Master of Death (Hollow #2)

CHAPTER 6

Damon isn’t in bed when I wake the next morning. I stretch and pull my phone off the charger, knowing I need to get ready before we head to the airport.

I sit up, leaning against the frame of his king-size bed when he comes in, drenched in sweat. By the looks of it, he got his workout out of the way.

“Hey,” I say, placing my hands between my legs. I feel shy for some reason, especially when he glances over my legs.

“You should go shower.”

I see the time on my phone, so I stand to grab my purse. “Will you shower after me?”

“We could shower together ... save water.”

I shake my head playfully, trying and failing not to notice the sweat beading off his carved upper body. I turn away from him, but he twists me around, and I land on his lap while he’s hugging me from behind.

“You don’t want to make those vegans proud?” He kisses my neck.

“Damon . . .”

“Fine, use mine. I’ll shower in the guest—”

“I’ll use the guest shower, don’t worry.”

He squeezes the side of my hip in response. “No. I want you in my shower. Stop arguing. Just go.”

I leave the warmness and sweatiness of his arms, the ones I wish I could spend all day tucked under. I breathe in when I lock his bathroom door. His smell lingers.

I let my thoughts wander, taking me back to everything that happened yesterday with Harvey and then with Damon.

I can’t believe I told Harvey about Damon to spite him.

I’m more determined than ever to put some distance between us, because we both deserve better. I’ll still speak to Henrik, since leaving Harv alone when I move out doesn’t sit well with me.

Except maybe it’s time to accept that he has Claire—that she’ll be there for him.

Harv will be devastated when he finds out. Or perhaps not. No matter, my mind is resolved on the fact that we both need space and time between us.

After my shower, I apply light makeup and leave my dry hair in waves.

I put on lacy pink undergarments and wrap a towel around myself, searching the room for Damon. When I reach the stairs, I see him at the bottom of them, and my fingers tighten around the towel when I release a breath.

I’ve never been looked at the way Damon looks at me. With Harvey before the accident, he’d always stare at me with a smirk on his face, with defiance in his eyes, like he thought I was one hot chick he wanted to mess with.

But when Damon gazes at me? It’s like he wants to possess my soul, learn what I’m thinking inside out, treasure my body and keep it hidden from the world.

“Are you wearing a suit?” I ask, leaning on the black railing.

“No. Wear what you want.”

I nod. “I know, but Julia will be in a suit.” I’m nervous and a tad worried I won’t be able to mask my feelings for Damon from her prying eyes.

“Be comfortable. You can change later. Joey got us breakfast—hurry.” He walks away, and I hate that he’s already in one of his moods.

As if from this morning until now he was slowly transforming into the CEO that I’ve come to know and admire.

That same man drives me bonkers sometimes too. He makes me so mad I didn’t even get my first taste of true fury until I met him.

I wear my ripped jeans, a white shirt, and a black blazer. I throw on my coat and the black heels I recently bought online. Even though we’re now in March, it’s still cold out.

Damon’s in a foul mood when he hands me my breakfast in the car as Joey, his driver, brings us to the airport. Whomever he’s on the phone with is souring his attitude every half second.

“Abby, it’s a recommended report. You’re not building on a conservation site.” I see the flex of his hand against his phone. He should be in a suit right now since he’s acting like the full-blown CEO that he is. Instead, he’s in dark jeans, a black tee, a wool coat, and sneakers.

I take out the bagel and munch on it, sipping the tea.

“I don’t make up the report. The report is based off experts’ opinions.” His jaw tightens and loosens, then his eyes dart to me as I’m licking off the side of my bagel.

He wraps his free hand over my knee, squeezing it. I love the feel of his hand over the bare skin, since my jeans have a slit ripped open on both knees.

“Move things around to stray away from that area.” He listens to her intently, then snickers. “Your father—”

He removes his hand, and I block the void by finishing my breakfast.

I really have got it bad.

I check my phone and see no new messages from Harvey but a few from Gia.

“We’re not changing our report, Whitmore. If you’re that worried, I can send you extra suggestions.” His chuckle fuels the back of the car with tension. “I don’t want your cunt.”

I choke on my tea, gathering my wits.

I don’t like this woman at all.

Since our last meeting with her, it was clear she wanted Damon. I can’t blame her for wanting him, but the thought still makes me jealous, and I know I don’t have a right to be. Or maybe I do at this point.

What Damon and I have, it might not be everything, but it’s something.

“Goodbye, Abby. I’ll be in touch.” He tucks his phone away so I look out the window, avoiding his wrath.

I knew this would happen. It’s like he doesn’t know how to find the middle ground between the callous boss and the sweeter Damon who wraps his arms around me and speaks from his heart.

But that sweet side of him? That part won’t resurface until we’re alone and away from a work atmosphere.

I can’t dwell on that though.

I have enough to sort through with my next move in life. I love my job, that’s for sure, so I should take the opportunity to learn as much as I can from Damon and Julia on this trip. And be thankful that I get to go with them.

“I offered Julia a ride on our way to the airport so she doesn’t question why I picked you up.”

I nod. “We could’ve gone earlier.”

“Earlier is never early enough when it comes to her.”

I know that to be true. She hates when people are late. I’d even go as far as to say that ten minutes early is still a little late in her book.

We stay silent, but I want to clear the air, while it’s just us, while Joey has AirPods in his ears.

“Should I expect you to be an asshole for the next few days?” I turn to face him to see his reaction, to see the click of his jaw mold to stone.

“You mean act like your boss?”

I narrow my eyes at his audacity. “You know you’re more than that,” I whisper.

I face out the window again. Damon has a way of making me feel like I’m either on top of the world or buried underground.

I hear a click. The next thing I know, he’s on my side of the car, and he’s kissing me, and his hands are in my hair, gripping tightly. His tongue slowly invades my mouth, begging for me to let him penetrate my senses—penetrate my soul. Everything with Damon is intense, wild, all over the place.

He doesn’t do light and tame.

He does extremes.

Which is why I always feel high around him. High, horny, and happy.

He caresses the side of my face after he breaks our kiss. “I have no choice but to treat you like everyone else in front of our peers. You know that, don’t you?”

I shut my eyes and nod.

He goes back to his side, and I hear a barely audible curse coming from him.

I take a deep breath, my heart feeling as if I’d pumped my veins with a love serum.

We’re finally free to roam in the plane. I listen to Julia debrief Damon about our next meeting. We have two meetings to attend and a three-day conference, so our schedule for the next three days will be tight. We’re heading back to Chicago on Saturday.

I texted back Gia, telling her and my dad that I was heading to New York for work. Both are proud that I’m doing this for my career.

I’ve always wanted to travel the world. Try new things. Feel highs.

When we arrive at the Moderne Hotel, I change quickly in my hotel room, wishing I could stay in jeans. I opt for a fitted, light-blue dress with matching suede heels and a long blush coat that I borrowed from Gia.

“So tell me, Gemma. Have you ever been to New York before?” Julia asks, seated in the front of the cab. Damon’s next to me in the back seat, ignoring me.

“Um, yeah, I have. My father’s an architect, so I traveled to New York a few times growing up.”

“Nice city, isn’t it?” she asks, beaming. “I tried to convince my husband to move here before we settled down and had kids, but he’s a Chicagoan born and bred.”

She continues with small talk, which I suck at. I wish Damon would add in his two cents instead of wallowing in silence.

We end up meeting two gentlemen whose project involves building an event center. Julia takes the lead on this meeting, while Damon replies with curt responses as he sees fit.

A few hours later, we’re at a sit-down conference, listening to scientists, politicians, and activists speak about climate change. The room is huge and the tables placed wedding-style, with our table located in the back corner.

Damon and I are right next to each other at the round table, while Julia and two others are seated on the other side, with all of us turned to face the speaker delivering a great speech.

As we listen to speaker after speaker, my glass keeps getting refilled with delicious white wine, and I chew on bread dipped in olive oil. The dimmed lights project a romantic atmosphere.

When a charismatic speaker takes the stand, I’m amused by his lines. I’m laughing at something he says when I feel a hand grasp my knee.

I turn to Damon, who’s solemnly focused on the front of the room, oblivious to the effect he has on me.

I swallow, staring at Julia, who’s too busy laughing to pay any attention to us in the back. Nor does the couple seated with us.

I grab my wineglass, knowing I need to slow down before I end up drunk at a work event. I release a shaky breath as his thumb starts to softly finger my knee, then my thigh.

People start clapping. My eyes dart to the front too. I clap with the crowd, realizing it’s due to the speaker’s joke and not because he finished speaking.

Relief floods through me as well as disappointment when Damon removes his hand to check his phone.

When we finally stare at each other, he lifts his chin up as if daring me to stop him after his hand touches my leg again, this time going straight for his initial target.

Damon checks on Julia before he thumbs my sex over my pink panties. It feels bold—knowing someone could turn around any second and catch us in the act.

I’m too lost in Damon’s touch to care. All I know is that no one can see us from behind, since we have our backs to the wall.

He rubs small and large circles around my clit, and I grasp the table tightly, my head tilting slightly.

It feels so good.

I notice Damon looking only at me, getting brazen, no longer caring about the others. At one point, Julia turns to sip on wine, laughing, before again returning her attention to the stage.

It doesn’t stop Damon.

Instead, he shoves my underwear aside and tests my arousal with his thumb before his finger slips inside.

I can’t think straight.

I don’t care about Julia or my job or the people around us. All I want is for Damon to make me come. That’s all I want right this moment. To live in the moment, to lose myself as he takes piece after piece of me and keeps some of it for him.

His eyes warn me and I nod, letting him know that I’ll control myself. And I do—I behave.

I sip on more wine while he slowly drifts his finger in and out of me. Until his thumb presses on my clit and I silently lose myself—mind and body—in his chaos.

The faintest trace of a smirk can be seen even in the darkness as Damon eventually cleans his finger by leaving a trail of cum over my inner thigh.

Then he grabs a napkin from the table and wipes off the excess before drinking his wine. He refuses to look my way after, as if nothing happened.

I’m too tipsy and satiated to care.

When the funny guy finally wraps up his speech, instrumental music fills the room as people clap for him, many standing in ovation.

“That was amazing! Don’t you guys think? I can’t remember the last time I heard such a satisfying speech,” Julia gushes. I suspect she’s slightly buzzed herself—her usual reserved self has flown out the window.

“It was definitely most satisfying.” I feel my legs move as Damon’s shoe hooks around my ankle to part my legs beneath the table.

I blush and nod, agreeing with Julia, clearing my throat in the process.

It was a nice speech. The man clearly possesses humor in spades. I can still remember Damon’s speech from our conference in LA, where he was a guest speaker. It might be easier to make a room laugh with cheesy lines than it is to command a room with your presence alone. In my book, only Damon managed to do that.

I can count on my fingers how many times he’s made a joke—all of them delivered when we were alone, with no one to bother us, with no one to witness this other side of Damon.

“It’s Gemma, am I correct?” The other woman at our table—Eva, I think—asks. I nod, and she asks me how long I’ve been working for Damon.

“Since January.” Even I can’t hide my own shock as I register this piece of information. It’s only been a few months since Damon entered my life.

The thought that I’d choose a man I’ve known for so little over one I’ve known for a few years makes me question my sanity.

“Well, you must be good at your job if Mr. Dreygon’s kept you on.” Her husband laughs and eyes Damon, who remains stoic.

“I hope so.” I look over at Julia to avoid eyeing the man who scarred my heart.

“She is. We’re grateful to have her on our team,” she chimes in.

Dinner is great; I barely say a word as I savor each bite. The waiter comes back to fill my wineglass, asking if I’d like more.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Damon warns at the same time as I nod to the waiter for more.

“Damon, let her be. I’ll have some more wine myself. You don’t mind, now, do you?” Julia asks, testing him.

He feigns indifference, his hand weaving through that thick hair of his. “As long as I don’t have to carry both of you back to your rooms.”

“I think we’ll manage, won’t we?” She winks at me. I give her a small smile and drink, enjoying the taste and sensation it gives me.

I’m past the point of being tipsy.

During dessert, more speakers take the stage, and I can’t retain anything they’re saying. I drunk text Gia and Layla in a group chat while Damon looks at me like he wants to spank me.

Eventually, people mingle and the couple at our table invite everyone out for drinks. Julia accepts, and after Damon declines their invitation, she tells Damon and me to head back to the hotel without her.

I can see why he and Julia work well together. She doesn’t put up with his moodiness.

As soon as I straighten up from my chair, I feel unsteady. The stern look Damon gives me should run shivers of fear down my spine instead of the shivers of lust it carries.

We catch a cab, and I settle in the middle seat, right next to him. For someone who seemed pissed at me two minutes ago, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around me and pull me closer.

I feel so free. Free, free, free. And good. And drunk.

I feel as if I could ask him anything. I could do anything.

I lean my head on his shoulder, breathing in his cologne, letting it intoxicate me. Instinctively, I place my leg over his lap before my hand grips the material of his coat as I kiss his neck.

“Gemma . . .”

He’s torn. Ready to fuck me and ready to push me away all at once. My sex is melting by the second as I smell him, as I kiss his warm skin.

I’m all over the place for this man—the booze an excuse to let me do what I desperately wish I could otherwise do—without any shame or guilt.

I palm his cheek, hoping he’ll look at me. “I’m not drunk, just tipsy.”

“I don’t care.”

We get to the hotel and reach our rooms—they’re all on the same floor. Julia’s at the end of the hall, while Damon and I are next to each other.

I’m fumbling with my purse, looking for the key card, when Damon grabs it for me and pushes the door open.

“Good night,” he says simply.

I pull on his hand, leading him inside, closing the door with my back against it. His stare fosters goose bumps all over my arms, especially when he looks at me like he wants to kiss me and yell at me simultaneously.

“Aren’t you going to tuck me in?” I raise my chin in defiance. I check my phone for the time before chucking it on the bed. “It’s only ten.”

He grabs onto his hair while his other hand slips inside his pocket, the debate crushing his brain cells.

I love Damon in a black suit, with his wrinkle-free, crisp white shirts.

I tug on the blush coat I’m wearing while admiring the view of this beautiful specimen in front of me. He takes pity on me when I struggle to take it off and twirls his finger for me to spin around. The sleeves slip past my arms before he drapes it over the bed.

Then, as if seeking to put distance between us, he saunters to the couch and removes his blazer as he sits down. My teeth tug over my bottom lip as I watch him loosen his tie.

I realize I want to undress too. I want him to see my lacy undergarments beneath.

I walk closer to him and stumble on my light-blue heels, but he catches me, holding me by the waist as I stand between his legs.

I grab the zipper of my dress, but when I get to the point where I can’t reach, I sit on his lap, waiting on cue for him to zip it all the way down.

His hand traces over my back, bringing down the zipper so slowly I feel like forever has passed. My breath catches in my throat when he’s done, and he pushes off the sleeves of the dress from my shoulders with both hands.

I angle myself sideways on his lap, eager to see his reaction when I slip my arms out of the dress, letting the material fall.

I love when I see the bulge of his Adam’s apple. I love how his eyes darken instantly when they fall to my breasts in my light-pink bra. I love how no words are needed between us.

“What happened to cotton, hmm, Gemma?” His raspy voice fills the room, and my stomach flutters with anticipation. He tugs the dress down my hips, then cups my ass underneath to remove it. When the dress reaches my ankles, I toss it on the carpet.

“You don’t like my new lingerie?”

He pushes my hair behind my ear, then softly traces my cheek before pressing a kiss over it. I close my eyes and bask in the sensation that ignites inside me. I’m so, so happy to be back in his arms. So much so I’m emotional thinking about it.

“I do. But I miss the cotton. Don’t change who you are for me.”

Did I do it for Damon?

I won’t lie—I loved seeing the look on his face when he saw me in my first set. But he also had the same look the first time he saw me in Calvin Klein cotton underwear. He never discriminated against my choice in lingerie.

I won’t deny the boost of confidence it gives me to wear satin and lace. Couple that with the classy work outfits I’ve been wearing, and I know I can take on a man like the one staring at me.

“You’re very beautiful,” he whispers close to my ear. My nipples perk up in response, and I seek relief. “But I won’t fuck you tonight.” He thumbs the front of my neck, urging me to swallow.

“I know,” I almost pant.

He cocks his head. “You know?”

As I nod, I stare at his beautiful lips, then his eyes. “Even though you like to pretend otherwise, you’re a good man. You won’t fuck me if you think I’m drunk.”

An ice-cold chuckle fills the room as he pulls down one strap of my bra, then situates my tit over the cup.

He eyes my nipple piercing with awe, as he always does, then seems to remember my comment. “Are you using reverse psychology?”

“No, unless you want to do naughty things to me.”

He curses. “Naughty things ... like what?”

His breath against my neck sends shivers down my spine. I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m tipsy and warm and cold, and I’m losing my mind around him.

I shrug in answer to his question, folding my fingers behind his neck. “Depends. What do you want, Damon?”

A shake of the head is all I get in response until he pinches my nipple and covers my breast again with my bra. “Go put a shirt on.”

I eye him for a second longer before I reluctantly go grab a shirt to cover myself.

I sit on the couch next to him, my throat dehydrated. I’m swooning, my cheeks warming when he scoops me up, and I land on his lap with his arms tight around me.

He smells so good. And he looks even better.

So dashing. So fucking hot.

My head nestles in the crook of his neck as I breathe him in. The Damon Dreygon scent—it’s addictive.

“I think she’s pretty,” I blurt out. “Your ex.”

“My ex?”

“Yeah, the one you left with when she came to our office.”

When I tilt my head on his shoulder to take a good look at him, his eyes narrow. “She’s not my ex.”

“Oh, then—”

“Stop with the million questions.”

“I answer your questions.”

I can’t explain the lack of levelheadedness behind my decisions with Damon—maybe because I’ve lost all sight of rationality—all I seem to do is seek advice from my heart.

And my stupid, desperate pussy.

“Oh, really—you would answer my questions? Anything?” Curiosity pools in the deepest part of his moody eyes.

I nod to appease him, sitting up to straddle him.

The affection I feel toward him is out of this world. There are no words, no poem written, that could explain the direction my feelings are taking for him. I wonder if he knows. If he understands this crippling desire, knowing that no matter if I went back to Harvey, I’d never be able to forget him, because he owns the biggest part of my soul.

I feel connected to him in ways I’ve never felt with anyone I’ve met in my entire life.

“If he weren’t disabled, would you still be with him?”

My hands drop to his shoulders, while my mind slowly processes his question. Even through the mist of my tipsiness, I can tell he sees how taken aback I am by it.

“Yes or no, Gemma.”

I swallow, my mind having already answered for me.

“It’s not that simple. There are so many variables to that question. We—”

“With the same results as right now, except he’s able bodied. Would you be with him?”

“Are you in my life?” I counter.

He sighs, and I notice the flutter of his lashes. “Yes.”

“Then no. I don’t think I’d still be with him.” And my heart drops as if I’ve fallen from a steep cliff. I take advantage of him glancing away to drink in every aspect of his facial features. “If your ex came back to you and wanted you, would you take her back?”

The stillness in his body hits me like a cold front.

“She won’t.”

“But if she did? If she did, Damon? Would you—”

“Stop, just fucking stop.” He doesn’t make any attempt to move away from me. In fact, he holds me tighter.

“Would you want to fuck her?” I wait for his answer, gauging the smallest reaction out of him.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” Pain blends in the darkest parts of his eyes.

Waiting, anticipating, seeing if he’ll catch one percent of me during my fall for him. Or if he’ll run away like he always does.

He brings my body closer to his, his lips grazing mine as he whispers against them. “You love to push buttons, don’t you?”

I shake my head. “Only yours—the same way you push mine.” Our lips are still rubbing against each other, my heart fluttering as a result, my mind exploding with thoughts of a future with Damon.

“I promised myself I would always want her.”

He kisses me softly, shivers hijacking every inch of space on my body. I feel every single movement, like time stands still when I’m in Damon’s arms. I forget all other loyalties, everyone else I love and care about.

I’m not sure that’s a good thing. It makes me feel good but for how long?

“Damon, answer me. If she were here, would you want to fuck her over me?”

I don’t know where this desperation comes from—maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s my decision to really leave Harvey this time, or maybe it’s the fact that I realized I have stronger feelings for Damon than I originally thought.

He closes his eyes, his face constricting in agony. I hate her for doing this to him, and yet I envy her, for she’s the object of his full affection. He loves her so much he’ll never be able to love another.

I swallow deeply when he shakes his head, his lips touching mine.

“No.” His jaw clenches. “I wouldn’t want to fuck anyone else.”

His words are like alternative music to my ear—they appease my soul, ease my anxiety, and feed my conscience. “No one?”

“No one. Just you.”

We stare at each other like two stars in the sky ready to crash and explode and shine bright.

“I want you spread out for me, Gemma.”

I moan as he grips my ass. “And your heart?”

I can’t stop—not tonight. I feel the liquid courage dissipating out of my veins, and I need to use every bit of it before morning comes. Then he’ll be the distant CEO once more.

I listen to the sound of his chuckle snap a fragment of my heart. If it could break into pieces, it would. Just because he wants to sleep with me doesn’t mean he’ll ever want my love.

“I told you I didn’t want your heart, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, well, you said a lot of things. You never told me how easy it would be to fall for you. You said not to fall for you,” I whisper, “but dammit, Damon, you never said how easy it would be.”

His groan fills the room as he tilts my head to break our talk, our moment, sealing it with a kiss. I have no idea if this is his version of telling me he liked hearing the words I just spoke, or if it’s his way of keeping me at an arm’s length, refusing to answer any of my inquiries.

Two of his fingers lift my chin higher so he can devour more of my mouth. Heat radiates through my cells, sparking up a fire inside me, as his tongue dances around mine before he gently sucks on it.

I’m rocking my hips back and forth, reveling in the feel of his hand as it reaches under my T-shirt.

“Damon,” I beg, halting our kiss.

He ignores my plea, reaching for my lips again.

Damon is like having my very own brand of serum injected in my veins to secure a high. He’s life and explosions and bungee drops and speed, and heights. With his hands over my body and his lips cherishing mine, my heart is desperate to confess the depth of my feelings for him.

Being with him feels like trying out a new drug, with its heightened sense of sound and smell and taste. You know you shouldn’t become addicted to it, you know it’s bad for you, but you can’t help yourself.

You’re in too deep. You feel too thoroughly.

As if with every kiss, every roughness coming from his hand, my body gets branded with a new heat wave sent straight down. There’s no stopping it, and I blame my pussy for numbing my brain. And maybe even confusing my heart.

His thumb plays with my bottom lip after our lips finally part.

I’m tired, yet I don’t want to leave his embrace. So, I settle for listening to his heartbeat until I fall asleep in his arms.