9. Chapter 9 Phoenix

Chapter 9 Phoenix

I sat in my car, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel as I stared out at the empty parking lot. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the ragged sound of my own breathing and the distant wail of sirens somewhere in the sprawling Miami night.

Damon. His name was a litany in my head, a desperate prayer whispered to the uncaring gods of neon and asphalt. I needed to find him, needed to explain the chaos I'd unleashed with two simple words.

"I quit."

The memory of my father's face, mottled with rage and disbelief, flashed behind my eyes. The sickening crack of his palm against my cheek, the coppery taste of blood on my tongue.

A shudder rippled through me, old scars pulling tight beneath my skin. Scars I'd never let anyone see, never let anyone touch. Until Damon.

He'd unraveled me, unwound the careful cocoon of secrets and lies I'd spun around myself like armor. With every searing kiss, every possessive caress, he'd peeled back the layers and exposed the raw, aching truth beneath.

I was a survivor. A walking wound, stitched together with stubbornness and spite. For so long, I'd told myself that was enough. That the jagged pieces of my heart, held together with scar tissue and sheer force of will, were all I needed.

But then he'd crashed into my life, a beautiful disaster with eyes like mercury and a voice that could make angels weep. And suddenly, surviving wasn't enough anymore.

I wanted to live. To burn. To feel something besides the hollow ache of emptiness, the cold press of my father's expectations.

Damon had awoken a hunger in me, fierce and fathomless. A craving for more, for everything. For the searing slide of skin on skin, the rasp of his stubble against my thighs. For the blissful oblivion of losing myself in him, of forgetting, just for a moment, the ugly truth of what I was.

What I would always be, no matter how far or how fast I ran. Cyrus Rowe's broken daughter. His greatest disappointment.

A broken sob wrenched from my throat, the sound of it harsh and alien in the confines of the car. I sucked in a shuddering breath, fighting back the hot press of tears. I couldn't fall apart, not now. Not when everything I'd ever wanted, ever dared to dream of, was slipping through my fingers like so much blood-stained sand.

I had to find Damon. Had to make him understand that this wasn't his fault, that the toxic wasteland of my life wasn't his cross to bear.

He'd looked at me like I was something precious, something worth fighting for. Like I was more than just a pretty puppet, dancing on my father's strings.

But he didn't know the truth. Didn't know the rotten, festering reality behind the glossy fa?ade of the Rowe family name.

If he did...

A shudder rippled through me, a bone-deep chill that even the muggy Miami heat couldn't touch. If Damon knew even a fraction of the skeletons rattling in my closet, the atrocities that had been committed in the name of wealth and power and fucking prestige...

He'd run. He'd look at me with the same revulsion, the same sickened pity I saw in my own eyes every time I caught my reflection in a mirror. And I wouldn't blame him.

Because the truth was, I was tainted. Poisoned by the very blood that ran in my veins, the same blood that had spilled across polished marble floors and soaked into the earth of manicured gardens.

My mother's blood. My penance, my original sin.

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back the tidal wave of memories. The acrid stench of cordite, the shocking crimson spray across bone-white petals. The sound of my own screams, high and thin and utterly, utterly useless.

I'd been too young, too weak to save her. Too scared of the monster wearing my father's face, the same monster who'd shattered my bones and broken my spirit with cruel, calculating hands.

But I wasn't that frightened little girl anymore. I wasn't the cowering victim, the pretty ornament to be trotted out and displayed when it suited him.

I was Phoenix fucking Rowe. And I was done letting my father's sins define me, letting his poison seep into my marrow and rot me from the inside out.

I'd walked through the fire and come out the other side, tempered by the flames. I'd clawed my way out of the ashes of my past, out of the twisted wreckage of his making.

And I wouldn't let him drag me back. Wouldn't let him shatter the fragile, precious thing unfurling in my chest, the trembling hope that maybe, just maybe, I could have something real. Something untainted by his filth.

Damon. God, Damon. He was my chance, my redemption. The one pure and perfect thing in the charred ruin of my life.

And I'd be damned if I let my father's shadow eclipse the light he'd brought into my world, the searing, impossible brightness of his smile, his touch, his fucking soul.

I needed to find him. Needed to feel the solid heat of him beneath my hands, the throb of his pulse against my lips.

Needed to lose myself in the wild, untamed beauty of him until everything else faded away, until the only truth, the only reality, was the press of his skin against mine and the sound of my name on his tongue.

With shaking fingers, I fumbled for my phone, my heart a wild thing behind the cage of my ribs. I had to try, had to reach out across the impossible distance and pray that he could still hear me, still see me through the static and the noise and the blood-soaked wreckage of my past.

But before I could bring up his number, before I could tap out the desperate plea burning in my throat, the screen lit up with an incoming message.

Damon.

A sob of pure, incredulous relief tore from my lips as I read the words, the impossible, perfect words.

"Need to see you. Please."

It was a lifeline, a hand outstretched in the darkness. A promise and a prayer and a fucking miracle, all wrapped up in the simple, devastating plea.

My fingers flew across the screen, my heart pounding out a wild, reckless beat .

"Where?"

The response was immediate, a rapid-fire volley of coordinates and directions. A place, a time, a chance.

I didn't hesitate. Didn't stop to question or second-guess or talk myself out of the insanity, the sheer, unbridled recklessness of it all.

I simply threw my car into gear and peeled out of the parking lot, tires screaming against asphalt and my pulse a deafening roar in my ears.

I drove like the hounds of hell were on my heels, like the devil himself was riding shotgun. I wove through the neon-drenched streets of Miami, the thrum of the engine matching the wild, desperate tempo of my heart.

Faster, faster, chasing the impossible, chasing the dream. Chasing the only thing that had ever felt real, ever felt right in the twisted, broken landscape of my life.

Damon. My rock star, my rebel, my beautiful, blazing supernova.

I'd walk through fire for him. Crawl over broken glass and wade through rivers of blood, just to feel the heat of his gaze, the rasp of his callused fingers against my skin.

He was my salvation and my damnation, the beginning and the end of everything I'd ever known, ever wanted.

And god help me, I wasn't strong enough to walk away. Wasn't brave enough to sever the ties that bound us, to rip out the roots he'd planted in the wasteland of my heart.

So I drove. I chased the promised land, the shining oasis in the desert of my existence.

And when I finally pulled up to the deserted overlook, when I saw the familiar silhouette of his car against the backdrop of the glittering city, I felt something crack open inside my chest.

A dam bursting, a levee breaking. A flood of emotion, too vast and turbulent to name, spilling out and sweeping me away in its undertow.

I barely had the presence of mind to throw the car into park before I was stumbling out, my legs shaking and my breath coming in great, gulping gasps.

And there he was. Leaning against the hood of his Camaro, a dark god wreathed in smoke and shadow.

His eyes met mine across the impossible distance, and the world fell away. The past, the future, the tangled web of secrets and lies and blood-soaked memories.

None of it mattered. None of it could touch me, not here, not now.

Not with Damon looking at me like I was the answer to every unspoken question, the balm to every aching, festering wound.

"Phoenix." My name on his lips was a damnation.

I opened my mouth, a thousand words, a thousand pleas and apologies and desperate, aching confessions crowding my throat.

But before I could give voice to any of them, he was moving. Crossing the distance between us in three long strides and crushing me against the solid, searing heat of his chest.

His mouth crashed down on mine, and I was lost. Drowning in the taste of him, the feel of him, the sheer, overwhelming reality of his presence.

I kissed him back with a ferocity that bordered on madness, my fingers tangling in the wild silk of his hair, my nails raking down the leather-clad expanse of his back.

He growled into my mouth, a sound of pure, primal need that shook me to my core. His hands were everywhere, sliding beneath the hem of my shirt, palming the fevered skin of my waist, my ribs, the aching swell of my breasts .

I arched into his touch, a moan tearing from my throat as his thumbs brushed over the peaks of my nipples, the sensitive flesh pulled taut and tingling with desperate, aching want.

"Damon," I gasped, the word a broken plea against the slant of his lips. "I need... God, I need..."

"I know, baby." His voice was a rasp of gravel and smoke, his eyes wild and glittering in the darkness. "I've got you. I've always got you."

And then he was lifting me, hitching my legs around his waist as he carried me to the car. The cool metal of the hood kissed my fevered skin as he laid me back, his body a delicious weight pinning me in place.

"But not here," I managed, my fingers scrabbling for purchase on the slick leather of his jacket. "Please, Damon. Take me home."

Something fierce and possessive flashed in his eyes, a primal sort of satisfaction that made my blood sing.

"Your place or mine?" he asked roughly, his lips trailing a line of fire down the column of my throat.

"M-mine." The word was a breathless stutter, my hips rocking helplessly against the rigid length of him. "It's closer. And I need you inside me. Now."

He made a sound like a dying man, his fingers tightening convulsively on my thighs. "Christ, Phoenix. You can't just say shit like that."

But even as he spoke, he was moving. Pulling me up and into the welcome cradle of his body, his hands never leaving my skin as he maneuvered us into the car.

The drive was a blur, a haze of roaming hands and panting breaths and the slick, scorching press of his tongue against mine.

At some point, Damon's hand found its way beneath my skirt, his fingers dancing over the damp lace of my panties. I keened, my hips canting up into his touch, silently begging for more .

"Fuck, baby," he growled, his eyes never leaving the road even as he stroked me through the soaked fabric. "You're dripping. So fucking wet for me..."

I couldn't take it anymore. The teasing, the torment, the aching emptiness that only he could fill. With a desperate whimper, I reached for his fly, my fingers clumsy and urgent as I worked the zipper down.

Damon hissed through his teeth as I freed him from the confines of his jeans, my hand wrapping around the hot, heavy length of him. I stroked him from root to tip, marveling at the velvet-over-steel feel of him, the way he pulsed and twitched against my palm.

I squirmed in my seat, my breath coming in shallow pants as the ache between my legs grew more insistent, more demanding. God, I needed him. Needed his touch, his taste, the feeling of his skin against mine like I needed my next heartbeat.

My mind drifted to the night before, to the moment when I'd first discovered the delicious secret adorning his cock. The memory of those pierced ridges dragging along my inner walls, the exquisite torture of each metal ball pushing me higher, sent a fresh flood of heat to my core.

I wanted to explore him, to worship every inch of his magnificent body with my hands, my mouth, my tongue. I wanted to trace the gleaming path of his Jacob's ladder from root to tip, to feel the tantalizing bumps and ridges against my lips, my throat...

"Phoenix." Damon's voice was a dark rasp, his fingers tightening on my thigh. "You're thinking awfully hard over there. Care to share with the class?"

I looked over at him, my lips curving in a wicked smile. "Just remembering how good you felt inside me last night. How fucking perfect your cock is, with all its sinful surprises. "

He groaned, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he fought for control. "Keep talking like that, sweetheart, and we won't make it to your place. I'll pull over right now and fuck you in the backseat until you scream."

My belly clenched, molten need sluicing through my veins at the dark promise in his words. But as tempting as the idea was, I had other plans. Naughtier plans.

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through me like a physical caress. "Liked that, do you? Naughty girl."

"You have no idea." My voice was a throaty purr, my grip tightening around his thickness as I pumped him slowly, savoring every ridge, every delicious bump and curve. "The things I want you to do to me with this gorgeous cock..."

"Keep talking like that, and I'll wreck the fucking car," he warned, his hips rocking up into my fist, seeking more of that sweet, devastating friction. "I'm barely holding on as it is."

"Then don't." Emboldened by need, by the hot, dark urgency pounding through my veins, I dipped my head, my tongue snaking out to flick over the diamond-studded tip of him. "Let me taste you, because when I'm done, I want to climb that ladder to heaven notch by notch."

"Jesus fuck!" The expletive tore from him like a prayer, his fingers tangling in my hair as I opened my mouth and took him deep.

The first salty-sweet burst of him on my tongue made me moan, my lips stretching obscenely around his girth as I worked him deeper, deeper, until he brushed the back of my throat. The filthy drag of his piercings against my tongue, my cheeks, the roof of my mouth, was almost too much to bear, a delicious torture that had me clenching and fluttering around emptiness.

I needed him. Needed him inside me, filling me, claiming me, branding me as his in the most primal way possible. But for now, this was enough. The heavy weight of him on my tongue, the way he throbbed and pulsed as I hollowed my cheeks and suckled him like my favorite treat.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," I breathed, tracing a reverent finger along the pulsing length of him. "I can't believe you're mine."

"All yours, firebird," he rasped, his abs clenching as I wrapped my hand around him, giving him a slow, teasing pump. "Every fucking inch."

I smiled up at him, my hair a fiery curtain around my face as I leaned in and flicked my tongue over the weeping slit of his cock. He bucked, a strangled curse flying from his lips at the fleeting contact.

I lapped at him again, savoring the salty-bitter taste of his arousal, before I trailed my lips lower. I followed the glittering path of his piercings, swirling my tongue around each gleaming bead, tugging gently at the bars with my teeth.

Damon's head fell back against the seat, his chest heaving as he fought to keep still. I could feel the tension in his muscles, the barely leashed control as I explored and teased and tormented.

"Phoenix, please," he gritted out, his fingers tightening in my hair. "I need... Fuck, I need..."

"Damon," I managed, my voice a throaty rasp that I barely recognized. "Pull over."

He glanced at me, his eyes molten in the shadowed interior of the car. "What?"

"Pull over," I repeated, my hand sliding over the hard, muscled expanse of his thigh. "I need your cum in my mouth. But I also don't want you to kill us. You're driving like a maniac."

A low, guttural groan tore from his throat, his fingers tightening convulsively on the wheel. But he complied, guiding the car to the shoulder of the deserted road and throwing it into park .

Permission granted, I turned my attention back to his cock. I wanted to feel him let go, to taste the essence of him as he spilled himself down my throat. I wanted to swallow every last drop, to have him imprinted on my very cells, a part of me forever.

And then I opened my mouth and took him deep.

Damon shouted, his hips bucking up as I engulfed him in tight, wet heat. I relaxed my throat, taking him as far as I could, until the cool metal of his piercings tickled the back of my tongue.

"Motherfucking Christ." The words were a broken moan, his grip on my hair bordering on painful as I began to move.

I set a relentless pace, bobbing my head up and down, my lips stretched obscenely around his girth. Each drag of his cock over my tongue brought a new sensation, a delicious drag of metal on soft flesh that had my eyes rolling back in bliss.

I loved this, loved the heavy weight of him in my mouth, the musky scent of his arousal filling my nostrils. I loved the power I held over him in this moment, the way I could reduce this strong, fearsome man to a shaking, pleading mess with just the heat of my mouth and the curl of my tongue.

Damon was close already, I could feel it in the twitch of his shaft against my lips, hear it in the broken litany of curses and praise spilling from his lips like a prayer.

So I doubled my efforts, taking him impossibly deeper, swallowing around him until the head of his cock kissed the back of my throat. At the same time, I reached down and cupped his balls, rolling the heavy sac in my palm, feeling the way they drew up tight to his body.

"Phoenix, fuck, I'm gonna..." He tugged desperately at my hair, trying to pull me off. But I wouldn't be deterred.

I wanted this, wanted to taste him, to feel him lose control. I wanted him to spill himself down my throat, to flood my mouth with the salty-sweet evidence of his pleasure.

So I simply looked up at him, my eyes locking with his as I released his balls and grabbed his wrist, pinning his hand to his thigh. A silent signal, a wordless plea.

Let go. Let me have this. Let me take you over the edge.

Damon's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking wildly as he fought the inevitable. But when I hollowed my cheeks and hummed around him, the vibrations shooting straight to his cock, he lost the battle.

"Fuck, fuck, Phoenix!"

His cock pulsed once, twice, and then he was coming. Hard. Violent spurts of hot seed hitting the back of my throat as he roared his release, his body strung taut as a bowstring beneath me.

I swallowed greedily, savoring every bitter splash, every twitch and shudder as he rode out the aftershocks against my tongue. Only when he collapsed back against the seat, boneless and spent, did I release him, placing a final, reverent kiss to the softening crown.

"Jesus Christ, woman." Damon's voice was a ragged croak, his chest heaving as he stared down at me with glassy, unfocused eyes. "You're going to be the death of me."

I grinned up at him, catlike and smug, as I delicately wiped the corners of my mouth. "What a way to go, though, right?"

He huffed a laugh, the sound breathless and awed. "I can't argue with that."

With a final, teasing lick to his rapidly hardening cock, I tucked him carefully back into his boxer briefs and crawled up his body to straddle his lap. His arms came around me instantly, banding tight around my waist as he pulled me down for a deep, drugging kiss .

He plundered my mouth, his tongue sweeping over mine, chasing the lingering taste of himself. My hips rolled in his lap, grinding my aching core against the growing bulge behind his fly, seeking friction, pressure, anything to ease the throbbing ache between my thighs.

"Damon," I mewled, my lips breaking from his on a gasp. "Please. I need..."

"I know, baby." He rocked up into me, the hard ridge of him slotting perfectly into the notch of my body. "I'm going to take care of you. Going to make you come so hard you see stars."

I moaned, my head falling forward to rest against his shoulder as he slid one hand beneath my skirt, his fingers dancing teasingly over the damp lace of my panties.

"But not yet," he rumbled, his lips brushing the shell of my ear and making me shiver. "And not here. When I make you scream, firebird, I want to be buried so deep inside this tight little cunt that you forget your own name. I want to feel you coming apart on my cock, squeezing me so fucking hard that I don't know where I end and you begin."

My nails sank into his shoulders, my body trembling with the force of my arousal. "Then what are you waiting for, rock star?" I panted, nipping sharply at his jaw. "Take me home and fuck me like you mean it."

Damon's growl vibrated through me, his fingers tightening on my hips hard enough to bruise. "Hold on tight, baby. It's going to be a short fucking ride."

And with that, he bodily lifted me off his lap and back into the passenger seat, barely giving me time to right myself before he was peeling back onto the road in a screech of rubber on asphalt.

True to his word, the rest of the drive passed in a blur of roaming hands and filthy promises, the air between us thick with pheromones and the headiest kind of anticipation .

By the time Damon screeched to a stop in front of my building, I was practically panting with need, my skin feeling too tight for my body and my heart threatening to beat right out of my chest.

We tumbled out of the car in a tangle of limbs and desperate, biting kisses, somehow managing to make it to the elevator without tearing each other's clothes off. But once the doors slid shut and we had a semblance of privacy, all bets were off.

Damon slammed me up against the mirrored wall, his body caging me in as his mouth descended on my throat. I keened, my fingers clawing at his back as he bit and sucked at my pulsepoint, no doubt leaving a vivid mark for all the world to see.

Let them look. Let them fucking stare. I was done hiding this, done pretending that I wasn't completely and utterly lost to this man, body and soul.

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open on my floor, but I barely registered the sound. I was too lost in sensation, too drugged on the feeling of Damon's hands and mouth and the insistent press of his cock against my belly.

We stumbled down the hall, a graceless tangle of groping hands and filthy moans, until we finally reached my door. It took me three tries to get the key in the lock, my fingers clumsy and shaking with adrenaline and raw, primal need.

But then we were inside, the door slamming shut behind us and cocooning us in blessed privacy. Damon wasted no time in divesting us both of our clothes, his fingers nimble and urgent on the fastenings of my blouse, the zipper of my skirt.

I returned the favor, practically ripping the buttons of his shirt in my haste to get it off, shoving his jeans and boxer briefs down his muscular thighs with equal fervor. And then we were naked, skin to skin, not a single barrier left between us .

"God, look at you," Damon rasped, his gaze raking over me with an intensity that bordered on the feral. "You're so fucking perfect, Phoenix. So goddamn beautiful."

I didn't give him a chance to say anything else. I just launched myself at him, my arms and legs wrapping around him like a vine as I sealed my mouth to his in a desperate, devouring kiss.

He caught me easily, his hands cupping my ass as he stumbled blindly toward the bedroom. We fell to the mattress in a graceless sprawl, Damon's weight pressing me into the soft give of the comforter as he settled between my splayed thighs.

"Please," I begged, my hips canting up to grind against the thick length of him. "Damon, baby, please. I need you inside me. I need to feel you."

He shuddered above me, his cock kicking against my thigh as my words washed over him. But he didn't give me what I wanted. Not yet.

"Patience, firebird," he purred, even as his hand slid between our sweat-slicked bodies to cup my aching sex. "I told you I was going to take care of you, didn't I? I always keep my promises."

And with that, he began to move down my body, his lips and teeth and tongue painting a scorching trail over my skin as he went. He paid homage to my breasts, suckling and nipping at the stiff peaks until I was arching off the bed, my hands fisting in his hair to keep him right where I wanted him.

But he didn't linger, continuing his relentless downward path until he was settled between my thighs, his broad shoulders nudging them even further apart. He looked up at me through a fringe of dark lashes, his lips curving in a slow, sinful smile that made my heart stutter and my cunt clench.

"Hold on tight, baby," he murmured, his breath ghosting over my slick, swollen flesh. "I'm about to rock your fucking world."

And then he put his mouth on me, and everything else ceased to exist.

There was only pleasure, only the incredible, mind-melting sensation of Damon's lips and tongue as he devoured me like a man possessed. He licked and sucked and nibbled, alternating between broad, flat strokes of his tongue and delicate flicks against my throbbing clit until I was writhing beneath him, my heels drumming against his back and my hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets.

"Damon, fuck, don't stop," I babbled, my head thrashing on the pillow as he slid two fingers deep into my clenching channel, crooking them just so. "Just like that, baby. Fuck, your mouth, it's so- I'm going to-"

But he withdrew before I could crest, ignoring my cry of protest as he kissed his way back up my body. He bracketed my head with his forearms, his eyes burning into mine as he notched the thick head of his cock against my entrance.

"Eyes on me, Phoenix," he commanded, his voice low and rough with barely leashed control. "I want to watch you fall apart. I want to see what I do to you."

"You wreck me," I whispered, my nails biting into his biceps as he began to push inside. The first stretch of him, the shocking fullness of his invasion, made me gasp and arch against him. "Fuck, Damon. You absolutely wreck me."

He groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against mine as he bottomed out, his pierced cock fully sheathed in my fluttering heat. "God, you feel incredible. So hot and tight and fucking perfect around me."

I could only whimper in response, too lost in sensation to form words. He was big, thick and long and splitting me open in the most delicious way, every pierced ridge and bump dragging along my sensitive walls until I was seeing stars .

Damon set a deep, rolling rhythm, his hips pulsing against mine in a sinuous grind that hit every sweet spot inside me. Each thrust was a revelation, a burst of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, making me keen and writhe and dig my nails into the flexing muscles of his back.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a dark rasp against my lips. "Take it. Take every fucking inch of me. Let me feel you."

"Oh god." The words were a broken moan, my nails sinking into the flexing muscle of his shoulders as he began to move. "Damon, yes. Just like that. Fuck me just like that."

He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against mine in a relentless, driving rhythm that stole the breath from my lungs and the thoughts from my head. There was only sensation, only feeling, only the blinding, searing pleasure of his body moving in mine, over mine, possessing me, claiming me, branding me as his.

"Never letting you go," he rasped, his lips brushing my ear as he ground himself deeper, harder. "Never fucking letting you go, Phoenix. You're mine, you hear me? Mine."

"Yes." The word was a sob, a prayer, torn from my throat as the coil of tension low in my belly wound tighter, tighter, tighter. "Yes, Damon. I'm yours. Only yours. Always."

And then I was shattering, flying apart in his arms as the world went white behind my eyelids. I cried out his name like a benediction, like a curse, like the only word that mattered, the only truth in a sea of lies and deception.

He followed me over the edge with a guttural groan, his body shuddering and jerking against mine as he spilled himself inside me. The heat of him, the pulsing, liquid warmth, filled me up, soothed the aching, empty places I'd carried for so long.

In the aftermath, as we lay tangled together in the ruin of the sheets, our hearts thundering against each other's skin, I felt something settle deep in my chest.

A certainty, a rightness, an unshakeable knowing.

This was where I belonged. Here, in the shelter of his arms, in the fierce, unflinching light of his love.

The shadows of my past, the monsters that lurked in the dark corners of my mind... they couldn't touch me. Not here, not now.

Not with Damon by my side, his strength, his fire, his unbreakable will wrapped around me like an impenetrable shield.

Together, we could face anything. Weather any storm, overcome any obstacle.

Together, we could burn the whole fucking world down and build something beautiful from the ashes.

And as I drifted off to sleep, my head pillowed on his chest and his heartbeat a steady drum against my cheek, I knew with a bone-deep certainty that I'd finally found my home.

My shelter.