Let’s Vote

Savannah

Damon admires the liquid jewelry he has donned me with.

Coming back to the reality we are in, he smiles harder on one side of his face than the other.

This boyish lopsided grin is contagious.

I smile back and lean onto his shoulder.

I can feel him breathing against my bare body. I can hear his heart beating like a snare drum as we calm down.

Laying on his lap, still naked and hanging out in the open building, I want to hold onto this moment for just a little longer.

I want it forever, but I will settle for a moment longer.

Like always, time is cruel to us all.

I think some more than others. I must have done something to piss it off.

Here, recently, I think I might have fallen back into its good graces for the most part.

“No bullshit, I think your plan is awesome, Shortcake.” He kisses the side of my head.

“Really? You don’t think it’s too much? All three? I think, maybe I should have done something simpler,” I confess my doubts to my Angel.

They slip from my lips so easily I don’t even think about the words before they’re out and set free, never to be taken back again.

“Nah, simple isn’t our thing.”

He waves his hand to dismiss the idea, to push the crippling self-doubt that the anxiety riddles into my thoughts.

“It is not, that’s for sure.” I chuckle and play with his fingers. I trace them with one of mine and push his cuticles back.

A soft quiet storms the building.

It’s nice, welcoming, and blissfully unaware of the stark-naked couple that lies in its midst.

“I think this could work. I believe in it. The toy rentals, the sex shows, and the burlesque. All of it. Not just because I’m fucking the creator of it either.”

I laugh and add a disbelieving, “Yeah, sure.”

We interlock our fingers together and let the laughter die around us.

We welcome the silence once again.

Old friends that seem to have patched the bond I shared with it less than a year ago.

A month and a half is all that’s left.

Six weeks and I’ll have survived my first year without them.

The thoughts in my head make me cringe.

My ~first~ year.

I’ll have a lifetime without them, won’t I?

Damon must have caught on to the battle that’s started waging within my broken parts, picking up the sharp pieces to fashion daggers and shank my heart.

He kisses my hand, looking me in the eyes as he gives me an extra three more.

The silence works in our favor.

I can hear him, his words louder than the cries of war I haven’t managed to win as of yet. I doubt I ever will.

Even if the lifetime without my family is spent in the arms of my Angel Prince.

My heart still miraculously grows, filling with his love and affection.

Even with the busted seam and the leaks that sprout from its traitorous cracks.

I love this man.

~Lord.~

I love this man.

“Hello?” Daxon’s voice calls out like a curtain call of our hot and bothered show.

Damon groans in frustration that makes me giggle at this strong disapproval he has about sharing our presence with anyone.

“Don’t come back here. We’re coming.”

The very next step rounds the corner where Daxon comes fully into view.

Damon covers me with his arms and screams at Daxon to get the fuck out.

Daxon rolls his eyes as he turns around like a petulant child being told to go to the end of the line.

“Fine!” He throws his hands up and goes away for us to get dressed.

Damon makes some threats of kicking Daxon’s ass that I know he will keep. He goes on with how no one is allowed to see me naked but him.

“Aw, you know what your possessiveness does to me.”

Damon shoots me a warning look as he stands us up.

Warning me to keep it in my pants.

~Oh, would you look at that, I don’t have any.~

My entire outfit is shredded to rags now.

“So I have nothing to wear since I was mauled by a ravenous wolf.”

Damon howls with his head tossed back before throwing me his boxers and his white T-shirt.

More chuckles, more smiles shared between us like the playful lovers we have turned into as the time goes on.

~See what I mean about falling into its good graces?~

He shuffles into his jeans and puts on his leather vest bare chested.

His tattoos and rock-hard body on display for me.

He now looks like he should be on the cover of a ~Playgirl~ magazine.

Maybe a calendar.

I could see him posed, leaned against his black bike with the sun setting and glowing off his pale skin.

In the middle of a desert.

I’d buy that.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

I lean into my hip and cross my arms to cover my nipples from poking through his cotton shirt. I watch him toe on his boots.

I have no problem showing the lust circling in my hazel eyes. I’m eye-fucking the shit out of him and I don’t care if he sees it.

He is the one stirring up trouble this time.

His dark eyes look up from his work to see me salivating at the mouth, my lady boner at full mast.

“Getting dressed?” He plays dumb.

He knows what he’s doing.

The douchecanoe is just messing with me since he thinks I’m a tease.

Maybe I am, I don’t mean to.

~But this?~

This is on purpose.

“I don’t know what your schedule looks like, but I’m not done with you. As soon as you’re done with this vote thing I’m going to need you to return to your bedroom and await further instructions.”

What I hold back from saying is: ~I want you to wear the vest and I’m going for a ride on your cock and your face.~

~I am going to ride you like you ride your motorcycle.~

~Fast, long and hard.~

~I am going to ruin you for the rest of the night.~

Damon’s jaw clenches.

My bottom lip sends a bolt of burning pleasure straight to my vagina when I lick the spot Damon tagged.

The open cut is that delicious jab of pain you can’t stop messing with.

Damon looks so sexy.

His dark hair tousled over his forehead, this all-consuming tint in his midnight eyes.

Such depth I know how easy it is to get lost in. I have drowned in his endless abyss without a care in the world.

My thighs squeeze together, another jolt to my clit when he stands all slow and sultry like.

This scene from ~Sons of Anarchy~ comes to mind.

Jax standing up from his fight in Ireland.

His hair sweaty, his hands wrapped in that white tape and his chest all smokin’ hot.

I got to say, my Angel is the winner but you get the point.

Damon’s lean frame, his tall stature, his muscles, his lips drawing up to send me an all-knowing smirk, I have every intention of riding it off when I take my fill of this man in the upcoming hours.

If I can wait that long.

“Come on you fuckbunnies!”

Daxon snaps us back to earth.

A couple more seconds and I would have jumped him and had my way.

Damon stalks across the room, taking me in his arms. One arm wrapped around the dip in my waist and the other taking my chin to lift me higher so he can pledge his own unspoken words to my lips.

Another kiss that lingers and seals us together.

Sweet and soft.

But passionate and possessive.

~I am all yours, Shortcake.~

~You’re damn right you are.~

Damon takes my hand, he leads me out, picking me up when we get to the front door so I don’t step on any glass.

Daxon follows us like he is supervising the trip back.

Damon refuses to put me down even when we’ve crossed the street and gotten into the bar.

I know I must look a mess, Daxon’s amusement when he sets his eyes on me lets me know I look thoroughly banged.

The parts of me that show are littered with dark purple and red hickeys, my lips swollen from kissing, what was my classy polished updo now splitting off to show the baby hairs I had slicked back before my dark Angel scoured my bare flesh so he could sear my body with his lewd and sinful acts.

I’m not complaining, I’m just saying.

Not to mention I’m in a T-shirt and boxers, my bomb-ass suit destroyed and left in a worthless state.

Oh, and I’m wearing Damon’s cum like a necklace around my neck.

So I smell like him, sex, and sweat.

Thankfully, the collar of the shirt keeps it hidden.

My makeup is probably muddy under my eyes.

I look like a mess.

I am though, so I guess it’s fine.

“I hate you,” I whisper to Damon as he carries me back down the hallways and into church.

“Why this time?” He doesn’t look at the room full of people staring at us.

Under the same understanding I am.

“You look like God sent you from heaven to grace the world in your glory and I look like I crawled out of Satan’s asshole through the swamps of Louisiana.”

Damon laughs and agrees with me.

“You’re not supposed to say I’m right. You’re such a douchebag.”

I hit his chest in a slap, making him laugh a little louder.

Damon stands in the middle of the room with me in his arms.

Like I am some article of clothing he has put on and is waiting for the choir of critics to voice their opinion.

Do we need to ~auf Wiedersehen~ or whatever Heidi Klum says?

Everyone just staring at us, and us staring back.

Lucien at the head of the table like before.

The room is full, all the same faces except for the guy who talked shit about the crash.

Digger Sam isn’t anywhere to be found.

~What did you do, my Angel?~

~What have you done in my name?~

The atmosphere is awkward and thick.

Lucien looks like the angry brother of death.

His eyes are so cold even with the pretty blue steel color to haunt them.

Darrion, Daxon, and Dane stand where they did before, at the front in the corner closest to me.

The cement floor has wet spots still drying, and I can smell the use of cleaning products still hanging in the air.

Everything is stuck with all eyes on us.

“You look like shit, girl,” Lawrence speaks.

“We know why, you two fucking reek.”

Thanks for that, Leon.

“He gets pissed, acts out and gets to go off fucking, how is that a punishment?” Lucien adds in.

“She’s the one who looks punished. Christ, kid, were you beaten?” Grave joins the conversation.

I tap Damon’s shoulder to let me down, but he doesn’t, instead he tightens his grip.

“I’ll do whatever I want with MY girl. Whenever and wherever we feel like.”

Damon stands up for our sex life.

Damon’s voice holds no room for further questioning or any space for someone’s opinion to be placed with these stone-cold facts.

My man speaks the truth.

Lucien’s whole demeanor intensifies.

Any second he will blow his lid, I’m sure.

“Yeah, I apologize for not looking…or smelling…presentable. I hope that you can overlook the clothes…and smell.

“I didn’t pack a second outfit, I will in the future. So this doesn’t happen again. I should have come prepared, I accept responsibility for my actions, no matter how justified they were.”

I give a knowing look to Damon.

Justified indeed, you sex-on-a-stick dark Angel.

This needs to end, I’m ready for round two.

Damon winks back like the cocky bastard he is.

Back to the awkwardness we go.

“Sooo…do you have anything I can address or…?”

“We took a vote, you lost.”

My heart sinks to my foot, Damon’s voice rings in my ears.

I can hear it, telling me how I never disappoint him or let him down.

“Thanks to my son, the vote got thrown out.”

Lucien bites through his teeth, glaring daggers from his spot at the head of the table.

I don’t know what to do, so I nod and say okay like that means anything.

“All in favor, raise your left hand.”

Lucien’s face is void of emotions.

A trait or trick he has taught his sons, one I wish he hadn’t.

My heart stops as members of the club start to vote.

I watch the room and who raises their hand in favor of my idea.

Of voting me into the next trial.

Of helping me become a Luna.

I look to Darrion and Daxon—both of their hands are up.

Damon’s hand is of course up.

Grave has his up.

Leon and Lawrence’s are both up.

Members I don’t know, but see the hands raised high and proud.

I will be getting to know them from here on out.

“All opposed?”

A few hands.

Eight opposed.

I try to take a mental picture of their faces so I can remember.

Not for payback, but I want to know why.

Lucien’s not voting.

“You will be watched, everything going through the three of us. Now get the fuck out.” His hand hits the table, sending me on my way.

“I passed? Hell’s yeah!”

I kiss Damon in victory.

A bruise him in an excited show of championship, to the next round I go.

“I said get out, girl. Now,” Lucien barks like the asshole he is to rain on this happy day.

“Go baby, I’ll be with you in a little while. Dane, go with her.”

He kisses me again, setting me on my feet.

Dane nodding an enthusiastic nod, he walks me out.

My eyes catches Damon’s right before the door closes.

~All or nothing, my Angel.~

~All or nothing, Shortcake.~