Page 85 of Call You Mine

My heart aches at the words she tells me, never having known first-hand what they mean. Though now, things feel different. I’m back, reconciling my relationship with my brother, with my sister-in-law, with my niece. And hopefully soon, with the man I was born to love.

I look over to Damon who’s oblivious to the woman and entranced by the magic flickering in the sky. If only I could bottle up this moment, this feeling, and keep it for an eternity. But tomorrow, tomorrow’s a new day, and I have no idea what to expect.

Chapter Twenty-Three

DAMON

The drive back is exhausting. Everything hurts. My legs from all the damn walking, back and forth, uphill and downhill. My arms ached from carrying Caeli around when after an hour she refused to sit in the stroller we rented. Not to mention my head was killing me, the catchy little songs they played in the rides, on a loop in my brain. I needed sleep, and I needed it fast.

“Tell me again why I didn’t just make Ace grab us a room at the Disneyland Hotel instead of us driving back home tonight?”

The Passenger Princess, still wearing the Princess Elsa themed ears on her head, leans her seat back, kicking her legs up on the dash. “Because we’re not that far away. It’s a short drive Damon, don't be ridiculous.”

“A short drive after a day of parading around the entire park, which by the way is fucking huge.” I cringe remembering how I stared at the map in horror as we tried to plan out our day when we first arrived. “Tell me again why the hell I agreed to join you on this impromptu trip to hell? I swear my calves are fucking aching.”

Wynter brushes me off though I’m incredibly serious. I watch her as she looks back through the rearview mirror at a very much asleep Caeli in her car seat.

When she doesn’t speak I continue, my knuckles flexing against the steering wheel as I hit the gas. “I work out at the gym every day, yet a day of walking around the fucking labyrinth that is Disneyland threatens to take me out.”

She smiles wide, surely at the way my voice lowered when I realized Caeli had fallen asleep.

In the rearview mirror, I watch as Caeli’s tiny chest rises and falls, a soft whimper leaving her lips as she snores—the cutest little hum.

I scoff at the absurdity of feelings this little girl is eliciting in me, and keep my eyes on the road ahead. One day and she’s got me wrapped around her finger. Much like the woman with whom she shares blood currently sitting to my right.

Wynter leans in close to me, her hand rubbing back and forth against my thigh as she whispers in my ear. “Because I promised to let you fuck me in every which way you wanted when we got back home, but if you’re too exhausted form a day of having too much fun…”

“Oh, no you don’t,” I say, gripping her chin in between my fingers as she tries to pull away. She bites her bottom lip and all I want to do is throw her over my lap to do the same. “You’re fucking mine tonight. The moment we get home and put the little bugger to bed, Uncle D is fucking every single one of your pretty little holes until my name is imprinted on every inch of your body.”

Yup, that’s my prize for a day at the so-called happiest place on earth. Not for me. My happy place is in between Wynter Servite’s legs.

As promised,I did. I fucked Wynter in every single way imaginable, though I still didn’t see my name written anywhere on her body. Seeing my mark on my woman would only cement how real this was. Lying beside her in bed, both of us completely naked while Caeli was sound asleep next door, it did something awfully terrifying to me. It forced me to imagine this could be us in some alternate future reality.

In bed together after a long day out or at work, with our kid fast asleep in their room next door. It’s wild to me that I’m even considering that being a possibility. Even if it were in some fantasy world we lived in. Much like today which was all based on fantasy.

I lay my head against her stomach, and use my fingers to trace my name along her skin. From her stomach, down to her upper thigh, I take my time spelling out my name and the wordminecountless times. Her body squirms beneath my touch and if she weren’t already so exhausted from the five orgasms I already gave her tonight, I know she’d be back on me, riding my cock in the way only she knows how.

“Mine,” I mutter out loud. “I want to tattoo the words on you, leave a permanent mark to prove to you and everyone that you’re mine.”

My fingers fall between her legs, rubbing softly against her clit mesmerized at the way her legs slowly fall open. “Damon, I don’t know if I can anymore tonight.”

“Shh,” I tell her, slowing my pace. “Just feel my fingers, baby. Let me make you feel good, you don’t have to put any effort into this one.” My fingers keep their steady pace, spreading her lips slightly apart so I can see her glistening arousal. I lick throughher folds, applying a slightly deeper pressure against her clit as I suck her, drowning in her sweetness.

“Mine, forever mine.”

“Do it,” she says, sitting up slightly, and reaching for me. She cups my chin in her hand, bringing her face down to mine, before placing a soft kiss against my lips. She tastes herself on me and moans when I deepen the kiss. “Mark me Damon,” she whimpers in between kisses. “Brand me as yours because that’s what I am.”

I freeze, pulling away when I hear those words leave her lips. A jolt of excitement rushes through me. My need to possess—something I’ve always struggled with suppressing—is now sitting in the front row at her admission. This woman is giving me the green light, begging me to brand her mine, and I’m willing to do just that.

“Are you sure, Princess?” I ask her in disbelief. Her big blue eyes, so clear they’re practically gleaming in the dimly lit room, watch me intently. “Do you realize what you’re allowing me to do?”

She nods, her face free of any makeup since our shower earlier when we came home, makes her look so young and innocent. “Yes, I’ve always wanted a tattoo, just never knew what I’d get. But this, something you write on my skin, whatever you choose, it will be perfect.”

The thought of my name on her skin does something to me.

Reaching into my nightstand, I pull out the tattoo gun I haven’t used in months. Ever since my time at the foster home, where I quickly learned to use a tattoo gun on myself and others, I’d done most of my work myself. I sit up and dig through the case, digging up a tube of numbing cream. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her, heading to the bathroom for a clean towel and some warm water to clean the area I’ll be working on.

Once I’m back in the room, I notice she’s changed position, now lying more toward the edge of the bed. I drag the armchair by the window to the edge of the bed and take a seat, reaching for her and dragging her slightly closer to the edge. “I’m only going to ask you once more, Wynter. Are you sure about this? Tattoos, baby, they’re not temporary.”

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