Page 66 of Cut Me Down

“You have got to stop scaring me like that.” I say as a small grin creeps on my face.

“I'm sorry.” He looks at me concerned as he walks to the edge of the railing. Grasping the metal like he’s about to jump over it frantically.

“You look at me like I'm going to jump.” I chuckle, but he averts his gaze slightly before looking back at me.

“Well, I know I've been pushing you the past couple of weeks.” He actually looks sad and worried. Guilty even. My stomach drops, and I start to feel bad.

“I'm fine Damien, I'm not going to jump. Especially because of you. You make me feel…” I hesitate, not wanting to tell him, but wanting to ease his worries. He furrows his brows, waiting for my response. “Alive. Which is strange because I know nothing about you.”

“I think you know more about me than you realize.” We stare at each other, his eyes shimmering against the yellow light from the streetlamps. “Tell me. What do you think you know? I'll tell you if you're right.”

“What if I'm wrong?”

“You won’t be.” I bite back a grin and look away. Keeping my gaze astray long enough to get my shit together before I meet his eyes again.

“You're always so sure about everything.” I say as I bob my head side to side in a playful manner.

“Not everything.” His gaze intensifies, purposely not reciprocating my playfulness. “Just you.” I feel the heat rise to my cheeks, and I have to bite my lips between my teeth to keep myself from smiling wide like a teenager. Inhaling a deep breath, I conjure whatever confidence is buried deep down.

“I think your favorite color is blue.” He softens his gaze at me. “At first I thought it was black, because you wear it almost every day, but you don’t like warmer toned blacks. All of your shirts and hoodies are a bluer-black, and even though I have two different to-go coffee mugs you picked the blue one. You also like horror movies and Star Wars, just like I do. You get too into it not to. You act really hard and tough sometimes, but your touch is really soft. There’s a gentle side to you that you don’t normally let people see. You're selfless…”

“Okay, now that you got wrong. If I was selfless, I wouldn’t be stalking you.” We laugh and he relaxes a little. “I'm very selfish when it comes to you.”

“Only when it comes to keeping me.” He squints his eyes, showing that he’s taking every word I say to heart. “Other than stalking me, you've never been selfish with me.” He smirks. “You're never worried about yourself. Even when you get calls for work, you’re worried until they ease it. It’s interesting to see your face so tense until about halfway into the conversation. You're really confident, but I think it’s to hide your fears. You're afraid to lose the ones you care for, and you always put them before yourself. You'd step in front of a bullet for any of your men, and that’s extremely courageous. You know what you want, and you go for it, even though you don’t think you deserve it. You love to laugh, but I think it’s because it’s not often you get to anymore.” He smiles fully at me. Showing off those pearly whites and his gaze softens, telling me that I'm right. “I'm really glad you can laugh with me.” I finally smile back at him.

“Me too.” We stay in place for a moment. Taking in the moment and absorbing it before I stand up and walk back over to the railing. As I grasp it to pull myself back up to the fire escape, he looks down at me endearingly. My eyes meet him, losing myself in his swirling gaze. “See? You know more about me than you think, and much more than others.” I smile again and lick my bottom lip before looking away. Gently shaking my head to try and clear it.

I step up onto the metal floor of the fire escape and begin to hoist myself up when my foot slips. Causing the sharp squeal from my shoe to chirp through the alleyway. The motion of my stomach dropping sends a quick shot of adrenaline through my body, but it stops at Damien’s hands. Which are both now grasping my upper arms tightly.

Both of my hands on the rail, and my foot only slipped back to the awning roof, but he’s holding me like I would have fallen to my death if he wasn’t holding on. Which I suppose I could have if I slid down the awning, but it’s unlikely. His eyes are wide, and I'm not sure he’s breathing.

Laughter escapes me. Carrying itself down the alley, and I have no doubt that it’s loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. The moment my laughter registers for him, he sighs and hangs his head lazily in relief at the realization that I'm alright.

“Don’t scare me like that.” He says with a heavy breath, and I finally control my laughter before looking up and soaking in the consolation in eyes.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear, but it was nice to get you back.” Laughter erupts from my throat again. Not quite as loud as before, while he scoffs and shakes his head. “You can let me go now, I'm fine.” His returns his gaze to me as it hardens. Taking my statement in a completely opposite direction.

“I’ll never let you go.” He declares with so much conviction that he could be etching it into stone. I smirk and look deeply into his eyes. His feelings for me shine through them. Adoration and endearment flashing across.

“I meant physically, Damien. I can hoist myself up.” I say sweetly, and refrain from teasing him about his dramatics.

“Oh.” He lets go and I pull myself up, but only before grabbing me around my waist and lifting me over the railing. Pulling me close the moment my feet are back on the solid metal surface of the fire escape. My body now flush with his. His heart is pounding into the palms of my hands as his arms encircle and entrap me. “I'm not sure I can let you go that way either.” He says, barely audible. His lips are only a few inches from mine as he leans down.

“Then don’t.” I whisper back. My voice now sultry. His arms tighten around my body as he plants his lips to mine. The two sets move in their own heated dance, tangling and synchronizing with one another. He lifts me up, suspending me in the air for a brief pause before he moves to sit on the stairs to the fire escape. Setting me in his lap as he lowers himself. My legs are on either side of him, so I straddle him, and his hard erection grazes me through his jeans. Leading me to grind down against him slightly. Just enough to feel the bulge.

The kiss intensifies. His lips press against me even more ravenously, and his tongue claws at me, as if it's trying to make its way inside my soul. He pulls away, only long enough to sink his teeth into my neck and suck. Most likely leaving a dark mark behind like a horny teen.

“Let’s go inside.” He says through trailing kisses on my throat before he grabs my hair in his fierce grip and yanks my head back to look at him. The force dominant, but not painful. He leans in close, so close that his breath caresses my skin, and his lips just barely touch mine. “No one is going to see me fuck what’s mine.”

A little while later, I groggily resurface from sleep. Still feeling the pleasurable ache and cum between my thighs. I can tell I haven’t been asleep long, and my alarm didn’t wake us up, so it’s probably very early morning. Though, something doesn’t feel right. The bed feels cold, and his usual heat isn’t encasing me. I turn and look over my shoulder to see that he’s not in bed. The sheets are wrinkled, but the absence of any warmth tells me that he hasn’t been in bed for some time now.

He wouldn’t leave, would he? Did he get a call and have to go back out? I figured he would have woken me up and told me if that was the case.

I sit up and take in the room. Listening as the rain beats against the window, and watching as the lightning briefly illuminates the small space. His clothes are still scattered along the floor from when we practically tore them off earlier, and his boots are by the window. The shower isn't running, and the light to the bathroom isn't shining underneath the door, so I assume he isn’t in there. I stand to pick up our clothes, and I don't see his boxer briefs. I seriously doubt he’d be outside in this weather with only his briefs on, but I've been wrong before.

Walking up to the bedroom door, wrapped in my blanket, I open it to look out and see him sitting on the couch. Only the dim light from the small source above the stove is radiating through the main area. Making it hard to see, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering him. Papers are sprawled out on the coffee table in front of him. Some in neat piles, some not. He’s reading them intensely and sorting them into separate stacks. All lined up in neat succession. He pauses and looks up at the doorway. Instantly meeting my gaze.

“Hey baby, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He says sincerely.

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