Date = 19 November
Place = San Francisco (Speakeasy Ales & Lagers)
POV – Damion
I push my foot down, speeding up my black Lambo down Evans Avenue, while softly cursing our main engineer. We were testing out the new bikes and he made me do some extra laps cause there was something wrong with the bike’s throttle – and now I’m late!
For my first official date. Ever.
This would not have happened if our whole relationship business wasn’t such a hush-hush secret. Hiding our relationship is not what I want, but we’ve decided to do it this way so we can take things slow and get to know each other, before going public and throwing our lives into chaos.
At least I’ve texted her, managed a quick shower; rushed through traffic, and now I’m parking my car in front of the small pub.
Where she’s already waiting for me inside.
I immediately notice her sitting on one of the chairs at the uncrowded bar, her back facing me, talking to some guy. Even without fully seeing her I know that she’s wearing one of those dick-teasing dresses of hers again, this time a slinky black number with an open back and some thick-soled clumps to finish it off.
The man leans over. Moving in on my territory. And I almost fucking lose it. I pull the 49ers cap lower to cover more of my face.
My blood starts to boil when his eyes skimp eagerly over her body, just to get stuck on her cleavage.
His hand reaches out to caress her bare arm but she pulls it away. I hear the dead-man-walking say, “Let’s go someplace more secluded, babe.”
First I see red, then I see green – but for her sake, I try to keep calm. If I make a scene, people would definitely notice, even in this almost empty space with me wearing the hat, and our secret will leak out. It only takes one overeager person to take one destructive photo and we’re doomed.
“Can you please leave me alone? I’m waiting for somebody.” She doesn’t know I’m almost right behind her. But the asshole’s eyes shoot up and find mine, killing him with every step I take closer to them. He seems to turn into a mixture of fear and miff, but I seriously don’t give a shit about his delicate little feelings.
Instead, I put on my most intimidating, cockiest, smile ever, and plant a kiss on Mel’s neck, my arms possessively encircling her. She jerks but then relaxes almost immediately.
“Hi, angel.” I hate to waste the stir of her curves pushing against me, but now is not the time to enjoy the fact that her ass is cushy at my crotch, nor that her bosoms are jabbed against my forearm hugging around her front.
Unbelievably I’m fired up, desire pumping through me right along with annoyed jealousy, as I try not to notice how sweetly she fits against me.
Focusing on the 6 foot 6 problem stretching out in front of me, every tendon in my body is strung to full capacity … ready to take this asshole out … but hoping it doesn’t come to that.
I’m not scared – but a fight will attract unwanted attention. Attention that might blow our cover.
I look over at the drunk ass and with a stern face make my intentions clear as daylight, so the thick-headed dipshit can get the message loud and clear through his thick skull.
“Maybe you should find that secluded place by yourself.” I leave no doubt that he’s either leaving on his own two legs or being carried out on a stretcher. He seems to grasp the message but, probably inspired by all the alcohol in his system and the fact that he’s slightly taller than me, he courageously grabs Mel’s hand and puts his lips to the skin of her knuckles.
I don’t like it one bit.
It pisses me off instantly, and before he can even let go of her hand, I grab his arm and hit his face with my head.
Like a bag of maize, he drops solidly between the chairs, unconscious but breathing. The few people around cast a swift glance in our direction, but quickly return to their own business.
I face my beloved girl, ignoring the man on the floor, finding her judgy eyes on me.
“Ug, do you always have to be such an alpha?” I pull my face.
“A what?” My eyes move slowly over my girl’s body, and if I thought for a second that the dress was sexy from the back, it’s nothing compared to the front. This woman has me so out of control. For one, my boner is trying to unzip my jeans as we speak. And I also struggle to breathe, anxious that I might get this whole date thing wrong.
“You know … like a macho pack leader … a control freak …” she tries but gives up, “Never mind.”
“Just come here, douche.” She grabs me behind my neck and pulls me closer, pecking her lips onto my cheek for a second.
“Hi,” she husks. It flares my no-control situation into the red. So, to defuse the pocket rocket and avoid an extremely awkward moment, I shift my position; rest my weight on my toes; lift my heels from the ground, and contract my calf muscles.
Tip from Google – a man can get rid of an erection by flexing a large muscle for about 30 seconds or more. That’s some next-level Jedi shit.
Definitely a level above my ability … ’cause it doesn’t work.
I fall to plan B – searching for the worst-looking guy out there. He’s standing across from us at the bar – so I glare at the fat bearded biker and imagine him naked.
That does the trick to sink my ship and I feel my junk shrivel up like a discarded gherkin.
“What’s wrong with you?” Mel frowns and I realize I must pose a totally disgusted expression, still staring at the hairy gorilla a few feet away.
“Eh, I was just thinking about all the brave souls who died on the Titanic.” It’s the first thing that came to mind … sinking ship and all.
“Seriously?” She pouts her lips earnestly making me laugh at her gullibility.
But then she bites on her bottom lip and all my previous hard work goes to waste – little Johnny is back up and ready to play. Fuck it. I pull my blue flannel shirt from my pants so it hangs over the distinct crop under my belt.
Time to turn the tables. I lean closer, my nose in her hair and my mouth almost touching the soft skin of her neck, I whisper: “I know you want to kiss me real bad, but I’m gonna take things slow.” Her skin blushes pink and gets covered in goosebumps. So cute.
“Oh, you’re so full of yourself,” she tries to recuperate, but the slight tremor in her low voice suggests I’m not wrong.
“You’re right. I’m so full right now it’s painful,” I smile. It takes her a moment to get my drift.
“I can rub it better,” she says in a mocking smooth voice.
Shit, just the thought almost blows my mind. I think we need to get out of here before I have my way with her right on this counter.
“I’ll show you better ways later.”
“Promises, promises,” she winks.