Chapter 7

Laura

He pushed inside me.

That was not the right word for it. He did not push. He sank. Like he was coming home to a place he had never been but always knew.

I felt everything. The stretch. The burn. The way my body had to learn him in a single second.

He stopped. His forehead dropped to mine. His breath was ragged.

"Okay?" he asked.

I could not speak. I nodded.

He pulled back. Just a little. Then pushed again. Deeper this time.

I gasped. My nails dug into his shoulders.

"Laura. Look at me."

I opened my eyes. His face was right there. His dark blue eyes. His jaw tight. His lips parted.

"You are so tight," he said. "So perfect."

He moved again. Slow. Deep. Every stroke hit something inside me I did not know existed.

I moaned. Loud. I did not care who heard.

His hand covered my mouth. Not hard. Just there.

"Rick is not home yet," he said. "But the neighbors are."

I bit his palm. He laughed. A low dark sound.

"You are dangerous," he said.

"You have no idea."

He started moving faster. His hips snapped against mine. The bed groaned. The headboard hit the wall.

I stopped caring about anything. About Rick. About my parents. About the fact that I was in my boyfriend's father's bed with his cock inside me.

There was only him. His body. His hands. His mouth on my neck.

"Say my name," he said.

"Damon."

"Again."

"Damon."

He growled. His hand slid between our bodies. His thumb found my clit. Circled it. Pressed down.

I shattered.

The orgasm ripped through me. I could not breathe. Could not think. Could not do anything but hold onto him and shake.

He did not stop. He kept fucking me through it. Through the waves. Through the sounds I did not recognize as my own.

"One more," he said.

"I cannot."

"You can."

He pulled out. Flipped me over. My face was in the pillows. My ass was in the air. He entered me from behind and I screamed into the sheets.

"One more," he said again.

And he gave me no choice.

His hand was in my hair. Pulling. His hips were slamming into me. Harder than before. Deeper.

I came again. Harder this time. My whole body shook. My vision went white.

He followed right after. A low groan. His body tensed. His grip on my hips bruised me. He emptied himself inside me and collapsed on top of me.

We lay there. Both breathing too hard. Both too wrecked to move.

He pulled out slowly. I felt empty immediately. Cold. Wrong.

He rolled onto his back. Pulled me onto his chest. His hand stroked my hair.

"Are you okay," he asked.

I laughed. A broken sound. "I do not know."

"Was it too much?"

"No. It was exactly enough."

He kissed the top of my head.

We stayed like that for a long time. The power was still out. The room was dark. The only sound was our breathing.

Then his phone buzzed.

He reached over. Looked at the screen. His body went stiff.

"What," I said.

"Rick. He is on his way back."

My heart stopped.

"He cannot find me here."

"I know."

Damon got up. Found my clothes in the dark. Handed them to me.

"Get dressed. Fast."

I pulled on my underwear. My jeans. My bra. My shirt. My hands were shaking.

Damon was already dressed. Already calm. Already the emperor again.

"Go out the back door," he said. "Through the garden. There is a gate to the street."

"What about Rick?"

"I will handle Rick."

I looked at him. His face was unreadable again. The man who had been inside me five minutes ago was gone.

"Damon."

"Go, Laura."

I wanted to say something. Something that mattered. Something that would hold this moment in place.

But there were no words.

I walked to the door. Stopped. Turned around.

He was standing by the window. Looking out at the dark city. His back was to me.

"I am not sorry," I said.

He did not turn around.

"Neither am I," he said. "That is the problem."

---

I ran through the garden. Found the gate. Slipped out onto the street.

The air was cold. My legs were weak. I could still feel him inside me. Still smell him on my skin.

I walked three blocks before I called a car.

I sat in the back seat and stared out the window and replayed every second.

The way he said my name.

The way his hands felt on my hips.

The way he looked at me right before he pushed inside.

I was never going to be the same.

I did not want to be.

---

The next morning, Rick texted me.

"you left early last night. everything okay?"

I stared at the screen.

He did not know.

He had no idea.

His father had been inside his girlfriend while he was out with his friends.

I typed back. "yeah. just tired."

"want to come over today?"

My heart pounded. Going to that house. Seeing Damon. Acting normal.

I should say no.

I should take space.

I should figure out what the hell I was doing.

"okay," I typed. "what time."

"three."

I put the phone down.

Three o'clock.

Seven hours.

Seven hours until I saw him again.

I lay back in bed and closed my eyes and remembered the way he felt.

My phone buzzed again.

I thought it was Rick.

It was not.

Unknown number. A single text.

"Last night did not happen."

I stared at the words.

Then another text.

"It cannot happen again."

My hands started shaking.

Another one.

"Damon"

Just my name. Nothing else.

I typed back. "too late. it already happened."

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Then nothing.

He did not write back.

---

I showed up at three.

Rick opened the door. Kissed my cheek. Pulled me inside.

"Dad is here," he said. "He is in his study. Do not bother him."

I nodded.

But my feet took me to the study anyway.

The door was cracked open. I could see him inside. Sitting at his desk. Looking at papers he was not reading.

I pushed the door open.

He looked up.

His eyes met mine.

And for a second, the mask slipped. I saw it. The want. The guilt. The hunger.

Then it was gone.

"Laura," he said. His voice was flat. "Rick is in the living room."

"I know."

"Then why are you here."

I walked toward his desk. Stopped in front of it.

"Because you texted me my own name and then nothing else."

He leaned back in his chair. His jaw was tight.

"I should not have texted you at all."

"But you did."

"Laura."

"Stop saying my name like that."

"Like what."

"Like you are saying goodbye."

He stood up. Walked around the desk. Stopped in front of me. Too close.

"We cannot do this again," he said.

"Then why are you standing so close to me."

He closed his eyes. Like he was in pain.

"Because I am weak," he said. "Because you make me weak."

"Then be weak with me."

He opened his eyes. Looked down at me.

"Laura. You are seventeen."

"I am eighteen in three months."

"Three months is a long time."

"Then wait three months."

He laughed. A bitter sound. "You think I can wait three months after last night."

"I do not want you to wait."

"Rick is in the other room."

"I know."

He reached out. Touched my face. His thumb traced my cheekbone.

"You are going to destroy me," he said.

"You started it."

He kissed me. Soft. Quick. A promise.

Then he stepped back.

"Go. Before I do something we both regret."

I walked to the door. Turned back.

"Three months," I said.

"Three months," he repeated.

I walked out.

Rick was on the couch. He did not look up from his phone.

"Told you not to bother him."

"I did not bother him."

I sat down next to Rick. Let him put his arm around me.

And I started to count the days.