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Chapter 23

Damon

She is insatiable and I love every second of it. We wake several times that night and into the morning. Sometimes it's her swinging her leg over my hip, climbing on top and riding me, or sometimes it's me rocking into her and fucking her from behind. I knew she was the one that would undo me. I just didn't think it'd happen this quickly. Based on my experience, most girls want the intimacy of sex. They want the feeling of before, the furious heat of passion, and they want the after- the immediate gratitude that comes with offering sex. I've fucked a lot of girls but I never before felt like I was evenly matched.

I never felt like the girl was enjoying it as much as I was, and I tried. I tried to make sex a mutual experience, as it should be, even if we are teenagers. However, Elena fucks with her heart on her sleeve. She wants it as much as I do and enjoys every aspect of it as I do. It's a mutual exchange. A dance we both know the beat of. She doesn't hold anything back- so I don't either.

I do have this annoying, nagging feeling; I think she'd be this way with anyone. It's a disturbing thought, but a real one. Elena wears her heart on her sleeve, it's why so many people like her. She's real. She doesn't buy into popularity bullshit. She's her own person- confident in her own skin. Confidence is attractive. I can see why Chase and Noah wanted her— I can even see how under the influence of drugs she'd act the way she did. With all the pressure that was placed on her in recent years and the neglect of her childhood, Elena craves release. Take away all her excuses, and she owns every circumstance she's in.

So as her lips press against mine and as her pussy engulfs my cock, I can only think about how to keep this girl to myself. It's a level of possession I've never felt before. "You're mine," I say and I have no fucking clue where that came from, but it feels right.

"Who else would I be with?"

I pause. She doesn't even know the number of guys I've seen staring at her. I know what they want, I know what they're thinking. Domenico Moretti being the worst of the bunch- I haven't seen it, but based on the way Elena talks about him, I know he wants her. She's a unicorn. She's sexy without realizing what she's doing. She could wrap everyone around her little finger if she even knew her power, but she doesn't, which makes her even more desirable.

"You're mine, and only mine," I repeat. She seems confused but I don't care, it needed to be said.

We have a lazy Sunday morning in bed. I have the family chef prepare brunch for us to munch on while we lazily eat and fuck. We eventually finish Hunger Games on the couch in the pool house, but Elena doesn't care. She's busy sitting on my lap while stroking my chest until I move her back to bed. As I said, this girl is insatiable- I've never experienced anything quite like it.

Finally, I have to ask. "Elena, what do you remember about your birth mom?"

She's lying across me, her boobs on my chest and her mouth on my neck. She slightly lifts her head up and scowls. "I don't want to talk about her."

"The Gilberts took you in when you were young, we don't really know anything about that yet but now that you know that she exists, do you remember anything?" I press.

"She looked like me," she says, in a voice so small, I almost doubt it's her own. Digging for a repressed memory.

"How so?" I can't help but dig a little further.

I feel an intake of breath as she lays sprawled on my chest. "I only know what I dream; memories that pop up."

"Okay."

"She had dark brown hair and brown eyes with long lashes," she explains.

Just like hers.

"What were you doing in the dream?"

She pauses a deep breath and her eyebrows pinch. She's about to lie. "I don't know."

I'm not mad or even disappointed.

She rubs herself against me and even though it's the afternoon on Sunday, I don't care. We haven't left the pool house all day and I'm suddenly afraid of how we're going to manage school tomorrow. I might put a call into the school and get my schedule changed to match hers. As Elena presses her lithe body against mine, I confirm that this is a great idea. She doesn't know her own power and I don't think I want her to know the power she yields.

"You've cried out for your mom before," I mention, trying to delicately refer to the times I held her in the middle of the night. .

Her entire body freezes.

What in the hell, Damon?

Seriously? Way to kill the mood.

She doesn't move but utters. "When?"

Oh, Jesus. There's no avoiding this. I tug her body up and rest my head in the warmth of the crook of her neck. "At night, you have dreams."

I don't know if she can hear me considering I said these words into her neck, but she seems to be able to translate the mumbles. "And you think they're a projection of my subconscious?"

"Yes," I say because I believe it to be true.

We're both clinging to each other, my arms wrapped protectively around her, her leg flung over mine. "What is my subconscious trying to say?" She asks timidly.

"I think you're tired and scared and lonely," I reply, honestly. "I think you need protection but you're afraid to ask for it. Your parents left you and you're angry but you don't know how to express that anger. You thought you knew who your mom and dad were but learned they were different people— that'll cause anyone to have nightmares."

She's quiet- too quiet but she doesn't need to say anything for me to know I fucked up. "Spend more time self-reflecting and less analyzing me, Dr. Freud."

She effortlessly rolls off of me and hops out of bed, not even regarding me as she walks into the bathroom, shuts the door, and fucking locks it.

Well, that went horribly.

Santiago walks into the room while I pull up lounge pants. "You already pissed her off?" He comments, handing me a cup of coffee even though it's the middle of the afternoon.

I glare at him and take a sip. "Are you asking me to fire you, Santiago?"
He shakes his head adamantly. "She's a good kid, sir."

Fuck, me. Elena has the ability to attract anyone. "We have school tomorrow, be sure you have the property covered."

"And what about on the property?"

"I'll be there," I say, without hesitation.

"And what about Ms. Chandler?"

Ainsley Chandler could be a problem because she's proven to be a psycho, but if I'm with Elena, I don't anticipate any problems. "Get dirt on her or her family and text it to me."

Never hurts to have leverage.

He nods, but before he leaves, he pauses for an uncomfortable period of time. "She's a good person," he repeats, indicating the bathroom door where Elena is taking a shower. "She doesn't deserve to be raked through the coals like you usually do with your companions."

"Who says I'm going to rake her through the coals?"

"Your past."

Touche.

This is Elena and none of those other girls affected me the way she does. Probably because of our shared history. Honestly, the other girls were place holders for Elena. I knew we'd find a way back to each other, but I didn't exactly have a timeline.

"Have I ever taken a girl back to my place for longer than a couple of hours?" I counter.

Santi thinks for a moment and then shakes his head. "No, but don't fuck this up. I like her and will gladly work for her instead of you if she asks."

I might fire him. He's around Elena too much, maybe I can't trust him.

Santiago leaves the moment Elena hops out of the shower. She holds a towel around herself and my automatic instinct is to whip it off of her and sink myself into her again, but I hold myself back. Relying on memories of restraint when I had to watch her in school from across the hall or across the classroom.

That restraint keeps me from holding her hostage in bed all day, even though I know she'd like that just based off of her moans from earlier.

"Don't stare at my like that," she mutters, searching for panties in one of the drawers. I doubt she'll find any, I didn't buy a lot.

"Why?" I grunt.

She lifts her head ever so slightly to glance at me. Her look holds about as much desire as I have for her. "I have work tonight and we both have school tomorrow," she points to me, waving her hand up and down my frame. "Those looks do unkind things to my motivation."

Thank God, I didn't have to say it.

"What if I'm okay with that?"
"I have to graduate, Damon," she says, with a smile on her lips while she searches for leggings. I guess she's not mad at me anymore.

I'm about to make some pointed remark when she says. "Plus Domenico is supposed to contact me."

I hadn't forgotten about that but part of me hoped that problem would disappear. Sure, it was delusional to think that way, but Elena has managed to make a list of enemies that have proven to be dangerous.

"I'll take you to dinner before your shift," I offer. We'd spent most of the day in bed, she hasn't had much to eat.

I hate that she still works at the diner. Our list of problems has grown exponentially and her working at the diner is one more stress she does not need.

Her head tilts to the side in the cutest way, her cheeks glow. "Okay."

I nod and leave her to get ready, while I shower and dress in my room in the main house. I'm dressed and ready when my cell rings.

My lawyer.

"Is this about the property I told you to research?" I ask by way of greeting.

"No, but since we acted early, I'm hopeful," he explains. "We're offering over asking price, so it should be ours within the week. I need to tell you— I discovered something…"

"What did you find out?"

"Nothing good," he replies on the other end.

"Just tell me, Cameron."

"Chase Worthington is out; Frederick Brown's family didn't press charges and evidence that Chase was responsible for the car bombs on Friday didn't stick," he replies.

Fuck.

"There's more," he says. "You know my brother in Vegas?"

"The black sheep of the Lockwood family that decided to use his trust fund to buy a couple strip clubs?"

I hear a grunt of irritation over the phone. "Yeah," an awkward pause. "Something suspicious caught his eye. He told me there's a video of a girl from Mystic Falls that's being shopped around."

"Goddammit!" I yell, almost tossing my cell against the wall. I want to break something, preferably their faces. I want to burn their lives to the ground and piss in its ashes. Those sick mother fuckers filmed what they did to Elena. Godfuckingdammit! "Find out everything you know about the video and I'll buy the rights."

"I'll give my brother a call," he says. "There is good news, Noah Scott didn't make bail."

One down.

"I need that video, Cameron, and I need dirt on Ainsley. Her mom was a reality show celebrity, it can't be that hard," I order. I already have Santiago on it, but it doesn't hurt to have someone else on it as well.

"When someone volunteers to be the subject of tabloid fodder, it can be that hard," he replies. "We need to hire an investigator, like I've been suggesting for the past two weeks."

"I don't trust anyone but you," I reply. "You'd be disbarred if you breached confidentiality, you can't make the same guarantees of a private investigator."

"I have someone I can vouch for," he defends. "A friend from law school. Now's not the time to be stubborn, Damon."

I see Elena walking down the path from the pool house to the main house wearing…fuck, what does she think she's wearing? "Do it, but you don't want to find out what'll happen to you if it backfires."

"There won't be anyone you trust to defend you if you end up in jail, remember that, Damon."

He hangs up.

There's a video being floated around of Elena, the very idea makes me murderous.

"Fuck!" I rage, punching the small leather Everlast bag hanging from my ceiling. I punch bare-knuckled, trying to work things out. I need to get back in the ring.

Not only will this video ruin her future but it'll also get her name out there. The Giovanni and Russo families will know where she is. I wonder if they made her sign something when she was out of it. There's a reason they did this and it was to ruin her reputation and future as she ruined theirs by winning the trial and showing the world who they really were. Noah is in jail without bail, which means they think he's a flight risk. Chase and Frederick are out, which means they're behind it.

Just add it to the ever-growing list of things I'm worried about.

Elena can't know. She's still riding the high from her cross country meet. This will devastate her. I step away from the punching bag, walk to the bathroom to splash water on my face and school my face, place my wallet in my back pocket, and grab the keys to the Maserati. I crave the burn of my dad's single-barrel, twenty-one year aged bourbon. Just something to take the edge off so I can think. I want a drink, but I don't want anyone driving us.

Elena's in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water, waiting for me. She's wearing charcoal black leggings with a long loose black knit sweater that she must've bought when she purchased the outfit she wore on Friday night. A thin tank peeks out between the holes in the knitting and I want nothing more than to push her up against the wall, run my fingers under that sweater and hike her legs up around my waist. I must be wearing my emotions on my face because she rolls her eyes.

"Are you going to be too distracted to drive?"

I smirk, she's a salve to the anger I feel building. "Absolutely."

She plucks the keys out of my hands. "Where are we going?"

I easily take the keys back- she didn't even put up a fight. "Patience is a virtue."

"One that neither of us possess."

She's right about that. I walk her out to the car and make sure she gets in the passenger side before I climb in.

"I thought we'd go to Rocco's," I say, starting the car.

She grows quiet and turns away from me. "I've never been."

Maybe I shouldn't take her there. It's a casual Italian restaurant located close to the school, but it's also close to the diner where she has to work in a little over an hour. Students hang out there after school, or on Fridays but I doubt we'll see anyone on a Sunday. "They have a good eggplant parm."

That seems to perk her up, she moves so she's at least not slouched against the door. I turn the radio on to help with the sudden wall tension that arrived and placed itself between Elena and myself. We shouldn't have left the pool house.

I could just take her directly to work or we could get burgers and eat at the park. But I want to take her on a real date, even if it's just for an hour at a place that's known for large portions and messy food.

We enter the restaurant and are seated in a dark corner booth with a checked table cloth covering the table. The restaurant is fairly busy with families and couples enjoying the unlimited garlic knots and a pitcher of Chianti that's poured by the servers. I'm grateful we came just past the hour because we avoided the hourly rendition of That's Amore, sung by the staff. They even hand out a sheet of lyrics so customers can join in. I hate it but I think Elena will like it once she's cooled down a little.

Something is going on and I doubt she'd tell me what's wrong. She hasn't even looked at a menu. Her hair is down and falls over one shoulder as she fidgets in her seat, biting her lip. Someone comes by, fills our glasses with water, and places garlic knots on the table.

Elena remains quiet, looking at her phone. I try to engage her in conversation, but she mumbles polite replies and casts her eyes warily out at the restaurant.

A server finally comes over, a guy I recognize as graduating last year, wearing a black vest over a white dress shirt and a long black apron tied around his waist. "Welcome to Rocco's Italian Kitchen, my name is Kevin, would you like to hear our specials or are you ready to order?"

He impatiently taps his pad and looks at us expectantly. I'm grateful he doesn't bother asking for our drink order first. This date is a disaster and I refuse to give up before I have to take her to work. "Two eggplant parmesans and the Chianti."

When he finally looks up from his pad, his eyes widen in surprise. "You're Damon Salvatore," he laughs, writing down my order. "I thought I recognized you. I'm new here, but I know that you come in a lot. Like, A LOT."

He emphasizes his final words and I add him the list of people I want to punch, lucky for him he's at the bottom of a long list.

"Are you going to stand there and gawk or are you going to put my order in?"

I'm irritated and frustrated and will probably blow if I don't get something in my system to steady my nerves.

To his credit, the server just laughs, says that he's on it, sticks the pen behind his ear, and walks away.

"You don't have to be so rude," Elena chastises, uttering the first complete sentence since the ride here. "You are here A LOT. Don't want to insult people who work here."

She emphasizes a lot and now understand her mood, well at least I think I do.

"There you are," I say, popping a garlic knot in my mouth. "I missed you."

Her eyes dart to a corner before the chocolate irises lay on me. "We haven't been out like this before."

"We were at the party," I comment.

"This is like, official," she breathes, her eyes dart back to that corner. I'd look, but it'd be obvious and I don't know how she'll react. "The party was just one of your parties. Plenty of people have seen you with girls at your parties."

"Technically, it wasn't my party."

She tilts her head and lifts an eyebrow. "Technically, it was your party."

"That party was lame, cops broke it up and everything. Plus, velvet drapes— tacky."

"I think you're missing the point," she finally takes a garlic knot, rips it in half, and pops a piece in her mouth. That's a good sign; she's eating.

"What are you worried about?"

She shakes her head. "I like being invisible; sitting in the back where no one could pay me any attention."

I almost laugh but by the serious look on her face, I hold back. "You were never invisible- even when you tried."

Elena sighs heavily, licks her lips, and takes a drink out of the short tumbler of wine they poured her. "I guess."

"You really want to leave, don't you?"

"This place isn't bad," she remarks, indicating the garlic knots.

"I mean Mystic Falls."

"Of course, I want to leave Mystic Falls, don't you?"

Except, I can't. My dad wants me to work for him right out of high school and then go to school if he feels like I need it. He thinks the best learning happens through experience. He isn't wrong, but it would've been nice to be on my own, outside of the city, for a few years. I'm on my own now, but I'm also under my dad's thumb and under his roof. I'm lucky, I know that and my dad's been a neglectful asshole but he's not bad. Not 100%, at least.

"Let's play How would you…" I say, hopefully distracting her from my lack of response.

"I actually play this a lot," she comments.

"You do?" I ask, feeling slightly betrayed. I only ever played this game with her.

"On my own, when I'm bored in class."

I laugh lightly, taking a drink of the wine. "Okay, how would you… rob this place?"

She scans the room for a minute, biting her lip, thinking. She watches for a few minutes, an eye on the register, and the front entrance. Then she takes time watching the serving station. This game isn't about speed, it's about the best and most realistic strategy. "Hostesses who work Sunday nights haven't been working as long because the most desirable shift on a Sunday is the brunch shift. She's probably working a Sunday through Thursday schedule, trying to earn her way up into getting a weekend slot."

"How do you know?"

"She's left her station unattended three times in the last ten minutes," Elena takes another sip from her glass. "She has a crush on one of the servers, Kevin— gives him the best tables. She gave him our table," she adds with a wink. "She gets flustered every time he comes over too and ignores the other server— the red headed girl, which is starting to irritate the other server because she's stuck with all the tables with families who need kid's menus."

She indicates the entrance. "Watch this family coming in."

We both watch. The family waits while the hostess seats another table in her crush's section. She sees the family and then looks at her chart.

"She's going to seat them in the red headed's section," she says, indicating the other server. Sure enough, she guides them next to another family and the other server looks murderous.

"So you'd distract them and then go into the register?"

"No," she says with a shake of her head. "Businesses like this run on credit and debit cards. There can't be more than a couple hundred in the register- it's not worth it."

"That's not part of the game."

"I know," she says. "Look."

She indicated back to the hostess who's currently trying to keep her calm while the red headed server yells at her for putting another family in her section. She's carrying a tray of drinks in one hand. "Their backs are to the register," I comment.

"Yes, and they're blocking the only way to the bathroom," she explains. "See that mom with the three kids?"

The young mom is completely overwhelmed with an upset toddler in a highchair while her kids are coloring on the menu. Her asshole of a boyfriend or husband or whoever is on his phone oblivious to the situation.

"I'd walk like I'm going to the bathroom, trip and knock into one of the servers that pours wine and water everywhere. He gets it all over stressed out mom's table. Pissed off server goes to fix the situation, hostess with the crush follows because she feels bad after being yelled at. I walk right past them…"

"—and how are you going to get into the register before you're caught."

"I told you, I'm not stealing money. Look behind the register, right underneath the twelve signed photos of celebrities who've been here."

I look and I don't fucking believe it.

"Framed Joe DiMaggio baseball card," she says. "Signed by the looks of it."

"Has to be worth at least thirty-grande and just sitting there."

"She hasn't been working here long, she probably doesn't know. I'd take it and slip the thin acrylic case the waistband of my leggings- it'd take all of twenty-seconds," she replies.

There's a reason she's top of our class. Elena could do anything with her life but she doesn't know it. I, of course, don't tell her this. "Points for observation skills, creativity, and noticing the most valuable object in the restaurant. However, you failed to come up with a way to get past the security cameras," I observe. "You'd be arrested before you got to the parking lot."

"Pay in cash, leave out of the kitchen exit," she offers with a shrug. "It'd be better if I had a hat or the wig from Friday. I mean I guess doing the "health inspector" routine would've worked on the staff they have tonight, but that's a two person job and the server recognized you."

Our food arrives, but Elena still glances at the corner behind me, playing with her fork. "How would you…. murder Kevin?"

"Morbid, are we?"

"It's not like we've never used that question before."

I don't even think twice about it. "Send you to flirt with him and then the hostess would do it for me."

She laughs and it's so pure and angelic, no one who heard it would think she was laughing about someone else's murder. She digs into her eggplant parm and we spent the next fifteen minutes drinking, eating, and planning kidnappings, robberies, and at one point we figure out how to convince the staff that we own the restaurant. Elena goes as far as firing the hostess and Kevin for being unprofessional.

Elena's eyes dart behind me occasionally, and finally, when she's in a good enough mood I ask.

"Nothing," she replies. "Don't worry about it."

Unfortunately, that's exactly what I do.

Elena

I was able to get past the fact that he's taken every girl he's fucked to this restaurant. Well, maybe not everyone, but the point is, we just had sex and he decided to take me to a place where he's well….taken a lot of girls. It's just, odd.

Rocco's is a known hang out for Mystic Falls High students, of all the places we could've gone- he chose the one where we were most likely to run into someone? And we did, although Damon doesn't know it yet.

Ainsley is here with Franklin and other students, sitting two booths down, behind Damon. If Damon sees Franklin, I don't know what he'll do. If Ainsley confronts me after Friday, I don't know what I'll do. If we leave in a hurry, they'll surely see us. If I can just sit back and pretend they aren't here, they may leave without noticing.

Maybe if I leave, Damon can meet me outside. No one will bother him. Me? I don't want to hear it when I have four hours of washing dishes in front of me. "I have to use the restroom," I say.

Damon, who's mood went from humorous to ominous in about thirty-seconds doesn't cast me a second look. Now's the time to go. I slip out of the booth and make like I'm going to the restroom. While playing our game, I learned that there's an exit near the restrooms, so I walk past the front desk and down a darkened hallway. One of the doors connects to the kitchen; food runners leave through that door, while another returns through another door with dirty dishes. The exit must be the same one staff use to take a smoke break. I push open the door and on the other side am greeted by Ainsley and Kate. Great. They must've left out the front and circled to the back.

We're standing in the back of the parking lot, near dumpsters. I move to walk away from them but they block my path so I take a step back and step on someone's shoe. I turn to see Frederick and a shudder runs through my body. "So are you three a thing? A thrupple? Cause you all looked pretty cozy sharing that booth in Rocco's. Very open minded of you, but my question is…what's the sleeping situation like?" I point my index finger between them "Is Freddy in the middle and do you two spoon him, or is Ainsley in the middle because she needs the attention?"

Kate raises her hands up and crosses them before quickly slashing them down. "Shut up!" She yells with her hands. "You're not supposed to be back- you're supposed to be dead or out of town."

"Sorry, didn't get the memo."

"You may be here getting cozy with Damon Salvatore, but he does not like you," she says. "He took me here, you know and we sat in that same booth. You're not special."

"I was here with him last week," Ainsley adds.

I knew this but it still stings.

Kate and Ainsley laugh. "Look at her face!"

I hear Frederick chuckle from behind me. "He's said things about you that make me blush. He hates you, don't you see that? We all do. You were banned from his parties; Chase still has the blow-up doll of you Damon gave him."

What?

I need to get out of here. I need to get to work. I need to get away from Frederick.

I move to walk through Ainsley and Kate, but Franklin holds me back, his hands clasped firmly on my upper arms. "You're going to listen to what we have to say and then we'll let you go," he hisses in my ear, spraying spittle all over my cheek.

I try to keep my breathing even. "Then hurry up and talk, because I'm already late for work."

"Damon had his cock in me just last Monday," Ainsley spits out. "You're a phase, part of some revenge plot he's cooking up."

"He despises you," Kate adds. "Told me himself that he thinks you're a waste…."

Her words are quickly cut off. "Get your fucking hands off of her."

Full of animalistic rage, Damon rips me away from Frederick, I fall into Kate and Ainsley and we tumble to the asphalt. I push them off me right as I see Damon pull his right arm back and punch Frederick across the face. Frederick falls to the ground and is completely knocked out. One punch. That's all it took. The fact that Frederick isn't moving doesn't stop Damon, he bends to one knee, lifts Frederick up by the shirt and proceeds to pummel him. He's swearing, calling him words I can't translate. I'm able to make out the words, "Sick fuck."

I think Ainsley and Kate are crying, trying to get Damon to stop. But I can't tear my eyes away from the scene. Once I hear one of them on the phone, it's like someone pressed play on my vision and I can hear what's going on. "Damon, stop!"

He immediately drops Frederick, but it's too late. Almost like it was planned, the police arrive. Damon orders me not to say anything and hands me his keys. "Call Cameron Lockwood, his number is in your phone."

"I'll follow you to the station."

"No," he orders. "I'll be fine, go to work."

Kate and Ainsley are giving their testimonies, and Frederick is being loaded on a stretcher and taken into an ambulance that arrived a minute ago. Damon is cuffed and taken to the squad car. The police ask for my statement, but I explain I want my lawyer present. Looks like no matter what Damon requested, I'm going to the station anyway. Not that I was planning on listening to him.

I call Cameron Lockwood once I get to the car. "Yeah?" he says by way of greeting.

I don't know Cameron, but Damon told me that he's his lawyer and he's apparently good. Hopefully, he's amazing because the outlook for Damon doesn't look so good. Kate was somehow able to take a video of Damon beating the shit out of Frederick— one she's already shown the police. "Damon's been arrested."

Cameron sighs heavily. "What did he do?"

"Knocked out Frederick Brown."

"Well, that's to be expected," he says, which surprises me. I want to know why but he doesn't give me the chance. "Tell me everything, don't leave out a single detail. I'm on my way."

I put the Bluetooth speakers on in the car and explain what happened while I drive to the police station. "Don't say anything until I get there," he instructs. "I have to make a couple of phone calls, but promise me you won't say a single word."

He repeats it like I'm an idiot. I don't know if I like Cameron.

"I won't say anything."

Then he hangs up.

Okay, then.

I call Gary and explain that I'm going to be late for work. He yells but when I explain that he can stack up however many dishes he wants and I'll stay until I get them all done, he calms down. Right now, nothing sounds better than scrubbing a pile of dishes- except maybe a long run.

I avoid thoughts about what Kate and Ainsley said. They obviously wanted to rile me up before Damon came out. It's how they planned it, but something nags at the back of my brain. The comment about the blow-up doll.

The night I went with Rafe to Damon's party, they wrote nasty comments about me on a blow-up doll. They said Damon would kill them…but Damon has cameras everywhere. Maybe he'd kill them for not waiting for him to make fun of the blow-up doll version of me. Or…what if that wasn't the first time they made fun of me in that way. Damon's tortured me for the last few years, he was angry with me. He said as much and I deserved it after what I did. But it doesn't take away from the fact that it happened.

And who knows what happened last week when I practically forced Ainsley on him. She's gorgeous in a southern way, with big hair, big blue eyes, and big other things. Her mom is famous or something, so I can see how some people would find her whole situation attractive. Somehow, it doesn't seem like Damon would do that to me. Not after everything we've been through.

I walk into the station and am told to sit by an officer's desk while we wait for Cameron to arrive. Cameron looks like someone Damon would hire. He's in his mid-thirties, tall, broad, and has piercing green eyes. He doesn't even look at me, instead, he asks for the person in charge of Damon's case, and in a total of ten minutes, Damon is out of custody.

Cameron is magical.

He genially shakes everyone's hand, while Damon and I leave, walking in silence to his car. I was in there for a total of fifteen minutes- max. Either Cameron is really good or the Mystic Falls Police Department has just been given a sizable donation from the Salvatore screw-up fund.

Damon doesn't argue when I get in the driver's side. It's when we're sitting in the car that I feel the rage and anger come off him in waves. He's possessed and I'm suddenly reminded that I haven't known him for almost four years- there's a gap in our story.

The sun has long gone down as I start the car and drive for five minutes down the road when he orders me to pull over into a park. I drive down a small street that takes me deeper into the park. The moment I put the car in park the car, Damon jumps out, running his hands through his hair- looking crazed.

I don't have time for this. I was scared out of my mind driving to the police station and sitting and waiting. All because he couldn't control himself. He just had to take out Frederick when I had the situation perfectly under control. I open the car door, step out, and walk over to him. "Get back in the car, I don't have time for this. I'm going to be late, Damon."

He strides toward me growling. No words, just pure hunger as cups my cheeks and devours my lips. I feel myself slam against the hood of his car. The hood bites into my back, contrasting with the way he consumes me, the pain is delicious. Our kiss is bruising and as brutal as his dark, possessive mood. His hands move to my leggings, tugging then down my thighs. Thanks to my large, knit sweater, if anyone looked on they'd see two people making out- not the things he's doing with his fingers in my panties.

Then he does something so horrible and mean, I want to punch him. He tosses my shoes through the open car window and yanks the leggings off. Sure my sweater is long enough to cover things, but it's still rude. "Was that really necessary?" I yell, shoving him off of me.

I make to pick up my leggings, but he savagely grabs me by the waist and props me back on the black hood of the Maserati so he can devour my neck. A ragged moan escapes my lips as his hands reach beneath my sweater. It feels so good, I hate him for it. "You're going to give me what I want, for once in your fucking life," he utters as I let out a moan.

I'm not arguing, even if my brain says he's acting like an asshole. The needy tightening of my sex overrules my sensibility. My fingers dig beneath his black v-neck shirt so I can feel his flesh and bring him closer. He takes that as an invitation to pull the cups of my bra down from beneath my tank and tweak my nipple while his other hand palms my sex and rubs in slow circular motions. The combination of the roughness of his fingers and the slow speed causes me to cry out in a voice I don't recognize. She sounds wild and carefree.

His fingers are wet with my juices and he uses the lubrication to slide his fingers up and down my slit while his mouth makes its way up to my lips. He dominated my mouth, just like he dominated every other part of me. His tongue slides in and twists with my own. His index finger purposefully circles my clit once…twice…and then plunges into my sex.

I cry out at the sudden invasion. And then he does it again, except this time he plunges two fingers in. I move my hips, riding his fingers until he bends his finger slightly and finds a spot that undoes me. I feel a flush spread all over me as pleasure engulfs my senses. But Damon isn't done, he removes his hands and flips me around so my palms are on the hood of the car. I haven't even come down from my orgasm when he moves my panties aside and his cock plunges into me balls deep.

"Fuck!" I yell. I am painfully full, but he doesn't slow down. He pumps in and out of me while holding me steady. I feel him tighten but he stops. He places his hand, slick from my juices on my chin, and tilts it so he can take my mouth and consume me there like he's consuming every other area. With his other hand, from behind me, he reaches around my hips, reaches into my lace panties, and strokes my clit.

Then, he starts moving again in tune with his strokes. "It's too much," I pant, but it comes out desperate like I want more and fuck me, I do.

"You'll take it," he replies, his mouth moving to the back of my neck while his thrusts quicken. I feel myself tighten around his cock, and he comes with a bite to my neck. I scream, feeling him empty himself into me but then he pulls out and I feel wetness on my back. I don't even look, I know what he did. He massages it into my backside, even moving my tank up so he can spread his seed all over me. It's dirty and wrong and I love every second of it. I even love the fact that I should hate this degradation.

When he's done, he leaves me sprawled on the hood of his car for a few seconds. He places my cell phone in my hand— I'm still recovering. I think my heart rate is the same as it is after I run a race. He places a gentle kiss on my neck. "You're going to call work and tell Gary your quitting."

"You can't—

He interrupts me by placing a hand in-between my spine and leaning into me between my legs. It's an incredibly strategic position and one-hundred percent asshole-y.

"You don't need to work there, we already have too much to worry about. You are being a stubborn little brat by holding onto that job when it can go to someone who actually needs it. You are above dishwashing, Elena," he states into my ear.

I sigh, still refusing because Domenico might contact me there and I really don't want to get on his bad side.

"Either you do it, or I'll make you walk in with your leggings wet with my cum and I'll be right there to remind any busboy, server, or Gary what's all over you and what you're still thinking about," he adds.

Why do his words make me wet with need?

What the hell is wrong with me?

I dial the number while Damon runs his hands up my sweater and kisses me from behind on the neck. "Good, girl."

I shove him off. "I'm not a dog, Damon!"

He remains unmoved and chuckles into my neck.

I'm still plastered to the hood of the car with Damon casually leaning into me, keeping me there. We both have a thing for cars. This is turning into a problem. I may need to go to a support group—preferably not one in the basement of a church.

Gary picks up and yells at me, which is to be expected considering I've committed and I'm late. "I'm sorry, Gary. I have a lot going on with it being senior year. I can't work at Patty's anymore."

I hear a resigned sigh at the other end. "To be honest, I was hoping you would."

"But you just yelled at me!"

"I read the paper, Elena. I know about the trial and what you've been going through. I was the one that pulled you from the front of the diner," he explains.

"Only because I was getting harassed."

"And it was my job to protect my employee, you know the customer isn't always right. I should've kicked out those kids, not sent you to the kitchen," he says, regret in his voice. "You had to fight to keep the job, my first instinct was to fire you."

"It's fine, Gary. You gave me a job when I needed it."

"Surprisingly, you turned out to be a good dishwasher," he adds.

Damon moves off of me so I can sit up. "It wasn't so bad."

"You can pick up your last paycheck on Friday, at least say goodbye, okay?"

"Okay."

I hang up the phone and sit there for a couple of seconds, feeling kinda relieves. I hop off the hood and walk to the driver's side barefoot. I don't bother to grab my leggings. Damon does, he has them in his fist as he climbs into the car. "Don't expect me to be that compliant again."

He grunts, looking out the window.

I don't know what's on his mind as I start the car, but his mood went right back to dangerous. In the years since I've known him, he has changed. We may talk about the past or play games that we used to play, but these games are different— darker, and I can't decide if I like it or am scared by the thought that he could drag me to the depths with him.