Chapter 9: Sex
Damian leaned against the wall of the party house, a red plastic cup of lukewarm beer in his hand. The bass from the music thrummed through the floor, vibrating up his legs and into his chest. He scanned the room, his gaze darting over the swaying bodies, the flickering lights, the sticky floors littered with crushed cans and spilled drinks. He hated this. He hated the noise, the chaos, the way everyone seemed to know each other except him. But he couldn’t leave. Not without Dakota.
Dakota, of course, was in her element. She was across the room, laughing at something some guy had said, her head thrown back, her long black hair cascading down her back. She wore a tight, low-cut top that clung to her curves, and her jeans hugged her ass like they’d been painted on. Damian’s jaw tightened as he watched her. She’d been flirting with every guy in the room since they’d arrived, and it was driving him insane. He didn’t even know why he cared. She wasn’t his. She wasn’t even real, not really. But the way she laughed, the way she moved, the way she looked at those guys—it made his stomach twist.
He pushed off the wall and stalked over to her, his beer forgotten. “Hey,” he said, his voice sharp. “We should go.”
Dakota turned to him, her lips curling into a smirk. “What’s your problem, Damian? You’re not my dad.”
“You’re embarrassing yourself,” he snapped, glancing at the guy she’d been talking to. The guy raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything, just took a sip of his drink and stepped back.
“Embarrassing myself?” Dakota laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I’m having fun. You should try it sometime.”
“Fun?” Damian grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the crowd. “This isn’t fun. This is... this is ridiculous. You’re acting like a—”
“Like a what?” She yanked her arm free, her eyes flashing. “Like a slut? Is that what you were going to say?”
“I wasn’t going to say that,” he muttered, though the word had been on the tip of his tongue.
“Yeah, right.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her expression defiant. “You’re just jealous.”
“Jealous?” He laughed, but it came out harsh, forced. “Of what? Of you making an ass out of yourself?”
“Of me,” she said, stepping closer to him, her voice low and taunting. “Of the fact that I’m the one they’re all looking at, not you.”
Damian’s breath caught. She was so close he could smell her perfume, something sweet and floral, mixed with the faint tang of sweat. Her eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, he couldn’t look away. She was infuriating, but she was also... breathtaking. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, and he could see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the music, the voices, everything except her.
“You’re wrong,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Am I?” She tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Then why are you staring at me like that?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Instead, he grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hallway, away from the crowd, away from the noise. She didn’t resist, just followed him, her laughter ringing in his ears. He pushed open a door and dragged her into a room, slamming it shut behind them. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. It smelled like dust and old wood, and the air was thick and heavy.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Dakota demanded, pulling her hand free. “You can’t just—”
He cut her off, grabbing her face and pulling her into a kiss. It was rough, desperate, his lips crushing against hers. She froze for a moment, but then she kissed him back, her hands tangling in his hair, her body pressing against his. He groaned, his tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting the sweetness of her lips, the bitterness of the alcohol on her breath. She moaned into his mouth, her nails digging into his scalp, and he felt a surge of heat course through him.
“You’re such an asshole,” she whispered against his lips, but there was no anger in her voice, only desire.
“I know,” he muttered, his hands sliding down her body, gripping her hips, pulling her closer. He could feel the heat of her through her clothes, the way her body moved against his, and it drove him wild. He kissed her again, harder this time, his teeth grazing her bottom lip, and she gasped, her hands clutching at his shirt.
“Damian,” she breathed, her voice shaky, and he could feel the way her body trembled against his. “Fuck.”
He didn’t say anything, just pushed her back against the wall, his hands fumbling with the button on her jeans. She helped him, her fingers brushing against his as they worked together to get her pants off. He kicked them aside, his hands sliding up her thighs, feeling the smoothness of her skin, the heat of her. She moaned as he touched her, her head falling back against the wall, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Fuck, Damian,” she whispered, her voice thick with need. “Please.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He unbuckled his belt, his hands shaking as he pushed his pants down. He kissed her again, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin. She gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh. He reached between her legs, feeling how wet she was, and he groaned, his cock throbbing with need.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, his voice rough.
“For you,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. “Only for you.”
He couldn’t wait anymore. He grabbed her hips, lifting her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. He pressed her against the wall, his cock sliding into her, and they both moaned, the sound echoing in the small room. She was tight, so fucking tight, and he had to stop for a moment, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You feel so good.”
“Move,” she whispered, her hands gripping his hair. “Please, Damian, move.”
He did, his hips slamming into hers, his cock buried deep inside her. She moaned, her head falling back, her nails digging into his back. He could feel her clenching around him, her body trembling with every thrust, and it drove him wild. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, her lips, his hands gripping her ass, holding her in place as he fucked her.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his voice shaking. “So fucking perfect.”
“Damian,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m close. I’m so close.”
He could feel it, the way her body tightened around him, the way her breath hitched in her throat. He kissed her again, his lips crushing against hers, and she came, her body shuddering, her nails digging into his skin. He groaned, his hips stuttering, and he came with her, his cock pulsing inside her, his body trembling with the force of it.
They stayed like that for a moment, their breath mingling, their bodies pressed together. Then he slowly lowered her to the ground, his arms shaking, his legs weak. She leaned against the wall, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. He looked at her, her hair tangled, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed, and he felt a surge of something he couldn’t quite name.
“Fuck,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “That was...”
“Yeah,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “It was.”
She looked at him, her eyes dark, her lips curling into a smirk. “You’re still an asshole.”
He laughed, the sound low and rough. “Yeah. I know.”
She reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. “But you’re my asshole.”
He didn’t say anything, just leaned in and kissed her again, his lips soft against hers. And for the first time that night, he didn’t feel out of place. He felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
The heat between their bodies lingered, sweat-slick where their chests still pressed together against the grimy wall. Damian’s breath hitched as Dakota’s smirk widened, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw possessively. That fleeting sense of belonging evaporated, replaced by the low throb in his cock and the sharp, territorial pulse in his veins.
"You think one fuck settles it?" Dakota murmured, her voice husky but edged with challenge. She pushed lightly against his chest, creating a sliver of space filled with the distant bass and the sour tang of spilled beer seeping under the door. Her dark eyes held his, unblinking, daring him. "You dragged me in here like a caveman because you couldn’t stand seeing me talk to anyone else."
Damian’s jaw clenched. "Shut up, Dakota." He watched her hand slide down her own neck, fingers brushing the sensitive skin where his teeth had marked her. The sight, deliberate and provocative, sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to his groin. Her earlier words echoed – Only for you – but the defiance in her gaze screamed the opposite.
"Make me," she breathed, a challenge laced with raw invitation. Her tongue darted out, wetting her swollen lower lip. "Or are you done already? Just a quick jealous fuck against a wall?"
That did it. A low growl rumbled in Damian’s throat, primal and possessive. He shoved forward, pinning her harder against the plaster, his hand fisting in her long, tangled black hair. "You talk too fucking much." He yanked her head back, exposing the delicate line of her throat, and bit down, not gently. She gasped, arching into him, a choked moan escaping.
He released her hair, his hands dropping to her hips. "Turn around," he commanded, his voice rough gravel. "Now."
Dakota’s eyes flashed, but the defiance melted into pure, dark heat. She obeyed, slowly, deliberately pushing away from the wall to face the dusty, poster-covered surface. She braced her palms flat against the faded paper, her spine a taut curve. Damian’s gaze raked down her back, over the flare of her hips, down to where her jeans were still bunched around her thighs, revealing the perfect, rounded swell of her ass – the ‘bubble butter ass’ she’d manifested from his own subconscious desires. His cock throbbed painfully against the rough denim of his own half-undone pants.
He didn't hesitate. One hand gripped the denim at her waist, pulling it down her legs just far enough, the other landed a sharp, stinging smack on her right cheek. The sound cracked loud in the small room. Dakota jolted, a sharp cry tearing from her lips, instantly followed by a deep, guttural groan. Her flesh bloomed pink under his palm. "Fuck, Damian!"
"Quieter," he snarled, positioning himself behind her. His fingers found her slick folds unerringly. She was drenched, wetness coating his fingers instantly, hotter than before. He pushed two fingers inside her roughly, feeling her inner walls clench and flutter around him. "Christ, you're still soaked. Filthy little thing. Couldn't wait, could you? Just needed someone to use you?"
"Only you," she gasped, pushing her hips back onto his hand, desperate. "Only ever you, you jealous fuck." Her words dissolved into a whimper as he curled his fingers, hitting a spot that made her legs tremble. He dragged his fingers out, slick and glistening.
He didn't make her wait. Gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, he lined himself up, the swollen head of his cock nudging against her soaked entrance. "Beg for it," he demanded, grinding against her, spreading her wetness but not entering.
"Please, Damian," she whimpered, pushing back against him. "Please, fuck me. Need it. Need your cock inside me. Now. Fucking now!"
He obliged with a brutal thrust, sheathing himself to the hilt in one savage stroke. Dakota screamed, the sound muffled as she pressed her face against the wall. He filled her completely, stretching her, the tight, molten heat a vice around his shaft. He held himself deep for a moment, grinding against her ass, feeling the tremors rocking her body. "That's it," he growled, pulling almost all the way out. "Take it. Take every fucking inch." He slammed back in, hard, setting a punishing rhythm immediately.
The room filled with the obscene, wet slap of flesh meeting flesh, the creak of the old wall under their combined weight, their ragged gasps and choked cries. Damian fucked her with raw, unbridled intensity, driven by the lingering jealousy, the bizarre magic that bound them, and the overwhelming, visceral need she ignited. He pounded into her, his balls slapping against her clit with every deep drive. Her inner muscles clenched and rippled around his cock, trying to milk him, pull him deeper still. One hand remained clamped on her hip, the other snaked around her front, fingers finding her swollen clit and rubbing tight, fast circles.
"Gonna come," Dakota gasped, her voice strained and high. "Damian... fuck... I'm gonna—"
"Come," he commanded, thrusting harder, deeper, his own release coiling low and tight in his belly. "Come on my cock. Show me how much you fucking need it."
Her body went rigid, then exploded. She screamed, a raw, shattered sound, her cunt convulsing violently around his shaft in wave after wave of intense spasms. Her legs buckled, but he held her up, his hand on her clit relentless, prolonging the agony and the ecstasy. The rhythmic clenching was too much. Damian’s control snapped. With a guttural roar that was more animal than human, he buried himself to the root and emptied himself in thick, pulsing jets deep inside her. He slumped forward, pressing her into the wall, his forehead resting between her shoulder blades, both of them shuddering through the aftershocks, gasping for air in the stale, sex-thickened room. The distant party thumped on, oblivious. The air crackled with spent energy and the profound, unsettling intimacy of their collision.