A Kiss Before Dying

"It's not right."

"What?"

"For anyone to love somebody as much as I love you."

A Kiss Before Dying (1956)
...

"Damon!" I shriek in absolute horror as the unforgivable freezing cold water smashes into my body. I wasn't expecting this at all, dear Lord. How could he do something like this? This isn't what I had in mind for how things to go at all.

Meanwhile, my total jerk of a boyfriend in question is in complete hysterics. Why I don't think I've ever heard him laugh this hard before - ever. I growl, trying to wipe my face and then attempt to pull him in with me, which does nothing to be honest. It's like trying to move a damn wall. I don't have the strength to do it. This is awful. Damn.

"Why?" I cry out in horror. I demand an explanation.

One second he was ravishing me like wild, the next he threw me in the shower - alone - and miserable. I am so miserable. My jaw is clenched from the cold, so I let him go and my hand jumps to the valve to change the water temperature. I growl again and pull the shower curtain close, geez, I won't be surprised if there's more than two inches of water on my bathroom floor by now. That's going to be absolute hell to pick up.

"Don't even think about coming in... Salvatore!" I exclaim annoyed. I never really use his last name, but this time, it just works.

"I love it when you say my name like that," Damon practically purrs and I can perfectly picture his smug expression on his face. Damn him to hell!

I have to admit that I am fairly surprised that he hasn't joined me already in here. He just loves to disobey sometimes just to keep his badass rep I'm sure.

Damon is almost too quiet on the other side of the curtain, but I won't give him the satisfaction of talking to him. I am in a downright bad mood; Lord, I am fuming.

I make haste and wash myself, then go to turn the shower off, but I unfortunately realize that I don't have a towel nearby. I hesitantly peek my head out of the shower curtain. Damon is propped on my bathroom's counter in a casual manner with the mirror supporting his back and his head is leaning back. His body is slouched and his legs are spread, perfectly showing off his handsome body in his tight black jeans. He's far too sinful for his own good. Guys should only look that good in the flicks.

He gives me a look that I can't quite decipher, so I decide to ignore him for the time being and reach for a towel from the banister.

As a dry myself off, I notice Damon's expression darkens and I let out a breath that I didn't know that I was holding. I also notice the large bulge that's become apparent in his jeans as the seconds pass by. I bite my lip in anticipation. He tempts me by just being around. It's incredible what he's capable of invoking from deep within me.

In the time it takes for me to shake out my hair, Damon moves to stand directly behind me. I watch him carefully in the reflection of the mirror. I try and turn toward him to say something, but his head is locked in the crook of my shoulder. He's holding me captive in this position.

Damon kisses me lightly along my neck and I moan in pleasure unable to resist his thrall. He puts his hands on my hips and pulls me in even closer so I can feel how much he wants me.

"You're perfect, baby," he purrs in my ear.

I blush a little, but he doesn't allow my attention to falter. "Have I told you lately how I could easily stare at you forever?"

His left hand is skimming the small of my back. And his mouth runs down along my neck, before sucking down on it. I clench my eyes tight trying to keep my emotions in balance. I should still be mad at him for his stunt.

"Damon," I say softly, feeling shy about his level intensity. There's something so serious, so dark in the way he looks at me, as if I am his entire world. It's something out of one of my favorite novels.

"No, look, look Elena," Damon says and pulls the towel that's wrapped firmly around my body. I now stand naked in front of him.

I study myself; in my head I'm going over my imperfections even if he swears there are none. I can't help it; I'm my own worst critic as most girls my age battle with. It's natural to want the curves in certain places.

My attention however shifts noticing how Damon's eyes are hungrily roaming my body. My eyes follow his, seeing the pure, unfiltered admiration in him. I suddenly feel powerful, like I have cast a spell over him. I love seeing the soft expression on his face that no one gets to see but me.

Damon takes my hands in his, lacing his fingers through mine and then places them directly on my breasts. Thankfully, he is no longer causing me to blush. I simply watch his actions in the mirror.

"Such delicious lil handfuls," he says hoarsely, gripping our hands firmer together. "You know how much I love touching you. Now let me show ya why."

There's a fierce look of concentration on his face as he memorizes my every curve.

"I love to hold them, because they fit like they were created just for me," he says and let's go of my hands to tweak my pebbled buds. "And you're so responsive to my touch, more than I could have ever wanted. You're everything I have ever wanted in a woman."

Damon turns my head to capture my lips and I easily throw myself into his kiss. My previous anger has escaped me.

I can't get enough of the feel of his lips closing around my tongue as he begins to probe. My eyes are now closed and I can feel him growing against me. I try to say something, but it's useless, I know that I am under siege, which also deeply arouses me. I can't ever imagine him being timid; I love him just the way he is. He's always been rather strong and to the point, a man of action.

I feel wetness starting to pool in between my thighs; I pull them closer together to alleviate the tension. My arousal is becoming more obvious.

I am almost shocked when his right hand captures mine and leads it to my quim. I stir a little, instantly reacting to any contact where I need it the most. There's an unexpected excitement that stirs deep within me as I watch both of our hands pleasuring my center. My fingers are following his until I begin to control my own movements. I can't help myself. I am seeking the relief that I need more than anything else.

Damon's hands leave my center.

This is something new for us, for me. A new type of desperation. I have never pleasured myself like this before.

Nothing this graphic in the least. And now I am basically putting on a show for him without any shame. Damon stands there with a fixated gaze on my every movement. He kisses me once more before returning his eyes to our reflection.

I hadn't even realized how much of the work I had taken in my own hands, quite literally so, and I almost stop in my insecurity, but the way that he's looking at me makes me want to keep going. It changes my mind because I realize how hot it's making him; a small mischievous smile spreads on my face as I lean back so he's supporting more of my weight.

He looks utterly amazed by me and I love it.

Damon places his hands on my shoulders and slowly moves them down the contours of my body until they rest on either side of my ribs. He hotly whispers, "Keep going...," in my ear before he takes a precious nibble.

As I keep eye contact with him in the mirror, I slide my fingers between my moist nether lips, craving that elusive little death.

As I speed up my actions, it causes a shudder to ripple through my body and I moan from somewhere deep within my throat. Damon smiles fiendishly at me before moving his hands down my body, urging me to spread my legs further apart. My breath quickens as I allow him to operate my body to his secret desires.

With his palms on my thighs, his fingers are lingering over the fine juncture between my legs and torso. I know he feels my body shivering in anticipation of his touch. I want him to touch me again so badly; I am nearly about to beg for more. It's not the same without him.

My eyes widen realizing how wet I am as our fingers come together as he slips inside me. At the extra intrusion of both our index fingers deep inside me, my knees buckle in reaction; the sheer pleasure is overtaking me. I gasp in joy.

I begin to imitate the way that he touches me with my left hand, pressing firmly, moving in small circles but rarely touching my button directly. I close my eyes again and lay my head on his shoulder. I am reaching new highs of ecstasy now.

"Open your eyes Elena, I want you to see how damn beautiful you are when you're like this," Damon mumbles into my hair.

I open my eyes and become more aroused, if that's even possible, by the lewd picture we make in the mirror. Our fingers are working in unison, going in and out of me at a rapid pace. My left hand now working my button in controlled, tighter circles. My breasts are heaving in excitement over what will come. I begin to feel a little narcissistic watching the pleasure spread on my face as my lips part in little moans, but I also have so much satisfaction viewing the heated look on my boyfriend's face. His eyes stare at where our fingers are joined, completely compelled by the image. He alternates between looking down at our fingers to meeting my gaze; it is driving me wild in lust.

If Damon wasn't supporting me the way he was then I would have fallen long ago, unable to handle the feelings that are spreading like a harsh wildfire through me. I'm barely capable of recognizing the familiar sound of him unzipping his jeans, using his unoccupied left hand.

I suddenly gasp feeling his full length rubbing against my back. I can actually feel him twitch behind me, which causes me to impishly smile at him.

Damon's right hand stops working inside me abruptly, I believe we have both figured out that this won't be going any further unless he has a rubber handy.

"Do you?" I ask, heavy tension is dripping in my voice.

"I..." Damon's voice breaks and I feel his right index finger slide out of me. There's a fleeting feeling of emptiness that runs through me.

I blush as he quickly licks my private nectar off his finger as if it were an expensive dessert.

I watch him in the mirror and smiled hesitantly, not knowing quite what to do next. I am desperate for my release and wish he had continued to take care of me before stopping.

Damon breaks the brief awkward silence by squeezing my hips, as if he were promising me something, before searching his jeans and wallet. Any other man would surely look ridiculous with his pants half off, but somehow Damon looks handsome as he always does. He comes up short and I swear that I could kill him for starting something he couldn't finish. I'm about to attack him with my hair brush!

I don't get a chance to complain, because even with some difficulty he manages to zip up his pants.

"Wait here," he orders gruffly and unlocks the door to Jeremy's side. I might die in horror, even if my brother isn't home to witness what my boyfriend is about to do. This just seems terribly wrong.

I really, really, really don't ever want to know how Damon knew exactly where to get a rubber because the task only takes him mere seconds. When he returns to the bathroom, he quickly locks Jeremy's side and there's a man-on-a-mission look on his face. I bet his patience has worn down by this point, considering he probably wanted to make love to me last night.

It all happens so fast.

Damon undresses and rolls the rubber on quickly and suddenly I am brought into his arms. I squeak in surprise and he quickly wrap my legs around his waist for support. Instead of pushing into me right away, he turns us around, so now his back is leaning on the counter instead of mine. Over his shoulder, I can see my face in the mirror. I nearly die in horror when I realize how much I would have loved to watch him push in and out of me... Good girls shouldn't picture such naughty things. Then again, I am not so good after all, am I?

I moan loudly, feeling the head of him enter me, making me lose my train of thought. He feels wonderful, thick and hard, spreading me apart.

My back arches because I want so much more, I need all of him. It's been a long time. He teases me, causing me to grumble in frustration. He's holding my hips which keeps me from thrusting and taking him myself. Damn him!

Damon moves in deeper, yet not entering my warmth fully either, so I slap his back asking for more. I have no idea where his sudden burst of restraint is coming from. When he finally enters me, I hold my breath and savor the deeply intimate sensation. He slides back, easing out of me, before easing back in again. There are no words to describe how he makes me feel. I call out his name; that's all I am capable of doing at the moment.

I bite at his lip, thrusting my hips down to take him deeper. We move together in a perfect dance; I lift while he pushes back. My fingers search and pull at his raven hair to hold him closer. I want to consume him. I study the way we are in the mirror; it's beautiful, so natural.

My eyes roll back as Damon moves faster, increasing the tempo slowly with long strokes. My heels are digging into his back. I can barely breath from the intensity of our current situation. I can hardly believe the feelings rushing through me, but I can witness them. I see my lips open and my eyes tearing, how my hair is sticking to my face. He drives into me harder, thrusting with more force, so I naturally open my legs wider to welcome the initial roughness.

I squeeze my muscles tight, hold him, and then release him, only to grasp him again. He bellows in pleasure and mumbles something about enjoying the show in a smug tone.

I scream his name loudly as I feel my death overcome me. My mouth bites down on my lip, drawing a little blood, as I grip him buried deep inside of me.

Damon slides in and out, coaxing more waves of pleasure from my body. In the mirror, I watch myself fall to pieces with each quiver I take.

At last, he whispers words of love in my ear as he meets his own passionate release. My nails dig into his back to stay balanced.

I pull him close like a lifeline. I am afraid to fall. He has softened but it is still held within my body. He kisses me softly on the lips a few times and holds me closer to him. My teeth find his shoulder and I taste him, I find the image of this in the mirror so alluringly sinful. The sweat from our bodies causes us to stick together and we are still catching our breaths before making a move to separate.

Eventually we have to come apart. He removes the rubber and neatly throws it away, wrapped in a tissue paper, no doubt for the sake of Jeremy's curious eyes. He gets dressed while I wrap myself up in a robe, then without warning he carries me to my bed.

I lie back and open my arms up to him. He snuggles into me; his forehead and hair are damp from perspiration. His exhaustion makes him heavier to hold, yet I relish the warm weight as I pet him. He moans a little in bliss, almost a whisper.

"Why did you have to do that earlier?" I break the comfortable silence, all at once annoyed at him again.

"Mmm," Damon sighs unintelligibly.

"Why did you have to throw me in the shower like that?"

"Oh, that," he answers snidely. "Well, A) you stayed out all night, B) got completely blitzed, without me I might add. Ya really didn't think that I'd let you go that easily, did you?"

My cheeks turn a deep crimson in understanding. "Guess not. Still, that was cruel."

"Don't be so dramatic," Damon scoffs.

"Not like Stefan hasn't ever done that to me," he mumbles as an afterthought.

I raise a brow in curiosity, but remain silent nonetheless. I am too spent to probe. Instead I snuggle further into him; his strong arms pull me in tight until we both forget that this morning ever happened as we join each other in sleep.