Chapter 22

Elena

"I cannot believe you own this movie," I joke, flipping through the Apple TV library.

"It is a classic," Damon says, reaching over to try and steal the remote.

"Honest answer only, how many times have you watched it?"

Damon ponders, but he's not looking at me when he says, "A few."

"You are so lying!"

"One of dad's girlfriends must've bought it," he defends.

"Just keep digging yourself deeper and deeper, lying liar," I laugh.

It is so funny he's embarrassed by this and I love it. I love finding all the chinks in his armor. "I expected to see Fight Club or a James Bond collection, not this."

"It's a good movie!"

"So do you ship Peeta and Katniss or Gale and Katniss?"

Damon scoffs. "Depends on if you're talking about the book or the movie."

This just makes me laugh until it is painful, I have to lean over and almost fall off the couch, knocking the bowl of popcorn over. "Oh my, God. My stomach hurts."

"Looks like we're watching The Hunger Games," he mutters, finally managing to grab the remote from my hand and pressing play. Once the opening credits come on, Damon picks up the popcorn mess and leans back on the couch in his theater room with his arm around me.

"May the odds be ever in your favor," I remark, pressing my index and middle finger to my lips and holding them out to the massive screen in his theater room.

He wraps his fingers around my wrist and pulls them back, laying them on his chest. "You should be grateful that I'm not making you watch Cool Hand Luke."

My eyebrows pinch. "I love Paul Newman- that man was hot. I'd totally watch Cool Hand Luke with you if I actually believed you've seen it."

I can tell by the way his eyes avert me that I'm right. The jackass has never seen Cool Hand Luke.

Damon sits up, his hands and body no longer near me. He's defensive as fuck and honestly, it makes me giggle, though I know now is not the right time. "The Hunger Games was a critically acclaimed movie and the books provide insight into the class system in America."

I raise my eyebrows. "And JLaw is hot, right?"

He shifts uncomfortably. "Plus kids fighting to the death."

"Uh huh," I mutter unconvincingly, turning toward the screen. The lights are out in the theater room and when the opening credits roll with the iconic instrumental music, I can't help but feel like I'm at the theater.

I lay against Damon's chest munching on popcorn, watching Katniss volunteer as tribute.

"Think I could shoot a bow and arrow like Katniss?"

As I lay on Damon's chest, I feel his chuckle. It wasn't that funny. "There's a reason you're a talented runner."

"And?"

"You don't have the coordination to do a sport that involves more than moving one foot in front of the other," he says, playfully tugging at my hair.

I sit up and glare at him. I've made similar comments about myself but it gives him absolutely no right to. "Excuse me? How do you think I got those keys Friday night and returned them. That took extreme levels of coordination."

"You got them because you fell."

"On purpose!"

"But still, your prowess relies on being a klutz. It's fine, I think it's cute," he mutters innocently.

I cannot believe he just said that. "I'm better at you in pool! How many times did I beat you as kids?"

"Operative word being kids."

Voices of Katniss and Caesar Flickerman fill the room, but all I can see is red. "I am incredibly coordinated and agile and…"

"— all the synonyms for the word coordinated?" Damon finishes.

He's getting me back for making fun of his video library.

I didn't even mention the most embarrassing video in his library because I was trying to spare his feelings. "I declare uncle."

Damon's eyes sparkle. We haven't used that term in years. Uncle refers to both Uncle John and the slang term for any espionage service. If Damon, myself, or Uncle John declare uncle, it means we're challenging the other person.

"Terms?"

"We play one round of pool," because that's all I have time for. "Winner gets to pick out the loser's outfit on Monday."

Damon stands up from the couch and offers me his hand. "Fine but we finish this movie later because I haven't seen it in a while and so far, it holds up."

I reject Damon's hand by standing up on my own. I just played pool a few weeks ago and I won- I have no doubt I'll win again. I see a flicker of doubt on his face. He doesn't know if this is going to go his way or not. I lead him down the hall and to the game room where there's a bar, a dartboard, and a professional pool table. Damon walks to the bar and pours himself a drink while I rack the balls.

"Solids or stripes?"

He shrugs, handing me his tumbler to drink out of. I may have work in an hour, but I can afford a couple sips of bourbon- especially considering Damon poured his dad's shit and his dad's shit is good. It goes down my throat like burnt caramel. I grab a stick and chalk it. "Let's make this interesting," Damon says.

I lean my hip against the table and stop chalking, waiting for him to explain.

"For every ball we pocket, we get to ask the opponent a question and they have to answer honestly."

In a way, this could be good for me. I could ask Damon anything I want. I could ask him about the fire he started. I could ask him about the party on Friday night, how he planned it all and whose cars he blew up. I know about Kate's, but I don't know about the other two.

Damon takes a coin out of his pocket. "Flip to see who breaks?"

He's holding a cue to his side and leaning against the table with a crystal glass of bourbon in his other hand he looks, incredibly sexy and suddenly I'm thinking about all the things we could do on this table. My eyes flicker to the clock- I have less than an hour. Shit.

"Planning on going somewhere?"

I shake my head, not meeting his eyes as I do it- instead concentrating on chalking my cue. He won't want me going to work and I'd rather not bring it up right now. "Are you going to flip the coin or should I?"

Damon casually flips it. I call heads. He flips the coin over. Tails- he shows me as proof. "Looks like you're breaking."

Damon walks around the table and lines up his cue. He finds his spot, leans over, and angles his shot. I'm so busy looking at the way his jeans fit around his hips as he leans over that I miss the shot. He sank two balls. "Do you still like Powell?"

This is what he's curious about?

"Honestly?"

He nods.

"I never liked him."

A glimmer of satisfaction flits across his face as he lines up another shot. He sinks another ball. "Why were you at my party that night?"

"What night?"

"That night."

I lean against the pool table. Why does he want to know about that night? He saw the video. He knows what happened.

"Why?"

He's not looking directly at me, instead he's lining up his next shot. "You weren't welcome; you had to know that, so why push you luck?"

Was he purposefully trying to be mean? What game is he playing, now?

"People started laying off of me at the end of junior year. One of the other cross country runners wanted me to go and it sounded like I could have fun, so I went," I explain.

Damon makes a sharp beeping noise, like we're on a game show. "Wrong answer!"

"It's the truth!"

"So you weren't there for Noah Scott?"

"I…"

I was. Noah expressed interest and he was cute and a football god, but I didn't know who he was or what he was capable of.

"That's a different question," I reply. "It's one question per shot. You made the rules."

Damon leans over and sinks the shot. He barely lifts his head up when he asks, "Were you at that party for Noah Scott?"

I sigh heavily. "I wasn't there strictly for him but yeah, I thought he liked me and I was attracted to him."

He slips and misses his next shot. Something like anger creases his forehead, more so at my response than missing his next shot.

I lean over the table, line up my shot, and sink the solid six ball. I've asked this before but because he brought it up, I have to know. I need to hear it again. "When did you know about the security footage showing what he did?"

For a fraction of a second, I see something in Damon's eyes. It could be his anger over the situation I was in. It could be the fact that there's another perfect shot ready for me to line up and hit. "Just before the trial, which is when I arranged for it to be played."

I nod, believing him because at some point, I have to. I can't hold onto this forever. I lean over the table and make the next shot, but the ball hangs at the edge of the pocket and doesn't go it. Damon doesn't smirk. He doesn't gloat. He's all business as he easily sinks another shot. I forgot how competitive he could get except this is underlying anger. I can see it in the way he concentrates and the way he inhales and exhales. His mood shifted over the last fifteen minutes and I think it has less to do with me teasing him over his movie choices.

"Do you remember the night in the cabin?" he asks darkly.

My face pales.

"More than you said," he adds.

I throw the pool stick on the table, messing with the shot he was prepared to line up and walk out of the room. He's being a jackass. It's like he can't help himself. He's sweet and kind one minute and the next it's like he can't get over the last four years. I don't know if I can. We've lied so much to each other, that sort of thing doesn't go away after a blissful ten days together. We may be doomed.

I make my way back to the pool house to grab my things for work when I feel his hands on my waist, tugging me back. I shrug them off of me. "Stop, Damon!"

His hands immediately fall from my hips. I turn to face him and push him square on the chest. "Why are you pushing this issue?"

"Because I know you're lying."

"I blacked out, Damon! What more do you need to know?"

"You might have blacked out some of it, but you remember more than you're saying."

"Why the fuck do you care what I remember? It's over, it's done. There's literally nothing we can do to change what happened."

"Because you can't go on as though nothing happened!" He yells. "You went through something traumatic. We can't play boyfriend and girlfriend- watching movies and teasing each other until you deal with it. Otherwise, it's all fake. Every smile you give me. Every orgasm I give you, is fake because you have to deal with this Elena if we're ever going to have a future."

"What about you?" I counter, pushing back. "You found me and I was essentially out of it for the following two days. You don't talk about that. You don't talk about what you planned Friday night. Have you ever thought that the reason I may not want to talk to you is because you're not exactly forthcoming. It's so like you to hold everyone around you to a higher standard than that of what you hold for yourself."

He doesn't say anything like he's struck, dumbfounded.

"Let's talk about rehab, Damon," I push because I can.

"Don't."

That only propels me forward. "Fine! You demand to know what happened in the cabin, let's talk about the number of girls you've slept with at school."

His eyes smolder darkly like he's a different person. Someone otherworldly- the real dark prince. "They consented to everything that happened to them and they knew what they signed up for. Don't you dare compare that to the abuse you suffered in the cabin. You want to know more about that night? Fine. I spent all day looking for you because you decided to run out and I knew a drug lord capo was after you. Then at five in the morning, I received an envelope with coordinates written in your blood…"

My brows knit in confusion. "I wasn't cut or…." I pause the realization dawning on me. "Oh."

"Blood from breaking your hymen. You were in a cage in a field on the side of the road, naked. I carried you to my car and took you home. You were up throwing up and then I had a doctor check you over. You know the rest."

I already knew bits and pieces of what Damon told be but when it's put all together it seems surreal. "I don't remember anything," I repeat, more soberly than the first time I said it. "I need to get to work."

"There you go," he yells after me. "If we avoid every topic from your mother to finding out your dad died to what happened that night in the cabin, you're fine- you move on as though nothing happened. The moment I break through your wall of ice, you run away. The moment things get hard, you run."

I ignore him and even though I'm wearing high waisted leggings and a cropped grey tee, I don't go back to the pool house, instead, I go to the garage, grab the first set of keys I can find, press the unlock button and walk toward the noise of a car unlocking. There are six cars in this garage and even more in an airport hanger outside of town. I pull the handle of the black Audi, open up the garage door with a button on the visor, and start the car. I ignore the black SUV with Santi and Mal in the front seat and drive to Patty's Diner.

"You're early," Gary yells from the kitchen, like I did something wrong.

"Sorry?" I mutter, wrapping an apron around my waist.

He stomps over to me with a spatula in one hand, his other points an index finger at me. "Why are you still working here? That Salvatore fellow told me you were sick and staying at his place."

"How long have I worked here?"

His eyes narrow. "A few years."

"Yeah, and in that time have I ever given any indication that I would quit because of a guy?"

He doesn't even think about it. "No."

"Unless you're firing me, I'm still working here. So am I fired or am I working tonight?"

He grunts and shakes his head, walking back to the grill. I guess I still have a job. I'm glad I told Gary that I'd rather do dishes than wait tables. Chloe is working tonight and she told me Rafe quit last week, which is a relief. She talks to me during breaks, telling me about the guy she's seeing, while I wash dishes and listen- happy for the distraction.

She's spent so much time talking about herself that she awkwardly realizes it in the middle of a sentence and turns the conversation on me, something I do not want. "There was a guy looking for you on Monday. A real good looking older man in an expensive suit. I offered to be his sugar baby but he gave me a look like he'd shoot me if I uttered another word."

Chloe shudders at the memory. I didn't think Domenico would drop the package off personally. Why would he go out of his way to make sure I got it? He could've easily had Jasper drop it off.

"Probably a friend of my mom's," I offer, truthfully.

"He looked like he knows his way around the female anatomy," she sighs. "Like he'd define pleasure with the word dominance."

When she says that, I of course think of Damon. The way his whole body wraps around me at night. Sometimes, it's like we don't even have to verbalize what we want- we just know. It's our dance. He knows I need to feel protected when my eyes are closed and I know he needs my trust- he wants me to open up and I haven't- not really.

"You're all red," Chloe comments.

I throw a dirty cloth at her. "Aren't you supposed to be waiting on tables?"

She catches the cloth and points it at me. "One of these days you're going to tell me about who's making your face all flushed."

I smirk, putting earbuds in and playing an alternative mix. I wash dishes until closing. When the last pot is washed and I've scrubbed down my station, I walk outside to drive home. Damon is sitting on a bench outside the kitchen, in the dark, with his hands steepled beneath his chin. He looks tired and I wonder how long he's waited out here. "I had Santiago drop me off."

"Should probably call him to take you home."
"We need to talk about this, Elena."

"I'm going to go back to my house on the South Side."

"I'll drive you but you need to deal with this. If you can't talk to me about it, I'll get you into the best therapist, right now," he thinks about what he said for a moment. "Actually, I'll call her anyways. I'll have you in her office in ten minutes."

He takes out his phone— he is not kidding.

"It was Noah," I finally say, sitting next to him on the wooden bench, my elbows resting on my knees. "They all had their masks off at some point."

He looks up from his phone and gazes at me with so much patience, I want to run away.

I close my eyes, picturing it in my head. "They were playing a club remix of that song Bad Guy. The lights were low and they were plying me with shots. I was dancing for them on the bed, swaying my hips and taking off articles of clothing as I went. Then I saw Noah and he had his shirt off and it's like any attraction I previously had for him was magnified a million fold," I take a deep breath remembering it. The way I felt. "I felt so good and for some reason, I knew he was the only one that could make me feel even better."

Tears I wasn't aware of are sliding down my cheeks. "It's like I said before. I asked him for it. I begged him to fuck me, I remember it. I remember standing on that bed in my underwear asking him to make me feel good."

Damon is so patient sitting beside me, I thought he would've left me by now, instead, his silence prompts me forward. "I was lying on the bed and Chase and Franklin were holding my arms down. There was an argument over whether or not he should wear a condom. Noah didn't want to but Chase and Franklin said that he should because they didn't know where I'd been."

Damon doesn't touch me. He doesn't do anything except sit silently beside me, with his hands firmly clasped in front of him.

"Then he entered me and it hurt and I think I tried to fight him off and then they were making me drink more and I really don't know what happened after that."

He's quiet for a moment, but the moment drags and I know it's because he knows I'm not being entirely truthful.

"He pumped in me and it felt good and it felt good to be held down," I correct. I squeeze my eyes shut. "No, that can't be right because I also remember crying and yelling."

I shake my head like I'm trying to filter the real memories from what I'm clinging to.

"I remember Franklin saying they needed to give me more and Chase saying they didn't want to kill me just make me pliable otherwise it wouldn't look good. I was thirsty and asked for more water and they gave me some and I don't know anything after that."

There's a pause and I think Damon's waiting to see if I say any more. When I don't say anything, he sighs heavily.

"If they had to hold you down and you remember crying and yelling for them to stop, then you didn't consent to anything. They were drugging you; all your actions were done under the influence of ecstasy, coke, and plenty of alcohol. You may have wanted to feel good but anyone would've reacted the same way under those conditions."

I wish it were that simple. I wish it was black and white but I know there's part of me that wanted it. I was under duress, sure, but at the moment, what they were doing didn't feel awful.

Damon answers my unexpressed questions. "If you had to be abducted and drugged to let them do what they were going to do- none of that was done under your own free will, Elena. Your brain was coping with the circumstance. It's how you survived."

I let his words sink in. Did I just accept my fate and make the most of it? Maybe.

"What happened to Franklin, Chase, and Noah after the party?"

"Franklin got off but Chase and Noah are still behind bars," Damon finally says. "Chase was charged with burning down the Brown's cabin but if they don't press charges the arson charges won't stick."

If I'd handled things differently last week, maybe everything would be different. Maybe they would've had enough proof, but even the thought of going through what I went through in August makes me want to vomit.

I have to ask. "Do you wish I went to the police?"

He shakes his head. "I know what you went through the last time you went to the police and I still don't have faith they'd take your word for it. If Liz Forbes were still working in the department, maybe, but they're so corrupt that with those families involved, I doubt they would've believed you even with concrete evidence."

"Plus most people want to run the Gilberts out of town because of what my parents did."

"There's that."
"So now you know why I wasn't exactly eager to share what I do remember."

His eyes close like he's disappointed. "You could've shared it with me," he exhales.

I take a deep breath knowing he'll hate what I'm about to say. "Let's revisit the question I asked you at the pool table. How many girls at MFHS have you slept with? Did you sleep with Ainsley last week? You knew I was in the pool house and I practically forced you to date her. How far did you take it? How do you expect me to share things with you when you're not exactly forthcoming?"

He sighs, not answering my inquiry. I stand abruptly from the bench and make my way toward the Audi. Damon follows because he was dropped off. He doesn't ask to drive or speak at all, instead, I start the Audi and drive back to the boarding house. I think I heard him sigh with relief when I didn't make the turn to the south side of town. After I park the car, without words, I stride to the pool house. Damon doesn't follow. I strip out of my work clothes and take a shower in the luxurious overhead rainfall shower.

When I'm done, I dry my hair and change into a black tank and lace panties. I'm so tired from dishes and my confession to Damon, that I climb into bed alone and quickly fall asleep.

Sometime in the very early hours of the next day, I feel arms around me, tugging me closer. I'm suddenly very awake the moment those strong legs tangle with mine. "Damon…" I moan.

I feel lips on my forehead. "What do you need?"
"You." It's a breath that's the most natural thing to utter.

His lips move to my throat, nuzzling into me, but I don't want this to be sweet because I need more. I flip my leg over him and sit upon him, my hair falls like a curtain onto his firm chest. I rock onto his length, swiveling my hips so I can get myself off from his hardness. "When I say that I need you, I mean that I need…" my hips rotate right over his hardening length. "you."

He groans my name and the sound from his lips is luxurious.

"Are you going to give me what I want or are you going to try to be the good boy we both know you are not," I mock. I know Damon and I know that I need to push his buttons.

Just a little.

"Why can't I stay away from you?"

Because I won't let him, but I don't say that.

I swirl my hips just so, he lets out a strangled sigh. "Do you want me to stay away from you?"

He lets out a guttural noise. "No."

"I need you to do something for me," I ask, so quietly, I worry I won't be able to repeat myself when he asks.

His eyes flash to mine. He heard me, loud and clear.

"I need a real memory," I say with a rotation of my hips. "I need you to fuck me."

His hand falls to the small of my back and flips me over so he's on top. "Is that what you really want?"

I kiss his neck, resting my face in his warmth while I languidly lavish his pulse point. His groan is enough- it's full of need and uncontrollable desire. "I…" I pant, combinations of heat and pure unadulterated need consume me. I watch his abs flex as I buck toward him, his restrained desire is enough to set me off.

I wrap a leg around his. "I know you want to," I moan, rubbing myself against him.

His head falls in the crook of my neck, I feel the heat of his staggered breaths as he utters. "I do."

"Make me forget, Damon," I plead, my heart splintering into several pieces as I utter the words. "Make me forget about everything that happened in that cabin. I want you, I want you to be the one to cure me of this."

His face sets in determination. "Touch yourself."

My eyebrows pinch.

"Take those pretty little fingers and sweep them around your clit."

With my left hand I anchor myself to Damon by squeezing his bicep, with the other, I reach into my panties and touch myself. I'm already embarrassingly wet. Damn hikes my leg further up his. "Use me," he commands.

I translate the words unspoken. He wants me to use him for my pleasure. He wants me to get off in any way that I see fit. With one of my legs wrapped around his, I arch my back and thrust my hips up. Dancing with the way I'm moving, Damon anchors me to the mattress by pressing more weight on my chest. The friction of Damon's lounge pants combined with the slight thrusts cause me to bow my back in no time. Damon presses his lips to my arched throat. His hair tickles my skin and all I can do is move to the beat of the song that's playing between us. I'm panting with every thrust, my movements hurried as I climb to my climax and then I feel it. A blissful shudder extends from my core to my lips. I cry out, but Damon doesn't stop. He continues to thrust, continues to press his lips all over my sensitive skin.

I feel another orgasm build and just before I explode again, Damon is off me. I am a boneless puppet as he positions me so I'm lying on the bed with my legs hanging over the edge. He sweetly places a pillow beneath my head, and then his hands lightly memorize my body. He's barely touching me and yet I feel like I could come from his intense gaze. "Every time I looked at you, from across the hallway or in class, it hurt," he says, continuing the trail of his hands to my sides, down to my hips. He kneels before me and hooking his fingers in my lace panties, tugs. "You're going to make up for all the times you caused me pain."

My hand flies over my eyes, but he doesn't like that. Like a viper, he snatches my wrist and lays it over my breast. "You're going to watch everything I do to you."

He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder and leans close to my sex and blows lightly.

"What are you doing?"

What I should say is, don't stop.

He continues to blow air across my sex, almost telling me what he's about to do. "Bringing you pain."

I don't know how to describe the noises coming from my mouth as he continues to torture me, not touching me but lightly blowing and inspecting me. The moment his tongue touches my bare vulva. "You're smooth," he accuses, like he's a combination of upset and suspicious but happy about it.

A long victorious moan escapes my lips in response to his touch. His tongue licks me, driving me to the point of insanity and he hasn't done anything yet. I guess this is what he means by pain. "Running," I try to explain even though I don't know why I feel the need to explain my grooming habits to him. "It's just easier."

My answer seems to satisfy him because he delves deeper, dragging his tongue up until his lips meet my clit and he sucks. "

"Oh, fuck!" I cry out.

I feel the bastard smile against me as he continues the purposeful strokes of his talented tongue. I feel tightening in my core but then he sits back on his haunches and cocks an eyebrow.

It is painful.

"Damon!"

He leans over and pulls up my tank slightly. He kisses my stomach and he's painfully tender. His icy blue eyes meet mine and if it were possible for me to vocalize how I feel in that moment, I don't know if I could ever take it back.

Inexplicable noises come out of my mouth the moment he plunges two of his fingers in me. The combination of his sweet kisses mixed with the violence of his fingers make me cry out in frustration and suddenly I understand why he has the reputation he does.

I couldn't ignore the rumors that spread throughout the school about the Prince of Darkness's knowledge of a woman's body. One girl described him as the Michelangelo of sex, able to paint and sculpt desire with his talented hands and luxurious cock. At the time I thought that was an over-exaggerated description but now I get it.

Even if he's driving me insane.

Constantly bringing me to the brink, watching and waiting, and then going back to drive me out of my mind again. What's most peculiar is how much he enjoys it. Other stories about other guys described sex as being a one and done experience. Guy puts on the condom, gets off, wraps up the condom, and is done, as the girl lays there wondering what the hell happened. Damon takes pleasure in bringing pleasure because he's creating an addiction of his own making.

After the fifth time of bringing me to the edge, he finally lets me come and laps up my orgasm. Sweat coats my skin as he presses his lips to mine, then moving me so I'm in the middle of the bed. My eyes take him in as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of his pajama bottoms and pulls them down. His thick and hard cock springs out. His hand grasps his length, tugging it before reading for the bedside drawer. I stop him. "No," I order. "I want to feel you."

I don't want to feel a condom and I trust him. His eyes darken. "What about…"

I shake my head. I didn't tell him this earlier because it was none of his business but now, it kind of is. "I'm on birth control. I asked Dr. Klein for a prescription when he did a follow-up."

There was no way I was risking pregnancy after what happened at the cabin. While Damon was at school, he had a follow-up appointment to make sure I was okay and he promised me he would adhere to doctor-patient confidentiality, even if Damon was the one paying him.

To his credit, Damon has a moment of hesitation until I sit up and take off my tank, tossing it across the room. He climbs on top of me and captures my mouth with his. I taste myself on him and it only heightens my pleasure. He takes his time kissing me, stroking my tongue with his and tweaking my nipples with his fingers. "I want this," I tell him. "Please."

With my hands on his shoulders, I drag my fingers down his back, pulling him closer. "Please, Damon. Please."

I know he's worried. I know he wants to wait and I don't know why I'm suddenly different from every other girl he didn't hesitate to fuck, but I know he needs my reassurances. With one hand on his shoulder, the other reaches for his cock but he pushes it away. Damon rests on his elbows on either side of my head and hovers over me. His eyes penetrate mine before he presses his lips upon my own. "You deserve to be happy."

"I am," I breathe, and I mean it.

Like my words are salve on his conscious, he sighs and captures my lips for what feels like the millionth time that evening. "Spread your legs, baby," he orders between kisses. His hand applies pressure to my clit once more before lining up his hardened cock and slowly entering me.

I scream and tears spring to my eyes but because Damon prepared me so well, he's able to slide in, slowly but smoothly.

"You're so tight," he utters, withdrawing slightly and then pumping back in. "Like a fucking glove. Perfect."

He hasn't even fully entered me and I'm ready to come again. It's luxuriously painful. Damon takes his time, entering me and then pulling back until he's completely inside of me. On his elbows, he waits for me to adjust. "Are you ready?" He checks in, pecking me on the forehead.

I nod.

"Words, baby."

"I'm good."

Satisfied with my response, he rocks his hips in and out of me in long strokes. I wrap my legs around his waist as he slowly pumps in and out of me. We're making out, exploring each other's mouths until it's too much and I'm panting into the crook of his neck while he sucks on my earlobe or leaves a trail of languid kisses on my chin and neck. I score his back when I feel him tighten and then come in me. With the press of his thumb on my clit, I'm coming with an explosion along with him. We're both sweaty messes, riding each other's orgasms until the very last drop dissipates.

He stays there, his cock stroking my core while we both come down from our orgasms. I arch my back just slightly, my breasts rubbing up against his chest when I feel him hardening within me again.

"Hmmmm," I moan. "Again."

He lifts himself up, wrapping one of my legs around his waist, he starts pumping into me again. I'm so full of him but everything he's doing, every stroke feels so fucking good that I can't stop. When I rub against him just so, it creates friction against my clit that feels so good, I shudder with pleasure. "More," I whisper into his ear.

He complies with my request my placing his lips on my own, but forcing me to open up my mouth, he strokes my tongue. My hands scrape his back as I bring my fingers up to his head, running my hands through his hair as we make out.

And then he's coming again, right along with me.

We continue kissing throughout the orgasm, riding the wave of pleasure until our heart rates even. "You are…" he mutters gruffly.

"What?"

"Addictive."

I lightly laugh. I could say the same. He lifts himself off of me, kisses me on the forehead, each cheek, and then my lips. "I'll be right back."

I stretch on the cool sheets while Damon is gone. I place a hand over my lips, savoring the feel of his on mine moments earlier. Is it always like this? After the stories I've heard, my guess is no.

Damon comes back, still gloriously naked, with a hot damp cloth. He wipes me clean, gently pressing reassuring kisses on my stomach while he cleans me. He's sweet and tender and it makes me want to go another round.

Damon leaves to put the cloth away and then comes back to bed, wrapping me in his arms, tucking me into his body so I'm in the warmth and safety of my Damon cocoon until I drift off to sleep.

In the early hours of the morning, Damon and I wake and lazily fuck until we fall back asleep. It was quick, almost like we needed the attention before we could fall back to sleep.

I'm being shoved into a trunk, clasping my blue binkie and a sippie cup. "No, mom, no! Don't leave me!" I cry, in a voice much younger than my own.

My mother, her young face with chocolate brown eyes so much like my own, leans over me. "I'll make sure you're safe, Elena. Trust me. Trust that I love you."

Tears fall from my eyes. "Don't leave me, mommy, don't go!"

Her kind round face kisses my forehead. "I love you, my little sweet pea."

The trunk closes and my mom is further and further away. "No, mommy, no!"

"Elena!"

Large hands rouse me in my sleep. "Elena!"

Hands comb through my hair and lips press on my forehead. "You're safe. You're with me."

I cling to Damon. "I need you," I state, my hand reaching beneath the covers.

He doesn't question it, and enters me. I'm still lubricated from the last time I woke up and fucked him, this time, I flip my thigh over and get on top of him. He takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks as I lazily ride him. I'm half asleep so the effort isn't great, but it doesn't seem to matter to Damon. His hands fall to my ass and need my cheeks while I rock into him.

"Jesus, fuck!" He cries as I work his cock with slow circles of my hips.

I lazily fall over and kiss him like I'm trying to hold onto the memory of how we are together. My long hair falls over my shoulders in a cascade. Damon's hands move from my ass to my back, pressing me closer to him. The pressure on my clit is enough to set me off, and as I come so does he. It's a quick and lazy fuck but we don't care. "Do you want to talk about your dream," he whispers into my ear.

It's the same every time. Same dream. I just have a face to the person I call mommy. A young face with pink cheeks and olive skin, so much like my own.

"No," I whisper back.

I fall onto him, I am so bone tired. He doesn't leave me to clean up, instead, he wraps his arms around my lower back and holds me.