Chapter Six
Damian groaned at the same time that Angie moaned, and he lifted and began stroking, pushing in a bit at a time until he was fully seated within her. Satisfaction and arousal blazing down his spinal cord, he rose up on his hands, his elbows locked in place as he studied her.
Her eyes were closed and he felt a need so strong he couldn't contain it. "Angie. Open your eyes."
She stalled for the count of two seconds, but then her eyes flew open and she looked up at him. "It's in," he announced with a triumph he couldn't hold back. "And it feels good. Fucking perfect." He slid out and took another stroke and her eyes began to slip closed.
"No," he grunted. Her eyes opened and she watched him though heavy lids. "Am I hurting you?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued with some satisfaction, "I know I'm not."
She shook her head.
Holding himself up with one arm, he slid his hand back to her clit and massaged her there, the fullness of his cock inside of her, so close to where he touched her intimately, adding another dimension to his need. "You want to come again?"
Her eyes flared but she remained quiet, and he said, "I think you want to come again."
Shaking her head, she whispered, "I don't think I can."
"No?"
She visibly swallowed, and shook her head again.
She might have doubts, but Damian had none as he felt her sweet, slick wetness surround him. He began taking firm, short strokes, and with every inward thrust, he hit that place deep inside of her that he knew would drive her crazy. Within seconds, she was moaning in the back of her throat. Within a minute her eyes closed and so did his.
The fury of sexual heat consuming them both, he let his instinctive reflexes take over. He stroked her hard and deep, taking what he needed, what he felt like he had to have to keep breathing. With a last, hard, merciless pump, he thrust them both into a world of sublime pleasure. She let out a high, feminine shriek, and holding himself tightly inside her, milking the spasms of release, he followed her over the edge into a pleasure so profound, he felt stunned.
In the aftermath he tried to clear his head, but thinking was impossible. He slid to the side, withdrawing from her as gently as he could manage, allowing her to breathe deeply. He was pulling in oxygen as if he'd just run ten miles, and before he could check the inclination, he swept her up in his arms and held her clamped to his side with one arm around her waist as he lay on his back.
A feeling of possession swamped him, one he immediately tried to tamp down. A dark, dormant emotion from deep in his soul abruptly reared its head and he felt aggression rise in his blood. Just the simple act of pulling out of her was causing conflict in his brain; he struggled against a compulsion to not let her go.
A thousand thoughts hit him from all sides. The fact that it had been the best fucking sex he'd ever had was the most prevalent, the memory sliding over him and even now, hardening him to a full-blown erection. The feel of her was like an addiction; she was soft and feminine and the fact that he wanted to stake a fucking claim was screwing with his heart but his head was fighting the desire. Nothing had changed and he needed to remember that. She was still wrong for him. Maybe the sex had been the best in his life, but sex didn't count for everything. He had to remember the other qualities that were important in a relationship. There was compatibility, friendship, and that ever-elusive quality that he always heard about but didn't quite believe in, love.
What-the-fuck-ever. It didn't really matter. Those were problems he'd have to face in the long-term, but all he had to think about now was the short-term, at least for the moment. There was no question that she felt damn good in his arms, so for now, that's where she'd stay. He abruptly remembered what he'd told her when he'd been trying to get her to sleep with him. Nothing had to be serious. He knew it was a mantra he needed to live by. Even as he had the thought, he questioned whether it was viable or not. Could they maintain a casual affair with everything staying smooth sailing? As his arm clenched tightly around her, he acknowledged that he might have a certain difficulty with that. And why shouldn't it be easy to keep things casual?
He didn't feel casual.
And he didn't know if it would ever be possible to feel only casual with Angie.
Had someone told Angie a few months ago that she'd have a hard time chatting with Damian's mother, continually reiterating to the older woman that she and Damian were only friends, she wouldn't have believed them.
But it was so true. She was having a damn hard time. It happened every time the older woman came in for a cut.
As Mrs. Rule sat in the chair at her station, Angie couldn't help a shard of discomfiture at the lie she was perpetuating. Maybe if it had only been that one night between the two of them, it might have been easier. But it hadn't been. Maybe if it had only been a week or two of hot and heavy. But it hadn't been. It had been months. Months and months of a hot affair where almost every night was spent together. Every night when neither one of them had a conflict, they'd ended up in bed together.
Damian had shown up at her apartment the night after their 'first date' without any warning, and within mere minutes, Angie had found herself butt-assed naked and clinging to him, more than ready for round two. A date had turned into two dates and weeks had turned into months now.
Maybe it was only casual, maybe it wasn't, but it damn sure wasn't a simple friendship as she insisted to his mother every time the older woman came into the salon. "Yes, I think he's really handsome," she answered, biting the inside of her cheek, as she applied the highlights that would give the much-needed definition to the older woman's hair. It had taken a while to convince her to allow highlights, but now the older woman loved them and seemed to trust only Angie to do them.
"Then why exactly are the two of you just friends?" Justine Rule asked for what seemed to be the hundredth time, her tone one of frustration.
Angie attempted to stifle the clang of warning in her head that was telling her nothing good could come of this conversation, as she tried to stick as close to the truth through the web of lies spilling from her mouth. "We don't have a lot in common, I suppose."
"He likes you, I can tell. The night of my dinner party, he couldn't keep his eyes from you, darling," the older woman said with a fondness toward her that made Angie feel even guiltier.
She felt a flush of crimson climb up her cheekbones. "I'm sure you're exaggerating. We don't know each other that well. Just from the salon, really."
"He must have wanted you to be with him that night. I just don't understand. Did he even give a hint he might like to see you again?"
A rock crawled up and lodged itself in her throat. Mrs. Rule seemed to have a one-track mind today and Angie couldn't distract her as she usually did. Damn Damian for not wanting to be honest with his mother! Answering this question would be a full-blown lie, and it was making her very uncomfortable. "No, he didn't really mention much that night. I got the idea that he only needed an escort for the evening."
"You know why, don't you?" Mrs. Rule asked conspiratorially.
"Umm--" Angie faltered.
"It's because he doesn't care for it when I don't mind my own business. But sometimes I can't help it; I love Courtney so much and want to keep her in my family. And marriage to one of my sons would do the trick. But I suppose Damian thinks of her as a sister. Anyway, he was trying to teach me a lesson, I think."
"Maybe so." Angie shrugged. Maybe Damian did think of the girl as a sister, but it had been obvious to Angie that one of his brothers didn't. "But he is a grown man, Mrs. Rule. I'm sure he'll find someone in his own good time."
"Well, he's taking too long! He'd be happier if he would settle down with one woman."
Angie felt a knot grow in her stomach and couldn't help asking, "Does he date a lot, then?"
"Oh, my yes, although I don't know if I'd call it 'dating.' He has a lot of women, darling, but they seem to be interchangeable, although I haven't seen him with anyone lately. That's why I think you'd be perfect for him. You're so attractive and. . . and," she paused as if searching for the correct word to describe Angie's style. "And vibrant!"
Angie smiled at the other woman in the mirror. "Thank you." She realized in that moment that Damian didn't understand his mother completely. He'd taken Angie to her dinner party with the belief that his mother wouldn't like her because of the way she looked, but that wasn't the case at all. The woman didn't appear to Angie to be judgmental at all, and she gave her credit for that.
As she put the cap on Mrs. Rule's head before leading her to the hair drying station, Angie glanced to the front of the store and saw her next appointment, an older gentleman who'd been her customer for a long time. She smiled across at him, knowing she'd have plenty of time to fit him in while Damian's mother was under the dryer.
At her smile, he stood up and intercepted them as she and Mrs. Rule crossed the room. "How are you, hon?" he asked Angie, his gaze skimming away from her to land on Damian's mother.
"I'm well, and you?" Angie questioned sincerely. She was fond of this man--he was a sweet old guy. Both he and his grown son had been her customers for a long time.
His eyes never wavered from Mrs. Rule and Angie was shocked to see a blush on the older woman's face. "I'd be better if you'd introduce me," he said in a gruff voice, nudging his chin toward his intended target.