Chapter Fifteen: It's A Little Kinky
"Nervous?"
He voiced his question softly, yet it was enough to make Elena's spine stiffen to a subtle degree. Her gaze up traveled up through the Camaro's angled front window, taking in the view of the white mansion sprawling before them, impressive in its breadth and elegance.
The Mikaelsons' new residence.
Apparently, shortly after arriving in Mystic Falls, Elijah and Rebekah had bought property on the edge of town and proceeded to oversee the construction of a stunningly enormous edifice in a frighteningly small amount of time.
And now Damon, Elena, and the others were supposed to go inside to meet with Rebekah.
"No," Elena said, a little too quickly. The determined angle of her chin wavered a little. "Are you?"
He scoffed. "What? Are you kidding?" His lips twitched. "Maybe a little."
Her gaze slid his way. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." He returned her sideways look with blue eyes that weren't nearly as chilly as they usually were. "Remind me again why I agreed to go along with this?"
"Because finding Stefan and Klaus is more important than personal vendettas."
"Hmm." He confined his skepticism to a raised eyebrow. "Remind me again why I agreed to let you come?"
"Because deep down you know that trying to leave me behind will never work. I'll just find a way to follow you." She dimpled cutely, then grew serious. "And if I have to stay trapped in the boarding house for one more second, my mental health is going to be in serious jeopardy."
"Hmm," he said again. His raised brow rose another fraction of an inch. "Vervain?"
"Bonnie made me another good luck charm bracelet. One of the charms has vervain." She showed him the simple piece tied around her wrist with string.
"Hope it's luckier than the last one," he said. She'd put that one on for the first time right before she was kidnapped and taken prisoner by Marcel. Not exactly lucky.
Looking down, she smiled ruefully. "Me, too."
He leaned toward her, so their faces were very close. "Just so we're clear, I'm not going to let anything happen to you." Blue eyes flashed. "Despite your best efforts to the contrary."
She looked directly at him, very solemn. "I know."
He nodded. "Good." He sat back and looked towards the white mansion again, becoming pensive. "Wanna bet they don't even use beds, they just sleep standing up like horses? Or hanging from the rafters like bats?"
She laughed, as he'd hoped she would. "You are so weird."
"I prefer the term mysterious."
"Jesus, enough already." Jeremy's shaggy brown head popped up in the seat gap between Damon and Elena. "Let me out of here, or I'm gonna puke."
"If you throw up in my car, your life is over," Damon warned.
Elena gave a visible start and rushed to undo her seat belt. She fumbled for a minute with the door handle, so flustered she forgot to unlock it first, but then she hopped out and pulled her seat forward so Jeremy could exit.
He finished crawling out as Bonnie and Caroline pulled up in Caroline's small SUV. Caroline was driving, and Bonnie sat next to her in the passenger seat, looking decidedly more pinch-faced than usual.
They all gathered, two vampires, one witch, one doppelganger, and one punk kid, and together headed for the front door. Safety in numbers, Damon supposed. False, but comforting.
At the front entrance, the others stood around awkwardly for a moment, too uneasy to ring the bell. Damon rolled his eyes. "Move." He rang the bell and stepped back.
One of the large double oak doors swung open almost instantly, Rebekah on the other side, looking lovely and perfectly put together. Her gaze passed over the rest and settled on Bonnie. "Where are the grimoires?"
"I want to meet the other witch first." Bonnie crossed her arms. "I also want an assurance that you aren't going to betray me or my friends."
Rebekah frowned. "I already made a deal with Damon and Elena, where we established that we have the same goal. We're going to work together - as partners."
"That's great you have a deal with Damon and Elena," Bonnie said, "but I'm the one you really need to make a deal with. And since I'm well-acquainted with your sadistic, backstabbing family, I'm going to need more than words from you."
A new gleam entered Rebekah's eye, respect for the fiery witch. "What, pray tell, did you have in mind?"
Bonnie drew a pocket knife and used the sharp blade to slice her palm. Crimson blood flowed. Damon's nostrils flared in sync with Rebekah and Caroline's.
Bonnie held out the knife, a challenging look in her eye.
Rebekah gave her a disdainful sneer and bit into her own palm with fangs much keener than any knife. Taking Bonnie's hand in a tight hold, she forced their blood to mingle violently.
Bonnie winced.
Rebekah relented her grip. "Sorry, sometimes I forget how fragile humans are."
Bonnie closed her eyes and spoke in a low voice, magical words of Power that made her and Rebekah's clasped hands begin to glow.
It lasted for maybe five seconds, and once the glow had faded, she released Rebekah and stepped back.
Rebekah stared at her palm.
"What did you do?" the vampire demanded, both curious and angry. She held her hand out, palm up. In the center, there was a small black circle, like a freshly inked tattoo.
Bonnie revealed her palm with its corresponding black circle. The cut she'd made was gone, healed. "I linked us," she explained to Rebekah. "The link will sense your true intentions. If you intend to betray me or any of my friends, the circle on my palm will vanish, and I'll know we can no longer trust you."
"And what if you intend to betray me?"
"The circle on your palm will vanish."
Rebekah frowned, then shrugged. "I suppose that's fair. Any other hoops I have to jump through, or shall we get started?"
Bonnie nodded. "I'm good now."
"Wonderful. Come in."
Bonnie slipped through the door. Caroline was next, right behind her, but Rebekah stepped in her way, blocking her from coming inside. "Are the others necessary?"
"Yes," Bonnie said firmly. "I need them."
Rebekah's gaze shifted to Damon. "Even Damon? What purpose does he serve?"
There was a significant pause, in which Damon actually feared Bonnie wouldn't stick up for him. Finally, he heard, very soft, too soft, "Even Damon."
Rebekah's full lips pursed, thinning in displeasure. But she whirled and strode off, permitting all of them to enter without further hindrance.
The inside of the mansion was utter luxury. Rebekah's high heels clicked on marble tiles as they followed her past opulent tapestries and elegant furniture, gilt mirrors and white columns.
She led them to a library, which was huge, taking up almost an entire wing of the mansion. Damon's impressions were mostly of dark leather and plush rugs and warm mahogany shelves filled with very old books. Oil paintings, clearly done by master artists, hung on the walls. A massive desk with golden candlesticks and alabaster inkwells dominated one end.
The Mikaelson family had amassed quite a collection over the centuries, most of it stolen or obtained through other underhanded means, he assumed. Which he found neither unusual nor shocking.
No, what was shocking was the witch waiting for them in the library.
"Lucy!" Bonnie cried, happiness on her face. She released Jeremy's hand and rushed across the room, but right as she reached Lucy, she stopped awkwardly. Like she wanted to embrace Lucy, but remembered at the last moment they might not be close enough for that.
Lucy was devoid of any such misgivings, enveloping her cousin in a warm hug. "Hey, cuz. Told you you'd see me again."
"What are you doing here?" Bonnie clutched her cousin tightly, as though needing the reassurance Lucy was really real. "You said you wanted to stay out of vampire business. Is Rebekah forcing you to be here?"
"No, I paid her," Rebekah interrupted from behind them, "in cash and dark objects."
Lucy grinned. "Hard to say no to that. Besides, I'm all for anything that'll help get rid of this evil hybrid that's been causing so many problems."
"Excellent! So, it seems everything's going to work out. The grimoires?" Rebekah asked again impatiently.
"They're in the trunk," Bonnie informed Rebekah. Then, turning back to her cousin: "I have so many questions."
Unloading the boxes of grimoires from Caroline's SUV required multiple trips, even with three vampires to do the majority of the heavy lifting, that's how many of the damn things there were.
But they did finally cart every single one of them inside.
Elena was in the middle of the stacks of boxes, pushing and pulling them, organizing them in a way that made sense to her somehow. His gaze rested on her, glittering blue and watchful.
She was beautiful in a sleeveless blue baby doll dress patterned with pink roses. Hair softer than the finest spun silk spilled around her bare shoulders, framing her face. The toes peeking out of her sandals were the same pretty pink as the roses on her dress.
In his periphery, he was vaguely aware of Caroline walking up beside him. The blonde vampire bobbled a stack of boxes she was moving around.
Swiftly reaching out, he caught the errant box on top threatening to come crashing down and set it securely on the ground.
"Yikes, sorry," Caroline said.
"No problem," he replied in a charitable tone.
Caroline narrowed her eyes, assessing him in a not-so-charitable manner. "You're in an awfully good mood today."
Well, of course I am, Blondie, he thought reflexively, Elena and I never miss a chance to sneak off and have passionate, dirty sex in whatever dark, hidden corner is closest and affords even the slightest modicum of privacy, and I have absolutely zero intentions of feeling guilty about any of it.
He'd had already betrayed Stefan a hundred different times over the years. What was one more betrayal in the grand scheme of things, really?
Caroline's eyes narrowed even more. "In fact, you've been in a good mood all week. What gives?"
He felt Elena's eyes snap to him, intently attuned to his reaction and undoubtedly expecting the worst. "You know what?" He injected his tone with a harshness it had previously been lacking. "I apologize, Caroline. Next time, I'll just let it fall."
Surprisingly, Caroline had the good grace to look sheepish. "I just meant … I hope the good mood lasts. That's all." The smile she offered him next was tentative, but genuine.
Before he could decide whether to smile back or not, Caroline stepped around him and began helping Elena shift through the boxes.
What, precisely, they were expecting to find, Damon didn't know – he didn't speak or read Witch, so he wasn't inclined to help too much – or at all - with this part.
He did pick up on one thing - both Bonnie and Lucy earnestly wished for access to some of the ashes from the white oak tree capable of killing an Original. Only problem? The only known ashes were either in Klaus's possession, taken out only when he needed to dagger one of his siblings, or in the creepy dungeon basement of Marcel's mansion in New Orleans, where the last white oak stakes had been burned along with all of Ric's other vampire hunting gear.
While the witches lamented this sad fact, Rebekah interjected, "That won't be a problem."
Bonnie looked over in surprised. "What do you mean?"
"Even in ashen form, the white oak is potent enough to render me and my family unconscious and completely helpless. Do you really think I or my brother would leave something like that lying around in a city full of vampires, many of whom now undoubtedly want revenge on my family? Of course we have the ashes." Her upper lip curled, and she amended a moment later, "At least, Elijah has them."
"And he doesn't know you're helping us," Damon intuited.
"It shouldn't be a problem," she repeated confidently. "I've already texted him. He's on his way."
Elena straightened in alarm. "Wait, that's not going to put Damon in danger, is it?"
"Not if he can manage to keep his mouth shut," Rebekah retorted.
"So, he's dead," Caroline deadpanned.
"I'm sure it'll be fine." Rebekah gave Damon a smile that was probably supposed to be encouraging, but wasn't in the slightest. "My brother's a reasonable man. All he wants to see is progress." She turned her smile on everyone. "Can I get anyone anything while we wait? Coffee? Tea? Biscuit?"
Everyone, even Lucy, stared at her like she'd sprouted a second head.
"Okay, then, suit yourselves. I'm having a biscuit." She stopped halfway out the door and warned over her shoulder, "Don't even think of wandering off."
Rebekah left, and Damon found himself restless. There was nothing that required his immediate attention, nothing he could help with at the moment, so he wandered the library, looking at knickknacks on display and the titles of books … and Elena.
When his gaze strayed to her, as it always did, like it was drawn by an invisible magnet, she was already looking at him. Her gaze quickly darted away, back down to the book spread across her lap.
His lips twitched. He really shouldn't find her shy kitten act as adorable and amusing as he did.
She succeeded in avoiding him for all of five seconds before her gaze slowly slid back. He'd never looked away, and their eyes collided once again, and this time she didn't look away either. The rest of the world faded from existence and fuck if his heart didn't flutter madly like a schoolboy's with his first crush.
Even though they'd never be able to bring it to fruition, he'd swear there was something small and fragile and precious growing between them, something that went beyond their constantly simmering physical attraction. Something innate and hard to explain. But not any less real, for all that. He could feel it.
"Hey, Elena," Caroline called. "Have you thought any more about what you want to do for your birthday? Only two weeks away!"
Tearing her eyes from his, Elena murmured, "Uh, yeah," and rejoined her friends' conversation.
A half hour passed, more or less, with Damon wishing this part didn't take so goddamned long. He just wanted to kill something – preferably Klaus. Was that so much to ask for?
Elena yawned and stood. Walking over to a book shelf, she started perusing the titles. He watched her for some time, trying not to be too obvious, though he couldn't keep his eyes from returning to her over and over again.
She meandered down a side aisle and disappeared from view.
Her disappearance instantly made him uneasy. Since this was a strange place potentially full of danger and because he couldn't stay away from her no matter how hard he tried, he followed after her. He found her down one of the aisles, poised on her toes as she sought to discern some detail on the spine of a book. She pulled it down and started thumbing through the pages.
He approached silently, his blood heating more with each step closer, his skin prickling with awareness, the sweetness of wanting her seeping through every ounce of his being like dark, sun-kissed honey.
He'd been with her only a handful of times over the past couple of days, but already he knew things about her. He knew that she wasn't intimidated by the fierceness of his passion, that she'd match him with her own, equally as fierce. He knew her favorite places to be kissed. He knew her favorite places to be touched. He knew the little sounds she made when something he did felt really good – he lived for those sounds.
For example, he knew if he leaned in and bit her just a little, right below her ear, touched his tongue to the spot where her skin would be velvety soft and ultra-sensitive, she would moan, low and breathless …
"Boo."
She looked over at him, dark eyes startled. "I should put a bell on you."
He smirked. "It's not safe to wander off on your own. You never know what might happen."
A guilty smile. "I know but … I couldn't help myself. Have you looked at these books? They're really neat. Some of them are so old they should be in a museum." Her smile took on a mischievous hue. "Reminds me of another old relic I know."
"Old relic is redundant, smart ass," he countered agreeably.
She laughed.
Emboldened by the fact that everyone else was out there and he and Elena were alone back here, he moved behind her and brushed aside the fine strands of hair that fell covering the delicate shell of her ear, bestowing a kiss on that tempting spot right below.
She released a soft 'mmm' and leaned back, book falling to her waist.
This put her in contact with the hard length of him, already thick and heavy with arousal, which he rubbed not so subtly in the cleft of her bottom. She responded by wiggling in a way that made his eyes nearly cross.
"Is that all you think about?" she whispered in a faux-accusatory tone.
"I think about plenty of other things." He spoke right against her ear. "Just not when I'm around you."
Truth. Desire for her hounded his every waking moment like a maddened fury. Sex with her was like the air in his lungs or the blood in his veins – necessary to function.
Hoping to elicit another laugh, he nibbled playfully down the slim column of her throat. She obliged him, erupting in a fit of giggles.
He chose that moment to glance down, catching a looksee of what page she'd been on when he'd first snuck up on her.
"Let me see that." He snatched the book out from Elena's fingers, despite her panicked squawk of protest, and flipped through the pages made of genuine lambskin. The artwork, well, that was fascinating. Extraordinarily ornate and graphic depictions of various erotic acts. "Kind of neat, indeed. Tsk, tsk, durrr-ty girl. Your naughty streak is … enlightening."
A most adorable shade of pink bloomed on her cheeks. "I did not know that's what it was. It's not in English."
Blue eyes gleamed wickedly. "Hey, no shame here. Feel free to let your freak flag fly. In fact, please do." He opened to a random page. "Ooo, let's try this one."
She risked the briefest of glances at the illustration before snatching the book from him, closing it, and putting it back on the shelf. "I'm not even sure how that would be anatomically possible."
"Oh, I bet we can figure it out. You are pretty flexible. All that cheerleading."
She gave him a look and randomly opened a new book. "This one isn't an ancient sex manual. It's an herbal encyclopedia."
"Not nearly as fun," he pouted.
"Try Lavender and Chamomile tea for a good night's sleep," she read out loud. "I should probably write that down."
He frowned and touched the ends of her hair, fingered them gently. Remembered their night together in New Orleans, when she'd awoken struggling in his arms. "Still having nightmares?"
The pulse at the base of her neck leapt erratically. "Sometimes."
More bad dreams. She couldn't get a break, even in her sleep. He hated that for her.
Yet nightmares seemed sort of inevitable for her. She'd had multiple brushes with death in the last month alone and faced so many cruel challenges during her short life and lost so many people close to her in tragic and horrific ways.
It was a wonder she hadn't broken down completely yet.
Resolving anew that Stefan would not remain one of those she'd lost, he scowled. "I think you'd probably be better off asking one of those two out there for help. You know, the witches with magic." He wiggled his fingers. "Poof, be gone."
She sighed. "I want the dreams to 'poof, be gone', believe me, but how can I bother Bonnie right now with something like this, when she has way more important things to worry about?"
He cupped one of her hands between both of his, squeezed gently. "Let me help you. My offer from before – it still stands. Let me take away whatever's bothering you. If you just tell me what it is, I can make you forget - "
She pulled her hand away, put it back on her book. "No." She winced. "I mean, no, thank you. And you do help, Damon, more than you know. You make me feel safe when nothing else does."
He ground his teeth, frustrated and hurt by her continued refusal to divulge even a single detail of the nightmares plaguing her. There were things wrong in her world that he had no power to change at the present moment, but this … this he could fix. If she'd just trust him enough to confide in him. Maybe he shouldn't take it personally, but it was hard not to.
Deep, aggravated mental sigh. "If you change your mind …."
"I'll let you know." She looked down, ending the conversation.
He pulled her close and held her, resting his chin on her shoulder so he could peek over at what next exciting thing she'd found to read. "Ooo,ancient Greek love magic. Is that a magical aphrodisiac I see?"
Hastily, she turned the page. "That's the last thing we need."
"That's what I thought, too, until I walked back here and caught you being smutty."
"Shhhh." Even though the others were out of sight and far away, her eyes darted in their general direction. "Don't say that so loudly. And I already told you that's not what I was doing. Why do they have so many books about sex?"
He slid the book from her hands, despite her sound of protest, and shoved it back where it came from. "Forget these moldy old books." He leaned close. A devilish smile unfolded on sculpted lips. "I know exactly what will cure your nightmares."
She tensed. "I think I've made it pretty clear I'm not interested in using compulsion."
"That's not what I'm referring to."
She relaxed. "Okay,then, I'm almost afraid to ask. What are you referring to?"
He trailed his fingers down the back of her arms, watched her chest heave with an indrawn breath. "First, O ye of little faith, you should know this cure is quite a lengthy process and you can't omit any of the steps or it won't work."
"I'm listening," she said when he paused to wait for her response.
When he spoke again, his voice had taken on a new tone, wicked and enticing. "For this cure to work properly, you'll need to take a long, hot bubble bath. You'll also need a hot toddy to sip on. Maybe two. We can put lavender and chamomile in them, if you wish." He winked. "Next, a sensual, soothing massage in all the right places. To ensure maximum relaxation."
"Is that all?" she asked, sounding practically tongue-tied.
"No. Last step, and this is the most crucial, it absolutely cannot be skipped - lots of mind-blowing sex with yours truly all night long, and viola! Problem solved. You'll be too sated and exhausted for any dreams at all."
Her jaw dropped slightly. She started nodding before she caught herself. "Damon …."
"Why not?" he interrupted, to forestall the rejection looming. "Come on, you know we'll have fun, and all the orgasms you could ever want. I promise you won't regret it. Have I mentioned I make one hell of a naked breakfast in bed?"
When she didn't answer right away, he tapped two fingers gently against her temple. He could practically see the conflicting thoughts racing around. "What's going on in there? Talk to me."
She blinked. "I was thinking that your … cure certainly sounds appealing." Her gaze slid down, fixed on his mouth. She chewed delicately on her bottom lip, perhaps fantasizing about kissing him. Her gaze slid back up. "But you know why we can't." A quiet reproof for tempting her.
"I know why you say we can't," he rebutted softly, sullenly.
He wanted to wake up next to her in his bed, holding her warm, sleepy, supple, perfect body against his, her scent on his skin, her hair spread out over his sheets as he took her again, filling her until they both exploded and fell into an exhausted sleep afterwards, only so they could wake up and repeat the cycle endlessly.
But he understood why she held back, as much as he resented it. She held back, because she was afraid that if she did spend all night, as well as the next morning, with him, someone would notice.
With Jeremy living at the boarding house, as well as her two best friends who still tended to sleep over almost every night, Elena couldn't take the risk that she might somehow get caught with Damon. Because then they would find out the truth, and she was too ashamed to let that happen. Too worried about preserving her future with Stefan.
The thought was like a knife in the gut, and maybe she sensed this, because she relented, just a tiny bit. "A relaxing bubble bath right before bed does sound like it might be worth a try." She peered up at him through a fringe of dark, sexy lashes. "Can I use your tub?"
He scoffed. "Like I'd let you use a different one."
She smiled, a small one. "Will you be there?
"Angel, I'll be supervising, to make sure you're doing it right."
A sparkle returned to her eyes. "Are you sure you're qualified to be supervisor?"
"Shall I prove my qualifications?
Her hands slid up the front of his leather jacket until she reached his lapels. She used them to pull him in closer. "Yes, I think you'd better, because I'll be expecting you to put out."
That shocked a laugh out of him. She never ceased to delight. Then, to prove he was up to snuff, he dipped his head and kissed her on the lips. Simple. Mind-blowing. Necessary.
As he drew back, she expelled a shaky breath.
"Convinced yet?" he asked. He really hoped she said no.
"Not quite." Her voice sounded tremulous. "I might need help with the soap. You know … reaching everywhere." Those hypnotic eyes of hers maintained a steady gaze, but even in the low light, he could see the blush creeping over her cheeks, a blush she couldn't control. Her heart was thundering so rapidly the sound filled his ears to the exclusion of everything else.
"I will wash and scrub clean every inch of you," he solemnly vowed.
"And you'll have to help me make myself," a second's worth of coy hesitation, "all smooth and soft."
He brought a handful of shiny hair to his nose and breathed deep. "You are a merciless taskmistress, but I shall endeavor until you're slippery as a seal."
She laughed, and her good humor was the most amazing sound in the world. Infectious. Pure. Boundless. He wanted her to laugh more. He wanted to be the reason why she laughed more. He nuzzled her neck, her giggles increasing.
"Oh, ssshhhh." She pressed the tip of a soft finger to his lips even though she was the one making most of the noise. "You're terrible."
He growled good-naturedly. "As soon as we get home, you're gonna get it."
She laughed again, so he kissed and nipped at the skin on the side of her neck, felt soft flesh dimple under the pressure of sharp teeth.
Calm down, Salvatore, he sternly commanded himself, but she responded to his rough play by moaning and rubbing her breasts against his chest. Her passion was unschooled, innocent, and all the more potent because of it, making it impossible for him to think about anything but filling and plundering her body with his own.
When he raised his head to look at her with a hungry gaze, she brought her luscious mouth to his, bestowing kisses, soft and fluttery as butterfly wings, along his bottom lip, the top, on the tip of his nose, each corner of his lips, his chin. Tender and inviting. Maddening.
He grabbed her waist and jerked her completely against him, finding it way too difficult to hold on to thoughts of self-control with her softness pressing against him.
His tongue swept out and stroked along her lips. She opened for him immediately, and he slipped inside, licking, nuzzling, caressing.
God, the sweetness of her taste, her heat, her intoxicating scent, such lush curves mashed against him… each one alone was more than he could possibly resist. Combine them all?
He was a goner. He had no defenses at all against this girl.
With his impulse control eroding at an alarming rate and his desire for her ramping up even faster, he clenched her ever more tightly to him.
Their kiss deepened, her arms winding up and around to play with the ends of his hair at the base of his neck.
The sizzle of burning flesh filled his ears a split second before he suffered an unexpected shock of pain. He flinched involuntarily. Elena's vervain bracelet had brushed against his bare skin.
Instantly, she jerked back. "I am so, so sorry. Are you okay?"
"It's fine," he assured her. "Already healed."
He attempted to lean in and resume their make out session, but she turned aside, so that his lips encountered her cheek, not his intended target at all, though it would do. He rained kisses there, then down her jaw, all the way to the point of her chin.
"We should stop," she said softly. "If the others see … or hear …."
He stopped kissing her, grinding his teeth together instead and stopping a sigh of exasperation before it escaped. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Give me a minute."
Closing his eyes, he battled for the strength to follow through and back away. Thinking it might help, he pressed his face into her hair. Huge mistake.
Hugest mistake.
At that range, her lavender-sunshine scent was pure and undiluted, assaulting his senses, weakening him to a devastating degree.
Yep, he needed to back away. And he was going to do that very soon. Seriously, he had every intention of doing so. Aaany second now he was going to take a step back ….
She framed his face in her warm, soft hands, bringing his chin up and snagging his gaze with eyes the color of chocolate and whiskey. He couldn't look away, even if he wanted to. The air between them simmered and smoldered.
"It won't be for long," she whispered and pressed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth to take the sting out of ending their make-out session so soon. Her breath was warm on his lips.
He sighed, though her promise, and her kiss, did much to temporarily rein in the worst of his dark impulses.
He stepped back, wrenching away from her and severing contact so abruptly his aching body howled in protest.
Elena stood still for a moment, leaning back against the bookshelves. Then, she swallowed hard and ran a hand through her hair and tugged at her clothes, righting hemlines that had gone slightly astray. When she was done composing herself, she left, skirting awkwardly around him.
In the wake of her absence, he inhaled deeply through his nostrils for a few breaths, thought anti-sexy thoughts to calm the full blown cockstand straining the front of his jeans, and went back out as well a few minutes later. Elena was sitting between Bonnie and Caroline on the floor. She gave him a quick secretive smile, then avoided eye contact after that.
He found a place to stand, leaning against the large desk at one end, where he could keep an eye on her. Rebekah approached. She gave him a curious look, but refrained from speaking.
He swept a hand around the grand library, the first to break the ice. "You've been a busy bee. I think all of Mystic Falls could move in with you."
"Yes, well, do you have any idea what it's like to be shut in a coffin?" She shuddered. "Here we'll never have to feel that way again. My family will have plenty of time to adjust everything to their liking once they get here." A faint smile played upon her lips at the thought of the future. "It's nice being home."
Panic flared through him. He'd never even considered that Rebekah, along with the rest of her disturbing, murderous family, might consider taking up permanent residence in Mystic Falls. "Sorry," he snarked, "we've already hit our town's vampire quota."
"Cocky, obnoxious, lacking the proper reverence for your elders." She brushed strands of blonde hair off her shoulder. "I have a brother like that. My brother Kol. You two would get along, I think. Or he'd hate your guts. I can't quite decide."
"I have that effect on a lot of people."
Suppressed laughter shone visibly in her blue eyes. "I am sorry about the other night. I hope I didn't upset things between you and Elena too much."
"Not at all," he said curtly, "Elena and I are better friends than ever. Thanks for asking." He hoped his aversion to the topic of conversation was obvious. He did not want to discuss Elena with Rebekah.
During this exchange, Elena had risen and was trailing a finger along the length of a shelf ledge, pretending to find the books on it fascinating, though in reality she kept shooting him looks from across the room, the provocative gleam in her eye heating his blood all over again. Apparently, she was through ignoring him.
Tempting little minx.
"Oh?" Rebekah inquired. "Do you eye-strip all of your friends like that?"
He glowered.
She smiled. "It's just amusing watching you two try to hide something a blind person could see."
Glower intensified. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Right. Good luck convincing anyone else of that." A phone went off. She looked at the screen. "It's Elijah. Excuse me." She walked off to answer her brother's call, leaving Damon blessedly alone.
Movement caught his attention. It was Elena, now positioned among the shelves in a way that meant only he could see her. She leaned forward and, to his shock and utter delight, tugged up one side of her dress, lacey panties riding up as she bent over, baring an exquisite tan cheek for his viewing pleasure.
The sight was basically an injection of pure lust straight into his veins. Cue the instant raging hard-on.
He was striding towards her before he remembered having the conscious thought to take action. A smile flitted across her face, but she straightened hastily, smoothed her dress down, and held up a finger.
Wait, she mouthed, moving out where everyone could see her.
A growl resonated low and deep in his throat, and he kept coming. If she thought she could do something like that, and then expect patience from him ….
Well, he was not Stefan.
"Hey, Rebekah?"
Rebekah and several of the others looked over. Under the scrutiny of so many eyes, Damon forced himself to stop and not ravish her on the spot. The look on his face was thunderous.
"Where's the bathroom?" Elena asked.
Rebekah wrinkled her nose as though Elena's question offended her. "Down the hall, off the foyer."
"Thanks," Elena said. Right before she was about to slip out the library door, she looked back at Damon to make sure he was watching.
Yes, yes, he was. She had his one hundred percent absolute undivided attention.
A stillness descended on him as she vanished. Hunter mode kicked in, heightening all of his senses, instincts engaging fully. Lids lowered, shielding a predatory blue gaze.
He allowed Elena a few seconds head start to make it fun and to avoid any suspicions, but the others were too involved with each other to notice him or Elena. Waiting for just the right moment, he surreptitiously followed after her, moving swiftly and stealthily out of the library, deeper into the mansion, into unchartered territory.
Anticipation hummed through his body as he stalked the ornate corridors, guided by the warm, lingering scent of her. Surprise, surprise – she did not head for the bathroom.
At the bottom of the curving main staircase, he paused, a faint smile at play on his lips, nostrils flaring, testing the air. Inhale. Exhale. The faintest trace of lavender, sunshine, and girl, all rolled up into one, beckoning him up.
He cocked his head. Heard the soft patter of feet on marble floors overhead. The quiet double snick of a door opening and closing.
Up it was.
He took the stairs lightly, bounding up with ease, and turned right. He moved with absolute surety, passing every closed door with nary a pause.
When he came to a corner, he turned, led by unerring instinct. Two final doors. One to the left; one to the right. She was behind one of them.
He chose the door on the left. Turned the doorknob and stalked right in.
She was there, standing completely still in the middle of the room.
It was a bedroom fit for a queen, airy and spacious and decorated in shades of white and pale pink. Sunlight streamed in through parted curtains, bathing her in its rays, creating a nimbus of golden light, a halo, around her. He noticed almost instantly she no longer wore her vervain bracelet.
Which meant she was his, and utterly at his mercy.
He pulled the door closed behind him with a final thud and flipped the lock in place, a metallic snick that made Elena's eyes grow large and round. She looked like a startled doe, apprehensive and innocent, lost. And he was the beast who'd finally cornered her.
And oh, he was ravenous.
Panther-sleek and graceful, he prowled across the room, eliminating the distance between them. The air around him bristled with raw, aggressive sexual energy.
Reacting instinctively, she backed up, trying to escape perhaps. But there was no escape. She was well and truly trapped. She smacked into an ornate wooden dresser behind her.
He kept coming until she was pinned in place, his arms caging her in, his palms flat on top of the dresser on either side of her waist. Her heart was beating wildly, not with fear, but nervous anticipation.
"Caught you," he crooned softly, a dark, sensual threat. Blue eyes glinted dangerously. The heat between the two of them was nuclear-grade hot.
"Oh, no." She licked her bottom lip with the tip of her pink tongue, a playful sex kitten. "Anything but that."
A sound of amusement rumbled out of him. He leaned in, his mouth only a breath from hers. "Question now is – what to do with you?"
She stroked the lapels of his jacket. "I think the answer is whatever you want."
His nostrils flared, the only outward sign of his inner struggle not to pounce on her immediately. "Ding, ding, ding."
She laughed, a small, gentle sound, and placed her hands, fingers splayed, on his chest, roving beneath his leather jacket, admiring the power tangible in every ridge and groove of ripped, lean muscle. "We really shouldn't, but …."
"But?" he prompted when she drifted into silence, lost in tracing his hard body. He reached up and combed his fingers through the glorious mass of her hair, so silky and shiny and fistable. He wanted it wrapped around his fist.
"But I really want to," she whispered.
His eyes widened in feigned shock. "What, right here? Right now?"
A quick, desperate nod from her.
"Naughty little angel," he murmured, "mine to fuck however I want." He gave into temptation, winding strands of her hair around his fist, drawing the length taut, angling her head back, exposing the lovely arch of her throat. "Who knew you liked being so bad?"
"I like being bad with you."
He couldn't even begin to describe the dark thrill those words gave him. Far be it from him to leave her sexual fantasies unfulfilled.
He placed a kiss on her neck, felt her tremble at the firm press of lips, lips that drifted lower, down the side of her throat, nipping slowly, sensually.
"Damon …."
"I know, baby girl, I need it, too. I'm promise I'm going to be inside you very soon. I'm going to eat you alive." His heated words elicited a shiver from her. Her body reacted to him the same way his body reacted to her – helplessly, instinctively, passionately.
Heaven help him, because with Elena, his swan dive from grace was irrevocably complete. She was the final nail in the coffin proving that he'd more than earned his one-way, first class ticket to hell. She was an angel, beautiful and compassionate and pure of heart, and he wanted nothing more than to defile her.
His fingers stroked her arms, swept along her collar bones, found her tank top straps and slid them down. Her skin erupted in goose-flesh at his touch. Releasing her hair, he repeated the action with her other strap. He leaned back enough to hook a finger in the neckline of her top and tug it down, baring her breasts, perfectly curved and trembling. And those pretty pink nipples, already stiff, begging for his attention.
His fingers wandered over them, brushing, tugging, flicking. When he pinched one, she gasped, and it stiffened further. He dipped his head and licked, slowly tugging into his mouth the nipple he'd just tenderly abused, sucking until she moaned. She ran her hands through the black silk of his hair and pressed hard against his mouth.
"I love your hair," she confessed. "And your mouth." She squirmed as he sucked harder. "And your eyes. They're really blue."
"I love your everything," he said. He switched to her other breast and laved the hard little crest waiting for him there with his tongue, rasping gently with his teeth, until it grew hyper sensitive and swollen.
His hand slid down, under her skirt and between her legs, urging her thighs apart, so he could feel for himself the evidence of her desire. His fingers dipped beneath her panties and then inside her. She was slick and hot, exactly how he wanted her - ready for him.
It didn't take long before the shallow probing of his fingers wasn't enough for her.
She dug her nails into his scalp, tiny spurs, begging quietly, "Please …."
"In a hurry, angel?" He nuzzled the sweet valley between her breasts.
She blushed, his fingers still stroking inside her with masterful skill. "We did wander off in Rebekah Mikaelson's mansion, after she told us not to," she pointed out.
"Ah, got it." He removed his fingers. She whimpered in protest. "Just a quickie, then. I need to service you as quickly as possible, so we don't get caught."
Picking up on the undercurrents of anger and resentment infecting his tone, she clasped his face, forcing him to look up at her. "Hey. You know that's not what I meant. It just feels like it's been forever since the last time we … you know." Her thumb swept gently along his bottom lip. "You know I need you so much. Please don't make me wait any longer."
His irritation faded, replaced by a fresh surge of lust. He agreed it'd been far too long. And he could deny her nothing.
"Hands on the dresser."
Eagerly, she complied, turning and bending over for him, pushing her ass up teasingly.
"Good girl," he murmured, caressing his hand along the sexy flare of her hips and lower, to the curve of her ass, still hidden beneath her skirt.
Her reflection in the large gilded mirror above the dresser commanded his attention – hair spilling jumbled around her shoulders, lips parting slightly, eyes darkening further with arousal, perfect breasts with their glistening, puckered tips.
She bumped back against him impatiently when he spent too long staring.
Amusement flashed through him at this sign of her greediness. He flipped her skirt up over her waist, and a groan, unbidden, left him at the sight – the most luscious derriere exposed where her panties rode up. He ran his hands over the firm, round globes, caressed and squeezed, encouraged her panties to ride further up. Her flesh was soft and supple beneath his fingertips.
Then, he couldn't help himself. Without any warning, he struck her with the flat of his palm, a quick, stinging slap. He didn't even begin to apply any of his strength, but nevertheless, Elena's eyes sprang wide and she let out a yelp, jolting the dresser so that the delicate figurines and knickknacks on top chimed and rattled against one another. Her mouth formed a highly offended little 'o' of shock.
He'd certainly given her ass a few encouraging slaps in the middle of sex, but he'd never spanked her.
"Sorry, angel, but actions have consequences," he informed her with relish. "That was for running." He gently rubbed the pink blush on her right butt cheek, replacing pain with pleasure.
"But you like chasing me." Indignation mixed with confusion and arousal in her eyes.
He gave her another slap on the derrière.
A gasp. Another clatter as the dresser jolted.
"That was for that sassy little mouth of yours."
"You like my mouth," she protested in a softer voice.
He couldn't hold back the hot wave of lust that spiraled through him. Yes, he did indeed. "Very true," he allowed, "but beside the point."
He massaged her reddened skin, soothing her. Just as she began to relax, he delivered one last taut smack, a brisk sting of sensation that wrung a cry from her.
"And that," he said, flashing her a crooked smile in the mirror, "was just because you needed it."
This time when he went to caress her abused flesh, she was already pressing backwards, seeking the reward of his soft touch. Though she did mutter, "You're an ass."
His grin widened. "You love it."
He continued stroking her bottom softly for a few more moments, hands gliding over her skin, taking away any remaining sting from his palm prints.
When one of those caressing hands dipped lower, sliding down the crease of her ass to find her panties not just wet this time but soaked, he closed his eyes briefly, lust roaring through him.
No. More. Waiting. He needed to make her his now. Needed to claim her, possess her, dominate her. Needed to remind her that no matter how much she ran from him, he would always catch her.
He wriggled the lacey scrap of fabric down her thighs until it just dropped around her ankles. At the rasp of his zipper going down, dark eyes locked with his in the mirror and drove straight through him with an unwavering gaze. She seemed unable to look away from the compelling sight of him standing behind her, darkly predatory and intensely sexual.
As for him, she was all he could see, the very embodiment of his heart's deepest desires, and he wanted her in a way that defied all reason.
She was also the sweetest, tastiest little thing he'd ever laid eyes on, and he'd hunted her down and captured her fair and square, and now he had every intention of devouring her whole.
He placed one hand on her waist, and with the other, guided himself, thick and straining, to her entrance, soft and pink. He penetrated her slowly, sinking deeper into her depths, deeper into her web of innocent, inescapable seduction.
She eased his way as best she could, the toned muscles of her back flexing as she arched and spread her thighs like an offering, his for the taking. The relief on her face as he filled her, stretched her to her limits, mirrored the relief on his.
For a moment, he couldn't move, couldn't even breathe. Elena Gilbert was heaven on earth.
Air rushed back into his lungs. A ragged groan escaped him. "Elena."
"Hurry," she whispered back, a breathless plea he was unable to refuse.
He withdrew, only to push forward again on an excruciatingly slow glide. She was so wet and tight around him it wrenched her name from his lips again, even more ragged. "Elena."
He forced himself to stay controlled, to move slowly, to let pleasure build at its own pace, when what he really wanted to do was drive intro her hard and fast and find that place of release both of their bodies were screaming for. But he kept his rhythm steady and thorough. His hips pumped and swiveled, going in to the hilt and out again, ensuring she felt him everywhere with each thrust.
He wouldn't give them what they both wanted until he'd made her wild for him, mindless with desire.
Mouthwatering breasts swayed in the mirror's reflection, and when he reached up and cupped their perky weight in his hands, they molded themselves to his palms, dark pink nipples peeking out between pale fingers. A sight so captivating he couldn't look away.
Neither could she, as enthralled by the potent combination of sight and sensation as he was.
"You like watching, don't you, beautiful girl?" His voice was rough, jagged. He rolled and tugged on her nipples. "See how sexy you are? How good we look together?"
"I want more," was her only response, and he could feel her desperation growing as she pushed back, arching to meet his long thrusts that teased but didn't satisfy, unable to bear any more of his sensual torment.
Not yet. Though his desire for her was a sharp, desperate ache, he wasn't going to let it be over so soon. Right now, he was going to take his time and enjoy the only connection she would let him have with her.
No thinking about the fact that she wasn't for him, no matter how much he might wish otherwise. No thinking about the fact that when all of this was ultimately said and done … he'd be left painfully and utterly alone.
The thought of living without her … was like being stabbed in the heart.
No. He shoved that near cause for despair out of his mind and determined instead to savor the fact that he was fucking the girl he loved and it wasn't a dream and he wasn't dead and it was better than he could've ever imagined.
He stroked between her legs with a feather-light touch, an agonizing caress that made her cry out softly while keeping her on the sweet, razor-sharp edge of desire, just short of climax.
"God, Damon, please, please, please," she gasped out, still staring at the image of him fucking her in the mirror.
He'd never heard a more beautiful sound. "Please what? What do you want, angel?"
"I want to come. Please let me come."
She sounded like he was torturing her. And maybe he was … just a little. Okay, he was, a lot. But she tortured him all the time in a good way just by existing, so it didn't feel unfair.
"I shouldn't." He took a hard grip on her waist. "I should make you suffer, but I'm not going to, because you feel too damn good, and I'm about to come in you so fucking hard."
"Yes, please."
"Yeah?" he growled, muscles corded with strain. "You want it?"
She practically sobbed, "More than anything."
Finally moved to mercy, he drove home again and again, applying the perfect combination of pressure and precision that she'd been begging for. Her reaction was immediate. Her whole body, inside and out, quivered and trembled.
"Damon," she cried, shattering in all directions, eyes closing from the force of her climax.
But he didn't stop fucking her, didn't take his eyes off her in the mirror, unable to get enough of watching her come, of hearing her cries, of feeling her slick muscles clench and spasm around him.
He leaned forward, covering her body with his. On a growl, he closed human teeth around the tendon of her shoulder and bit. A woefully impotent bite, yet one that was hard and passionate enough to bruise her velvet skin.
Pumping in and out of her a few final times, he throbbed with release, divine ecstasy flowing through him in waves that went on and on, robbing him of all breath and thought.
In the mirror, he saw her dark eyes fly open, widening with each wrenching pulse, each powerful spurt of scalding heat deep inside her body.
Afterwards, he remained inside her with his cheek resting over the teeth marks he'd left in her flesh.
He couldn't marshal the energy to move. Every muscle trembled with weakness. She'd rendered him worse than completely useless. If he tried to move, or do anything, his knees would give out in protest. So, on that note, he was going to forgo moving for the foreseeable future and just bask in her healing grace instead.
His arms went around her torso and he simply held on, sated to the depths of his black soul.
In this sacred, secret moment, the terrifying strength of his love surged through him, overwhelming him with frightening speed, an impetuous upwelling of emotion as vast and bottomless as the ocean that he didn't have a prayer's chance in hell of containing. It threatened to burst him apart at the seams.
And how a part of him longed to let the dam break, to tell her exactly how he felt, how he dreamed of and hungered for her above all others. He longed to tell her how much he loved her.
No, he needed to tell her. He needed her to know. Not so she'd say it back or because he thought it would make a difference – he wasn't that stupid. But maybe he just needed to say it out loud. Maybe he just needed to say it, just once, so she'd know, so she'd remember, because this time he wouldn't be strong enough to compel her to forget.
He bit his tongue, stifling the urge to speak. Literally. He crunched down with his left molars until he tasted blood, because he was acutely aware that if he didn't, if he gave voice to what was in his heart, it would not only be selfish and unwelcome but would also likely leave an irrevocable stain over all of this, spoiling whatever time he had left with her.
So he said nothing.
Strength slowly returned to him, and though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he slowly withdrew from between her legs, the sensation eliciting a gasp from her and a hiss from him. He tucked himself away, and with gentle hands, turned her around so that she faced him and propped her against the dresser. Coiling a silken lock around his finger, he tugged on it lightly, drawing her in for one more kiss on honey-sweet lips.
Already, his body tried its best to leap to attention again, ready for more.
A truly unbelievable occurrence, given the spectacular way in which he'd just spent himself. No other woman had ever affected him as powerfully as Elena, and it went far beyond a hard dick, though that was certainly part of it, he couldn't deny that, but he yearned to be more than just transient physical pleasure. He wanted to fill her heart the way he'd just filled her body.
But that would be wishing for impossible things, and what was the point in that? Especially when he was lucky to be getting anything from her at all.
"Let's get you cleaned up," he suggested softly.
"Yes, please," she whispered back, the barest breath of a sound. Her eyelids drooped, long lashes partially shielding the luminous glow of sated passion in her eyes.
He left her for a minute or two only to return with a towel, which he used to clean his lust from her body. He tended to her with painstaking gentleness, with a touch that was worship. And when he drew her panties back into place, one would think the act was the reverent ministrations of her most ardent devotee. And it was.
Moving up top, he pulled the dress straps back up her arms and over her shoulders, so that her breasts were no longer exposed, his fingers passing over the area on her shoulder where he'd bitten her.
She shivered, and her hand flew up and gingerly explored the tender skin.
"Sorry," he murmured, "throes of passion and all."
"It's okay." She smiled, amazingly unfazed by his violent urges. "You know you don't have to - I mean, next time you can just - " She drew in a deep breath. "You don't have to hold back, if you don't want to." He watched her eyes drop to his lips, behind which his fangs resided, then dart back up. "I trust you."
But not with your dreams, he thought and trailed a finger down her cheek. She leaned into his touch.
For the millionth time, he wondered how this girl could possibly be real.
Bringing his hand to his mouth, he was about to bite into the soft part of his palm so he could offer his blood to heal her, but she quickly reached over and stopped him, folding his hand back in on its self.
"Really, Damon, it's okay." There was a shawl draped over a nearby chair. She snatched it and whirled it around her shoulders. As it settled in place, it perfectly hid the evidence of his bite. She flashed a quick smile. "There. Ready."
He knew it shouldn't turn him on as much as it did that she wanted to keep and carry his mark, a semi-permanent reminder of their erotic exploit, a reminder of him, on her skin – but it did. It turned him on a lot.
One black eyebrow lifted. "You don't think anyone'll notice you're suddenly wearing a shawl you didn't have on when you got here?"
She chewed on her lip for a moment while she thought. "I'll say … I got cold."
She turned to open the door, but he snatched her upper arm and spun her back around and kissed her until she was breathless. It was a thorough, complete kiss that left no doubt in either one of them that he owned her body the way she owned his soul.
"What was that for?" she whispered, leaning against him for balance.
"I needed it to endure the unbearable hours until I can have you all to myself again."
His words caused her to inhale sharply.
"Spend the night with me," he pressed. "Or say you'll try. No bad dreams, guaranteed."
The pause that followed as he waited for her answer felt eternal. He put his hands up in a prayer position between them. "Just one night? Please? You know you want to."
A lock of midnight hair had fallen over his forehead, and she gently brushed it aside. "Okay, I'll try, I promise."
"Yes," he said under his breath, like he'd scored a victory. A small victory, yet he'd take whatever he could get.
She smiled, and they shared one last achingly sweet kiss. Then she turned from him and unlocked and opened the door. Rebekah was on the other side. All the blood drained from Elena's face.
The blonde Original faked a smile. "Well. Isn't this … awkward? Lose your way?"
"No, uh …." Elena, looking disheveled and well-fucked, glanced at Damon for rescue.
"Just admiring the architecture," he lied with a straight face. "Breathtaking. Really top notch."
"Yes. Isn't it." Rebekah's voice was flat and unamused. "If you're quite done, my brother's here, and our witches might've found the spell we need. I thought you'd probably be interested in hearing about it. Oh, and don't worry – in all the excitement, the others haven't noticed you're both missing. Yet."
That was enough for Elena. She rushed past Damon, head lowered, hair covering her face.
He followed after her without even bothering to ask Rebekah not to say anything to anyone. The damage was already done – even if she hadn't heard them having sex, he knew she could smell it all over him. Asking her point blank to keep this a secret would be like throwing a bucket of gasoline on the fire.
But Rebekah ended up surprising him. "I'm not your enemy, Damon, or Elena's. You don't have to worry. You have my silence. Just tell me why."
He hesitated and looked back. "Why what?"
"Why do you and Stefan love her so much?"
A variety of answers flickered through his mind, some lies, some caustic or flippant, but he found himself going with the truth for some strange reason. Maybe because the perplexed expression on Rebekah's pretty face was genuine. Maybe because he actually believed her when she said she wouldn't tell.
He shrugged, uncharacteristically somber and sincere. "Because she never gave us any other choice."
Then, he turned back around and walked away.