Chapter 4 : Public
743 Words
Damien texted at 5pm: _Dress up. I’m picking you up at 7._
_Where are we going?_
_Dinner._
_With who?_
_With me. Unless you want Ethan there too._
I didn’t reply.
At 7 on the dot, there was a knock.
Damien.
Black button-down. Sleeves rolled. Hair perfect. He looked like trouble.
"You look good," he said, eyes dragging down my dress.
It was black. Simple. Cut low in the back.
"You said dinner," I said.
"I did." He held out his hand. "Come on, good girl."
The restaurant was 20 minutes away. Fancy. White tablecloths. Candlelight.
The hostess knew him. "Mr. Cole. Your usual table?"
"Please."
Usual table. Of course he had one.
We sat. He ordered wine. I didn’t touch mine.
"You’re nervous," he said.
"No I’m not."
"Your leg’s bouncing." His foot brushed mine under the table. "Relax."
His hand came to rest on my thigh. Over the dress.
"Damien—"
"People are watching," he said, smiling at the waiter. "We should look like a couple."
"We’re not—"
"Aren’t we?" His thumb drew circles on my leg. Slow. "That’s not what you said last night."
The waiter came. Damien ordered for both of us. Steak. Wine.
When the waiter left, Damien’s hand slid higher.
"Stop," I whispered.
"Why? Scared someone will see?" He leaned in. "Good."
His fingers found the slit in my dress. Bare skin.
"Damien please," I breathed.
"Shh." He squeezed. "Eat your dinner."
I couldn’t. My hands were shaking.
He was touching me. Under the table. In public. And smiling like nothing was happening.
"You did this," I whispered.
"I know." He sipped his wine. "You taste better when you’re worked up."
I kicked him under the table.
He just laughed. Low. "Feisty tonight."
Dinner took forever. Every course, his hand got bolder.
By dessert I was a mess. Face flushed. Knees pressed together.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
"Yes."
"You sure? You look like you need to come."
I stood up so fast my chair screeched.
---
The car ride was worse.
He drove with one hand. The other on me.
"Damien, pull over," I begged.
"Not yet." He turned onto a back road. Dark. "You said my name last night. Loud. I want to hear it again."
He pulled into an empty parking lot. Behind a closed store.
Cut the engine.
Turned to me.
"Get over here."
I didn’t think. I climbed over the console. Straddled him in the driver’s seat.
He groaned. "God. That dress."
His hands went up under it. No underwear.
"Did you do this on purpose?"
"Yes," I admitted.
"Good girl."
He kissed me like he’d been waiting all night. Desperate. Angry.
His hands were everywhere. Dress up around my waist. His mouth on my neck.
"Damien, someone could—"
"Let them." He pulled me down onto him. "I want them to know you’re mine."
It was fast. Rough. The car rocked.
I bit his shoulder to stay quiet.
He flipped us. Me against the steering wheel. Him behind me.
"Say it," he growled in my ear.
"I’m yours."
"Louder."
"I’m yours!"
He covered my mouth with his hand.
"That’s it," he breathed. "Good girl."
When we finished we were both shaking. Sweat. Messy.
He fixed my dress. Kissed my temple.
"See? Wasn’t so bad."
We drove home in silence. My legs still trembling.
---
At my door he didn’t come in.
"Tomorrow," he said.
"Tomorrow what?"
"Tomorrow you meet my friends. As mine."
"Damien—"
"No arguments." He brushed my hair back. "You chose me. Now act like it."
He left.
I went inside.
Ethan’s light was on.
He was sitting on my porch. Waiting.
"Lena?" he said when he saw me.
I couldn’t look at him.
My lipstick was smudged. My hair was a mess. I smelled like Damien.
Ethan saw it all.
His face fell.
"Oh," he said. Quiet. "Oh, Lena."
He stood up. Walked away without another word.
I closed the door and slid to the floor.
My phone buzzed.
Damien: _He saw you. Good._
_Why are you doing this?_
_Because I’m done hiding you._
I didn’t sleep.
At 3am another text.
Damien: _Open the door._
I did.
He was there. No shirt. Just jeans.
"I couldn’t stay away," he said.
"You’re an asshole."
"I know." He pulled me to him. "Come here."
He kissed me in my doorway. Hard.
And I kissed him back.
Because I was done pretending I didn’t want this.
- Writer
