Wreck Me

“Baby?” Kisses rain down on my cheeks, nose, chin, forehead, and neck.

“Uh,” I grunt incoherently. I hear Damon chuckle under his breath.

“Dinner time, let’s go.” I guess I should probably get my oversexed ass out of bed and make big man something to eat. If f*cking like that is what I get to have from him then I will gladly load him up with plenty of carbohydrates and protein. He is a bull of a man. He needs to eat. I push myself up and pry my eyes open. Damon looks gorgeous in bare feet, jersey style, black mesh shorts and a white undershirt. I purr my approval. He shakes his head and smiles that crooked smile that make me impossibly weak for him.

“I may have created a monster.”

“Perhaps,” I muse as I walk past him completely naked. I can feel him follow. I turn to face him as I walk into his bathroom.

“Mind if I piss in peace?” His sheepish look falls into place right on cue and I am pleased with myself. He is just so damn cute when he looks as if he is utterly embarrassed.

“I’m kidding. I don’t have to pee. You showered without me?” He continues to follow me into the gargantuan bathroom.

“You were out cold and it’s the only time that dirty ass mouth of yours is shut so I figured I had better savor the moment while I could.” I spin around to face my dark haired bull of a man. His arms are folded over his broad chest. The smirk on his mouth is all the evidence I need to see that he is in a playful mood. It is a world away from the furious man that I encountered in his office.

“Smart ass huh? Well that’s too bad. I was planning on something special when we took a shower. Oh well, maybe next time.”

“Oh, bullshit woman! I told you not to tease me.” He strides towards me and sweeps my naked body up over his shoulder and walks right into the shower fully clothed. He flips on the taps and cold water pelts my ass and back. I squeal in protest.

“Put me down!”

“You’ve been a bad girl. You need to be punished.”

“No! It’s cold!” I slap his ass through the sopping wet jersey shorts. His big paw slaps me back and I yelp.

“Ouch! Put me down!” His body shakes beneath me with laughter.

“Are you going to tease me anymore?” he sputters between deep laughs. With one more swat of my ass I shout my surrender.

“Okay! Okay! No more teasing! I promise.” Satisfied with my white-flag-surrender, he slides me down the front of his body. His arm snakes around me to adjust the water temperature. Warmth pelts my skin as he holds me close. I tuck my fingers into the waist of his shorts and tug them down. Water streams down his body and drips from his face. I lean in and greedily collect the water from his stubbly chin, then tug the hem of his soaked shirt up and over his head. Our lips clash together. He drinks from me as I drink from him. I pull his full bottom lip between my teeth. His groan sends a pulse of electricity racing through my body. He cups my ass and in one easy movement lifts me to him. My back crashes against the tiled wall of his shower as his hard cock impales me simultaneously.

“How’s this for special, baby?” He growls while taking a fist full of my hair in his hand. He tugs and my head thuds against the wall slightly. His cock works me hard and fast. He has me pinned with his body and holds me in place easily. He drives hard and deep into me over and over.

“Ah, baby,” I moan. His mouth covers mine, silencing me. His tongue delves deep while stealing my breath. My heart pounds out of control under his ministrations. He breaks away from my lips and rams into me harder.

“Who do you belong to?” He says on a shout. It’s so hot and I feel like I may come with just his words. My tender p-ssy tightens exquisitely.


“Say it!” He bellows.

“You!” I whimper weakly.

“Again!”

“You! I belong to you!” I cry out breathlessly. He thrusts hard once, twice, three, four, more times and freezes. His body lurches and stills repeatedly. My own pleasure crests and crashes down over me. I roll my eyes back and arch into him. My sensitive, hardened nipples press against his pectorals. His warmth spills into me and twitches as we ride out our climactic pleasure. He holds me in place against the tile wall until my breathing has returned to normal. He eases out of me and a small zap of pain radiates through my womb. I wince and suck in a breath of air reflexively.

“Did I hurt you?” The concern in his voice is clear. I feel…valued. Cherished. And dare I say loved even. I know there is no possible way he could love me. We are as fresh as a couple could be. I still don’t know his favorite color, movie, drink. I have never had the love of anyone except my parents. I don’t remember it as clear as I use to. Memories have faded with time, but this sensation feels familiar and I could swear it feels like love. I say nothing as I look up into his warm honey colored eyes. One big hand cups my jaw. He rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes. In this moment something is communicated between the two of us. It’s indescribable and disarming. My short lived zap of pain is long forgotten. He holds me under the water for a long moment. His stomach rumbles loud. We both laugh.

“Come on big guy. I’ll make us some dinner.” He lightly smacks my ass when I turn away from him to wash my hair and body. Yeah, he is definitely an ass man. I quip inwardly. We finish up in the shower and towel off before heading down to his kitchen. I glide through his kitchen like a woman on speed. Working in this space is nice. I enjoy cooking, but I have never had the proper kitchen or tools to really flex my culinary muscle. He steps up behind me and plants a tender kiss on my neck.

“What would you like to drink?” He mumbles against my skin.

“Mmm, do you have any wine?” He steps away and opens his monster size refrigerator.

“I don’t. Sorry. I don’t really drink much so there’s no alcohol in the house.”

“Maybe we should go get some. I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.” I talk to the cutting board as I season our steaks.

“I’d prefer if we didn’t.” His tone as dropped and I stop what I’m doing to face him.

“Why?” My curiosity wins out over my better judgment and I want to know. He moves about the kitchen collecting utensils and dishes to set the table. His muscle capped shoulders shrug nonchalantly.

“My father is a drunk. Has been all my life. I just don’t care for the shit.” Note to self. Alcohol is a no-go. I suppose it’s really no big deal. I don’t drink very often either. I like the occasional beer or glass of wine, but it’s pretty sporadic.

“Oh.” It’s the only thing I can come up with. What the hell is my problem? Should I hug him? No. I would hate that shit. I decide to just leave it alone and change the subject.

“So what do I have to do tomorrow at the store?”

“That’s easy. I’ve already worked out the details for tomorrow with Dave, my project manager. The decorator will be here at nine o’clock tomorrow morning to go over some things with you.” I set the steaks to broil and drain the potatoes I boiled.

“Wait, I’m meeting the decorator here?” I dump the steaming hot potatoes into a mixing bowl with the butter, milk, and garlic. I smash them up as I carry on with our conversation.

“Yes. The store is now a construction zone and I don’t want you getting hurt or hanging out around a crew of horny construction workers.” His explanation sounds reasonable except the crew part. He sounds a tad jealous, but I don’t even want to broach the subject of jealousy with him right now.

I finish preparing our meal and we eat and carry on light conversation. Mostly about the store. After dinner, I make quick work of cleaning up our mess.

Damon’s phone begins ringing. He glances down to the screen and his jaw clenches and ticks.

“I have to take this.” He says flatly as he stalks off toward his office. I finish cleaning and talk myself out of eaves dropping. Whoever is on the phone has to do with this Edward person. I’m sure of it. I carry myself up his stairs and into the library. I pick a book at random from the shelf and pad to his bedroom. I crack open the book. The spine creaks and moans its protest. This book has never been opened. Its unmarred spine speaks volumes to me. My eyes read the first page lazily before sleep wins out and I give up on reading.





I wake up feeling like someone ran me over with a bus and I can’t blame this on rough sex. I’m getting sick. F*ck my life. I roll over and through cracked lids spot a note on the bedside table. I reach across and snatch it up. Scrawled in shitty man-bull writing is a short and sweet message.

‘You’re right next to me and yet I miss you. –D’

I look around for signs of Damon, but find none. I dress quickly in a pair of Damon’s pajama pants and a white tee. I drag my aching body down his stairs. I can hear movement from the kitchen. I walk in to find Damon staring at the oven like it is the mystery of all mysteries.

“What are you doing?” I force out sounding very similar to an eighty year old smoker. He whips around like I have screamed bloody murder.

“You sound awful!” He strides towards me and lays his hand across my cheek.

“You have fever. You have to get back in bed.”

“What the hell were you staring at the oven for?” He looks back over his shoulder and looks sheepish again. Damn him.

“Ah, well I was thinking maybe I could make you breakfast, but I’m afraid I’m not as proficient in here as you are.” I laugh in spite of my sore throat.

“I like how you dressed that up to sound far better than what it is.”

“And what is it?”

“What you should have said was, ‘I can’t cook for a damn so breakfast is out.’” He laughs and turns me by the shoulders to direct me back to the stairs. The doorbell chimes halting both of us. I thought guests had to be let in through security?

“That’ll be Carry.” He releases my shoulders and jogs over to the fancy front door. He opens the door and steps aside. Something deep within me rears back and surges forward in a hurry. Oh hell no. Carry is a f*cking life like Barbie with a ridiculous spray tan. She smiles coyly at Damon.

“Come on in.” He motions his arm forward and she struts past him with an exaggerated sway in her hips. Bitch! She doesn’t even notice me standing near the staircase in my too big pajamas with no bra. My hair is a mussed up mess and I feel awful. Meanwhile this bitch looks like she is trying to win a damned beauty pageant.

“When I got your message I was glad to squeeze you into my schedule. So what are we working on, Damon?” She says with enough innuendo as I can f*cking stand. I have the impulse to tackle this tangerine/orange Barbie and strangle her.

“Ahem.” I clear my sore throat and draw their attention to me.

“Carry, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Josephine. You’ll actually be working with her on the project. She is in charge of all things regarding the store so you’ll need to answer to her.” His insinuation of answering to makes me beam on the inside. This man is after my heart in a fierce way and dammit, he is succeeding. I smile warmly at him as he walks away from the spray tan poster child. He comes right up to me and rests his hand on my cheek.


“Baby, you have a fever. This is going to have to wait. Okay.” He leans forward and kisses my scorching forehead. I catch a glimpse of Miss Spray Tan behind him and she looks as if she has just caught of whiff of something putrid. Her over glossed pink lips crinkle up and look far too much like an overused and abused vagina. Gross! I just can’t resist.

“You really ought not make that face. Wrinkles and all.” I toss in her direction and she jacks up her face even more. I choke down a laugh. Damon turns to her from where he standing by my side. She instantly plasters on a phony grin.

“We will have to reschedule Carry. Josephine is not feeling well. I’m sure she will call for another appointment when she’s up to it.” Yeah, how about never skank?

“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll let my secretary know that you’ll be calling to reschedule. Bye.” She turns in her patent leather heels and matching cream colored pencil skirt and leaves the penthouse. The moment the front door closes he sweeps me up and totes me off towards his room. I am laid down and tucked in with care. He sits beside me and wears a cocky smirk on his face. I sigh dramatically and roll my eyes. I know its coming.

“Baby, are you jealous?” The intonation of the last word makes my anger level rise again.

“I am no more jealous than you Mister ‘stay away from the crew.” I imitate a ridiculous macho voice and he points a stern finger at me.

“Hey, I am only looking out for your safety. A nail could go through your foot or something.” I laugh a little too hard at his absurd excuse and my sore throat burns more as a result.

“Ouch,” I croak as I clutch at my neck.

“Okay enough joking around. I’m working from home today so I can take care of you. I’ll get you some medicine. You rest now.” He leans in and kisses me despite my potential contagiousness and it leaves me with that vaguely familiar feeling of being cared for. Cherished. Loved. He rises from the bed and disappears from the room. I close my eyes and do as I am told. Rest.

I must have fallen asleep after Damon left because I am beginning to wake up from a deep sleep. I feel a slippery tongue glide across my cheek and I furrow my brows. Why the hell is he licking me?

“Pssst!”

“Hmm?”

“Wake up,” he whispers and then licks my cheek again. Gross! My open my heavy eyes and scream. I scramble backward and smack up against the head board.

“What in the hell is that?” I shout then instantly regret my response. My yelling did my throat no favors.

“Don’t freak out.” Damon admonishes.

“It’s just a puppy. He likes you. He was kissing your face.” He pulls the silver and gray fur ball into his chest and rubs him behind his little scruffy ears.

“You got a dog?” I know I sound incredulous. This ultra modern penthouse would look just great with puppy shit on the floors. I can’t believe he got a damn dog.

“No I got him for you. Well, I guess he got me. He’s an orphan.” Damon explains. Why’d he have to use the word orphan? Now I feel like me and the puppy are old pals. It’s ridiculous. I raise an eyebrow to prompt and explanation and he does.

“One of the guys on the crew found him by the dumpster at the store. It was just him. No tags or anything. Dave’s wife is a vet so he called her down and she checked the fellow out. She said he is some type of Schnauzer mix.”

“I can’t have a puppy at my apartment Damon.” He shrugs in response to my objection.

“He can stay here.” I narrow my eyes on him I see what the hell he is playing at.

“If I agree to take this…thing, and he has to stay here, it stands to reason that I’d have to stay here as well.” A victorious grin spreads across his handsome face and I know I am so screwed. He holds up the scruffy looking thing and manipulates his tiny paws in a praying gesture.

“Oh, please be my new mommy. Won’t you adopt me? Aren’t I cute mommy?” I try and fail at stifling my laughter.

“You know you sound completely stupid, right?” Damon sets the puppy in my lap and I reluctantly stroke his fur. He is so soft. He is actually kind of cute. Actually, he is really cute. I scoop him up into my hands and lift him up for a closer look.

“How old is he?” I ask Damon while looking at the puppies tiny chocolate brown eyes.

“Dave’s wife said he is about eight to ten weeks old.” I roll out my lip. I can’t believe he is so young and so alone. I feel awful for the little man. He deserves a home. I know I have to take him. I don’t know the first damn thing about taking care of a dog, but I guess I can wing it.

“Hemingway,” I say to the little fur ball in my hands. His little ears perk up high in response.

“What?” I set him down in my lap and pet his tiny head.

“It’s his name. Hemingway.” Damon scoffs and I shoot him a hateful look. A*shole!

“What’s wrong with Hemingway?” He shakes his head from side to side.

“You can call him Hemingway, but I am calling him Hemi. Like the engine.” He’s adamant. I can tell. It has to be a man thing.

“Fine.” I look down to Hemingway and scratch behind his ears.

“Daddy says he is calling you Hemi in spite of your obvious intellect and sophistication.” Hemingway lets out a high pitched little bark and I nearly drop him. Damon clutches his gut and lets out a deep belly laugh.

“He is a puppy. He is not going to hurt you.” I shoot another death glare in his direction and cuddle Hemingway to my chest. He tilts his little head up and licks my cheek again. I melt into a puddle of female hormones and animal instinct.

“So, do I get any points for bringing you a puppy? Women like puppies.” I look at him and wonder for a brief moment if his story is all bullshit. I bet he went and bought this dog for some insanely high amount from one of those dog breeders. I look into little Hemingway’s brown eyes and see a loneliness and apprehensiveness that only an orphan could recognize. He has to be what Damon says. Poor little guy. He gets points. Loads of points. He rescued Hemingway from who knows what and I guess I have someone to…love?

“Points.” I affirm as I lean forward and kiss him.

“Loads and loads of points.” Damon’s face turns even more victorious and I swear his chest could not poke out any further. Geez. Men and their pride. It’s the downfall of society.

“Oh shoot. I told your Grams that I’d be there today with circus peanuts!” I cradle Hemingway to my chest and slide out of bed.

“You’re sick,” Damon protests as he follows me to the bathroom.

“I feel much better,” I lie. While holding Hemingway to my chest I shove a plush bath towel into the sink basin and carefully set the puppy in it. He curls up and plops down. I smile feeling a little proud of my ingenuity.

“Are you sure?” He reaches out to check my temperature with his hand and I bat him away.

“I’m fine. Really. You get some work done, whatever that might be. I’ll be back here once I am done visiting your grams. I promised her,” I make sure to sound pleading on that last bit. I know he would not want to upset Grams. He sighs and I know I have won the battle of wills.





I said goodbye to Damon and sent him into his office to get some work done, then scurried from the Penthouse with Hemingway tucked into the crook of my elbow. We ride the elevator down to the first floor and I locate Damon’s Beamer. I tried to argue with him, but he shoved the keys at me and did that clenched jaw thing. I click the locks with the fancy key fob and slip across the supple leather seat.


“Sweet,” I mutter to myself. I situate little Hemingway in my lap and start the car. We set out towards the store to find circus peanut candy for Grams. I think I have seen that stuff at the convenient store my apartment.

“Stay here,” I say to the fur ball and lightly tap his nose. I hurry inside the store and luck out. They had a full shelf of the sugary stuff. I open my bag when the cashier gives me my total. I dig out my wallet and nearly piss myself. A wad of one hundred dollar bills are shoved into my wallet haphazardly.

“Ahem, ma’am?” I snap out of my shocked daze and pay for the candy. I hurry back to Hemingway and get into the car. I don’t waste any time. With a flick of my thumb I am dialing Damon. He answers on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“You shoved thousands of dollars into my purse!” I sound like a dumbass! Who yells at their boyfriend for being so damn saint like?

“Do I need to remind you of our conversation about being proud?” I groan down the line. I should have known that no amount of protest will make a difference. My wealthy boyfriend is not going to let me struggle. I am grateful for him. There is no doubt about how much I appreciate him and all he has already done for me, but I just don’t like feeling like a charity case or a burden. It’s a complex, I guess.

“No. Thank you,” I bemoan.

“You’re welcome. You may want to go to the pet supply store for Hemi. He’ll need all that puppy stuff.” I look down at him curled up in my lap and realize that I haven’t the slightest clue what the hell a puppy requires.

“Okay, I’ll take care of it. See you later.”

“Bye, baby.” The line disconnects and I point the car in the direction of Grams retirement home.

Twenty minutes later I pull the beamer into a parking space and carefully stuff Hemingway into my bag. The pliable little puppy doesn’t even wake when I move him from my lap to my bag.

“Grams?” I tap on her open suite door and I am glad to see she is not napping. She cranes her neck to peek over at the door and she lights up a lot like Damon does.

“Josephine! Did you bring the goods?” She says in a low, discrete tone. I shake my head at the old woman’s antics and dangle the plastic shopping back at her. She takes it from my hand and smiles wide as she counts the bags of candy I brought her.

“Oh, honey you’ve made my month!” She coos. I feel proud that I have pleased her. It seems stupid to be proud over bringing her some candy, but part of me really wants her to like me. I guess it probably the same part of me that knows I could easily fall for Damon in a major way.

“So, how are you feeling today?” She waves me off as she stuffs a circus peanut into her mouth.

“I’m fine. I ran a couple miles this morning and that always makes me feel extra spry.” She winks at me and I can’t help but fall head over heels in love with the old woman. She has an amazing personality that I know I can relate to. I bet she didn’t take any shit from anyone in her day. I want to tell her as much.

“I bet you never take any shit off anyone, do you?” I swipe a peanut from her hand when she holds it out to me.

“Well, am I white, made of paper and come rolled up on a cardboard tube?” She asks straight faced as could be.

“No.”

“Then no. If I took shit off anyone I guess I’d be better off named Toilet Paper.” I nearly choke on the circus peanut I have stuffed in my mouth and the old hag cackles her ass off at me.

“Touche. Touche, Grams.” We continue to eat candy and I open my bag every minute or so to check on Hemingway. He is fast asleep curled up in the darkness of my big bag. I like this little fur ball. He is easy to please.

“So who are these people in your picture frames?” I walk over to a frame sitting on a side table and lift it to show her.

“Oh that would be Damon’s half sister Elise. And just there in that silver frame is my son Edward. And that brown frame next to that is Damon at his high school graduation.” Edward. Edward. The guy who pissed off Damon last night. He said his dad is a drunk. Makes sense. I decide to press for information.

“So, I guess Damon and Edward don’t get along very well.” She makes a huffing noise under her breath.

“They don’t get along at all honey. I love my son, but I’m not very proud of the things he has done. When Damon came along and his mama couldn’t keep him she gave him over to Edward. Now Edward didn’t want Damon either, but I sure as hell made that son of mine handle his responsibilities. I didn’t raise him to do the things he has done, but I have tried to make wrong things, right as they come.” She hangs her head slightly when she talks about Damon’s father. My chest aches for her a bit. It’s obvious that she has dealt with more than any one woman should. I feel the need to cheer her up and I think I know the trick.

“Hey want to see what Damon got me?” She nods and I reach into my bag and lift out Hemingway. The old lady gasps and lights up when she see the little fur ball.

“Oh that’s just like Damon to use a puppy to gain your love and affection. The boy has animal instincts like none other. It’s why he is so successful you know,” she dotes on her grandson. I hand her the puppy and watch as she cuddles him and kisses the top of his little apple shaped head.

We visit for a while longer then I decide it best to get going. I have no idea how often puppies eat or use the bathroom. I still have to get to the pet store then back to Damon’s place. I say my goodbyes to Grams and promise to visit again soon.

“So, I don’t suppose you could help your new mom out by cluing me in on what the hell I’m suppose to buy you? No? Okay, Hemingway. We’ll figure it out together.” I sit in the driver’s seat holding my fur ball up to my face. We gaze at each other, green eyes to brown, nose to snout. He just sits there. I set him back in place in my lap and drive towards the pet supplies mega store. It’s the size of a supermarket and people drag their pets in there to shop with them. I feel a little excited to go buy him some puppy things. Whatever they may be. It makes me wonder if he has had anything at all. Puppy food in little puppy bowls. A bed to sleep in. I look down at him and the place in my chest where I assume my heart lay dormant warms and aches for little Hemingway.

“Let’s buy some shit,” I say to the sleepy fur ball as we exit the car. I walk into the puppy store and on an emotional impulse buy with someone else’s money, I fill two carts with shit that this dog may or may not even use. I think I have purchased one of everything. He now has everything from puppy vitamins in the shape of a doggie biscuit to a stroller. A damn stroller. I know I am going to catch all kinds of shit for buying the doggie stroller, but what if I want to take him on a long excursion like the tag says? He may tire in Las Vegas heat. The stroller is useful. That’s exactly what I will tell Damon. I pay for my purchases with Damon’s wad of one-hundred dollar bills and load down the beamer.

“Now that we have done some damage, let’s go see your new daddy and show him all this shit. What do you say Hemingway?” He stares at me then opens his puppy mouth wide and yawns. I kiss his little head and put him in place for our trip back to Damon’s penthouse.

I park in his reserved space and dial him from my cell phone.

“Hello, beautiful,” the big man chirps into the phone.


“Hey um, could you maybe come help me bring up these bags? I’m sitting in your car.” I hear him chuckle into the phone and I feel suddenly shy about my emotionally charged shopping spree.

“I’m on my way.” I hang up and gather an arms full of things including little Hemingway.

“Wow. One dog needs all this?” I turn to see my big framed dark haired man standing behind me. He is so handsome. I melt instantly. I step to him and lean in to kiss him.

“I felt bad for him. I guess I bought a bunch of shit. Look at him though!” I shove Hemingway at Damon. He collects the puppy into his big hands and talks to him in a babbling baby voice. It’s even more absurd than his puppy voice.

“Aw, da widdle man wooks wike he’s sad,” he blabs. Oh God. I hope I don’t look that dumb when I talk to the dog.

“I bet he thinks you’re the town idiot talking to him like that. His name is Hemingway. He could be a literary genius like his name sake for all you know,” I say in a snarky manner.

“Yeah you’re right. I should kiss his furry little ass. Come on. I’ll have the bags brought up.” He tosses his arm across my shoulders and we stroll into the high rise like a real couple with a real puppy. It’s a novel concept in my shitty life. I like it. A lot.