Accept Me (8 page)

The sight of him coming for me has my body thrumming with a growing need. A need for every inch of him. A need to taste him. A need to drown my worry in a sea of lust and heat. A need to be okay. The moment he easily steps into my personal space, his scent inundates me, sending me sailing over the edge in desperation.

“I want—” I begin to plea.

His hands lift to my shoulders and turn me away from him to peer back out the window. He positions himself so painfully close to my backside that I involuntarily push back against him, eager to feel him. One hand finds its way to my stomach, where he unfolds his hand wide, covering nearly the full width of my abdomen. His lips make painfully soft contact with my earlobe, sending a shiver through me in all directions like a ripple through water.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who knows how to keep secrets,” he whispers into my ear. His breath against my skin is feather light, completely contradictory to the lead weight that has just taken up residence in my throat. My heart stops in my chest and fear extinguishes the fire that he so easily lit.

He knows.

I’m frozen in every sense of the word. The brain in my head has been taken hostage by the all-consuming fear. My feet feel as if they’re cast in concrete and my stomach… well, let’s just say my stomach is about to expel the sub that I so hastily ate for lunch.

Damon slips something into my hand.
Paper
. I bring it up to examine whatever it is that he has uncovered.

A wedding magazine. A fucking wedding magazine?

I whirl around to face him with utter incredulity written on my face. I hold it up and arch an eyebrow. “What?” I ask as coyly as I can manage.

Damon takes the magazine from me and flips casually to a dog-eared page near the middle. “Top Ten Honeymoon Destinations,” he reads the title of the article that I had looked over yesterday. “You starred Paris. You never told me you wanted to go to Paris. Why not?”

You’ve got to be shitting me.

I sigh and just as if someone released the vice that my nerves were in, my body relaxes, my anxiety retreats to a manageable level, and my stomach, though still uneasy, no longer threatens to have me hugging the toilet. I shake my head at my Big Man and wrap my arms around him. “I guess I forgot to mention it to you. We don’t have to go. I just… I don’t know… it caught my eye since that’s where I was conceived.”

“Is that where you want to spend our honeymoon?” he asks pointedly.

“I don’t care where we go, baby, as long as I’m your wife.”

“I love the way that sounds,” he admits. His hands turn greedy, exploring my backside. I moan, my forehead resting against his sternum. It’s all the encouragement Damon needs. Both hands grip the backs of my thighs just below my ass and I’m hauled up. My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me to the bed.

Damon wastes no time disrobing me. With one quick tug, he’s removed the black yoga pants that I use to lounge around in. He leaves my navy blue lace thong in place but goes to work on my tank top and bra. I lie before him in just the thinnest of lace, wanton and ready. The slickness between my thighs beckons to him. His slacks drop to the floor and are joined by his boxer briefs a moment later. I squirm, watching him reveal himself to me. His engorged cock springs forward, jutting up and outward. My eyes trace every throbbing vein, every ridge and the velvety smooth rim of the tip. My tongue involuntarily darts out of my mouth, moistening my lips. Damon knows what I want.

I hold up a crooked finger and motion him to join me on the bed. “I want my lips wrapped around your cock, baby.”

He climbs onto the bed and reclines on his back, his heavy cock twitching against his abdomen. I kneel between his legs, lean forward and take his length as far is it will go. The dewy tip of him butts against the back of my throat, but I take him deeper still. I peek up to see Damon staring down at me, jaw clenched, eyes heavy with pleasure.

I work my hand up and down the length of him, making long firm strokes. My tongue swirls and slides around the broad tip of his cock, winning a low moan from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, then sucks in air through gritted teeth. His hips begin to buck beneath my ministrations the closer I bring him to release. One big hand tangles in my brown waves, guiding me up and down.

Abruptly, his hand tightens in my hair, stilling me.

“On your back,” he growls, pushing me away.

I waste no time doing just as he says and spread my legs wide for my Big Man. His fingers hook into my soaked thong. He pushes his thumb through the delicate fabric and just that quick, the junction between my legs is all his. His lips go to the soft inner part of my thigh and place warm, lingering kisses on his way to my wet center.

My hips squirm. My back arches. I ache for the fullness of him. With my eyes shut, Damon’s skillful mouth reigns over the most sensitive parts of me. Purely expert flicks from his tongue overwhelm my pulsing clit. A clear moan rings out around us. It only encourages him. His full lips seal around my clit and my hips buck, my body ravenous. He alternates between light suckling and hard passes from his tongue. Little jolts of electricity burn through my extremities, making my legs twitch and jerk in sync with each pass from his tongue. My fingers find his dark chocolate brown hair, lacing through the tangled mess of strands.

“Damn you taste perfect, baby,” his low voice reverberates through his lips against my flesh, setting me trembling in his grip. “So sweet.”

My breathing comes in quick gasps the closer I am to coming. “Ah, Damon,” I moan.

“That’s right, baby,” he urges.

My head tosses back against the pillow. My eyes bulge, my mouth pops open, and my body arches, giving all of me to his masterful mouth. A current of pleasure rockets through me in every direction, wiping out all cognitive thought.

He’s just fucked me stupid without even fucking me. The irony doesn’t escape my endorphin-saturated brain. Only my overachieving, real life God of Sex could wield this brand of magic. I’m his happy supporter.

Damon’s rippled, muscular body snakes up mine, settling between my quavering thighs. My hardened nipples beg for attention and my Big Man obliges. His mouth covers my nipple briefly, sucking hard. He nips, creating the perfect amount of pain, then repeats his work on my other side.

He grips his thrumming cock and I look down to see a shining bead of dew just at the apex of his wide tip. He eases forward, placing it right on my sensitive clit, depositing his singular drop of pleasure right there.
Good fucking God, that’s hot.

My hips thrust upward involuntarily, desperately wanting to draw him in. His honey eyes burn right through me just as he thrusts into me, sheathing himself to the root. He’s as deep as he can possibly go and the fullness of him is exquisite. Our respective sighs echo around us as he leans in closer, caging me. Propped on his elbows, his chiseled chest makes pass after pass against my breasts, heightening my satisfaction.

Stroke after deep stroke, Damon builds both of us closer to climax. I’m helpless beneath him. My nails dig in. My legs cling around him tightly. His breathing comes faster and heavier. His speed increases. The air in my lungs stalls in place. My toes curl painfully. My muscles clench at Damon’s cock, exploiting every ounce of pleasure that he has to give. He slams into me once, twice, three, four times more, then shudders, spilling himself inside me.

With him still buried deep, I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding him close. I kiss the throbbing vein in his neck and allow both of us to relish in the bliss we bring each other.

Damon’s breathing grows deep and his body relaxes against mine before I have a chance to ask him why he looked so riled up this afternoon. Whatever had him looking so tousled is a mystery. I doubt he’d do much explaining anyway. He never does. Still, I hope whatever has him frustrated has nothing to do with me. Or Noni. Or Edward.

Sleep comes easy despite my ever-growing level of worry. I only hope that when and if Damon discovers what I’ve unearthed, he won’t pull away from everyone who loves him. Specifically me.

After making breakfast for myself, Damon, and Grams, I gather my things for work and shove them into my shoulder bag. I’ve got a laundry list of things to get done today and I pray it’s enough to distract me from my own thoughts.

“Hey,” I catch Damon by his necktie and pull him to me as he passes by in the foyer, “are you okay? You looked irritated when you came home yesterday.”

“Versan,” he explains with a shrug of his big shoulders. “Quack thinks he knows everything. That’s all.”

His appointment.

I’d forgotten that yesterday was Wednesday and that Damon would be going to see the good doctor for his usual appointment.

“Wanna talk about it?” I offer, knowing that he’ll likely say no.

“Will I have to pay you?” he teases with a wink.

“Of course,” I clutch my heart feigning offense.

“Name your price, ma’am.”

“Hmm… Ah!” I hold up my finger then pull him closer by the silk tie he’s wearing.

His lips touch mine and just like that, I’m swathed in everything Damon Cole. Even if for just a moment, I forget the world and every person in it. For just this moment it’s only me and Damon and the connection we share.

“Oh, gimme a break,” Grams laments in mock disgust. She’s entered the foyer with her duct tape-adorned walker, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and her reading glasses dangling from her neck.

Damon’s deep laugh resounds against my lips before he breaks away to smile broadly at the woman who raised him. He looks back to me and gives me a chaste peck. “Gotta go, baby. Call you later. Bye, Grams,” he says on his way out of our door.

“Okay!” I call out. “Love you!”

“Love you too!” he shouts back.

Once the door closes, I look to Grams and can’t help but laugh. “What’s with the backpack? Going back to school?”

“No, Miss Smartypants. I’ve got some pictures and things for Noni to look at.”

“Yeah, I guess she does have a lot to catch up on,” I admit.

It’s then that it really sinks in that Noni has missed almost thirty-three years of her child’s life. She’s given up so much. She missed watching him grow and learn and turn from a baby to a child to a man. If I ever have a child, I can’t imagine missing everything. Even the thought of not seeing a baby that I made with Damon is enough to spawn a small ache in my chest. I don’t like the thought. Not at all.

Noni beat us to work this morning and it’s beginning to look like something I should expect. More often than not (with the exception of yesterday, really), I get to work and find Noni waiting to be let in. She’s all kinds of dependable. Every day she even looks the same. Her brown hair is brushed smooth and pinned back with a hair comb. Her clothes are secondhand, but they’re professional and always pressed and clean. She smells of lavender perfume. Her dark brown eyes are lightly rimmed with eyeliner, her lashes coated with a modest amount of mascara. I can’t say that she needs much more than that. She’s a beautiful woman in spite of her circumstances. Had I looked closer before, I think I might have seen my Big Man in Noni. He has the same long eyelashes, dark brown hair, and brown eyes, though his are more of a honey brown whereas Noni’s remind me of melted chocolate.

I should just give her a manager’s key instead of letting her wait outside with her bag lunch, purse and travel mug every morning.

“G’morning, Noni,” I greet as I pull the store keys from my bag.

Grams shuffles right over to her and wraps Noni up in a hug that seems to be reserved for mothers. I’m not entirely sure how to even describe that type of hug but I do know that it’s lingering and gentle and full of secret whispered exchanges in each other’s ears. I take a moment to admire these two women, distractedly placing the key into the door and turning until I hear the slide of the deadbolt. I may not have my own mother around anymore, but I’ve gained two amazing women whom any person would be proud to call their mom. They are perfect examples of what a strong woman is. I idolize them both.