Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(32)

"You never told us any of that," Cristov said.

"I know I didn't," Damon said. "It seemed like it was mine. It belonged to me, and only me."

"But why? Since when do any of us have to shoulder something alone?"

"Damon's never been one of us, has he?" Kennick said, looking down at  his hands. Damon flinched. It was one thing for Cristov to go off on  him. Kennick's words cut far deeper. "You've always been different, huh,  prala?"

Prala. Brother. Damon swallowed hard and looked away.

"Hey," Tricia said, turning to Kennick. "Don't say things like that."

"Things like what?"

"Things you know aren't true," she hissed back, matching him stare for stare.

"What do you know, anyway?" Cristov muttered. "Spend four days with him and think you've got him all figured out … "

"Stop it," Damon said, sensing that things could go terribly wrong  –   worse than they already were, if that was even possible  –  if Cristov and  Tricia were allowed to go at each other. "You're about to say some very  stupid things to each other, just because you're both pissed at me."

"You shouldn't have blamed yourself for so long," Kennick said. "That's a stupid thing to hold against yourself."

"Maybe it is, but don't stand there and act like you don't understand  it," Damon said, looking at Kennick first, and then Cristov. "Either of  you. You didn't leave Tricia there in that alley to get beat up, did  you, Cristov? And you didn't watch that trailer burn down with a baby  inside it, Kennick. But I let that woman get hurt. And I let the man who  did it walk free."

An uncomfortable silence settled on the room. Tricia shifted in her seat.

"We should let you get some rest," Mina suddenly said, sensing the weary  longing between Tricia and Damon. "Let's go get something to eat and … "

"We're not through talking," Cristov snapped, turning to his sister. But  one look at her stoic face was enough to make his shoulders slump. He  threw his hands up in the air. "Fine, fine. We'll be back soon, though."

Ricky rose and put her arm on Cristov's bicep, leading him wordlessly  from the room. Kennick and Kim followed, Kim staring daggers at Ricky's  back. Tricia started to rise, but Mina stopped her with a glance.         

     



 

"Maybe you should stay," Mina said. She didn't elaborate, but turned on  her heel, closing the door behind her. With the room suddenly empty,  Tricia released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Her eyes  moved like magnets to Damon.

"Hell of a day," she said.

"Come here," he said, and reached out with only the slightest wince. He  stroked her arm, gently tugging at her until she rose and sat on the  side of his bed, by his knees. "Closer."

"I'll hurt you," she said, gesturing to the bandage across his chest.

"Lay on my other side," he answered; Tricia paused for a moment, then  obeyed, crawling to nestle herself in his arm, their bodies pressed  tight in the twin bed. "You know, no one's told me yet what, exactly, he  did to me."

"Well, I guess you can probably feel your jaw," she said, looking up at him.

"Only every time I talk," he said, managing a grim smile.

"Didn't break it or anything, but it's bruised up pretty nasty. And he  stabbed you. Deep, in the side. Nicked your stomach. You had some  internal bleeding, needed stitches. You should be fine though," Tricia  said.

"I will be," he said, squeezing her tighter and burying his nose in her  hair. She closed her eyes, let the smell of him overcome the antiseptic  odor of hospital. "I've had worse."

"I'm glad you told them," she murmured, rubbing her nose against the flesh above his bandage.

"I'm glad you were here when I woke up," he said.

"I always will be," she said before realizing just what she was saying.  The words surprised her, and she looked up at him to gauge his reaction.  A light smile flirted with his lips.

"Why hasn't a doctor or nurse come in yet?"

"It's not a very good hospital, I don't think," she answered, slightly  confused and slightly disappointed by the abrupt change of subject. "Or  else Miami is a busy place for injuries. The last time someone came by,  you were still asleep, and they said they'd be back in a few hours."

"How long ago was that?"

Tricia shrugged against his arm. "Like an hour ago."

"So we've got time, huh?"

She looked up at him quizzically, then down. The sheets lay flat against  his body  –  except for between his muscled thighs, where they were  pitched like a tent. She was caught somewhere between laughter and  disbelief. He'd just woken up with a sweatshop's worth of stitches in  his side, just gotten into one hell of a fight with his family, and yet  –

"You're kidding me," she said, looking up at him again.

"It's your fault," he said. "Can't be saying things like ‘always' when  you're in my arms. Know what that kind of thing does to a man?"

"You're hurt," she said, biting back a smile. Despite her best  intentions, the sight of his cock, hard as a rock at her words, her mere  closeness, was making her body feel flush, her heartbeat quicken. "I'm  not going to let you hurt yourself more … "

"Baby, I've put a man on the ground after breaking my wrist," he said,  and moved his arm around her waist, lifting her in one smooth, albeit  slow, motion, until she was forced to straddle him. "I've won fights  with broken toes, twisted knees, and concussions..."

Tricia moaned as she felt his hardness against her panties, her dress riding up around her hips as his hands found her hips.

"I'm pretty sure I can pleasure the woman I love with a few stitches in  my side," he growled, then reached up to tug on a chunk of her hair,  pulling her down until her face was inches from his, the head of his  cock now pressed right against her clit. She could feel herself getting  wet, her body screaming out as he touched her. "I wanna be inside you,  baby. Let me in."

Tricia moaned, her eyes lidded as she ground down against his cock, the  need rushing through her like a freight train. She knew that he needed  rest more than he needed to come. She also knew that she'd thought he  was dead, and he'd lived, and it made her want to fuck away all the  fear, the anger, everything. His hands on her waist tightened, then  drifted down to her thighs and back up, pushing her dress up until it  bunched at her hips.

"Yeah," he hissed as she moved her body against him, feeling his cock swell and throb between her spread legs. She bit her lip.

"Are you sure?" she moaned, giving him one last chance to back out. Her  body was on fire now, her clit needy and desperate as she rubbed it  against the stiffness below the sheets.         

     



 

"Positive, babe," he growled, and pushed one hand between her legs,  thrusting her panties to the side and finding her warm and wet for him.  She croaked, surprised, as his fingers entered her, stealing the last of  her resistance. Leaning back, she tore at the sheets until they were at  his knees, his cock standing up straight between his legs, pushing up  the thin hospital gown. She grabbed it, a fever snapping at her  synapses, her mind dulled to anything that wasn't pleasure, need, him.

Straddling him with her slit poised just above the head of his cock, she  leaned forward slightly. Tugging at the thin straps that held up her  dress, and taking her bra with it, she let her breasts spill free, her  nipples taut as they brushed against his chest.

She held herself up, one hand on each side of his broad torso, the  bandage wrapping across his ribs just a reminder of how close she'd come  to losing him. And all she could think, as she slowly lowered herself  down, engulfing him inch by sacred inch, was that she hadn't lost him,  he was there; he's here, he's mine, he's here, he's mine...

Damon's back arched slightly, as much as his aching body would allow, as  she hit bottom, her pussy swallowing every thick inch of him. She  stayed like that for a long, long moment, eyes closed, her center  pulsing around him, enveloping him in her slick warmth.

"Damon," she whispered, pressing her tits against him and rolling her  hips upward, then down again, a shudder wracking her body as he filled  her; his hands on her waist were tight but he didn't force anything, not  this time, he felt her need and let her take for as long as she wanted.  Pushing off and up, she slid further down his cock, moaning all the  way. "Damon … "

"Yeah," he groaned, shifting upward to bury himself deeper in her  warmth. She grabbed the sides of the hospital bed and began to lift and  lower herself along the rigid length of him, her desire growing fervent  as her insides sparked and lit up.

"You know … " she panted, smiling as every ridge and curve of him,  familiar now, massaged her pussy, "you're just about the only man … who  could piss a girl off … this much and still get … fucked … "