Juneau's POV
February turned into March, which marked two celebratory events. First, I clicked my last online VTNE answer and, one 710 score later, earned my vet tech certification. Considering 425 was passing and 800 the max, I sat back in Damian's office chair with my mouth hanging open. Pride swelled up in my chest for a full five minutes.
I... did it!
The three-hour, 170 multiple-choice exam ended up being the easiest exam I'd ever taken. The exam itself wasn't easy and required two hours of studying per day for the last twenty days straight. Piles of flash cards lived all over our condo, at work, and in my purse. But all the definitions, abbreviations, and measurements were applicable to work - pharmacy and pharmacology, dentistry, lab procedures, diagnostic imaging, surgical nursing, animal care and nursing, pain management/analgesia, and emergency medical/critical care.
For the first time I remembered... school was interesting.
That said, I was relieved to be done. Online classes were efficient and flexible but lacked a human interaction factor. My professors posted lectures and answered questions in more of a chatbot exchange.
Unlike CCNY, my cert program involved a congratulatory email and stamped version mailed in lieu of a graduation ceremony. But this achievement was even better, more intimate.
Maybe because, for the first time, it's tied to what I want to do.
Whatever the reason, Damian took off early, burst through the door, and announced, "We're celebrating. Get your coat."
With tricks from my hands to nipples, I tried to convince him for a different, at-home celebration, but he refused.
For once. Is he sick?
The bulge in his pants agreed with me, but he ignored both of us. Not even a reach-around feel on his bike persuaded him. Not until he drove us to a restaurant did I remember that -
"Happy Birthday!!"
Damian's warm breath fanned over the shell of my ear, followed by a soft press of his lips on the side of my head. "Thought you needed a celebration."
Damian was right; all I'd done for the past six weeks was study, show marginal improvements with self-defense, squeak every time I fired a gun, and unsuccessfully calmed Luca's squeamishness about vet procedures.
"Oh gosh." I buried my warm cheek in his shoulder.
His warm chuckle muffled in my hair, followed by his deep voice, "Happy Birthday."
The uplifted corners of his mouth and sparkle in his eyes revealed his sneakiness. I looked away and my mouth dropped open at Adam's smirk.
"I just talked to you!" I accused him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "You didn't say a peep."
"And it was really, fucking hard." He squeezed back. "Until Vaughn got home."
He had to add that part.
"Terrible," I mumbled and hugged the restrained one of the pair. "Hi Vaughn."
"Say the word and I can punish him for that," he teased in my ear. "Happy Birthday, Juneau."
Pulling back, I dragged my eyes over his appearance. "You look... tan!"
The rest of us were as pale as the snow that lingered, but his skin wore a gleaming, tanned glow.
"Southern Italy," he reminded me. "I got back two days ago."
"And you," I choked out as Celia's pale arms strangled my neck and belly bumped my navel. "Good to see you."
Pulling back, my eyes searched for Jason but found the disappointment in hers. She averted them and palmed her belly. "Jason's on another transport run."
I palmed my hand over hers. "Saving lives."
"Saving money," she muttered with a head shake that pulled a few white-blonde strands over her shoulders.
"I meant it," I assured her with a soft pat. "Even if you need some company or want to study for your billing exam, let me know. I have a lot of free time now."
What I hadn't shared with Damian yet was whether or not I switched to the day shift at the hospital or kept on nights. Both had open positions and Dr. Harris assured me which team I worked on was my decision.
The routine part of scheduled procedures was nice, in a predictable line of work. And yet, I couldn't deny the twilight hours were more interesting.
With his NYPD tenure and position, Damian was more than well off. He also bought his condo when the market tanked, for a 'steal' of a price according to every realtor that contacted him, and he'd also paid off his mortgage.
Not bad for a guy who never took a vacation.
The mental image of Damian on some of the Sicilian beach pictures Vaughn offered were tempting.
Don't think he'd do a full banana hammock though. And - oops, yeah probably not okay if I went topless.
Damian's warm palm on my lower back steered me both toward a waiting table and out of my diverting thoughts. When he reached back to pull out my chair, I lifted up and pressed a kiss onto his cheek.
"Thank you," I whispered into his skin.
His left eyes closed in a wink and the corners of his mouth curled up. "Save that for later." Before I pushed for more details, his hand slid lower, threaded up under the edge of my coat, and squeezed my right cheek.
Heat flushed into my cheeks, so I removed my coat and hung it on his grabby hand. "Later."
Damian arranged what I didn't know I needed – a casual night out of drinks, laughs, and relaxed conversations.
And carbs. Oh, the carbs.
The Italian restaurant probably wanted us kicked out, if we hadn't cleared out half their wine stash. With the amount of table bread I consumed, I was surprised Damian didn't roll me out. My cheeks glowed warm and I swayed as I sat down on the back of Damian's bike.
He paused with his helmet suspended overhead. "You alright?"
"More than alright," I assured him and pushed mine on. "Go slow."
"Be careful," he warned me and popped down his helmet. His hand lifted and flipped down his visor, but not before I caught the devious sparkle in his eyes.
I spidermonkey arm-clung to Damian while he old man drove the four blocks back to his condo. My three glasses of wine caught up to me by the time we rode the elevator up, tugging on my bladder until my weight shifted from one foot to the other.
"Ohh..." I whispered at the illuminated floor numbers and squeezed a Kegel against the mounting pressure inside me. "Hurry up."
Damian offered a low chuckle, then held the door open for me as I dashed down the hallway. With enough pressure to burst, I second-guessed if I'd make it in time but sat down on the toilet with a sigh.
Bullet's soft whines turned frantic as usual. "I'll take him out!" Damian called.
"Thanks..." My shoulder pitched sideways and I splayed my legs wide. "I'll stay here."
Drowsiness tugged at my heavy eyelids. I slumped over and to the side. My cheek pressed into the wall and drifted into that hazy existence between asleep and not ready to wake up.
Damian's hand in between my legs cracked my eyes open. Before I responded, his handsome face came into view.
Oh fuck. Did he wipe -
"Before you ask, I didn't think I'd have to do that until you were older," he joked and threaded his hand behind my knees. "Let's get you to bed, Old Lady."
"You're older," I hummed out the words and cupped his shoulders with my hands. "You'll be thirty next."
My feet flopped, useless and numb, as he carried me into the bedroom. I wasn't sure when he removed my coat, but softness poofed around me as he laid me on the bed. Goosebumps broke out in between my thighs as his fingers threaded up and removed my jeans.
"June?" His warm breaths outside my underwear fluttered my eyes open.
"You better take those off too." I grounded my heels, lifting my hips up. My breath hitched when the pads of his fingers curled my underwear down, exposing me to his face.
His lips met my hip line, a soft press of skin on skin. Mine heated up the more he pressed, the lower and further inward he traveled. The soft scrape of his chin rubbed over my mound, followed by warm vibrations.
"Happy Birthday, June."
"Thaa- oh." My back arched when his lips pressed a kiss onto my outer folds. "I like that birthday kiss."
"I know." He chuckled, then stole my breath when his tongue offered its birthday wishes.
An on-switch of heat flushed through me, arching my back off the warmth that pooled there. A loud moan rose up my throat from his slow, soft movements. I curled my fingers around the short, dark hairs on his head as the wet, tingling sensations from his tongue flicked over me.
His movements were slow, deliberate, and patient. Trembles jolted my thighs around his ears and my hips writhed with impatience. Wetness swelled up inside me, a slow pooling sensation. My insides puffed up, so I squeezed them and gripped the sheets in my hands.
Damian's strokes stopped for a moment. "You're quiet."
"I... ohh..." I moaned as he pressed a kiss into the top of my inner folds. Wetness seeped out of me from the slow drags of his tongue over my sensitive nerves. "Yuh-you're teasing me."
The tease of his finger tip at my entrance answered my question. Damian being Damian, offered a devious smirk. "Sure am."
We are... really going back to high school.
Not ours, but still.
Slacking our heads back, Damian and I gaped at the three-story, brick and glass building that loomed over us. Typical New York City street activity hummed behind us. Sidewalk bumps hit our elbows, but sure enough, we stood in front of a high school.
South Bronx High School, to be more specific.
"I'd say this brings back memories but..." Damian's voice trailed off.
"But I don't think our school was this... extra," I filled in for him and pointed at the security line. "Don't remember this part."
"IDs and electronics," a security guard in full gear thrust a gray plastic bin at me.
The setup reminded me of the airport, so I asked, "Shoes too?"
"Shoes too. Any and all metal." His eyes dropped to Damian's waist, who groaned and removed his belt.
"Good thing you have this to hold up your pants." I patted one of his cheeks, which drew a low chuckle from the guard.
"June." Damian's lips curled down at the corners.
"Nuh-uh, he laughed." I pointed at the guard, who hid a smile behind his dark-skinned fist. Dropping my shoes and phone in my bucket, I nudged Damian's back with my elbow. "And hurry up. You're holding up the line, slowass."
In Damian's defense, he carried a lot of shit for work. My eyes skimmed over two phones, his belt, wallet, and badge. Warmth glowed in my chest as he removed his watch and dropped it into his metal pile.
"Glad I left the glock behind," he grumbled, leaning over and removing his shoes. With a thunk, he dropped them in, draped his coat on top, and pushed it to the scanner belt.
The guard stopped him with a raised hand. "Separate bins, Sir. Then step aside for a pat down."
"I'm NYPD, for fuck's sake," his grumbles lifted up the corners of my lips.
"Welcome to civilian life," I teased but the guard's eyes widened.
"You're the visitor? My cousin said you were coming and to give you an extra pat down."
"Lemme guess." Damian's face never budged from severe annoyance, which earned him my elbow lodged in his rib. "Darryl?"
"Two years older." The guard nodded. "Spread-eagle, Sir."
My giggles during Damian's pat down subsided once it was my turn. Once our socks slipped over the hopefully clean floors, Damian and I reassembled ourselves on the other side of the metal detectors.
"Fuck." My eyes widened at the collection of knives, even a machete, in security's possession bin. "Is that -"
"Yep." Damian's eyes narrowed as he looped his belt around his thin waist and clicked it in place. He paused, lifted his eyes over his shoulder to the guard, and rubbed his chin.
What is he plotting?
"So, are you..." I started when a four-legged friend caught my eyes. "Aww! Damian, look -"
"He's working, June." He grunted with a 'don't do it' head shake.
Too late.
My knees had already sunk in front of a gorgeous black and tan Belgian Malinois. "Hi, handsome," I cooed with an extended hand.
"June..." Damian's hand encircled around my wrist. "Working K-Nine."
The dog, whose badge read 'Honor,' licked my knuckles. I brushed them over his thick, coarse coat. "Oh, you're such a -"
"Ahem." Damian coughed.
Stick in the mud. I shouldn't say that, the man gave me three orgasms for my birthday.
Throwing him my best unimpressed look, all dropped eyebrows and mouth turned down, I rubbed under Honor's chin. "Keep us safe, big guy."
"Sorry, vet tech," my grumpy boyfriend offered as I stood up.
"Happens every day," was all the guard offered.
"Thank you for your service." My eyes dropped to Honor's, who thumped his tail. "You too. Happy sniffing."
Damian's damp palm cupped my elbow and his low chuckle hit my ear. "Did you wish a dog happy sniffing?"
"I did." Turning my head, I offered a smile. "That's his job. Ready to go back, sweaty palms?"
"I can feel the acne and social awkwardness resurfacing," he joked.
"Well..." I patted his cheek with my palm. "At least you grew out of the acne."
"Ha," he exhaled the word and slipped his arm over my shoulders. "Come here before some cocky senior hits on you."
I don't think he needs to worry. Eight years ago. Fuck, we are old.
Children squeezed past us in the hallways, young and fresh-faced, well, acne-faced. His taller frame led us through the crowd, full of nostalgic conversations about homework, tests, pain in the ass teachers, and of course, puppy love interests.
"I can't believe we never ran into each other the whole year," I admitted, tucking my shoulder against his armpit. "Emo Damian was too cool for lowly freshman Juneau."
My teasing brought his eyes to mine. "Careful or I'll take you into the janitor's closet. I knew of you, if that helps."
My eyes took in the heads that bobbed around us. They softened and my lips pulled tight. "This is why I studied psych, did I ever tell you that?"
Damian's head turned to me, surprise brightening his eyes. "No. To relive awkward memories?"
"No!" My free hand swatted his bicep. "I wanted to be a guidance counselor. I thought... never mind."
His hand squeezed mine. "Tell me."
My chin dipped. "I thought if I helped one person through a tough time... I could relate, that's all."
"June." Damian's hand tugged at mine until I looked up. His eyes and mouth were down at the corners. "What you lived through is rougher -"
"Not the accident," I interrupted with a smile. "Transferring to a new school, being labeled as an outsider before your first day started. Too many kids go through that."
"For what it's worth." With soft scrapes of his thumb, he arced the skin between my thumb and index finger. "I think you would've been an amazing counselor."
His compliment warmed my chest and my lips pulled wider, until the corners pinched my cheeks. "If you weren't getting a blow job when we get home, you are now."
Pink rose into Damian's cheeks and his only response was a low chuckle.
That's my filthy, handsome man.
We stopped outside an open classroom door, where a short woman waited. Her dark brown hair was pulled in a ponytail and her hands clasped over her thighs.
"Damian?" she called out with a smile.
"Mrs. Martinez," he dropped his arm around me to shake her hand. "Thanks for having me. This is Juneau."
"Thanks for coming," she rushed out, the frustration in her eyes contrasting with her bright smile. "Anything to get through."
"Pleasure to meet you," I offered and shook her warm, soft hand.
When Damian informed me about this visit, I asked if I could tag along. H'e done a few community outreach efforts, visiting schools, preschools, even daycares. Understandably, kids adored him and teachers hit on him. A pocket check usually turned up a random number or two.
I wasn't here for overprotective girlfriend duty. He agreed because he spoke to a room full of the most volatile, enigmatic, complex, and intimidating group of students: teenage girls.
Mrs. Martinez was no help, other than extending a hand to the front of her classroom. "They're all yours."
Chin lifted and shoulders relaxed, Damian showed no signs of nerves. His eyes took in the twenty girls sitting behind desks. A few of them sat up straighter, with hearts flashing in their eyes, while a few others frowned.
I get it.
Damian opted to wear his dress blues over a long-sleeved white dress shirt and black pants. Normally, he wore the shirt and alternated between gray and black pants. The brass on his crisp, navy double-breasted coat and peaked hat shone as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"Good morning," his deep, direct voice snapped all eyes to him. "I'm Damian Rivera, acting Capital in NYPD's Thirty-fourth precinct. I work in the Vice division, dedicated to helping crime victims in the city. I'm here today to talk to you about public safety... and gangs."
While Damian bored the girls with details about Vice, I took a seat in the last row. Out of four desks, one was occupied. The discomfort of my ass wedged behind a small desk was sobering but I threw a smile at the girl next to me.
"Now, I want everyone to close their eyes. Without opening them, how many people know someone in a gang?"
The girl on my right scoffed, then slid her eyes to me. I tipped my head forward and she rolled her eyes. Every other hand was raised, so Damian focused his gaze on her. She scoffed then raised her hand.
My eyebrows lifted at the awareness factor, but Damian's expression never changed. Solid as stone, he crossed his arms over his chest and led the girls through question after question. Each one sunk my heart lower in my chest.
How many of you were offered to join a gang?
How many of you were offered protection from a gang?
How many of you were bullied to the point where you considered the offer?
Not a single hand dropped, although a few shoulders wavered from keeping their hand raised. "Open your eyes."
The girls blinked at how they all raised their hands, then dropped them slowly. A few eyes averted. My neighbor cursed and slunk down in her seat. Her feet bounced and she cupped her chin in one palm. The other hand's nails rat-tat-tat tapped on her desk.
My eyes rounded as Damian continued, "They might tell you that, make promises for protection, familia. They volunteer in your neighborhood, take care of their families and neighbors, seem like trustworthy, hard-working guys. But their activities are illegal. They're dangerous and I work in an area where they're making girls work for them illegally."
As Damian walked through what sex trafficking was, how it was illegal, and what the charges were for convicted johns, my eyes drifted around the room. The girls' reactions ranged from shocked and horrified to bored out of their skulls. A few cracked their gum.
The girl next to me squirmed in her seat the more Damian spoke. Her eyebrows drew together and teeth clenched.
"You don't have to do it."
"You don't have any debts to repay."
"It's wrong. It's illegal and NYPD wants to stop it."
Tears welled up in my eyes, which drew a scoff from nearby. "You believe him?" the girl whispered, frowning.
"I do," I whispered back. "And so does he, promise."
"Doesn't matter what I believe." Her eyes averted.
Leaning over, my hand cupped over hers. "Yes, it does," I whispered with my eyes locked on hers.
Her sharp exhale and withdrawn hand indicated she didn't believe me for a second. She didn't have much choice, since Damian bolted straight for her once he finished.
"Aurelia?" he greeted her with a polite smile. The strain in his eyes kept me in my seat.
"I didn't do nothing," she mumbled and pushed her notebook into her backpack.
His voice dropped low, "If you want to get out of it, give me a call."
Her only answer was she stood up, flashed him a middle finger, and pushed past him. Damian's reflexes were faster, as he tucked a small card into her parted open backpack.
"Very subtle." I shook my head. Since we were way out of my comfort jurisdiction, I lifted my eyebrows. "What next?"
His jaw clenched. "Wait, unfortunately. And we have a meeting with the principal."
"What did I do?" I joked as we shook Mrs. Martinez's hand, then stepped out into the hallway.
"I need a list of all new girls with no backgrounds," he murmured in my ear. "And, after we get home... I'm getting you personal security."
"What?"
Since today was rare in us having time together, those were not the words I hoped for. My nose wrinkled.
That's what he was thinking of when we arrived.
I suppressed an inner groan because the determination hardening his face was enough that I knew a losing argument when I saw one.