My Stripper Days Are Over!

Savannah

“Percy, lay down. I’ll be back after therapy, like nine or so. Here are some earplugs.”

He nods; the pillow over his face is not nearly enough to block out Uncle’s voice.

I feel sorry for him; he really is getting the raw end of the deal.

Waving bye and gulping down the last of my pain pills, I eat a banana and tell my mean-ass Uncle Jonah goodbye.

To which he humbly replies by throwing burnt popcorn my way, making my stomach toss once again before I can run out of the house.

Leaving this evil man’s home, I manage to get to the end of the street before a cop car lights up, barking its siren and flashing its lights.

My shades do nothing to block it out; Jagger cackles over the speaker.

“Sorry, Van, have to do what the boss says. You’re getting the gold star treatment today, darling.”

I wrap my jacket and press my bag to my ears as I pick up speed to get away. There is absolutely no way I can run right now.

“Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do,” he sings over the speaker, loudly and annoyingly, then starts beatboxing as if he thinks that’s the lyrics.

“Goooooo awayyyyyy, Jagger! I get it! I promise I won’t drink again till I’m twenty fucking one! I swear on my life, okay!”

His laugh echoes through the speaker before adding, “Okay, okay, good girl. Now pick up the pace so you don’t have to go through this much more.”

I nod and groan, knowing I have like ten blocks before I get to my physical therapy.

***

You would think I robbed a bank!

That I almost died!

That I needed my stomach pumped by the EMTs or something.

This is bullshit.

As soon as I came out of my physical therapy class, Dallas was waiting, with the full show ready and going on full blast.

Even though my headache was getting better, my stomach was not.

And these assholes were having far too much fun. I thought I was getting punished by the fact I was in the heat and not getting coddled, but no.

My uncle is an evil genius.

Dallas followed me the remaining eight blocks to my group therapy, where he at least gave me a bottle of red Gatorade.

He then asked me if I was okay when I started to dry heave, giving me some words of advice, saying to try scrambled eggs with nothing in them.

“Don’t cook them with anything and make sure they are completely done with no runniness at all.”

“Thanks Dallas, when I come out you won’t be here, right? I can at least walk home without a police escort?”

I wipe my mouth and take a small sip from the bottle of Gatorade.

“If you promise me you will go back home and be good, I promise to back off.”

He pats my back and smiles.

Dallas is hot as hell. He looks like a small version of Jason Momoa. Younger, maybe like twenty-three, and like a third his size, but dude is ~fine~.

Not as hot as my Angel from biker country, but still, he has a lot going for him.

“I promise, Dallas, I swear to you, I will be good for the rest of the day. I will, I swear it. I cross my heart and hope to live.”

I cross my first two fingers across my heart and put my hand to the sky like I’m putting a hand to God.

“Okay then, Savannah, I will let you go free. If bossman asks, I gave you a thorough run down.”

I hold back the comment of: “A thorough run down sounds nice, when can I schedule one of those in?”

I hold it back, locking my lips and biting my tongue. I promised to be good.

Making a dirty joke would not be ~being good~.

Lucky for me, I have spoken out in group recently so today I got out of it.

I spent my time thinking about what I was going to make my puppy do.

I wanted to be babied and coddled.

So Reid was a good choice since the sweet little pup worshiped the ground I walked on.

Thinking about our last time together I can’t help but think of last night at the club with Damon.

How he knew me, knew what I wanted, gave me everything and let me drift away with him.

I know I’m supposed to be angry at him for trying to push me, but…

I’m starting not to be.

Granted that was a dick move to try and use his kiss as a distraction to pull me on his bike.

He can’t try and fix me, we can’t work like that. He has no business working inside my head or looking for ways to pull me back together.

Some things are just too far damaged.

Rolling my green ball back up to the rack and heading out of class, I feel that paranoia twist inside me.

I had been doing so good, but here I am again thinking bullshit thoughts and feeling like something bad is going to happen.

Checking the roads, the sidewalk and looking at my surroundings, I find the more rational parts of me to simmer my crazy self down.

No cop car in sight, no texts or missed calls from Percy or Uncle Jonah.

Everything is fine.

I’m okay.

I take one block before the roar of motorcycles zoom by and make my hair swirl around me like a mini hair flurry.

Picking my long hair from poking me in my eyelashes, I can see Damon’s black helmet being tossed over a steel handlebar, his black leather vest hanging over his white shirt and black jeans.

Even in triple-digit temperatures he wears black on black and looks so damn good that it should be against the law.

His dark-blue eyes find me on the busy sidewalk like we are back to being magnetic around one another.

His sly fox smile swishing over his lips will be the end of me, and I know it.

“Hello there, Shortcake.”

He pulls his arm around my lower back and drags me down a side alley with no qualms from me.

My back sloshed against the red brick wall with Damon’s long arms caging me in, his firm body plastered down my front, his knee spreading my thighs apart, his lips barely touching mine.

“Hello there, Angel, I can’t play today. I’m still in trouble for being bad last night.”

His eyes shined my own reflection back at me.

“Is that what your pig told you? How bad you were, Savannah.”

My body was supercharging, and I couldn’t stop it; he was too close, this was against my rules.

“I’ll have to have a talk with your piggy uncle. Can’t have him putting lies in your head.”

I played along, raising my chin and letting his full lips skim my jawline.

“Sure, Angel. If I wasn’t being bad, then what would you call it?”

One side of his face pulled harder than the other, giving him the sexiest lopsided grin I have ever seen.

The look alone ruined my panties.

I’m sure smoke was rolling off my workout shorts.

“You tasted so fucking good last night, baby.”

No. He was going to make me jump him in this alley during broad daylight.

I need to get away.

“You jerked me off ~so~ goddamn good, Savannah.”

He took my hand and made me cup his raging boner over his thick jeans.

My lips parted, and just the feeling of his cock touching me made an unruly moan flop from my mouth.

Damon’s lips descended upon me like a dark creature of the night.

Kissing my shoulder and along my collarbone.

“You were awfully good to me last night, Van, baby.”

He kissed up the crook of my neck and hovered right on top of my lips.

“So good,” he growled against me before he slammed his mouth to mine and took me under his dreamy touch.

My vagina took control over my body and started dry humping…

~Dropping into a whisper (his knee)…again.~

“A-Angel, I…”

I wrestle my vagina and push him away.

I stand tall, turning my back to him and reining my breathing back in.

~Get your shit together!~

~You are not a weak woman and will not let this fallen angel take you over just because you think he is fine as fuck!~

~You are a goddess!~

~Do not let him forget that!~

~And you better not forget that shit either!~

Thanks, vagina. I needed a good pep talk.

“I can’t play with you today, Damon. I am hungover and… have somewhere to go, and my Uncle Jonah is having me watched… I…”

His hands snake around my waist and roam up my stomach before groping my boobs. Like a moth to a flame, I arch, swaying my ass on his tented hard on.

The desire of wanting him inside me comes over me like the rains down in Africa.

“Feel my hands, Vannah? I got you.”

~There we go, finally.~

I rush out of his hold and muster up the strength that was playing peekaboo with my lust and horny emotions.

“And I’m still super pissed with you! We are unpaused, asshole. So keep your sneaking little hands to yourself and goodbye.”

I shoulder him hard, knocking him back so I can get away from him.

~How could I forget what he did?~

That move he pulled on me.

What a douchebag.

I didn’t make it three feet before Damon had me against the wall and hoisted up with his fingers finding a way under my leg holes and rubbing my pussy lips from over my panties.

“Oh damn… Angel…”

My thighs squeeze around his sides and I toss my head back to ride out his fingers.

“That’s it, Shortcake.”

I could hear his smirk.

“Nnn-shnnnun. No. No. We can’t. I’m mad at you.”

I shove his chest and kick myself down from his hold.

I can totally do this.

I cross my arms over my chest and take a step back for his every one.

The predatory state of this man is panty melting, but I will not succumb to this.

To him.

To the floodgates drenching from my core.

I am better than this.

“I am mad at you for that stunt you pulled the other night. You haven’t apologized and we are unpaused. You’re a colossal douchecanoe, Damon. And I will not give in.”

I fix my bag and spin on my heels after giving him the middle finger and fixing my metaphorical crown.

As I spin away, I see a flash of all black drop behind the large metal trash container.

That twist of bad paranoia settles inside me like nothing ever has before.

I whip back to give it a double take, ignoring Damon, who runs a hand over his face and into his shaggy black hair.

Grumbling under his breath.

The black flash creeps farther out... I see a boot, a leg, then the glare of a reflection from a silver metal that’s rising to Damon’s back.

~A gun.~

“Damon!”

I take a running jump and cover him with my body as a boom sounds out, rolling us into the metal bins.

Not thinking, I grab some random metal bit and toss it at the man ducking down.

Missing and hitting the trash container with a loud bang.

Damon flips us, drawing his own pistol and firing off twice before everything goes stranglingly, suffocatingly silent.

Not even the sound of my heart jackhammering in my ears makes me hear anything but the deathly quiet.

My eyes bugging out of my head, I look up to Damon, standing and aiming at the figure I can no longer see.

The panic, the fear, the everything inside me—gone.

All I see is him.

Body tensed, his hands locked and loaded around his black Colt 1911.

Turning white by the sheer force he has it handled.

His pointer finger ready to pull the trigger again.

His stance strong. Powerful. Godlike.

His boots don’t make a single sound as he carefully traces over, he’s entirely like I’ve never seen him.

Trained. Skilled. Tested. Ready.

Curled into a protective ball, my arms snuggled around me like they teach us for a tornado drill.

I wait, not breathing, my heart not beating.

My mind not thinking.

I hear a clink of the gun being kicked away and a harsh clatter of the butt of his gun to the assailant’s face.

The dial of a phone and a two-word conversation before I see him again, taking me off the dirty ground and looking me over, his worried eyes frantic to see any wound or injury.

His hands are on my shoulders but I can’t feel them, not the weight or the warmth.

I can see them.

See him.

“Savannah! Look at me! Are you hurt?”

The playfulness of earlier gone.

I shake my head no.

The numbness in my every cell.

“You need to get out of here, Savannah. Now. Go home. Go to a shop and call Percy to come and get you. Go. Now.”

He pushes me forward, but as soon as he lets go, I stumble and gasp at a flare of pain shooting down my leg and wrapping around my hip.

“Savannah! You’re hit! Fucking shit, baby, come here. Don’t move. Lay down, let me see. Fuck. Fuck. I got you. I got you.”