Bullet ✔️

Chapter 20

There was no choice. Although, if I said no I knew he would respect it and drive me back home, and that would be it. This was a test for both of us, not just him, to see if I could handle it. And I wanted to handle it. An excited thrill went through my body as my heels clacked on the concrete floor, and I stepped up to booth number six—far enough away from either wall to minimize the chances of a ricochet. That was my thought anyway.

Damian stepped up behind me and laid out a clip, an empty magazine and a familiar pistol in front of me.

"You know what to do, sweetheart." His voice was dark, but I could hear that he was smiling. He enjoyed this. He enjoyed watching me squirm.

Well, he'd enjoy watching me be a badass more, and I would enjoy being one. So I picked the bullets from the clip and loaded them into the magazine, just like he'd taught me and showed me before. That was the easy part. Next I had to put the magazine into the gun, and cock it back. A deep breath first, and then I did it. It felt freeing to do something I was so frightened of months ago, without really hesitating this time.

But that wasn't what we came for.

Damian stepped up behind me, putting a foot between mine and pushed them apart. "You need balance," he said, and I stepped wider. Then his arms went around mine, and slowly, steadily, I raised my arms with my hands firmly around the weapon.

His hot breath was against my ear, his stubble against my hair. It was hard not to turn to look at him, but I managed to keep my head straight on. As his thumb went over a switch at the back of the gun—the safety, I assumed—he stepped closer, and his chest pressed against my back.

My mind drifted for a second to what Elina asked when I told her everything. This was what she imagined he'd done to teach me, and this was what made my heart thunder in my chest.

Damian's hands closed around mine, but his fingers were far away from the trigger. That was all mine.

"Now, aim," he whispered, his voice so seductive I wanted to let the gun go and kiss him instead...but I looked down the length of the gun, aimed it towards the black silhouette that hung at the end of the long room. Gently, slowly, my index finger pressed down on the trigger, until it clicked.

There was a loud bang, smoke coming from the top of the barrel, and then I heard Damian's low chuckle.

The recoil wasn't as bad as I thought it would, but that might've been because he held onto my hands the whole time. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. The slight ringing in them from the shot made everything worse, but my stomach was somehow filled with fluttering butterflies.

Damian leaned closer, kissing the top of my ear before whispering, "Empty it."

I checked my balance, and Damian's hands went looser around mine as I released a breath and held my lungs empty, steady, before pulling on the trigger again.

For every shot, Damian took a step back. For every loosened breath, my finger moved, and the gun smoked. The sound wasn't as bad when I was the one making it—because I knew when it was coming. The recoil got worse when he didn't hold me anymore, but it was manageable. I just needed to take a few extra seconds to aim again, before taking the next shot.

Ten times I pulled the trigger. Ten times I heard the bang and saw the smoke.

I flicked the safety on, pulled out the empty magazine and laid the two parts down on the board in front of me, next to the empty clip. When I turned, Damian was leaning against the locker with his eyes firmly on me.

My body was trembling as I took a few steps away from the booth. From adrenaline, or nervousness, I didn't know, but I did know that shooting a gun wasn't the worst thing I'd done.

Damian pushed off the locker with his smirk plastered on, and he grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the booth, placing me where I stood when I shot, with his arms over my shoulders to keep me there. Though I wouldn't have gone anywhere else. He pressed a button on one of the sides, and the cardboard target started moving towards us.

"Did you enjoy shooting a gun, sweetheart?" His mouth was just above my ear, and his voice was silky smooth, making my body shake even more.

I shrugged, finding his arms were heavy around my shoulders. "It wasn't as bad as I thought," I said, keeping my eyes on the approaching target.

"You looked hot with it." He leaned us both closer once the target had reached us, and he chuckled. "Figures you'd be a decent shot." He pointed to the holes I'd made. I counted nine on the target, one on the white part, and the other eight spread around on the black silhouette. The last one must've missed completely. He kissed the side of my head and said, "Impressive for a first-timer."

I had no idea what to say to it, other than, "Thank you." I leaned into his embrace, feeling his strength against my back as he took down the target, and rolled it up. When he moved to press the button to send the thing back, I asked, "Can't I see you shoot?"

He stopped the machine, and put his hand around my waist. "You've seen me shoot," he said, looking down at me quizzically. Then his eyebrows shot up and he grinned. "But I could show you again."

He left me by the booth as he went to get a new clip, and loaded the gun I'd used earlier so fast and with so much ease, my mouth dropped open. He smiled crookedly at me, before hanging up a new target and sending the thing back again. While it was on its was to the other end, he put his right hand around my waist, pulled me in tight to his side and picked up the gun with his left hand.

"Are you left handed?" I asked, looking up into his eyes.

"No." He grinned, and his eyes flicked to the target once as he lifted his hand. He leaned his head down and planted a kiss on my lips, that deepened when I started to hear the gunshots echoing through the concrete room.

After two I couldn't hear them anymore. My hands went up to his stubbly cheeks, and his hand tightened around the small of my back, leaving me breathless against his sculpted frame. My body was trembling again, but for very different reasons, and everything around the two of us simply disappeared.

The need that came shooting through Damian and into me was pulling me closer, making me grip his shirt tight. Our tongues danced together in dominating circles, until his teeth clamped around my lower lip, and his other hand found my ponytail and tugged me away.

His eyes were full of dark desire that knotted my stomach several times, in the best way. He let go of my lip and kept staring into my eyes with his intense gaze as he let go of my hair and his hand disappeared. A second later the world around me came back, and the target came closer in my peripheral vision.

He'd fired ten shots with his left hand, while kissing me.

The worst—or best, depending on how you looked at it—part was that all the holes in the target was actually inside the black silhouette. Ten holes, scattered a little more than when he focused on it, but nonetheless ten shots that would've stopped anyone coming towards us to harm us—while he was fully focused on making out with me. It was both oddly arousing and downright terrifying.

"Wow," was all I could get out, and it was both for the earth-shattering kiss and his weaponry skills.

He just grinned at me, before emptying the gun and taking it back into the locker. He then took the target down and rolled it up, handing me both our targets, and taking my hand to leave.

A part of me was slightly disappointed he didn't push me up against the wall and fuck me, while another was relieved I didn't have to fire any more bullets into make-believe men. As he switched off the lights, however, I said, "That wasn't anything like what I imagined for a date, to be honest."

He turned to me with a wicked smile and said, his voice laced with promise, "Oh, sweetheart, we've only just begun."