“You sound disappointed,” My eyes close when his lips nip at the sensitive spot behind my ear. “Did you want to consummate our marriage, baby?” he whispers huskily, his big hands gripping my hips. I elbow him in the ribs, and I hear him grunt behind me. I pull away, and he smirks at me sexily.
Smug Bastard.
“I’d rather dry hump a cactus.” I walk into the bathroom and close the door behind me. I’m sure he suffers from bipolar, or he just revels in toying with me. After I change into a pair of denim shorts and a vest top, I walk out of the bathroom.
“I’m ready.” Damien looks me over and, without a word, picks up the duffel bag and walks to the door. I follow him out of the room, and we wait for the elevator in silence, glancing at each other and looking away again. The elevator bell rings, alerting us of its arrival. Once the doors open, I walk in and lean against the wall. Damien does the same, his eyes trained on me the entire time. I lift my eyes to his and raise my brow inquisitively. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Am I not allowed to look at my wife?”
I roll my eyes instinctively, and by the time I realized what I had done, it was too late. The elevator came to a sudden halt and Damien had me pressed up against the wall, his body covering my own, his long fingers biting into my hips. I gasp and place my hands at his chest, trying to push him off of me, but that only angered him more.
Damien all but rips my hands off his chest and pins them behind me before he presses his forehead to mine, and he speaks in a slow, dangerous tone that rumbles through me. “What did I say about rolling your eyes, Ezra?”
“What are you going to do, strangle me to death in public?” I retort testily while straining against him.
“Strangle you?” Damien grins darkly and shakes his head. “No, pretty girl. I have something much better in mind for you later. Until then, I’ll let you fester and wonder what awaits you.” I gasp when he releases his hold on my arms and steps back, pushes the button on the panel, and the elevator roars to life again.
Oh, God. What was he going to do to me? At least I know he wouldn’t kill me; that comforts me somewhat.
* * *
We beginour journey back to New York. It was late afternoon and insufferably hot. The windows to Damien’s car were down as he races down the highway going over the speed limit three times over, the music at a deafening volume. The way he calmly controls the car at such speed was such a turn-on. His ashen eyes are hidden behind his shades, his arm hanging out the window while the other holds the wheel. I hadn’t realized I was watching him like a wanton teen staring at her crush until he turned the music down a little and smirks. “Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll have to pull over someplace private, honey.”
His voice pulls me from my musing, and I blink, looking at him, wide-eyed, “What?” Damien reaches over, takes my hand and presses it against his crotch. My stomach does that weird flip-flop again when I feel the hard length of him against my palm.
I pull my hand away and throw him a look of distaste. “Must you be so crude?”
Damien glances back at the road and licks his lips. “Come on, Ezra, don’t play coy. You didn’t seem to mind when you had my dick in your mouth and my cum down your throat a couple of days ago.” I gape at him in surprise and feel my cheeks burn.
“That was a mistake.”
Damien smiles knowingly and shakes his head. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe.” He drawls and cranks up the volume again.
I lean over and turn the volume down. “Do we have to listen to your rock music all the damn time? How do you not get a headache?” I complain and change the radio station. I stop when I find a song I like and sit back in my seat. Damien looks at the radio, then back at me, and scowls. He reaches over and changes the station back to the rock, and I exhale slowly.
I give him a side glare and press the button to the other station and turn the volume up to a Justin Bieber song, and he glares at me.
“Ezra..” He warns through clenched teeth and changes the station again. The annoying screeching of the electric guitar makes my head throb. I push the button to the other station disobediently, and Damien lowers his shades, narrowing his molten eyes at me. I hold his gaze challengingly and raise a brow while he glowers at me. “Don’t touch my fucking music!”
“That’s not music. It’s just noise!”
“It’s better than this shit you fucking listen to,” Damien argues, changing the station again. I wince when he turns the volume up to the max. I curl my fingers in my hair and growl in annoyance.
“God, I despise you.” I hiss angrily, and he smirks at me.
“What?! I can’t hear you?!” He shouts over the music and smirks in triumph. I glare at him and flip him off. Damien grabs my wrist swiftly, and when I try to yank my hand back, he tightens his hold and brings my middle finger to his lips before he sucks it into his mouth. I gasp and watch him as he grazes his teeth up the length of my finger and bites just hard enough to make me wince a little. I’m ashamed to admit I feel myself get moist.
My lady bits clench and pulse with need when he swirls his tongue and flicks it before drawing it sluggishly out of his mouth. Damien drops my hand and licks his lips, his bottom lip between his teeth while he drives like that whole exchange didn’t just occur.
I swallow thickly and sink back into my seat, staring ahead utterly dumbfounded. I’m so conflicted. How is it possible to absolutely loathe someone with every fiber in your body but have this burning need for them at the same time?
I ignore him for the better part of the journey back to New York. After driving for an entire day, Damien made us stay in another motel in Cleveland for a couple of hours to get some sleep. He seemed exhausted, and a tiny part of me felt terrible for him. I slept on the sofa this time, not trusting myself in a bed with him after what happened in Nebraska.
* * *
As the days went on,the sexual tension between us grew thicker, and we started relentlessly fighting and bickering.
After we got back to New York, Damien took me to his apartment. It was a pretty big studio, which angered me as soon as I walked in; one bed, one sofa, a kitchen, and a bathroom. That’s it. Oh, and he has a dog. A beautiful Doberman Pinscher called Coco, who I had the pleasure of meeting once we walked in, and she pounced on me, growling. Damien ordered her to sit and she obeyed and sat back immediately.