Kinsley: Blame

Hi guys, thank you so much for your kind words and patience waiting for this post!  This week ended up being a total shitshow and it was ridiculous.  I've got a Lauren post in the works that I hope to have up tomorrow or Monday.  
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I kept myself busy for the rest of Sunday.  I went to the gym, I ran some errands, I cleaned my house.  By the end of the day I felt better and was able to relax and then sleep like a normal person.

My workday was so slow on Monday.  I wasn't busy and it felt like it dragged on and on.  Finally it was time to leave.  I actually left about 20 minutes early because I wanted to have enough time to go home and spend some extra time getting ready for dinner with Damien.

When I got home, I took a quick shower, being careful not to get my hair wet while I shaved.  I dried off, slathered lotion all over my body, and quickly pulled one of my favorite casual dresses on.  I touched up my makeup, darkening my eye liner slightly and adding an extra coat of mascara, reapplying my blush, and finding the perfect lip gloss.  Then I ran my flat iron over a couple pieces of hair that had done something weird over the course of the day.  I admired my reflection in the mirror, pleased.  I really did love my new haircut.

I was a little nervous, just because I hadn't talked to Damien since I left his house yesterday morning and I wasn't sure if dinner would be awkward or how he'd be.  It turned out that I didn't need to worry.  He rang my doorbell just as I was finishing applying lip gloss, and I ran down the stairs to let him in.  "Hi," I said, slightly self-consciously.

"Hi, Kinsley," he replied warmly.  Then he looked me up and down and grinned.  "Are you actually ready?"

I laughed.  "I am, for once!" I told him.  "But only because I left work early."  Damien started laughing, and I was so relieved that everything felt normal.

"Come here," he said, once he had collected himself.  I finished sliding my feet into my shoes and stepped over to him, looping my arms around his neck.  He kissed me softly and then pulled me into a tight hug.  "Should we go?" he asked my hair.

"Yes, I'm starving," I replied, pulling away finally.  He kept one arm around my back and briefly rested his hand against my face, stroking my jaw and my neck before smiling and letting both hands drop so I could step away and grab my coat.  He held it while I slid my arms into it, then we left the house.

We ordered a bottle of wine and a couple appetizers to share.  Things felt so close to normal I could almost ignore the nagging voice in the back of my head that wanted to keep telling me over and over that I fucked up.  We talked about our days and I told Damien a story about an idiot at the gym the day before.

We didn't linger long after we finished before we headed back to my house.  In the car, Damien's fingers trailed under my skirt and up my leg before stopping and resting his hand on my upper thigh, his fingers lightly tapping against my leg.  I sighed softly and moved my legs apart a little more.  His hand immediately slid higher, stopping just short of where I was hoping it'd go.  "Trying to torture me?" I asked him.

"I would never do something like that," he replied without taking his eyes off the road.  But he smirked as he moved his fingers, stroking my inner thigh lightly.  I sunk lower in my seat, trying to press my hips towards his hand, but it remained planting firmly where it was on my thigh.

After a 15 minute drive that felt like forever, we finally made it back to my house.  Damien barely let me get my high-heeled ankle boots off before he pulled me close and kissed me.  I pushed one hand into his hair and gripped his shirt with the other, relieved at how normal it felt.  He pulled his lips away from mine and kissed along my jaw to my neck.  I leaned back against the door and groaned when his hand slipped up my skirt, sliding along my tights up my inner thigh.  He teased me with his fingers through my tights and underwear until I wiggled away to get them off of me and out of his way.

Once I had the clothing barrier gone, I grabbed his arms and kissed him again.  Damien again moved his lips to my neck, this time the other side.  "Do you want me to fuck you, or do you want it nice and slow?" he asked.  The combination of the words (which were always unexpected from him) and his breath on my ear made me shiver in anticipation.

He was watching me, and I looked up at him and softly said, "Both."

At that, Damien grinned.  "You've got it," he said.

He pulled my dress over my head and spun me around, planting his left hand between my shoulder blades and pushing me up against the door face first.  I squirmed impatiently as he undid his pants with one hand.  Finally I heard his pants hit the floor, then he slid his fingers between my legs and got me worked into a frenzy.  When he finally slid his right arm under my right leg and pulled it up, bracing his hand against the door, and slammed into me, I felt like I had been on the edge of an orgasm for hours.  The hand between my shoulder blades lifted now that he could press my body against the door with his own.  Since I couldn't see anything he was doing with that hand, it took me by surprise when he grabbed a handful of my hair and used it to turn my head so he could kiss me.  I kissed him desperately, moaning against his lips.  He kept a tight grip on my hair, then pulled my leg up a little higher.  His hand was high enough now to free my breast from my bra, and he pulled and twisted my nipple as he thrust into me hard enough to shake the door.  I cried out as I came, and if it wasn't for his body against mine and his arm hooked under my leg, I would have been on the floor.

He stayed pressed tightly against me, grinding his hips against mine instead of thrusting until I resumed normal functioning.  He pulled out of me, still hard, kicked off his shoes and pants, and pried my sweaty, trembling body away from the door.  Then he lifted me and carried me upstairs into my room, where he made good on the second half of his offer.  I came twice more before he finally finished, and I slumped into a breathless heap against him when he rolled off of me.  "Jesus," I muttered.

"Yeah," he agreed.

We laid there silently for a really long time.  Damien was absently stroking my shoulder with his thumb when I suddenly blurted out, "How did you do it?"

"Do what?" he asked, yawning.

I wriggled out of his arms and pushed myself up on one elbow so I could look at him.  He opened his eyes and watched me, waiting for me to clarify.  "Just forget about everything and move on?"

He considered this thoughtfully.  "Well, I don't know.  I guess I just did.  Maybe because it was just a kiss that you didn't want and ended?  It's not like you had sex with him."

I frowned.  "You don't think it was my fault," I said.

"You're right," he agreed easily.  "And you do think it was your fault.  Because you should have 'known better' than to let a guy that wants to have sex with you walk you to your car."

"Basically."

He shrugged.  "If you hadn't, it probably wouldn't have happened.  You're right about that.  But he's the one in the wrong, because you shouldn't just go around kissing people that are in relationships and have made it perfectly clear they're not interested."

Had I made it perfectly clear?  I'd made it perfectly clear I was in a relationship...did that count?

"Stop blaming yourself," Damien said.  "I honestly think you're more upset by this than I am.  I'm not really sure what that's about, but as far as I'm concerned, we're okay."

I slid back down until I was laying next to him again, rolling onto my other side.  Damien immediately rolled onto his side and wrapped his arm around me, pulling my back against his chest.  I sagged against him, trying to relax.  I wondered how long I'd feel guilty and awful about this.  Damien was right, I absolutely did blame myself and think it was my fault.  Wasn't it?  It felt weird that he was so unfazed by it.  It didn't feel real.  I felt like I was waiting for him to decide he really was pissed and leave in a blaze of glory.

As soon as that thought popped into my head, I immediately felt bad.  I trusted Damien.  He'd never lied to me, he'd never done anything to make me think that he wouldn't be honest about the way he felt.  If he said he moved on, he moved on.  I relaxed a little, realizing this.  I still had the nagging self-blame in the back of my mind, but I was able to push it away long enough to drift off to sleep, still nestled against Damien.