Chapter 70: Blueprints and Hickeys 🔥

Savannah

I am under the impression that I must actually give a fuck if I am this worried.

I did a solid presentation.

Even with the sidetracking I did.

I covered all my bases and showed concrete proof on why, what, and how this would be a great idea.

Dane reassures me I did, in fact, do a good job, and if he could vote he would vote for me. I thank him.

An hour goes by and still nothing.

“Is this a good sign or?”

Dane looks down the hall to where church is being held.

“Well, I’ve never really been interested in what the Lunas bring to the club. This is the first meeting I’ve sat in on. So I don’t know how long they normally take.”

~Well, that’s just great.~

I pace some more.

Dane and I going back and forth talking nonsense chatter about whatever we can think of.

Two hours.

“This can’t really take this long, right?”

~This has to be a bad sign.~

My phone goes off—Percy checking in.

I send a text back while Dane tells me everything is fine.

“Hey, while I’m thinking about it, call your grams. She misses you.”

Dane’s face is so cute.

Like a little kid getting a massive ice cream cone, I hand him my phone.

That was weeks ago I told her I would get the boys over.

I’m just as shitty as Damon when it came to visiting.

She’s going to hit me with the wooden spoon, I’m sure.

“Hello? Gram grams? It’s Dane… I miss you too. I love you.”

I smile to myself and check that off my ever-going mind.

A half hour goes by with Dane on the phone talking about everything with Grams.

His school, his clothes size, and all the food he now likes.

With a loud bang and what could never be mistaken as anything else, I hear fists start flying and a fight break out.

I take off towards the door, but Dane catches me and pulls me back.

“No Savannah! You can’t go in there now.”

I push him off and take another step when the doors open and Darrion shoves Daxon out, who carries Damon in a headlock.

“Get the fuck off him!”

Dane latches on to my waist to slow me down, but it only makes me kick my heels off and throw it at Daxon.

I hit him in the side of the head, an ~ooof~ sound is made as he releases Damon.

“Keep your hands off of him! The both of you! You hear me!”

I finally manage to get to my Angel.

His face red and blood trickling from his hairline by his eyebrow.

“My Angel? Are you okay? What happened?”

He sputters and glares at Darrion, who leans against the wall with his arms crossed.

A smug look of the asshole Henley.

I rub Damon’s back and help him up.

Daxon puts his hands up in surrender and backs away. A red welt already popping up on his ear. It looks inflamed and angry.

I can hear Lucien barking out orders and having a fit but I can’t focus on him.

Damon grabs me by the wrists and drags me out of the bar. My shoes left behind, my briefcase, my bike.

Everything but my Angel.

Damon drags me over the blacktop and across the street.

I don’t say anything, letting him do whatever he needs.

Taking me wherever he plans on.

Down the sidewalk, I have to jog to keep up with him. We walk to the end, Damon lets go of my wrist to pull his vest off and wrap it around his hand.

Rearing back, I don’t catch on in time before he breaks the glass on the door. An alarm goes off but Damon is unbothered.

I don’t speak.

I let him do whatever it is he is doing.

Reaching in, he unlocks the door and opens it. He lays his vest down over the glass so I can walk over and not cut the bottom of my feet up.

I walk in behind him and wait, he picks up the vest and shakes it free of the dirt and glass with a whip of his grasp.

He looks more pissed than I have ever seen him. Red isn’t a good enough color to describe what stains his pale skin.

What I’m sure taints his vision.

~I don’t think this is a good sign.~

Wrapping the black leather back around his hand, he punches the white alarm box.

Again and again.

And again, and again.

Busting and breaking it from the wall.

“Damon... it’s okay. I’ll try again. It’s okay.”

I reach out for him, but he shrugs me off.

My fists lock at my side as he unwraps the black leather and looks at it.

I can’t see but half his face with how he is turned away from me. The exposed brick walls and open floor plan is giving off this cooling chill.

The smell of being closed up for too long is heavy in the air but so is dust and the stale thickness that follows every move we make.

“Do you know who Digger Sam is?” Damon’s voice is so close to an unnatural seething tone I can feel my heart rate pick up.

I have never heard him so…loathsome?

Damon’s fingers bite into the patches on his vest with this look of distain that could give Medusa a run for her money.

The black of his glossy eyes looks so cold he could make it turn to stone.

“Digger Sam? No. I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name.”

Damon’s breath turns heated. His shoulders shake and the pressure of it coming through his nose makes his nostrils flare. A tremble racks his squared jaw with one hundred percent unadulterated fury.

“He’s the one who said that shit about you being fucked in the head. We called him Digger mostly.”

~Okay…~

~Called? As in past tense.~

The stone floor is cold under my bare feet.

My toes are already numb and now my heart has fallen into my stomach to be attacked by the bile in there.

“Okay…did…did I do something wrong?”

~I fucked up the meeting, didn’t I?~

~Of course I did.~

~Fuck!~

“No.”

Damon looks at me, turning his head from the downward angle he held it in. Ripping his harsh gaze from the everyday leather.

He lets his eyes crawl up my suit to rest on my face and soak up the emotions in my eyes. This time the breath he lets out of his hostel cage is one to relieve whatever battle he is fighting.

It’s calmer, louder, but not so fire-breathing, life-ending, neck-snappy.

He’s giving off that vibe right now.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

The tension in his face gives him some slack. Pressure points in his flawless features dot like unsolicited constellations with fading red and a not quite right milky cream color that makes him look…vulnerable.

~In a deadly way of course.~

“We have to retake the vote. We will later. Right now there is a mess to be cleaned up.”

He sighs again.

His left hand releasing the claws he had into the black material to jump ship into his luscious locks.

When he dips his fingertips in, I see the grimace at the contact of whatever wound he has there.

I step forward.

My arms are out for him to fly into.

I offer him my sanctuary.

He doesn’t think twice about my offer. One second he is stiff as a board with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and the next he is limp, taking a knee and curled into my neck.

He breathes in deep and long drags of air to fill his lungs and broad chest with my scent.

I wrap my arms around him and hold him to me like I can and will sponge up all these feelings that plague my handsome dark prince.

I don’t know what to say. I do, but I don’t know how to say it to mean what I want it to. How deep the words run.

My fingers braid in between the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck and push further in.

A gentle tug and I have his attention.

Looking up to me, my delicious archangel of biker country from his position on his knees, I know he can hear the unspoken words my heart speaks into existence to his soul only.

Our silent conversation being one of raw love and shameless emotions that we wouldn’t hide from each other even if we had the choice.

~I love you, Damon. No matter what, I’ll be here. Forever.~

~I love you too, no matter what. Through everything.~

“All or nothing, my Angel.”

Somehow my heart works the right levers to work my mouth and vocal cords.

Damon smiles.

This beautiful megawatt smile that makes my knees weak and thighs squeeze together.

My heart has an orgasm.

That’s what true love does.

That’s how you tell.

If your heart doesn’t come, it isn’t the real thing.

“All or nothing,” he repeats it.

Like every time before, but still it makes me heal some of the broken parts. Sanding down the sharp edges of pieces that stab and cut me open.

A fake cough is heard over the depth of our moment. The man who I don’t know his name, but I think is another Henley, interrupts us.

Damon steps back to his feet, standing tall and acting like a shield, he places himself in front of me.

“What do you want, Uncle Leon?”

~I knew it!~

“You know you will have to face him, you will have to stand punished.”

“I don’t give a fuck. I don’t regret what I did. He had it coming one way or another.”

~Questions.~

~Who dares to punish my Angel?~

“You should have chosen the other.”

The older man holds no room for leniency for whatever Damon has done.

~Did he fight his dad?~

“Fuck off. If he would have said that about Aunt Gia, you would have cut out his heart, don’t pretend like you wouldn’t have done the same fucking thing.”

Damon stiffens back up. His shoulders square off, his muscles tensing and building with the restraint he is using.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing. I said you should have chosen differently.”

Damon seems to relax some. I add my hands to his body and trace my flat palm up and down his spine to add to it.

“Girl? Walk me through the remodeling. Your blueprint was shit.”

The man known as Uncle Leon steps inside the building, waiting on me.

“Well, I didn’t have a lot of time and I’m not an architect. This wall will come down, and so will that one and that one. This will be the lobby.”

I go on, walking with Damon’s body plastered to mine as we go through the building. I go over what I have in my head for Luna’s Idol.

Leon nods along, agreeing or saying something like that won’t work because of some remodel lingo I don’t know, but I quickly come up with an alternative.

After a walk-through and answering his questions, he seems to be on my side of things for the most part.

Another man comes up and calls him away.

The sound of the door shutting is like a bell dinging at the start of a boxing match between Damon and me.

Damon ~takes me~.

Like a man, ~takes his woman~.

Standing alone, Damon moves behind me in one fell sweep.

His hand folds around my braided ponytail to heave my neck back and angle my face up at him.

His body pressed against mine, chest to chest in this empty space, the warmth of him and the sudden action unlocks a breathless moan.

His nose brushes against my cheek.

“You have been teasing me all goddamn day. Haven’t you, baby?”

~His voice!~

Oh my God, my panties incinerated when his graveled octave broke the sound barrier and decimated the lace that hugged my hips, ass, and pussy.

“No, of course not. Why would I do that?”

My own voice lighter, like a sexy siren ready to call my sailor from his ship and into the waters.

I am ready to feast.

“Because you are a fucking tease, Savannah.”

His grip tightens. His voice growls.

My pussy gushes with liquid heat.

He sticks his legs on either side of me and forces me to walk until we scrape the wall.

My back against the exposed brick, the cold does nothing to cool the fire he has set off.

~Nothing. At. All.~

“You think you can tease me and get away with it, don’t you, Shortcake?”

He kisses my cheek, a soft one that does absolutely everything to make me internally pray my clothes could combust and turn to ash for this man to fuck my brains out right here and now.

I detest every stitch that keeps my naked form hidden from my lover.

My ~man~.

My bottom lip is held captive by my teeth. I can feel Damon snake his fingers around my blazer’s top buttons.

A threat, a warning.

A ~promise~.

I nod my head in defiance.

~Yes, Angel.~

~I do.~

My pussy grabs a speakerphone and calls out over my organs a firm: “Yes, bitch, I can tease you all damn day and you won’t do a damn thing about it!”

She loves to bait and stir up trouble.

His hand in my hair lets the anchor drop down my back to make me expose my throat to the savage wolf who has ensnared me.

The prickling sensation that slithers over my tender scalp is frustratingly delicious.

His eyes on mine.

I can see my reflection mirror back at me, showing ecstasy in its purest form.

Another kiss, so gentle and…wait a damn minute. Teasing!

~He’s teasing me!~

~No!~

The first button snaps the thread that tethers it in place and sends it off to abandon me.

His lips twitch.

He knows I know what he is doing now.

~The bastard!~

Another kiss, just as soft and savoringly succulent that sends another button to soar to its death on the stone floor.

The sides of my business jacket slip apart and expose me.

Even though the only thing officially off is my shoes, I still am naked.

Clothes mean nothing to the nudity of raw blistering emotions.

His nimble fingers grow to their long length over my squishy stomach. The fabric clings to his grasp and helps him untuck itself.

We pin each other with our stare.

Saying nothing, working in utter silence, he frees the bottom half of my shirt and seizes this opportunity to feel me up.

His entire arm takes cover under the loose blouse to find my round globes that sit high and perky on my chest thanks to the bra that hugs them in a confining embrace.

We hiss together.

We roll our bodies at the same time.

Working as one, we grind against each other with Damon on second base.

He paws at my chest.

My clit throbs with the need to be touched.

It begs to be flicked.

Our lips almost touch, skimming with the rock of our hips.

Our exhales mix and work as half of our inhales. We don’t mind.

“Tell me, Savannah, do you know what you do to me? What you’ve done?”

His words lick at my lips, the space right beside them, and drive me insane.

I don’t answer in time.

His hand goes away, the skin-on-skin contact disappears way too soon.

I whimper—more accurately my vagina whimpers.

I’m so turned on it hurts.

I shake my head ~no~, what I could manage of a shake since he doesn’t let go of his handle.

“No? I don’t believe that.”

He drags out the ~believe~, taking my blazer from my left shoulder and tugging at the sleeve to have it slip off easily.

The other side comes clean just as clean and cuts a seat on the floor below me.

“Da-Damon,” I whisper, begging for his lips.

His kiss, his hands, his skin, his cock.

His everything.

That cocky smirk makes me squirm against him, but I don’t really want to get away.

I just know he will torture me before this is all said and done.

“Do you want me, baby?”

His hard-on scrapes from one side of my stomach to the other.

Like a dick wand. I try to think of a spell to make my pants disappear.

Harry Potter didn’t teach this particular spell.

“Nope.” I pop my “p” and watch my Angel turn demonic.

He was focused on my lips but giving him the answer he didn’t think I would makes him snap to my eyes.

His top lip sneers back and I can see the wolfish side of him come out.

“No?” he repeats in disbelief.

“Uh uh.” My words piss him off.

His mouth seeks me out, but I turn my head just in time for him to smear his kiss elsewhere.

That just adds gasoline to the fire.

A thunderous growl shakes from his chest.

The handle he has fashioned in my hair jerks my head sideways as he glues himself to my front with the red- and dirt-stained bricks digging into my back.

The buttons that lace down the front of my shirt fly off in an explosion of animalistic proportions. I don’t catch the gasp that flows out after my white posh buttons that now sprinkle the floor.

Damon’s mouth sucks up and tastes the soft skin of my breasts.

Ripping at my shirt, he does the same to my bra, not bothering with the clasp in the back. He goes straight up caveman on me and shreds it, bra cup and all.

My band left around me, I look as if I’ve been mauled by a wild animal.

Purplish-red hickeys appear over my chest. A bite to my shoulder, another to my collarbone. My evil Angel shifts me up, placing his knee between my thighs and sitting me back down.

~No! Not again.~

One hand tangled in my hair, the other cuffing my wrist above my head, he details my skin with his mouth-made marks.

I moan.

Giving him the applause he honestly deserves.

He is in control and I don’t want it back.

Not yet.

I know what he wants and I can’t stop myself from giving in.

My vagina bodyslams my mind into submission and takes full reign of what it is we are doing.

With the first ride, and what’s happening right now, the moment my hips rock, sway, grind, roll or whatever I will call this.

I can feel Damon’s victory grin against my neck.

For fuck’s sake, he likes it when I do this.

When I…you know…

(Drops into a whisper)...

(Looks both ways to check if the coast is clear enough to actually say it)...

~Hump his~…knee.

I can’t help it!

I can’t.

I want to but I can’t.

The friction his pant-clad knee brings to my dress-slacks-clad pussy is—it’s really REALLY nice.

Alternating between nips, more hickeys and soft and tender kisses, I find myself snowballing to the edge of oblivion in no time.

“A-Angel,” I whisper out, moaning and letting myself freefall off the deep end.

My first orgasm is so strong it’s suffocating.

A strangled weep clacks around my voice box.

Like tidal waves to drown me in its pleasure, I can’t breathe. The scratch of the brick wall is welcomed with open arms—the barely there pain makes my body know what to do and sucks in oxygen.

My hair catching on the rough spread of the stones behind me.

Damon frees his hand.

I feel him lean me forward, I feel his lips touch parts of my shoulder and neck he hadn’t before.

My pearl necklace falls back and becomes a choker.

I can feel the sheer fabric melt off my body and I know I felt the air kick up from the seat it took next to my blazer.

The cut of the band is gone. The straps tip toe down my arm, with Damon’s help joins its friends on the cold floor.

I lock my fingers around the crook of his neck, letting him bring me out of the boneless state he has left me in.

My sensitive nipples, rock hard and pebbled, impale him through the plain white T-shirt he wears.

I know he can feel it.

He shifts me around, kissing and sucking down my shoulder to the arm that hangs on him.

His teeth graze down the inside of my wrist, I shiver when he kisses the same spot he stung me in.

“You ~will~ be my Luna,” he vows.

His belt coming undone and the rattle that goes on after him like a second act.

“Yes Angel, I will.”

I lean in and crash against his lips.

His hands working like tornadoes.

My fingers mushrooming around his ears, I’m careful to avoid the cut in his hairline. I just need to take him in my hands, to feel him a little bit more.

My necklace the classiest piece of my ensemble.

I hold his face and kiss the life into him.

I know he has the pants situation under control. I can feel him kicking out of his and knocking them away with his feet.

When his own boots come off I haven’t the faintest idea, and I don’t care.

Biting down on my bottom lip, he sucks it and breaks the skin.

Tasting the few drops of metallic sugar that beads up, he licks it away.

One more kiss and he has me flipped.

His hand on my lower back, he shows me what he wants me to do without using his words.

I grab my ankles.

My braid coming down over my right side and hanging off by my eyebrow, my necklace now hanging off my neck to touch my nose.

His hands taking the top of my black dress slacks and, hand to God, shreds them down the crack of my ass.

He splits my seam and exposes the parts of me he needs to get to.

My eyes widen, and a mixture of sounds I don’t know the name of falls from my tongue.

A surprised gasp mixed with a moan that once was something of a shocked, breathy thing all combined.

“Oh my God, Damon, yes!”

My panties are put out of their misery and torn apart at the hands of this angelic brute. His middle finger starts to stroke my lower lips.

Going forward, he skates on the curved lines of my plump and soaked mound.

Going backwards, he dips just a tiny bit deeper to part my folds and give his fingertips a small taste of my juices.

“You’re so wet, baby, I thought you didn’t want me?”

My vagina growls her frustration but makes it sound like it was me.

“Say it.” He prods my entrance, singsonging my demise while never pushing in, just teasing and rimming the outline of my opening.

“I hate you, I need you, Damon please.”

He laughs.

I’ll kill him for this.

His finger goes away and comes back with a much bigger friend.

Damon sets his hooks in at my hips and lets his cock nudge its way between my pussy lips.

One thrust from his hips makes the thick round head say hello to my clit.

The second thrust makes his shaft have a pretty new coat of my glossing wetness.

The third thrust aligns him at my channel, and the blessing of the fourth thrust starts up the show.

His cock finds where it needs to go and stretches my inner walls to make a perfect fit.

I cry out in relief.

~Welcome home, baby!~

~Yes!~

Oh yes.

Damon’s nails leave half moons on the skin brave enough to cover my hips.

“Goddamn it, Van. You feel so good, baby.”

His hips meet mine, again and again.

A performance I am the biggest fan of all time of.

After all, I’ve been to every concert.

My body pops off his with sensual sounds of skin meeting skin.

My tits bounce all around, big circles before flying every which way.

I rock back on my feet. Damon pumping in and out of me, I can see his balls from this angle slapping away at my clit.

If this was a porno, I would love this POV.

I voice my approval and let it echo around the empty space.

The muscles in Damon’s legs flex with every reentry. The swell of my upcoming orgasm is nerve-wracking.

I want it so bad I try to spread my thighs farther apart, to give it more space to back into, but all it does is give myself a better view.

I call out his name, I thank him, I become a mewling dirty minx that is every bit of a loud-ass pornstar. I thought those girls faked it, but having Damon fuck me like this?

Maybe they didn’t.

“Savannah, fucking—”

To hear him lost in this, just as deep as I am, I cum around his beautiful cock like it is my life’s dream come true.

Damon holds me up, gritting my name with my pussy contracting around him.

I know he is telling me again how my pussy will rip his dick off if I keep cumming the way I do.

When he goes to pull back, he can’t move.

My pussy swells around him and locks him in.

I can feel him try again but he doesn’t want to hurt me.

A ringing sounds off in my ears so that I barely make out what he says.

I cum so hard I hear angels.

“Oh fuck, baby, I’m going to cum.”

I hear my Angel.

He pants, I know he is trying to hold off.

I moan as I try to unfold my kegel muscles to let him out of me.

A ragged breath shakes him so hard his hands tremble at my hips.

He hunches forward with his withdrawal, fisting his cock in his hand as I sink to the floor and lay against his legs.

Looking up at him, from the hovering figure he crouches above me while I expose my neck once again.

He groans with eyes slitted into half-mast.

He lets cum fire off on my bare chest, the first shot going down to my belly button.

The second covering one of my tits.

The third he seems to draw back with so it grazes my neck, using the forth and fifth he traces the pearl necklace to give me his own.

He shivers with one more shot of his hot cum dazzling my skin.

He leans against the wall, still hovering over me.

His cock and balls are eye level, so I help him clean up by licking the one or two dribbles that run down his retreating shaft.

Goosebumps pop up over his body.

The hairs closest to me stand up.

His legs strawberry with pricks of red dots at every hair follicle.

His eyes on me, I feel like the only woman in the whole world to ever exist.

Like it’s just him and me and the rest of the human population has gone away.

For the first time in my life, I don’t mind being at the end of the world.