Dani’s [POV]
The party hasn’t died down when we return, but there are fewer people around. If we walked through the front door, my parents could see us. We climb into my room through the window, like we did the first night he came here.
“Dani, are you sure about this?” Damon asks once we’re inside.
“Yes.”
“I don’t-”
“Shh, no talking. No goodbyes.” I look him straight in the eyes until he nods.
I fumble with the lace at my back, trying to open my dress, but I pull at the wrong end and it becomes a tangled mess. It doesn’t help that my fingers are trembling.
“Here, let me do that,” Damon says, but his hands tremble slightly, too. He’s better than me at this and before long, my back and shoulders are exposed. He kisses my neck and then continues down my spine, leaving a trail of fire on my skin. A shot of breath heats my skin when he pushes my dress down my waist. “You’re not wearing a bra,” he mutters more to himself than me, continuing to kiss my back, one of his hands traveling to my chest. I gasp when he cups one breast, grazing my nipple with his palm. Then he promptly turns me around. My first instinct is to cover my breasts, but he catches my wrists mid-air, shaking his head. His green eyes locked on mine, he tilts his head down, taking my nipple gently between his teeth. I draw in a lungful of air, hyper-aware of the wetness pooling between my thighs. It’s the most erotic moment of my life. Not breaking eye contact, he pushes the dress down, and I step out of it.
Damon lays me on the bed, kissing me, sliding his arms around me in a tender embrace. His lips tug at mine, prompting delicious impulses through my body. Gradually, his kisses become more demanding. He lures them out of me with a vengeance, claiming each one with more desperation. His hands roam over my hips and thighs, awakening every cell in my body, infusing his desperation in them until I burn for him with such intensity it almost hurts. I fist his hair, guiding his lips to the places that demand to be touched and kissed. I want to be touched. God, I need it so. When Damon cups my breast again, it almost sends me over the edge. His lips trail down my chest, my stomach, stopping right below my navel. He remains there, blowing hot breaths on my oversensitized skin. All I can concentrate on is the fact that his fingers linger close to the hem of my panties. Next, he slides his tongue up my inner thigh toward my lace thong. Unexpectedly, he places his lips right on the spot where the fabric is wet. I groan in response, and I feel him smile against me. His hands find their way to the hem of my underwear, and he peers up at me as if asking for my permission. I give a silent nod, my palms suddenly sweaty.
“Do you want me to kiss you here, Dani?” He strokes me once over the part of my panties that I completely soaked through, reducing me to shu
dders.
“Yes,” I barely whisper. I sigh when he removes the panties, his cheeks touching my inner thighs. Then he kisses the skin there gently, going higher and higher, stopping at the juncture of my thigh and my intimate spot. His lips rest there while his fingers touch my wetness, coaxing a whimper out of me.
“Fuck,” he growls. “Dani.”
He touches me gently again, prompting tremors to spread in my entire body. “Damon, please.” I’m pulsing with life, with the need for him and his touch. When his tongue lashes against my intimate spot, I fist the sheets, moaning harder than I ever have. He continues the delicious ministrations, every lap of his tongue threatening to send me into overdrive, spurring a million sensations that build up and up and up until I can take no more. The pit inside me grows mercilessly. His tongue should please me. Instead, I grow more insatiable. My breath hitches as a new sensation ratchets through me, starting from somewhere very deep inside me.
“Don’t stop,” I hear myself pleading. My hips buck forward, driven by a will of their own and a devastating need. I feel one of his hands cupping my breast with greed. He holds my nipple between his fingers, twisting it gently while swooping his tongue across my clit, spurring tremors out of me. Then he does something that is both torment and relief. He dips his tongue slightly inside me while his upper lip rests on my clit. The movement of his tongue drives me restless-in and out, in and out-daring me to imagine how it would feel like if he made love to me. Release shoots through me, racing like lighting, consuming me. I desperately grab the pillow next to me, bringing it to my mouth and biting into it as Damon delivers the stroke that brings on the ravaging orgasm.
I lay with my eyes closed and breathed in deeply when I felt Damon’s lips traveling upward until he reached my neck.
“This was incredible,” he murmurs.
“Yes.” As he kisses me, I become aware of his erection pressing against my thigh. It strains against his pants, and Damon pushes himself against me, prompting a groan that reverberates from deep inside my chest. The spot between my thighs is soaked anew, a deep craving awakening. Damon stills, his breath wheezing out of him.
He moves his lips down my belly again, then to my thighs, cupping my ass with both hands and pulling me even closer to him. A wave of heat overcomes me when he backs away, his eyes raking over my completely naked body.
“Don’t do that,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Look at me like you’ll never see me again.”
“I don’t know when I’ll see you again, so I want to make sure your beautiful body is branded in my memory.”
The next inhale stings, but I try not to show it. “I want the same privilege then. Strip.”
Damon gets rid of his clothes in a few seconds. He’s beautiful-perfect. His erection catches my attention, and not for a good reason. It’s huge. How will it ever fit inside me? He chuckles as if guessing my thoughts, and when I bite my lip, he takes it as an invitation, lounging over me within seconds.
Desire sears through me, turning my blood into liquid wildfire, making me squirm under him. Damon drags his fingers between my legs, tapping my folds lightly. I buck my hips, gasping.
“Shh,” he says, grinning as he presses his forehead on mine.
“No one will hear us,” I assure him.
“No?” he asks playfully. I feel his fingers travel along my slit, sending flaming tingles everywhere. “You are so wet. Fuck.” He spreads my wetness around, then dips one finger inside me.
I grit out his name, shiver after shiver raking my body. “Damon. More, please.”
“Be patient. I need you to be ready.”
“I am ready,” I say, though I have no clue. Desire blinds me, and this doesn’t hurt at all.
“I want to make it good for you; so good you won’t forget it.” There it is, the bittersweet reminder again. I kiss him so he won’t utter one more word.
“Do you have a condom with you?” I murmur when we break apart, wondering what we’ll do if he says no.
“Yes. I put it on the nightstand when I was undressing you.” He reaches for it, rips the package, and slides the condom over his erection. He slides the tip up my glistening flesh in slow motion turns me crazy, and then down again. I keep my eyes glued on him.
I inch my legs wider apart, and hold my breath when he pushes his tip inside just a fraction of an inch. “Ouch.” Damon hovers over me, his hands cupping my face, his lips planting soft kisses on my lips and cheeks. Ever so slightly, he lets more of himself inside me, a slicing pain accompanying his move. Tears spring at the inner corner of my eyes and Damon stills, his body rigid. He settles inside me, allowing my body to get used to him. Kissing me languidly, he fists my hair, tugging at it, sending delicious ripples through me. I’m surprised to realize I don’t hurt anymore. I push my hips into him to let him know I’m ready for more.
His labored breathing intensifies, and he catches my gaze as he starts moving again, sliding in and out of me with careful strokes. My tight passage still twinges with the slightest pain, but the delicious ripples each stroke sends through me far override it. The sensation of him caressing me on the inside is unlike anything I have experienced before. Like all things tonight, our union is bittersweet. Pleasure laces with pain, and when he pins my hands to the sides of my head, interlacing his fingers with mine, smiles mingle with tears. His lovemaking is intoxicating, hearing his grunts of pleasure-is addictive. Dragging one hand between our sweaty bodies, he applies pressure on my clit, flicking it with his thumb as he slowly moves in and out of me. That blessed thumb awakens something dangerous inside me. It unleashes an inferno that sets alight every nerve ending in my body, threatening to undo me. The quivers start from deep within me. I clench around his length, writhing and moaning, slamming my hips against him in my frenzy as I ride the wave of my orgasm.
“Dani,” he grits, grabbing my ass with his hands, all thoughts of being gently forgotten. He spasms inside me as he comes, calling my name over and over again. When he pulls out, I feel a sense of loss. Tiredness overcomes me almost immediately, and I suddenly know I won’t be able to fight it. The lack of sleep in the last forty-eight hours is finally catching up with me. Damon fumbles with something on the other side of the bed for a few minutes before cradling me in his arms.
“I don’t want to sleep,” I murmur, even as the tendrils of sleep threaten to steal the last hours I have with him.
“Shhhh, I’ll stay with you.”
“I want to be awake and talk.” My voice is so weak with sleepiness I can barely hear myself.
“You said no talking,” I hear him say as I slide away. “I love you, Dani Cohen. You’re everything to me.”
***
When I wake up in the morning, Damon is gone. My bed is cold. That’s it then. There’s no point trying to deny the pain. It’s so alive; it punches holes in my chest with every breath. It curls around me, ensnaring me, dripping in every corner of me, just like a poison would, until I feel his absence in my very bones. I curl, drawing my knees to my chest in the hope of quenching this massive emptiness inside me. Gripping the pillow hard, I can’t stop the tears falling on it. I find something underneath my pillow, something silky. Tugging on it, I break into sobs. It’s the silk scarf Damon gave me. I stuffed it under my pillow the night after the movie incident. I immediately put it around my neck, covering my mouth and nose with it, breathing in deeply. I search for his scent in it, but it only carries mine. But it also carries something else: whispers from our rooftop conversations and the taste of our kisses. Yes, it holds many dear memories, but now it only causes me pain. I cry and cry for what feels like hours until I feel drained and fall asleep.
The sun still shines when I wake up, and not wanting to fall into crying again, I get dressed and leave my room. I keep the scarf around my neck.
My parents are in the living room, eating lunch together. That’s weird. I join them, eating in silence.
“That scarf looks great on you,” Mom comments.
“Thanks. Damon gave it to me.” I stiffen when I see my parents exchange glances, a sinking feeling forming in my stomach. “Damon leaves for boarding school today. In Canada. Did you have anything to do with it?”
“His father was very unhappy with him,” Dad says, stabbing a piece of broccoli with his fork.
“That’s not answering my question.” Looking at both of them, I get my answer. It’s written all over their guilty glances.
“I facilitated his transfer,” Dad replies eventually. “A friend of mine is the principal.”
“You took him away from me,” I whisper.
“What he did on Thursday-”
“This has got nothing to do with that. You’ve been planning to send him away for a long time.”
“Dani, that boy is no good for you,” Mom adds unhelpfully. I push my plate away, gripped by the sudden desire to break it along with every piece of china on the table. To avoid that, I cross my arms over my chest.
“He made me feel important and confident,” I almost spit the words out. “That’s more than the two of you ever did for me.” My parents not giving me a shred of love or attention made me wonder if there was something wrong with me. Damon showed me there isn’t. It felt so wonderful to be loved. Now he’s gone, and I’m alone again, with nothing but a piece of red fabric to remind me I’m worthy of love. “You two have been busy hating each other for more than ten years. You can’t tell me a thing about love or who is right for me.”
My mother pales, pursing her lips, just as Dad says, “This is no way to talk to your parents.” They look stricken, but I’m far from being done.
“I’m the second child you had in the hope of saving your marriage, and then you realized you made a gigantic mistake.”
“You were not a mistake.” Mom covers her mouth, looking away quickly. I think I spot tears at the corners of her eyes, and guilt overcomes me.
“Really? Great job at showing it, Mom. You hoped that if you ignored me enough, I would eventually vanish into thin air. Well, guess what? I didn’t. I’m a real person with real feelings. Damon gave me everything, and you took him away from me. I can’t believe it.”
When my parents look at me again, I see in their eyes something I never did before: awareness and the recognition they might have made a mistake.
Then my father booms, “You’ve never been rebellious; this behavior isn’t characteristic of you.”
I swear something snaps inside me. The moment I stopped being happy with an invisible existence, the moment I wanted something for myself, I became a problem.
Pure anger pours out of me as I say through gritted teeth, “Rebellious? I’ll give you rebellious.”
One year later