have.

You know when you watch a zombie movie and you think: “~could I outrun a herd of zombies~?” And you want to believe so.

Well, today I know for a fact I could.

As long as it was walking dead and not the Will Smith kind where he has to kill his dog.

~I am a goddess.~

~And Damon, no matter how cute, is nothing but a prince.~

It’s time he learned that.