Page 15 of Call You Mine

I gasp, taken aback by his request to let him take care of me.As in sexually?Though he must notice the confusion written on my face when he brings the first aid kit up for me to see.

Right. Take care of me, as in help clean my wounds.Get your head out of the gutter, Wyn.

I let him lead me back downstairs and into the kitchen. Marble countertops sit atop black kitchen cabinets with silver fixtures.

Damon continues to lead me through the room until we reach the long, rectangular island sitting in the middle of the space. His hands find my waist as he lifts me, setting me down on the cold marble counter. I yelp when the cold stone kisses the back of my thighs, making goosebumps cover my skin. The shirtI’m wearing, his shirt, fits me like a dress, so I put nothing on other than a lacy black thong and matching bra I found in my getaway bag.

I curse Luke for not grabbing me a pair of sensible underwear, not that I own many, preferring to wear thongs and cheeky panties. They make me feel good, sexy, and for three years I’ve felt anything but.

I used to hide my body from Enzo when we were alone, wearing sweatpants and sweatshirts through the house and to bed every night. Even though we never shared a bed, I always slept with one eye open, fearing for the day he’d change his mind and sneak his way into mine.

However, things were different when we’d go out, or better yet when he’d parade me around showing me off to his men - and enemies. My duties comprised accompanying him to family events or to one of his many casinos throughout the city. I was the shiny toy on his arm, his property, and everyone knew it.

The dresses he’d made me wear were low cut, barely covered my ass, and skintight. Not much different from dresses I usually wore out dancing when I was back home, but he always made me feel dirty wearing them. Not to mention the leering gazes of the men who envied him for owning me made my skin crawl.

“Where’d that mind of yours run off to, beautiful?” Damon mutters, holding my chin up to look at him. I’m lost in the deep green pools of his eyes. In them I find so many questions and the need for control of the situation. The need for control of me. I’m at a loss for words, torn between confessing it all to him or running away and never coming back. “Come back to me Wyn,” he adds, reading my mind the way only he knows how.

I ache to tell him. To lift the weight of the darkness I carry on my shoulders. To confess all that Enzo did to me. Everything I endured by his side, down to the bitter truth of what I did to him—the monster Enzo Marchesi made me.

Damon releases my chin when I don’t respond, his calloused fingers gently caressing my cheek, tracing small shapes I can’t make out against my flesh as they drift down to my neck. He takes his time, trailing over every purple bruise forming on my pale skin as his hands continue their descent. When he reaches the hem of his t-shirt, he tugs it in a silent demand.

Without question, I raise my hands, allowing him to tug the oversized white t-shirt over my head, leaving me in nothing but my lace bra and thong. Thank fucking God I wore a bra, or I’d be sitting topless in front of him.

He clenches his jaw, a deep growl leaving him the moment his eyes rake over my nearly naked body, immediately glazing over with desire. I should be self-conscious, moving my hands to cover myself, but the want in his eyes, the way he’s looking at me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on, that makes my skin ache to be seen.

To be touched by his hands, devoured by his mouth, savored by his tongue.

Without breaking eye contact, he unzips the first aid kit he set on the counter beside me, pulling out a few gauze pads and two bottles, one which looks like alcohol and another of hydrogen peroxide. He twists the cap off of the alcohol, drenching the gauze in it, and brings it up to the fresh cuts scattered along my chest.

Damon stares, waiting for my approval, and I nod my head in response. At least I think I do, but I honestly don’t even know what’s happening. I feel like I’m floating in air dreaming, having an out-of-body experience as he presses the soaked gauze against my skin.

It burns as the alcohol enters the gashes spread along my skin, but surprisingly, it also feels good. I can feel the pain and it strangely makes me feel alive. When Enzo cut me, my body and mind were so numb the pain never really registered. Theadrenaline that coursed through me, mixed with the fear of what was happening, desensitized me to the pain I was enduring. But now, I can finally feel it and it’s a fucking relief to know I’m not dead inside.

I bite down on my tongue to hold in the screams that want to escape me, but my eyes remain locked on his. He continues, softly placing the gauze on every single cut before his hands move to the purple imprint of two hands appearing around my neck. The skin where Enzo’s fingers pressed so tightly into me they almost cut off all my air supply, is bruised. If I hadn’t pulled the knife out of his pocket, the same blade he used to make the cuts all over my chest, and shoved it into his neck, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

Damon’s eyes darken, his nostrils flaring as he speaks. “I want to kill the motherfucker who did this to you. Cut the fucking hands off the son of a bitch who dared to put them where they didn’t belong.” His fingers twitch against my skin, like he’s aching to wrap them around me too, but the look in my eyes must warn him not to.

I know that’s his thing, choking while fucking.

He did it to me the night we were together, wrapping his hands around my neck and holding on as he thrust into me, bringing me to the edge of ecstasy again and again. He was so turned on and I have to admit the way he looked as he fucked me relentlessly might have been more pleasurable than the actual orgasm or five he gave me that night. I’ve also caught him watching porn a few times, when we were trying to get each other to break our pact, and from that, I know he likes it rough.

But I’m not sure I’m ready for any of that. Not yet, not with him. If I go there again in this vulnerable state, one I’ve never found myself in before, I’m afraid I might just break.

Without warning he leans in, the scent of bourbon on his lips as he places a small kiss along the edge of my mouth where Enzo cut me with his ring when he punched me.

“But something tells me you don’t need my protection, Princess.” Damon licks his lips, lightly grazing mine when he does. I clench my thighs together as a burning heat rushes through me. He lets his hands travel down my body until they’re holding my hips in place, stopping me from wiggling against the cold marble. “You don’t need this dragon to slay the monsters for you, baby. You’re more than capable, aren't you?” he asks and a soft whimper escapes me.

It feels so good to have a man’s hands on me this way, to havehishands touching me like they ache to touch me. For pleasure, not pain. To heal, not maim.

“Please,” I murmur under my breath, my legs spreading for him as if on command. He takes a step closer, fitting perfectly between them, and I can’t help but close my eyes, unable to look at him. The sensation is already too much. “I said no questions, Damon, not tonight.”

His fingers move down my thigh, inching closer to the heat between my legs, aching to feel his touch. Slowly, he glides two fingers down over the thin fabric of my thong soaked in my arousal.

“Fuck,” he groans, feeling my wetness, his other hand digging into my thigh as he pushes my legs painfully apart. “You’re so fucking wet, Princess.”

A soft moan leaves my lips as he places another soft kiss against the corner of my mouth.

“Damon, I need this,” I murmur, pushing my pussy against his fingers. He slides them back and forth, and my legs tremble at the mere sight of him between my legs.

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