Love Always, Damian (3 page)

Chapter 4

Damian

What. The fuck. Was that?

Four years. Four goddamn years I haven’t heard from her, and now,
now
, she calls to tell me she’s back and wants to see me? What the hell!

Surely she’s not wanting a quick roll in the sack. Not that I wouldn’t oblige since “Cameron” left me blue, but judging by the sound of her voice, it’s something else. God knows what, though. Something tells me her coming tomorrow won’t be a jovial chit-chat after how I left things with her.

Five to seven nights a week she appeared in my bedroom, craving a way to extinguish the memories that haunted her. That is, until Kate.

I didn’t let go of Ellie quickly, but when I did, I never looked back. Nightly visits from her became nonexistent, and I didn’t once check on her to make sure she was okay.

I have no idea what other way there would be for her to cope. She rarely drinks and snagging herself another fuck buddy is way outside of who she is. Before she ran off to Florida, she’d only been with my brother and me, and it took her almost four years to let Liam inside her. I know this because one night, a week after Liam’s death, she broke down and told me. I doubt she’d suddenly be okay hooking up with some stranger after she left.

I hunch forward on my knees, staring down the bottle of tequila. Along with thoughts of Kate, what Ellie wants mixes with them, and suddenly I don’t want to be alone with my demons any longer.

I don’t want to deal with this shit. I don’t even want to think about this shit.

Leaving the bottle of tequila on the coffee table, I stand up, swipe the keys to my BMW off the counter, and head out. Max’s Place is too low key for what I’m craving tonight.

Loud music. Sweaty, pumping bodies grinding on the dance floor. Never-ending shots. And as a bonus, the Kappas give celebratory after-finals blow jobs in the men’s bathroom of The Underground.

That’s where I go.

When I arrive, I flash my ID to the bouncer at the door. The place is packed, and the guy studies my license meticulously before he gives me the all clear with a nod of his head.

Inside, I beeline for the bar. Weave my way through the throng of students without seeing them. I’ll have plenty of time for that after I clear my mind.

“Damian, what’s up, man?” Chris yells over the music as I lean up against the counter.

“Same as everyone else,” I tell him. “Four Horsemen.”

“You got it.” He flips over a shot glass and starts to mix my drink. “Philosophy final was a bitch.”

I chuckle to myself. It was a fucking sophomore level class, and I’ve wiped my ass with paper harder than that shit. “Sure was.”

“Here you go,” Chris says, setting the shot in front of me.

I knock it back and ask for another.

Chris quirks a brow. “Damn, dude.”

I survey the dance floor. Fog machines pump out smoke from all four corners, making individual people difficult to see. The flashing lights move to the beat and bounce off the old school disco ball on the ceiling. Dancers congregate in the middle, squeezed together in a tight mass of skin. A couple more shots and I think I’ll join them.

A few Four Horsemen later, the thoughts from earlier grow fuzzy. Good. A sexy little thing slides up next to me, wearing one of those open back shirts that shows nothing but skin with no bra. Damn, that’s hot.

She orders a Long Island Iced Tea, and from my experience, that means the girl is out to get plastered and laid.

And tonight, that’s what I came for.

“What else can I get you, Damian?” Chris asks while someone else mixes hottie’s drink.

“Heineken.”

Chris is fast with this order, and I’m taking the first drink in under twenty seconds. My gaze never wanders from the brunette beside me.

The girl twists toward me, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders. She gathers it up and sweeps it all to one side. A silver Kappa charm on a chain hangs around her pretty neck. Oh hell yes. These sorority girls lay it all out after finals. This will be easy.

“Hey.” I cock my head once at her and she smiles.

“Hey,” she answers, then tucks half of her bottom lip between her teeth in a flirty grin.

The bartender puts her drink on the counter so it touches her fingertips. She glances at it, then picks it up to take a sip, keeping her eyes locked on me.

I move closer. Hook an arm around her waist and pull her against me. She giggles, and I can smell the remains of her last Long Island on her breath. The girl is already drunk. I dip my head low, my lips grazing her ear as I talk to her.

“Are you having a good time tonight?” I ask.

“For now.” She presses herself further into me. Her hips slowly sway to the beat of the music, rubbing me in all the right places.

I shamelessly peer down the canal between her breasts. “So, what happens later?”

“Why don’t you come dance with me and find out?”

She swivels, positioning herself in front of me and wiggles that little ass against my dick, which is already throbbing. How can I say no to that?

“Let’s go.” I take one last swig of beer, ready to discard it still half full, and reach for her hand.

“Wait,” she says, stopping me. Then, with a sexy little smile, the girl sucks down the rest of her drink, leaving nothing but ice in the glass. “Can’t let that go to waste.”

I’m hard. So hard.

She entwines her fingers with mine and leads me to the dance floor. This is a girl who knows what she wants. At least, when she’s drunk. And with the way she wobbles when she walks, she’s one drink away from being completely sloshed.

Fuck.

Yeah, I probably shouldn’t go through with the afterhours plans I have for her. A better idea would be to find another girl who will remember what she agreed to in the morning. But that means leaving this Kappa girl to fend for herself, and I know the guys here and what they look for when they’re on the hunt—girls who are piss drunk who will agree to anything. A few have already been charged with rape.

I’m left with two choices: bring her home with me anyway because I’ll be gentler than the next guy, or be noble and take her back to the sorority house and let her sisters take it from there.

Suddenly I remember this is why I hate post-finals parties at The Underground.

We’re on the dance floor now, though barely. The building has got to be maxed out, but more people are filtering through the front door.

I decide not to think about what I’ll do with the girl later. I have time to consider my options. Maybe I can steer her clear of the bar for a couple of hours. Keep her dancing. ’Cause either way, I don’t want to be scrubbing puke out of my car tomorrow.

She faces me and digs her fingers into my hips, drawing me to her. I don’t object. Actually, it’s fucking hot. She rubs and moves against me, lost in the bass slamming into the air. I like it because this doesn’t remind me of Kate or Ellie, and I can concentrate on how this girl is arching her back and pressing her breasts into my chest. How my hands slither over her bare back and dip just under the waistband of her tight, black skirt.

The music pounds into my body, and I grind against her, feeling her up. Wanting to strip this hottie down and get more of that sweet, sweaty skin on me.

My intentions to be noble are fading real fast.

She rotates in my arms, tosses all of her hair over one shoulder, and shoves her ass into me. Now that’s nice. I hold onto her hips, helping her twist them to the rhythm of the club song playing. Her new position offers me the perfect view of her cleavage. Braless breasts jiggle as she dances. It doesn’t get better than that.

Song after song plays, and I’m not tired of this girl’s gyrating body bouncing against me. In fact, this is the easiest form of foreplay. I’m dying to see if it’s working for her too.

The only shitty part is that I’m beginning to feel the effects of my buzz slow. I could use another couple of rounds, but Kappa girl sure as hell doesn’t. She’s still tipsy, though better than before.

This is dilemma number two of the night: me or the girl.

I glance at the bar, then back at the boobs I’ve grown very fond of. And I make my decision.

She’d better be good.

As if reading my mind, she lifts herself up on her tip-toes and wraps her arms around my neck. “I need another drink,” she says.

I smooth my palms over her shoulders. “I got a better idea. How about we skip the drink and get the hell out of here?”

She puffs out her lower lip. “I can’t. I, uh”—she curls her mouth in a seductive grin—“have bathroom duty in twenty minutes. But you can join me in there if you want.”

Oh. I want, all right.

What I don’t want, however, is to have to wait until she finishes her sorority shift to get her in my bed. I need to wipe this day from my memory as soon as possible, and this girl’s body is going to help me do it.

“Twenty minutes?” I repeat.

“Yep.”

I wonder what her sorority sisters would think of her making an appearance, then me sweeping her out of there for an even better time. Giving guys head all night without reciprocation can’t be that much fun.

“Let’s go grab a couple of beers, and I’ll be your first appointment.” If all goes well, I’ll be her
only
appointment, and then I’ll have her sprawled over my mattress, panting until she can’t take anymore.

“Lead the way,” she says.

I order her a Smirnoff, low alcohol and fruity—basically Kool-Aid for adults. I half expect her to whine a little when I give it to her—it’s no Long Island Ice Tea—but she smiles and downs half the bottle. For myself, I order another Heineken and a shot. Easy to get down fast and I’m on my way to a mind-blowing good time in less than twenty minutes.

The kind of time that makes you forget about everything. About Kate. About my shithole life without her.

About Ellie.

Damn, I need to move this night along.

I wait until my hottie finishes her girly drink before I lead her to the men’s bathroom. With her on my arm, I won’t have to wait in line this time.

One of the walls is lined with urinals, the other has a couple of sinks, and there are two stalls in the back. That’s where we’re headed.

A couple of Kappa chicks man the line of hard-ons waiting their turn. I figure the senior members are awarded the less messy job of directing traffic. As one guy leaves a stall, another goes in. It’s a pretty simple concept, and the event usually runs rather smoothly. Guys are more willing to behave themselves if they’re getting rewarded with free head.

“Hey, Shayla,” one of the girls says, nodding at us.

Ah, that’s her name.

Whatever. I won’t remember it tomorrow.

“You can relieve Rianna in the last stall when she’s done.”

Shayla twists her hair behind her head and wraps a rubber band in it. “Okay. I brought a warm up.”

The girl’s gaze glides down me and lands on my crotch. Real subtle. Then she grins at my bulge. “Have fun with that, Shay.”

I’ve seen some of the girls take in their boyfriends first—a nice perk, I guess—so no one objects when Shayla has me follow her in, cutting in front of the five guys already in line. Like I said, free head is free head.

Shayla reaches around me and locks the door. Her eyes travel over me the way they did earlier at the bar when I first noticed her. She places her palms on my chest, and I watch her every move. How her hands slowly slide down my body, pushing into my abs some. Then they lower more, and she works to unbutton my jeans. Unzipping them, she flashes her green stare up at me, and I inhale with anticipation.

This isn’t normal protocol for this event. Normally the girls simply go for the gold, no bullshit, and I have to undo my own pants. I keep my arms at my sides, though, letting her lower my jeans and boxers to my ankles. As she does, she sits on her knees, on the black yoga mat beneath her.

I’m ready for her. So ready for this.

Leaning my head back against the cold metal wall, I close my eyes, awaiting the warmth and wetness of her mouth. The caress of her tongue. The grip of her fingers.

I’m not disappointed.

She takes me in deep right from the start. Fuck, it’s amazing. And the best part is that it doesn’t remind me of Kate. Hell, it doesn’t remind me of Ellie, either, so it’s perfect.

Shayla’s tongue flicks over the underside of my dick, moving up and down the length. Once. Twice. Three times before she engulfs it again, her lips clamping down around me.

I’m in it, losing myself to the sensation. My hands wind around her ponytail, and I gently push her into me, commanding the rhythm.

She lets out a little moan with a breathy giggle, and Kate’s face flashes in my mind. My eyes fly open, searching the space in front of me for what won’t be there. The voice didn’t belong to my Katie, even though it sounded like her.