Chapter Eleven

Elena brought the delicate peonies to her face and inhaled their soft, fresh scent. Damon had presented them to her moments before with a florish and a bow, like a real actor. It was easy to forget amongst the trappings of fame, that every actor is a ham, a romantic fool waiting patiently to show his wares.

She twirled around letting the sundress spin around her legs like a pinwheel. The borrowed dress miraculosly fit. The bust was a little tight at the top, pushing her breasts up, but Damon declared it fit perfectly. That got him a swat on the arm. The flip-flops she borrowed from Damon's mother tarnished the romantic look somewhat, but were more appropriate for a Saturday's farmer's market in the country.

Damon held tight to her arm during the walk through the vendors, trying to look incognito with a baseball cap and dark sunglasses. Whereas Elena might be recognized or not, Damon rarely went anywhere without whispers and stares, and occasional all-out hysterias. His parents had been coming to the market for years, though, and the locals were familiar enough with the star's presence not to comment on it. If anything, the attention was on the vaguely familiar young woman glued to his side. Friend or more? It was the prevailing question on the lips of the market-goers.

The couple trailed behind his parents, stopping each time Guiseppe wanted to squeeze the produce and Bettina wanted to hug old friends.

"What do you love more than anything?" Damon asked her as they strolled along.

"What do you mean? A person? A pet?"

"Whatever."

She took a moment to answer, concentrating hard on the fresh bundles of spinach before her. "I guess I would have to say my home in Mystic Falls. Weird, I know, to love a thing like a house, but it's where I grew up and where my aunt and uncle live now. It's beautiful and old and filled with happy memories."

He didn't respond and she looked up into his suddenly serious expression.

"Oh," he replied, realizing he was pressing on a pain point.

"And there's my cat," she interjected quickly, not wanting to ruin the mood, "Mr. Miagi, fattest and meanest cat in the land. I've had him for 15 years."

Damon, recovered quickly, and rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "You're a cat person."

"Heck yeah!" she said in mock defense. "But I love dogs too."

"I wish I could have a dog," he replied wistfully. "My life is too chaotic."

"I thought big time movie stars could have anything they wanted," she said as she inspected a pear in a large pile.

He looked at her longingly, a look she missed because she was turned away. "If only that were true," he replied.

"What about you?" she asked.

"What about me what?" he said grabbing her hand and bringing the pear to his mouth and taking a bite.

"What do you love more than anything?" She felt tingling on her fingertips where his lips brushed. Their eyes met.

"Pears," he said, moving his hand down to clasp hers.

He leaned in to kiss her, almost unconsciously, and then remembered his promise to himself. Until he broke up with Katherine there would be no hanky panky with Elena Gilbert.

But that didn't stop him from fucking her with his eyes.

She returned the look.

Their moment was interuppted by a tugging on Damon's arm. He looked down to find a boy around six-years-old looking up at him with a strange mixture of suspicion and awe.

"You're Brock, right? From 'The Eternity of Power'?" He was referring to Damon's superhero movie he made several years earlier that was still popular among the elementary school set.

"Sure am," he replied, kneeling in front the boy. "And who are you?"

"I'm Will sir, and I'm your biggest fan!" He threw his arms around Damon's neck.

Damon looked up at Elena as he laughed and hugged the boy back. She smilied broadly and reached out a hand to ruffle the boy's hair.

Damon thought of what a change it was from Katherine, who barely tolerated fans, and especially resented his. By this point Katherine would have been rolling her eyes and pulling at his sleeve to leave the little boy alone. Elena, by contrast, was kneeling down next to Damon and asking the little boy what his favorite part of the movie was.

"When Brock beat up Stone Face!" he exclaimed, thrilled to be the center of attention. "But I didn't like it when he kissed that girl, yeech. That was yucky. But she wasnt as pretty as you." He smiled bashfully at Elena.

Damon punched him on the arm. "Are you saying you want to kiss my girl?" he asked in mock seriousness. "I might have to fight you for her." They began play-fighting until the boy's mother called to him from the next booth.

"Wait," Elena cried out to him. "You forgot your kiss." He beamed and walked back to her, presenting his little face up to hers. She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. "A kiss for the victor."

He laughed and ran off. Damon asked teasingly, "Where's my kiss?"

"No kiss for the losers," she said, and sashayed away, her hips moving suggestively from side to side.

"No fair!" he called out and went after her.

After a light lunch of market-fresh salad and quiche, Gusippee gave Elena a tour of the winery.

Neslted among the gentle hills of California's Central Valley, the Salvatore's owned all the land that could be seen. With the exception of the hill the house was on and the plot of land that held the winery and barns, the land was full of row after row of vines, just budding with immature grapes. Gusiseppe explained the wine making process and how much more superior the grapes were in his region of Italy where he was from.

Elena was in awe of the sheer breath of the lands and the operation. Damon walked a little ahead as his father explained impatiently again to him about the challenges of making good wine from such inferior grapes. Damon nodded along as if it were the first time he was hearing what Elena knew was a much-rehearsed speech. Papa Salvatore then launched into a speech about how Damon should have followed him into the family business instead of frittering away his life in La La Land.

Elena gave him a smile when he turned back to her rolling his eyes. But as hard a time as Giuseppe had given Damon today, he seemed crazy about Elena, extoling her beauty and kindness and asking Damon incessantly why he had never had her over before and that she was welcome back anytime, with or without Damon.

Elena studied the man in front of her asking his father questions about the weather and the crop. He was so different, so gentle and unassuming. It contrasted so greatly with the arrogant movie star she was used to. Which was real, she wondered?

It hardly mattered. Damon now had her firmly wrapped around his little finger. She was like butter on a hot roll around him. She couldn't resist him, the only thing keeping her from tackling him to the ground and wrapping her legs around him like an octopus, was the fact that he still had a girlfriend. She hadn't heard anything about her, other than Damon's parents snorting and rolling their eyes when they mentioned her. So far she hadn't met a single person who liked Katherine, except for Damon presumably. She needed to remember to ask Stefan about it when she got back to town.

Until then, Damon was off-limits in anything but the fantasy department. The fantasy department which was working overtime every time he smirked at her, or ogled her dress. All she could picture was him peeling it off her slowly….

Her thoughts were interrupted by a long-distance shout from the farmhouse from Damon's mother.

"Daaaaammmmoonnnnn! Telephone!"

Damon frowned and turned to her. "Be right back."

She watched him jog to the house then felt Giuseppe take her arm. "You want to see where we make the wine?"

He found her again as she and Giuseppe were barefoot and stomping around in an empty wine tank pretending to smash grapes. Damon was out of breath like he had run a mile, or maybe run as fast as he could back from the house.

Elena was instantly alarmed. "Is everything ok?" She dropped the hem of her dress and stepped out of the tank.

"Can I talk to you a minute?" Damon asked impatiently.

They both turned to look at Giuseppe who got the picture immediately. "I'll be in the house watching the ball game." The moment he closed the door, Damon advanced on Elena, backing her up until she was up against a railing.

"What's wrong? Are you ok?" He was acting really weird.

Damon just glowered down at her, his dark blue eyes flashing. Before she knew it he was on her, his lips pressed hard to hers, his body pressed tightly against hers, his hands on her hips trying to pull her closer.

Before she could respond, he released her and gave her a huge grin. "I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that," he whispered and let his forehead rest against hers. From this angle he could see right down her dress, and her breasts, full and lush were calling to him.

"That was Katherine on the phone," he said.

"Oh." The mention of Katherine's name made her stand up straighter, pulling herself away from him.

He grasped her arms and held her to him, his eyes earnest and fixed on hers. "She told me she was sleeping with this Swedish actor. Told me I was boring and she was staying in Sweden for a while."

Elena's eyes grew wide with surprise, then narrowed slightly with distrust. "That doesn't sound like Katherine. She doesn't seem like the type to give up on L.A."

"I don't think she has to. He's rich as Croesus. Has houses all over the world." Damon was nearly giddy delivering the news.

Elena crossed her arms in front of her. "And why exactly would this make you so happy? Your girlfriend just broke up with you."

"I know! Right?" He was smiling from ear-to-ear.

She just scowled at him as he threw back his head and laughed. "It's because now I can do this." He kissed her softly on the cheek, then nibbled a trail to her ear and down her neck. She tilted her head to give him better access.

"I don't know Damon…." she said breathlessly. All the decision-making blood was draining from her head, where she needed it, to other places.

He drew back up her neck, this time breathing in and letting out little hot breaths all over her skin. His hands abandoned her arms, and traced the outline of her hourglass figure.

"Elena," he whispered, his eyes meeting hers, his face inches away.

Her hands scratched at the railing behind her as she sought control of her body. It would be so easy to just give in, have their way with each other. But what about tomorrow? She couldn't bear it if they made love then he was cruel to her again.

"Damon. Stop," she said distractedly, even as she turned her head to give him better access to the nape of her neck.

"Why? I think this is something we both want." His hand brushed the hardness of her nipple and she moaned.

"We can't. Don't you need time to…" she was panting now, as he gently cupped her breast with his large hand. "…need time to…I dunno…mourn?"

His hand dropped, but he didn't move away from her. He straightened up to face her. "I see. You're afraid this is just a one-time thing. That I'm just seducing you."

"No. Um. Well. Maybe. Yes."

"Elena Gilbert, you have been driving me crazy for months. You're all I think about, all I dream about. I can't get through the day without fantasying about you five times. Do you think that means it's a one-night stand? What I want from you will take a lot more time than that." His hands resumed their roaming, coasting up and down her sides, and she could tell he was itching to continue his explorations of the more intimate planes of her body.

She wanted to be strong. Really she did. She wasn't the type to fall into bed with anyone. But he wasn't just anyone. He made her feel alive and sexy and irresistible. He made her want to do bad things.

"Just let me make you feel good." He cupped both breasts and leaned down to kiss the cleavage he created. "Is that ok?" He looked back up at her, his dark locks covering part of his face. He looked like a little boy asking for permission to have another cookie.

She just nodded, unable to articulate how she was feeling. And how she was feeling is that she was hopelessly lost to him. It was better he didn't know that.

He kissed her, his lips feather light against hers as if he was waiting for her to make the next move, prove to him everything was ok. His nose nudged hers side to side in an Eskimo kiss. The gesture was innocent and disarming.

She brought her hands up to his chest and rounded his shoulders with her palms. Her fingers played with the hair at the naps of his neck as her eyes sought his. With her eyes she pleaded with him to be true. Be honest. His answered her by closing momentarily then re-opening to meet her gaze again. What she saw there looked an awful lot like love shining from the depths.

She kissed him then, pulling him tightly to her so no space separated their bodies. His erection, the one she was so familiar with rubbed her lower belly and made her ache. After straddling, bouncing, and rubbing against it for days at a time, she wondered with a flush how it would feel inside of her. He was big. It might hurt. But then again, it might hurt for a moment then it would be replaced by something magical and far more pleasant.

He read her mind, as he always did, and began to rock his pelvis into hers. They both groaned in unison.

The problem with the tight bodice on the dress was that he couldn't get to her breasts. After lifting and kissing along the cleavage and fingering her nipples till she was panting, he was getting frustrated.

"I swear, if we weren't here, I'd rip this dress off you." He looked at her half-serious and all-smoldering.

She nearly swooned, even though she never saw herself as the bodice-ripped heroine of some cheesy romance novel, her soap opera pedigree not withstanding. Instead of ripping he lifted up the pleated skirt and caressed the outside of her thighs.

"Naughty girl, no undies." His cock strained harder against his jeans, threatening to break through the zipper and the hard denim.

"Evening gown," she gasped into his mouth in way of explanation as his hands trailed over to her luscious ass, the one that had been taunting him earlier in the day. He cupped her cheeks and pressed him against his cock. "Want you so bad," he whispered into her hair before he captured her mouth in another scorching kiss.

"I know," she responded, breathing in his masculinity at his shoulder. "But we can't...what if your parents..."

"They wouldn't. But you're right," he said as he continued caressing her all over, one hand kneaded a breast while the other kept her firmly in place over his hardness, pressing between her shaking legs. "This isn't the place. You need a proper seeing to. Preferably in my bed."

She sighed, deflated, even though she knew it was the right decision. Her hands came down to his front to fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt.

"Let's go."

He grabbed her hand and they ran out of the barn towards the car.

AN1: I am evil, I know.

AN2: 3/26/12 - Sorry it took so long to post. I warned you I get side-tracked towards the ends of my stories, but I do always manage to finish them. Fret not. I will post as much as I can. And I'll start dating these notes, so you know exactly how long it takes my lazy ass to get into gear. (I blame the manic-depression).

AN3: Hm, such a convenient breakup with Katherine. I wonder….

AN4: Please take a minute and review. I love to hear from you.