Good Morning, Sunshine

Savannah

As expected, I was swollen and sore when I woke up.

My hip and ass felt like an ongoing burn that lingered, and my knee felt like it could not be worth $20,000. Maybe $4,000, but not any more.

My arthritis on full blast like I’m some little frail old lady. The ache going up into my hip and wrapping to my gunshot wounds.

My lower half needed help. I skipped two sets of meds and I felt that shit too.

I was ready to go.

“Damon.” I pushed at his shoulder. He was laying on top of me with his head in my neck, almost laying directly on my face.

His leg splitting mine, his arms all around me in a tangled mess. I couldn’t tell where he started and I ended.

He smelled nice, and from what I could see he looked positively adorable with sleep creasing up his flawless face.

The high cheekbones and chiseled bone structure of this man was heavenly and divine.

“Damon. I need help,” I groaned and patted his shoulder harder.

He grunted back like a bull and nuzzled deeper into my hair.

“Angel,” I huffed.

Nothing.

If I can’t wake him, then I’ll wake his cock and he will magically awake from his slumber.

“Angel,” I faked a moan and purr.

“Oh, Angel, yes.” I went full porn star.

The overused voice and a shocked gasp.

“Oh, yes, Damon, right there.”

He raised his face off me and squinted down, sleep dragging his eyelids down to just a crack to see me.

“Oh hello, good morning. Now, get off me.”

I tapped his arm in a rush.

I needed to pee and I was in pain.

I needed to stretch, I was hoping my knee wasn’t puffed up with fluid in the socket, I needed my bandages cleaned. I needed to check in at home. I needed to go home.

“Ten more minutes.”

His sleepy voice was better than his turned-on voice.

He fell right back into his assumed position on top of me.

“No. I need to pee. Unless you want a golden shower, get off me.”

He groaned for about twenty seconds before letting me out of his devil trap.

“Thank you.”

I start this, turning and rising up, trying to keep my knee straight so I wouldn’t cry out.

The bolts in my leg felt as if they had been tightened overnight, and the wake of my migraine wasn’t going unnoticed.

Sitting as close to straight up as I was going to get, I bit my cheek and held the hiss of pain back. I knew this wasn’t going to be pretty.

~Okay, on three.~

~One, two, and three!~

I shoved off the bed and onto my feet, but not for long. As soon as I added some of my body weight to my bad leg, I crumpled and knew this was not going to work.

“Vannah.” Damon got off the bed, his chest to my back once again, but this time it was to help me get off from all fours.

I realized I was still buck naked from our playtime last night.

Damon picked me up and went to set me on the bed, but I gripped at his shoulders and whined out a “No.”

“Let me down. I need to go to the bathroom. I’m fine. I just tripped.”

We all know that’s a lie.

He said nothing as he carried my naked, broken, swollen and cut-up self to his hidden bathroom and flipped the toilet seat down with his foot before sitting me down.

“Well, get out! This is a private show.”

My face was hot with embarrassment.

My arms crossed my chest like he didn’t know what my boobs looked like. Man ate my pussy last night, he saw my pee hole, had his tongue over it, yet, here we are.

I looked up from the curtain of my brown hair and saw he was also buck-ass naked.

His dick hanging between his knees.

~His knees, ladies and gentlemen.~

~His.~

~Knees.~

“My eyes are up here,” he chuckled, making his dick twitch like it winked at me before walking out and shutting the door.

“I know, I was looking at your dick,” I yell through the door and let the dam bust.

Doing my bathroom business, I try to run my fingers through my hair and wash my mouth out the best I could.

I whore-bathed it, slapping some water under my armpits, under my boobs, between my legs, and in my belly button.

I patted myself dry and stepped out of the bathroom door like I was going on stage.

I don’t want him to know I’m in pain.

Not from the crash, my knee was red and puffed up like it had been stung by some big-ass bee, my leg ached like I was older than dirt, and my head was starting the train into migraine station.

~He carried me to the toilet.~

~That’s…sweet.~

But also super embarrassing.

Damon sat on his bed, the blanket barely covering his dick with the way he had it draped over his lap.

His bedhead tousled and tossed to the side.

One arm bent up and behind his head to keep it off the cold wall.

His chest on display, the glow of the yellow lamp on his side table casting this ungodly glow over him.

His dark eyes piercing me where I stood.

~Thank you, Lord, for this creation, amen.~

I cleared my throat and averted my hungry stare so I could stop eye-fucking him before breakfast.

Damon could be my breakfast.

I would eat—~no~!

I have to get out of here.

“I hate to rain on our first morning together, but I’m a needy goddess so…”

I tried to cock my hip in my natural sassy state—big mistake.

“Soah-ow!”

I hissed and grabbed the wall.

So much for goddess stance.

Damon jumped to my side, catching me in his long, strong arms.

“I got you. Let me check your stitches and see what’s wrong. I got you.”

He held my hand like I was learning to walk again, hitting a nerve.

“Let go of me. I’m fine.”

I pushed out of his hold and staggered to his bed. Not eight steps from where we stood, but enough for him to see it was much more than my hurt hip and ass.

He didn’t say another word, handing me one of his shirts and stepping between my legs to slide up a fresh pair of his boxers to cover my juicy parts.

Next, handing me my hair tie.

Lucky he found it, I fell asleep in it.

“I see you’re keeping your room clean. Good job.” I tried to lighten the mood.

“Knock, knock,” Darrion said over his bang on the door.

“One second.”

Damon stepped into the jeans from last night, no boxers, no shirt.

Teasing me while I’m in pain like the douchebag he is.

The door opens, Darrion in a black set of doctor scrubs with an electric blue inscription saying “Dr. Darrion Henley” in a bold font.

I startled when I saw the matching black doctor’s bag, like some old school shit.

“Alright, Savannah, drop your shorts and bend over for me.”

He popped on his powder blue glove.

“Stop fucking around.” Damon’s jaw clicked.

“Me? Fucking around with Savannah? No. Unless she wants to. I did get dressed up for you, darlin’.”

He winked and gave me finger guns before pointing down at his doctorly attire.

Damon punched his arm.

“Alright, you two. Damon, come hold my hand while your brother plays with my ass.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at Damon’s reaction, then at Darrion’s.

One of pure loathing and one of pure joy.

“I mean looks at my stitches, on my hip and lower back?” I raised my eyebrow and smirked hopefully.

“No, she meant play with her ass, broseph. And the answer is…absolutely.”

He clapped his hands with excitement.

Damon caught his arm, growling at the both of us.

Darrion reared his head back with this dry laugh that sounded like an inside joke between them.

Darrion looked down at the ground, his eyes locking onto my leg and going completely serious.

“Your knee is swollen. How’s your leg? What about your head?”

He bent to his knee and started feeling around my bad knee.

I slapped his hand away and went to move up.

“Why would you ask those questions?”

I felt the room go cold.

“I can see your knee’s swollen. Your leg could be affected, and you lost blood. Your head would hurt,” he fired right back, but that’s not the truth.

My gut twisted.

“Bullshit.”

I glared him down and watched his face go void of emotion like Damon’s does.

We stood in silence, a heavy, suffocating silence that hung on our shoulders like one hundred pound boulders.

“I know that’s a lie. I just don’t have time for it. Clean the stitches. I need to go.”

I laid back down on Damon’s bed, none of us adding any more. Damon didn’t even come hold my hand or stay at my side this time.

I heard him leave the room.

Darrion cleaned my stitching, then covered it back up without another word.

The door opened. I didn’t look, ready to get out of here and do some kind of zombie walk home, making my leg worse and my migraine, but oh fucking well.

“This is going to sting.”

I felt a jab and the sting.

It felt like a shot.

“What the hell was that?”

I looked behind me but saw nothing.

“You can’t leave yet. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Darrion rubbed something cold on my knee that immediately made it feel better.

“I have to go. What did you give me? Stop touching my leg.”

I went to kick him away, but my body suddenly felt really heavy, like I had fallen asleep on my hands, and that fuzzy static channel.

“You fucking sedated me!”