Page 118 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

She pouts, the delicate pink of the inside of her lower lip revealing itself. I grab her hand and press a few besotted kisses to it, smiling around her knuckles. I love her so fucking much that I can’t stand it.

“All I’ll say is that I’m going to spoil the shit out of you,” I say. “Is that alright?”

“Damien, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” I interrupt her. “Alright? I want to do it. Let me do it.”

Her lips twist in a cute little smile. “Is that a command? From Dom to sub?”

“Does it need to be?” I ask, my stomach tightening. I already want to fuck her again; this isn’t the best time to be talking about dynamic stuff.

“It would help to know I’m being a good girl while I’m letting you spoil me,” she says, catching the inside of her lower lip with her teeth, her long lashes fluttering as she blinks her wide, innocent eyes.

She’s anything but innocent. I know that full well.

Doesn’t mean I don’t feel the urge to corrupt her and wreck that feigned innocence.

I have to shift in my seat as we pull up to a stoplight. “Be a good girl and let Sir spoil you,” I say, looking ahead because I’m certain that if I watch her expression darken, or even flicker with amusement, we won’t make it to the studio, and I’ll ruin her pretty makeup before we even go out.

It’s another fifteen tortuous minutes before we finally make it to our place. It’s a little townhome, tall and narrow. It’s got three floors. The studio and kitchen sit on the ground floor, and then we have four rooms we’ve split up. I’m technically sharing the main bedroom with Fletcher, but I’ve hardly been sleeping in it.

I throw the car in park and get out, coming around to help Lillith out of the passenger side. It’s a good thing, too. While the step up into the car wasn’t too bad, getting down in the heels winds up being a bit hazardous and she almost falls before I catch her around her waist.

“Oops,” she says, cringing. “Maybe I shouldn’t have worn these shoes.”

“I’ll just have to keep you close, so I can catch you,” I say, doing my best not to glue my eyes to her cleavage as her breasts squeeze together. I let out a slow breath from my lips and steel my resolve. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

I help her up the shallow steps, my hand strong and supportive as she wobbles a little bit on her heels. As we near the door, he eyes widen and her lips part with some sort of realization. “What is it?”

“I just realized that I’m uh—well—I’m dressed kind of slutty,” she says.

I bark a laugh. “Okay?” I ask. “What about it?”

“The... I mean, is everyone here? Am I just going to sit awkwardly on a yoga ball while you’re getting dressed and your bandmates are doing everything not to look at my tits?”

“I fucking hope so,” I say. “I fucking love showing you off.”

“Damien,” she moans. “No!”

“I can fistfight them if they stare at your tits. How’s that?”

“No! That’s worse!”

“You’re giving me very mixed signals here, babe,” I tease as I unlock the door and help her inside.

“Oh my god, finally,” Oren calls from the kitchen. “What happened to—oh holy fucking shit—”

Oren stops in his tracks, and I do my best not to be annoyed by the fact that he’s wearing nothing but the too-big sweats he leaves hanging low on his hips. Low enough to threaten a glimpse of fucking dick root. He’s also wearing his reading glasses, and his undercut is unstyled, falling messily around his face. Like sex hair.

I look over at Lillith just as her pale cheeks fill with color. Man, it is hard having hot friends sometimes.

“You’re out,” Oren says, stupidly. “I thought that—I mean, what’s the occasion? Lillith, you look incredible.”

“I’ll fill you in on the details later, but basically we found a loophole,” I say. “Lillith didn’t want to waste any time, so she asked me to take her out on a date. She wanted to get fancy, so I came back here so I could change and not look like an asshat next to her.”

“You’re still going to look like an asshat next to her,” Oren says, his eyes still glued on her.

“Bro,” I gripe. “Seriously? Stop ogling her.”