Damaged and the Bulldog (Damaged #6)

“Yes, I do.”


Winnie glanced at her bag and I thought she might want the doll. She focused back on my face and sighed.

“I had a dream I was back with the Vandals. The lady at the door said she heard a girl in the room, but Sugar Bum said no girls were there. I was there though. I was in the foot locker and I wanted the lady to find me. I’m here now and you see me.”

Winnie sat up and looked around. “Your walls are so white.”

“We’ll paint,” I mumbled, stuck between asleep and awake. “Are you okay? Do you need me to do anything?”

Shaking her head, Winnie rested back into bed. “I don’t need anything. I have you and that was just a dream. Even if it happened, it’s over. I’m not back there and you see me.”

“Always,” I said, pulling the covers back over us.

“I hated the foot locker. If I made a noise like a sneeze, someone would say it must be a ghost because no one was there. I forgot I was real after awhile, but I know now.”

Hot rage rushed up from my gut. I wanted to know more. Mostly I wanted to punish the ones who hurt her except the fuckers were dead. My blood lust had nowhere to go.

Winnie’s eyes were still open, but they didn’t see me. When I took her hand, she squeezed it.

“When I was a kid,” I whispered, “my parents had parties constantly. Dinner parties, pool parties, costume parties, it never stopped. People were always at our house, drinking and laughing. I wasn’t allowed to be around the guests, so I would sit in the hallway upstairs and stare down at the laughing losers. I hated them for being in my house. For being loud when I was trying to sleep. For keeping my parents from paying attention to me. I used to think it was the guests’ fault, but I was just stupid. My parents didn’t care about me whether guests were over or not.”

Caressing Winnie’s cheek, I loved how her lips curved into a smile. A girl who hated being touched found pleasure in my embrace.

“I know my childhood crap isn’t like yours,” I said, as her eyes struggled to remain open. “I just wanted you to know I understand what it feels like to be invisible.”

Winnie squeezed my hand. “I see you,” she whispered as her eyes closed and remained that way.





Chapter Twenty Seven ~ Winnie


Waking next to Dylan, I felt refreshed. The darkness from my past wanted to claw its way back into my life except I shoved those painful memories back where they belonged. I might never be truly free. Fear might always taunt me around the edges. Yet I was stronger now than I’d ever been.

Dylan slept soundly next to me. I wanted him to wake up and talk to me. My fingers ached to touch him, but I kept my mouth shut and hands to myself.

On his upper arm was a tattoo of a demon. I imagined the angry young man who wanted such an ugly symbol on his flesh. Did the demon represent his father? When he rolled onto his stomach, I studied the bulldog Aaron tatted on Dylan’s other arm. The dog had dark sad eyes like Dylan’s after I freaked out days earlier.

An hour later, Dylan awoke and gave me a sleepy smile. He was so relaxed after a night of lovemaking.

“Hey, beautiful, have you been up long?” he asked, kissing my cheek.

“You worry too much about morning breath. Or is it my morning breath you’re worried about?”

Dylan responded by kissing me long and deep. Once my hands went to his chest and scratched the flesh gently, I felt him harden against my leg.

“Too soon?” he mumbled against my lips.

Grinning, I whispered. “I’ve been up for an hour.”

Dylan shared my smile while reaching for the condoms. “You’re so beautiful in the morning.”

I pulled back the covers and let myself look at all his naked flesh. Noticing a scar on Dylan’s inner thigh, I sat up and ran my fingers over it. His cock twitched, excited at my hand’s proximity. I gave it a soft caress then looked back at Dylan.

“How did you get the scar?”

Tearing open the condom wrapper, Dylan held my gaze. “I was hit by a car while riding my bike. I was ten and the bone broke through the skin.”

I returned my gaze to the scar then smiled as Dylan unrolled the condom over his thick cock.

“I want to be on top, but I’m nervous.”

“Later then,” Dylan said, pressing me gently back on the bed. “Let’s worry about getting you nice and wet for me first.”

Smiling, I looked down at where his fingers teased between my legs. When he licked at my nipple, I relaxed and watched him.