“Tell me to fuck you, and I’ll give you so much heat your head will spin.” Damon’s lips are still next to mine, and he is stroking my womanhood that hasn’t been touched in months.
Without thinking, I whisper, “Fuck me.”
“No. Say it louder, andsay my name.”
“Fuck me, Damon,” I say, louder.
He smiles. “No. Tell me again, baby, but louder.”
I repeat it, louder, and then again, laughing, feeling the effects of the alcohol and all the loneliness and heartache of so many months.
“Good girl,” he praises and has me drink more. “Now, stand up and strip for me, while you tell me to fuck you.
This is messed up.
Strip for you?
Just pretend he’s Xander.
I’m no longer thinking about anything logical. I’m so buzzed, he has to help me stand.
In a wobbly state, I tear my shirt off. “Fuck me, Xan...Damon,” I correct myself, laughing.
The room is spinning.
“Take your bra off.”
I struggle to release the clasp in the back because I’m so drunk. He comes over and releases it and then sits back on the couch and I throw it at him.
“That’s my girl.”
“I’m not your girl, I’m Xan—” I stop myself and just laugh. “Actually, I’m no one’s girl.”
“But you want to be?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Okay, baby, you’re going to be my girl.”
“Yours?”
“Yes.”
I laugh.Who gives a shit at this point?“Okay, I’ll be your girl.”
He stands and brings his drink to my lips. It burns down my throat.
He laughs. “You want some heat?”
I nod. “Yeah, I want heat.”
“Say, ‘Damon, I want to be your girl,’ and I’ll give you heat.”
“Damon, I want to be your girl,” I say and grab his arm so I don’t fall.
“That’s my girl.” He beams at me, and my ego soars from his praise. He stabilizes me and says, “Now, take your pants off.”
I release my pajama bottoms and they fall off me.
