Master of Death (Hollow #2)

CHAPTER 22

The bright sun is peeking through the curtains when I wake up on Tuesday morning. My hand is searching for Damon, but the space next to me is empty.

I shake my head after grabbing my phone and realize I slept in and missed another day of work. I have loads of vacation left, so that’s not the issue. I simply don’t want Damon thinking I’m slacking off now because we live together.

I call him, wondering why I didn’t hear my alarm this morning.

“Gemma.”

I wonder if I’ll ever tire of hearing him mutter my name. “Hey, why didn’t you wake me? Are you at work?”

“You needed the sleep. That girl’s replacing you today.”

I sigh. “Damon, I’ll come in. I’m feeling—”

“Half the day is already done. Just relax.”

“I feel like a shit employee.”

“With the way you let me fuck you, Gemma, I’d say you’re definitely not a shit employee.” His voice is sugarcoated in sarcasm.

I’ll do overtime next week to make up for it. The Damon I knew prior to dating him would’ve fired me for taking such a last-minute day off.

When we hang up, I peruse our bedroom. I swallow when I think of last night’s events. The thought of leaving this place, of leaving him, breaks my heart.

I text Henrik, asking for news of Harvey and asking if I should stop by and see him again. It pains me when he tells me not to. That Harv’s doing well, and he needs to keep doing well on his own—without me.

I know this too. I know this.

I shattered Harvey when I left to the point that he wanted to leave this place. He almost robbed his family of his soul.

And now? Now I must carry the weight of Damon’s truths forever.

Whether I forgive him or not.

The weather today is beautiful. I barely need a coat, but I know the wind will pick up once I reach a certain speed.

I’m at a bike track. Because it’s a beautiful day in April. Because I missed this. Because I’m no longer beholden to my promise to Harv not to ride again.

Joey drives me there. Now, despite my efforts to get him to leave and come back later, he refuses.

“Mr. Dreygon is calling me, miss. Something tells me he’ll want to speak with you.” Of course, he told him where I wanted to go. And mighty patient Damon must be when he cuts his call short to Joey and tries to reach me instead.

“I’ll handle him. I won’t be too long, Joey.”

“I don’t have any doubts that you will. Be careful,” Joey warns me, and I nod, picking up Damon’s call.

“Not. Fucking. Funny. When I said relax and enjoy the day, I meant go for a walk or have a manicure—not put your life at risk.”

I can’t help the eye roll that ensues. I sign a waiver and pay while half listening to Damon’s rant.

“Sorry I have different hobbies.”

“Gemma, you know I love everything about you, but I need you alive.”

“And this is how I feel alive, Damon. We’ll talk later.”

“Dammit—” I hear him say, but I hang up before he ruins my fun. This is my way of processing everything that’s been going on.

I need this.

“Ready?” a working guy in his early twenties asks me, handing me a full suit, gloves, and a helmet.

“Yeah,” I tell him, unable to contain the smile crossing my face. I hide my phone inside the pocket of the coat, seeing two messages from Damon.

He can wait.

I end up riding a dirt bike. I and four more guys follow an instructor. This place is awesome, with the bumps high and goosebumps inducing, and the best part is when we ride the trail inside the forest.

I open my visor, feeling the wind, breathing in the pine woods and musky scent. With each increase of speed, my old self cracks through the shell, resurfacing, ready to take over.

I feel like I’m resurrecting from the dead.

My smile is set in stone, and too soon we head back for the tracks, so I pull down the visor to cover my eyes.

I race some of the guys, with Damon’s beautiful voice echoing through my thoughts telling me to be careful .

I don’t risk my life today, though, trying hard not to push past the lines of recklessness.

I’m almost sad when my black boots touch the ground, but I choose happiness instead of sadness today.

“Any chance you’re single?” one of the guys I raced with asks me as I pull off my helmet.

“She’s taken.”

I spin around to see Damon sitting on a chair. He stands and walks up to me, throwing curses at the guy behind me with his eyes. If his words don’t deter the guy, his powerful stance certainly will.

When I look back, I see the guy is already long gone. Once I face Damon again, his anger latches onto his features as his lips press into a grim line.

“Come to save the princess?” I leave my equipment on the counter, annoyed by the receptionist who stares open-mouthed at Damon before we make our way outside toward his Tesla.

“Joey left?”

“I told him to leave so I can spend quality time with you on the way back.”

I hop in the car, closing the door louder than I intended to behind me. “What’s the matter? You told me you were okay with track.”

“I prefer being there.”

“You can’t always be there. You might have to travel or work . You can’t always worry that I’ll get hurt.” I feel bad when the words leave my mouth, for I know that he means them more for Palmer. Besides, I was the same way with Harvey.

“Gemma, we need to talk about last night.”

“No.” I clear my throat. “Not tonight.” His stare is indecisive, but he nods before gazing at the road again, his hand grasping mine.

If only I knew what to do.

A part of me can’t justify betraying Harvey twice, but I can’t even imagine leaving Damon.

I’m at a complete loss, and I feel terribly alone while trying to decide.

When we make it home, I shower quickly to gather my wits while Damon works, then I opt to make us lasagna with Caesar salad.

I’m halfway done cutting the garlic when a surge of nausea spikes again, so I run to the washroom. I throw up nothing but bile, and my stomach settles back to normal after the act.

Once I’m done cleaning up, I wander back to the kitchen, wondering what could’ve made me sick again.

I push the thoughts away when I hear Damon talking on his cell phone in the living room, and I set off to dice onions, mushrooms, and peppers. When I’m done making the lasagna, I place it in the oven, leaving the oven mitts on the counter.

I then grab Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and sit in the leather chair facing the fireplace. I stare at Damon in his element of power, observing him on the couch as he strokes his thumb across his jawline. He’s listening to whomever is on the phone with his laptop on his thighs.

I flip through the pages of my book until the oven timer sounds. Then I head to the kitchen to remove the lasagna. I serve it onto two plates set on the coffee table.

“How was working with Marie again?”

He eyes me with his brows furrowed. “I prefer working with you.”

So, he doesn’t hate her. Good. If I leave my position, I think Marie would be a suitable fit for Damon. She won’t take his attitude personally.

“I like Marie.” Though I could always pass on her gossiping tendencies. I finish the last of my salad, my stomach flipping in appreciation.

“Well, she doesn’t try and sleep with me, so that’s a plus.”

“Sure, sure.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his lips. Instead, he lightly touches my cheek. “How are you feeling today?”

My eyes dart behind him. “Better.”

“Don’t lie to me, Gemma. You think I don’t know you’re boiling inside? You think I think all is forgiven?”

“Time.” I gulp. “I need time.”

Uncertainty passes through his eyes, but he doesn’t press me further. We eat in silence, and this time he doesn’t feed me.

I want to cry, thinking of our future. Can I really let this go? What kind of person will that make me?

After our meal, he leans in for a soft kiss.

My eyes close of their own accord, allowing me to feel every tingle as he trails his fingers down my spine. I eye him when our lips part, intent on pouring the hurt I feel through my stare alone.

“So can I punish you for being reckless?”

“Define reckless.”

His narrow stare reminds me of how easy it is to sour his mood. “You. You define reckless.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

He tugs on my arm, and I move to his lap as his hand slips to my ass covered in mom jeans. I strive to push off him, but he keeps me grounded in his arms, so I stay because, to be honest, I never want to leave them.

I shouldn’t be doing this, pretending that our future is sleek and final.

But my fingers still grip his hair, tilting his chin upward before I press my lips against his warm ones. His body tenses, refusing to open up to me. I take my time, dipping my tongue inside his mouth, letting him reach the conclusion that I won’t be hanging up my helmet anytime soon.

Harvey tried, and look what happened.

I wasn’t happy .

Seconds tick by before he starts gently sucking on my tongue. Finally. He wraps my legs around his waist, lifting us off the couch, carrying me to the bedroom, our lips locked in intermittent kisses.

In the room, when my feet touch the floor, he unbuttons my jeans, then slides the zipper down. I push them off and remove my cropped white tee, allowing him the chance to toy with my nipple ring through my black Calvin Klein sports bra.

He grabs the band of my bra and glides it over my head. I swallow when his thumb touches my pierced nipple, gazing at the lazy circles he’s drawing around it. Then he lets go, stepping back to ogle my body.

I bite on my lip when he unfastens his dress shirt. A lightly tanned and chiseled chest welcomes me. Slowly, he undoes his slacks, so I remove my underwear, leaving me fully bare.

I can hear the deep hollows of my breaths when his fingers skirt my body. I close my eyes, hoping to lose myself in this moment with him, until I feel him grabbing my breasts.

“Your tits are fuller, Gemma.”

He then slips his fingers inside my sex and pulls out, dabbing my wetness all over my tits.

“That guy from the track might jerk off to you tonight, but only I get to fuck you.” He leaves traces of my arousal underneath my jawline, and when I open my eyes, I see nothing but possessiveness gleaming in his.

“And punish you.” He smacks my pussy. I flinch—the sound loud and undeterred, echoing across the bedroom.

“Damon?”

“What, baby?”

“Make me feel things.” My voice drips with hope and I gulp.

Mischief and a sheer look of maliciousness cross his features.

“Close your eyes.” I hear his footsteps retreating and reentering the room. A few seconds later, a soft material covers my eyes as adrenaline surges in my veins.

I feel him push my body back until I’m lying on the bed. He ties what I assume is his belt around my wrists.

“I bought a leather flogger. Do you want me to use it on you?” I nod and he continues, “If you want me to stop, just say so.”

He turns on music with a dark, sensual vibe, completely changing the room’s atmosphere. It calls for a different experience, lifting the hairs all over my body, my heart accelerating with the tempo of the song along with the anticipation of what Damon will do to me next.

I swallow, wondering what he’s doing. My tied wrists lay over my head. He flicks his tongue down there, the warmth of it sending me to a magical world.

He lifts my leg over his shoulder, and I’m a quivering mess when he presses his tongue over the sensitive flesh between my pussy lips.

Soon he’s teasing the flogger over those lips.

I moan, my body jerking in response.

“You want to feel, Gemma?” The smack of the leather makes me arch my back, the feel of it against my clit leading me to the throes of pleasure and pain. My mind is a dark canvas with one word written in white capitals—Damon.

He’s all I can feel, hear, and smell.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

I whimper his name, my wetness cutting the stinging short and extending the gratification.

The absence of the flogger makes me want to beg him to continue. He smears the evidence of my arousal on my inner thighs before moving up to my stomach. Then he reaches my collarbone, and I shiver from the mere act.

My swallows can’t be heard over the music, yet I sense he’s watching every one of my reactions. He skirts the flogger over my throat, up and down, then moves it to my mouth.

“Taste yourself.”

I do. I open my mouth, allowing him to drop the tails of the object. I taste leather, the muskiness of my own cream, and something sweet.

He spends endless minutes pleasuring me, spanking me, tugging and biting on my nipples. By the time he shoves himself in me, I’ve already come twice.

I’m spent, tired, and dizziness washes over me.

Him fucking me blindfolded invites the darkest parts of my soul to come out of their tomb. It measures the extent of my trust for the man, which is ironic considering I was sure he broke it with his secrets.

“Damon,” I whisper his name. His thrusts magnify the slickness of my inside walls. He halts as if waiting for me to tell him to stop. “I want to try breath play.”

Very quickly, my blindfold is lifted, and my eyes adjust to the dimly lit room.

“Christ, Gemma. I already don’t hold your neck like a flower. What more do you want? I won’t make you faint. I won’t risk it.”

I shake my head. “Not faint, just bring me close to it. Then bring me back.” I kiss his lips. “Bring me back, Damon.” I writhe against his hardness filling me.

“Safe breath play takes trust.” He moves inside me again. “I don’t trust you not to surpass your own limits. You have zero fear for your own safety.”

“Please, Damon.”

He closes his eyes and groans, the pace of his thrusts slowing. As soon as he presses his thumb and forefinger on opposite sides of my neck and presses harder, light-headedness clouds my brain like a misty, foggy morning.

“Do you feel it, my little rebel?”

I can hardly think. My slight nod responds to him instead.

Something liberating courses through me, allowing me more freedom than an hour of riding. I feel almost as if I’m entering another realm of time, where it slows down, where I’m mentally there but also having an out-of-body experience.

I’m floating, barely breathing, ready for darkness to wash over me.

I squeeze his neck with one hand, while my sex traps his hard length.

“You crazy, crazy girl, Gemma.” He presses farther down my neck for a few seconds before he releases.

I gasp, my body going through the tunnel of pleasure as he thrusts in me and plays with my clit while I feel faint, his fingers bringing me to a dark orgasm.

“Fucking perfect,” he grunts, his own release melding with mine. A soft moan escapes me as he pushes in one more time before slowly pulling out.

He leans his body over mine, kissing me like you would a long-lost love.

“And?” he asks, his lips less than an inch away from mine. “How was it?” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Everything.” I’m still on a calming type of high. “It was everything.”

“Good.” He unwraps the belt around my wrists, then takes the flogger and puts it in the drawer. He shuts off the light before slipping back in bed.

“I want to do it again,” I tell him when he wraps his arms around me. My heart is pounding in my chest, wondering what the hell I’m doing, because I’m not sure what to do about us.

And yet here I am, reeling in his sigh as he no doubt ponders my request. I know he’ll grant me more neck play because he believes himself the master of my limits and myself the destroyer of them.

Perhaps he’s right; perhaps I never really feared for my safety.

Since I lost my mom, I’ve had an odd sense of familiarity with death. I didn’t die, but losing her sure felt like it. It felt like going through the motions of dying. In fact, I can’t ever think of death as something worse than grieving—something worse than losing someone you love.

So, skirting mortality always felt like I was one step closer to my mom.

One step closer to asking her all the things. To giving her all the hugs. To listening to all her silly advice.

I have no idea why I’m reminiscing about this right this second. All I know is that I miss her.

“Okay, but I won’t do asphyxiation, Gemma. Holding your neck is one thing, but making you pass out is something entirely different.”

“Many people do it.”

“And some have died. You can’t do breath play and ride bikes. Pick your poison, Red.”

You’re my poison.

Because you might leave, and yet here I am.

I’m a lovesick fool just waiting for the day Damon decides he’s done playing house with me and kicks me to the curb.

My eyelids are heavy, my body seeking the sleep it deserves after the adrenaline I put it through today. I finally shut my eyes when he presses his lips against my temple.

“Sleep, Gemma.”

I should leave.

They hit Harvey.