Free Fall

Chapter 7

"Why won't you tell me why you were crying?"

I look up at him from the chair in his living room. He stands with his arms crossed and eyes narrow.

The muscles in his arms and chest strain against his shirt.

"In your room earlier. You were crying and screaming at your dad about something," he elaborates.

I sigh. "Because there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it now."

"Maybe there is but we won't know if you don't tell me."

Damian kneels in front of me and rests his hands on my knees.

The gesture is so gentle and comforting that it frazzles me a little and I suddenly don't remember why I won't tell him.

His hair is wet. He must have just showered.

"A necklace from my mom. It's priceless. It's the only thing I have to remember her by. It was," I correct myself and take a shaky breath. "My dad used it as a buy-in for today's game."

An odd expression appears on Damian's face and he stands suddenly, crossing the room to his jacket hanging over the back.

I gasp sharply when he comes closer and I see what's hanging from his fingers.

"Oh my god," I whisper, tears welling in my eyes and spilling over in an instant.

I hold it so tightly, as though it might disappear if I look away.

"How?" I ask him.

"That man who lived across from you was in on almost every game, just in case something like that happened. It's how I knew your dad bet you in one of the games. He stole this back from one of the players at the end of the game, he thought it looked important. I was going to ask you about it, but I forgot until now."

I stand and throw my arms around his neck, planting my lips on his. He's shocked for a second and then clamps an arm around my back and another at the back of my neck to pull me closer.

I don't really think about the repercussions until I pull back and meet his eyes.

I know that look.

"Wait—"

"No," he growls, yanking my shirt over my head and pressing my back into the nearest wall, caging me there.

"You knew exactly what was going to happen when you flirted with that young waiter just to make me mad."

He takes the necklace from my hand and sets it carefully on the back of the couch.

"I didn't—"

He seals my lips with his own as he works my shorts down over my hips.

Who am I kidding? I want this.

I reach between us as he kisses me and undo his slacks, shoving them down.

I push his boxers down grab his cock without hesitation. I close my hand around it at the base and stroke it hard, slowly.

"F*ck, Cherry."

Damian nips sharply at my neck and shoulder as he tears my thong from my body. He cups my ass in his large hands and lifts me up the wall, urging me to wrap my legs around his waist.

Without a second to spare, he thrust up into me. Our simultaneous moans are a chorus of pleasure. 

I've never been taken against the wall before. Damian and I were less adventurous when we were young, more romantic. At seventeen, sex in a bed equaled romantic.

I'd had one other boyfriend after Damian left me.

We'd been together four years and the sex was the most boring I'd ever had. After Damian left me, I'd tried to make better decisions, tried to date a good boy with a good job and a good family.

Everything about him was boring and tasteless.

Damian nips at my bottom lips.

"Where'd you go? Better not be thinking about another man right now."

I laugh loudly.

"And if I was?"

Damian pulls out of me slowly and then pounds into me so hard he fills me more than he ever had before. I'm teetering on the verge of pain and pleasure as he pounds me again and again and again, one of his hands between us as his thumb circles my clit.

It's f*cking glorious.

"I'm right there, Cherry. Come f*cking hard or don't come at all."

I scream into his shoulder as pleasure builds inside of me and I drag my manicured nails up his back, no doubt leaving marks. He loves it as much as I remember. His cock swells even larger into me and I throw my head back against the wall, screaming Damian's name as I finish—as we finish together.

We stay like that for a minute, molded together like clay, and then he slowly lowers me to my feet.

"Maybe I should flirt with other men in front of you more often," I say as I try to keep myself up on weak legs.

He chuckles darkly and scoops me up into his arms when he notices me struggling.

"F*cked the strength right out of you, did I?"

I roll my eyes but have no reply for him, because he's right.

He deposits me on the bed, covers me with a sheet, and turns to leave.

"Where are you going?"

He grins. "Hydration."

He returns a moment later with two glasses of water and slides under the covers next to me.

I rest my head on his shoulder and trace the new tattoo that stretches across his collarbone and over his shoulder.

"So, do you love me yet?"

I freeze up and a second later his chest starts to vibrate with laughter.

I smack him.

"You're an asshole."