I found the following information under Mills & Boon on Wikipedia, under critical opinion. None of it is paraphrased, it is taken directly as a quote. For more information about the history, publishing and line, please find the information at Wikipedia, or on the Mills & Boon website.

"The company has been criticised for repeating plots, the inevitability of their happy endings, and a simple writing style[citation needed], while fans have cited predictability as a key reason for reading.[2][3]

Some critics have claimed that the genre promotes misogyny and the sexual submission of women to men, pointing particularly to the comments by one of Mills & Boon writers, Violet Winspear in 1970 that all her heroes had to be "capable of rape".[4]

The books are highly branded and are often in a separate section of bookshops and libraries from the other paperback fiction and romance novels. Common themes are rich, ennobled and initially unattainable males (often of Mediterranean—especially Greek—origin), the desire of a character to have a baby (with this being thwarted by infertility or an unsympathetic husband), and the breakup and mending of a relationship."

A/N: Now for the chapter. I have attempted to keep this tasteful. I have tried to avoid over the top sexual references. That said, this chapter does pretty much revolve around...you know. This chapter picks up right where we left off.

Chapter 8

Damon lay in bed, his arms wrapped tightly around his wife. He didn't know if she was asleep, since she was facing the wall and not him.

She'd finally given into the passion between them. It had only a matter of time. They had chemistry; they had attraction, and he had no idea how he had had managed to keep his promise and hold out this long.

Being with Elena wasn't like anything he'd ever experienced in his life. Sex he'd had plenty of, but nothing, nothing, had ever been like sleeping with Elena. Going to be bed with her, tasting her, kissing her was different. He didn't know why.

Maybe it was simply because she was his wife. Maybe it was because he had had to wait so long to have her. He didn't know, and he didn't understand the connection they'd shared tonight. He'd thought the sex would be good, but it was indescribable. It was beyond words. It was addictive. Yes that was the word for it. He wanted her again, so badly, that if he didn't think she was so tired, he would roll her over again, and goes for round two, round three, round…well whatever he could get up to without her complaining.

She moved restlessly against him. He hoped she wasn't too uncomfortable. He had a raging hard-on that wouldn't quit. She wriggled slightly, and he cursed himself for not being able to make it go down. His body, however, would not be told to go to sleep or relax. It didn't help that her delectable naked bottom was pressed so tightly against him. He was pulsing, throbbing with need. He heard her sigh.

"Damon," she said softly.

"Yes," he said in a strained sort of whisper.

"Your…you know is digging into me."

His 'you know'?

"Seriously Elena, I wouldn't have called you prudish before now."

His comment got exactly the response he was after; she pushed away from him and turned around to face him. He put his hand on her hip. She didn't push it away.

"I'm not prudish," she said, clearly offended.

"My 'you know'?"

"What?" she said heatedly. "Should I call it your cock?" she asked him. He groaned. Hearing her say the word cock just made him harder. "Or should I call it your dick, your woody, your throbbing member, your one eyed trouser snake, your purple veined yogurt pumper?"

He laughed. Purple veined yogurt pumper? He shifted, so he was closer to her, his aching manhood coming awfully close to nuzzling into the soft wet curls at the junction of her thighs.

"Obviously you aren't tired," she told him, "I think I should go and sleep in my bed tonight."

He wasn't letting her out of this bed, not now that he knew what he'd been missing out on.

"No, there's only one thing that will help me sleep," he told her, again moving closer to her. He was so close now; so close to her wet heat that it was an effort to restrain himself.

"Do you always get your way in the bedroom?" she asked him sweetly.

"Every time," he told her, with such a smirk she knew he wasn't kidding.

"Well, that's about to change."

With that she threw the cover off and sat up, but he sat up next to her, grabbed her hips and dragged her across him so she was effectively sitting in his naked lap, the outside of her thigh brushing against his erection.

She turned to face him, "Damon…"

He cut her off by kissing her. She resisted for a full second before she kissed him back. There was a very obvious reason he always got his way in the bedroom, Elena thought, he was just so darn good in it. His hands were doing amazing things to her body while his kiss was so intense and thorough she thought she might actually climax from it.

He gently turned her so she was straddling him, and finding the hard length of him so close to her hands, she couldn't resist wrapping her hands around him and giving him a light tug. He growled and grabbed her hips tighter. She smiled with pleasure, all thoughts of getting out of bed gone completely. He slipped his hand between her thighs to stroke her. She felt extremely sensitive there after his previous attention, but that just increased her pleasure. He knew exactly how to touch her, exactly what she needed. She moved against his hand, but it wasn't enough. She wanted him inside her, and his fingers on her. As if understanding her need, he pulled her hips so that the tip of him was pressing just inside of her. She was so wet that it was an effort to stop from sliding on to the length of him, but she wanted to savor it and savor him. She moved her hips in a circle, teasing him. He didn't let her tease him for long. He kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he thrust his hips upwards and filled her. She cried out from the sensation. Then he was moving underneath her, and she was moving on top of him in a way that was so in sync they could have been doing it for years. His thumb was rubbing circles over her clit, and she came so hard she thought she would shoot off him, but he grabbed her hips and brought her back down on him hard, making her feel every inch of him inside of her as her inner muscles contracted around him. Then he rolled her underneath him, and pumped into her several more times before he reached his own release.

By the time they made it out of bed the next morning, it was late. Elena was too tired and too satisfied to care. She wanted to see more of Italy, but they would come back. Right now she felt as if she were almost floating. She'd never felt that way after sex before, but then she'd never had that many orgasms in a row before either. Her husband didn't run out of batteries in the bedroom. Once they were both showered – that itself took time as they made use of the extra large walk in shower, they headed out to explore the town.

As they wandered around, hand in hand, Elena thought she and Damon probably looked like one of those in-love couples she had spotted on her first days here. Only she knew better. They spent the day eating. When she made a comment about putting on the pounds, he just looked at her and told her that one day of eating would not undo the fact that she'd refused so much food in Tahiti. He also told her that eating was a big part of coming to Italy, and to enjoy it. So she did.

She felt slightly nervous flying back into the country. Now the honeymoon was over, and she had to adjust to her new life as Damon's wife. Ric was waiting for them at the airport. Her stomach fluttered as they drove along the long, winding driveway to the Salvatore mansion.

"Welcome home, Mrs Salvatore," Damon said to her as he carried her across the threshold.

She'd been to the mansion several times before the wedding. During one of those visits, she had been introduced to the various staff and Damon had explained how the household ran. All of the staff seemed pleasant enough. Elena told him she wasn't used to having people around to clean and cook for her, but Damon assured her she would get used to it.

All of her belongings from home had already been moved across, and when she entered their bedroom she found all of her clothes in the large walk in robe. It was…strange.

Their first real argument at home occurred two hours after they walked through the door.

"You did what?" Elena asked, unable to keep the anger out of her voice.

"You were extremely tired, Elena. Need I remind you of when we were in Tahiti, and you weren't eating. I thought you might faint at any time."

"Oh, Damon, don't be so dramatic. I was fine, and if I wasn't eating it was because I was too angry to," she huffed.

"You were too angry to eat? Right, so making you angry means potential starvation on your part. Remind me not to piss you off then." He growled at her.

They stood there, glaring at each other. Damon had called her parents when they arrived in Italy, to tell them she needed more time off work. She knew exactly why she was so upset. He would be back at work, and she would be stuck here, alone. She didn't want to be sitting around waiting for him to come home. After doing that in Italy, for two nights, she did not want to do it again. Besides this was all so new, she longed for the normalcy of her family and work.

He stalked towards her now, and put his hands around her waist.

"You are so stubborn, Elena. I was worried about you."

His voice was soft and soothing, and it made Elena realize she really didn't want to fight with him.

"I'm sorry," she said to him. "I'm tired, and to be honest, this is all a bit overwhelming. I was hoping to go back to work because that's what I know."

He tucked a strand of hair behind her hair.

"I should have spoken to you first. I'm sorry too."

"Just promise me you won't make my decisions for me, or do things for me that you think are in my best interest. It's a pet hate of mine."

"Okay," he said, "but I want you to promise me that if I do upset you, accidentally, that you're not going refuse to eat."

"Okay," she said.

"We all good?" he asked her.

"All good."

His arms went right around her now, and he kissed her softly. Within minutes she found herself wrapped in his arms, testing out her new bed.

When Damon walked through the door a little after seven the following evening, Elena tried to play it cool. She wanted to see him straight away, but she stayed put in the library and pretended to be interested in the book she was reading. Would he come and find her? She ran her hand through her hair several times and hoped she looked okay. She had freshened up a little over an hour ago in anticipation of his arrival.

As Elena waited for him, she was aware her heart was racing. There was no point in telling herself she was silly or ridiculous for feeling this way; it was what it was. Her husband had come home and as much as she didn't want to be jumping for joy, she was, or her body was. It was the longest time they had gone without sex, since they'd started having it, and she already felt ready for him.

About ten minutes later she heard him come through the door. She looked up from her book to see him standing there, hip pressed against the desk.

"Hi," he said softly.

"How was your day?" she asked him, closing her book and laying it next to her, all the while trying to concentrate on not thinking about ripping her clothes off and demanding he take her on the desk right now.

"Tedious," he told her, "I couldn't help wishing we were back in Italy, enjoying the sun…and each other."

Elena smirked. He'd missed her too then.

He walked over to where she was sitting and leaned over to kiss her. Warmth spread through her as his lips moved against hers. It wasn't enough. With Damon it never seemed to be enough. She let out a small sound that could only be described as needy and before she knew it, he'd slid his arms around her and picked her up off the couch.

"Would it be presumptuous of me to take you to bed right now, Mrs Salvatore?" he asked her as he cradled her in his arms.

"It would be," she replied, "but I think I can forgive you for it. Just this once, though."

She was vaguely aware of him closing the bedroom door with his foot, effectively blocking out the rest of the world. Then they made love like they'd been apart for years rather than hours.

They carried on that way for weeks. Every day, Elena felt more consumed by him. Instead of sex easing her frustration and desire, it only fueled it. Every night when he came home, she would desperately make love with him, enjoying every bit of attention he gave her. As time went on their lovemaking became more intense, and her need escalated into something that was completely beyond her control. Damon Salvatore had turned her into some kind of sex monster. Being with him was all she seemed to think about, and that was really starting to scare her.

Just yesterday, her mother had sat with her in the office to show Elena that she had made a mistake with the book keeping. She'd been horrified. She never made mistakes, never. Elena knew exactly why it had happened. She'd been daydreaming about several nights ago when Damon had brought home a sexy outfit for her to model. It had been so revealing that she had blushed when her eyes came to rest upon the garment, if it could even be called that. It was more like a piece of string that barely covered her nether regions. Yet, as usual, she had been unable to say no to his request. She was completely under his spell.

Fortunately her mother didn't seem too upset by her mistake. Her mother patted her hand.

"In the months after I married your father I could barely focus on anything but him. Ah, those honeymoon months were just so dreamy."

Elena wanted to make a gagging noise but her mother looked so happy that she couldn't bring herself to.

As Elena drove home that night she made a deal with herself; she would get through one night without being with him. She had to prove to herself that she could do it. Even now, her body was protesting the thought, but that only made her more determined to get through the night without succumbing to her need to have him. She was in control here. She laughed humorlessly. She was so not in control here. She didn't know how she would do it. Maybe she could feign a headache. Maybe she would ask him if they could just cuddle tonight. She smiled as she imagined his face. No, the headache would be a better idea.

When she entered the house, she noticed it was quieter than normal. She walked to their bedroom to change out of her work clothes, and found their bed and bedroom floor scattered with rose petals. What was going on here? Normally she was home a good hour or so before Damon. There was a note on the bed. She walked over and picked it up.

"It's been three months since we said, I do. I think this occasion requires a celebration, don't you? Your outfit is in the robe; join me downstairs in fifteen minutes."

She folded the note and put it on her bedside table.

"Really, Damon? Three month anniversary?" she said aloud.

No-one celebrated their three month anniversary, did they? She wondered how her plan to not sleep with him tonight would hold up against the full force of a Damon Salvatore seduction.

She never would have guessed that her husband was such a romantic, but the past three months he had shown her just how romantic he could be. She received flowers from him every other day. He took her to fancy restaurants, the theater, and concerts. He even watched romantic movies with her.

She walked into the enormous walk in robe, hoping to find something other than an invisible piece of lingerie. Hanging just inside the door she found a backless cream colored gown. It was stunning. She sighed. She may as well go along with this for now. She slipped into the gown and freshened up, lightly going over her make-up and spraying on perfume. She twisted her hair into an elegant knot at the back of her neck, then deciding she'd gone to enough trouble, she found suitable pumps and exited the room.

She eventually found him in the dining room. The chandeliers were all on, but turned down so that their light was soft, and hundreds of candles were lit up all over the long length of the table. Damon was standing there in a tux looking impossibly handsome and wicked all at the same time. There was no mistaking the way his eyes lit up when he saw her. A warm glow spread through her.

"Happy anniversary," he said to her, before taking her in his arms and kissing her senseless. Her head reeled as he handed her a glass of champagne. Damon and champagne on an empty stomach were probably not a good idea. Both of them were capable of making her head spin.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, when he noticed she didn't touch her champagne.

"I haven't eaten since lunchtime; it'll go straight to my head."

He pretended to frown "I'm not seeing a problem."

Of course he didn't see a problem. He'd never been on the receiving end of one of his own seductions. She couldn't stop the small smile that curved her lips at the thought.

He smiled back at her. "You're hungry, so let's eat." He plucked the champagne glass out of her hand and sat it down in front of her. Then he pulled out her chair for her so she could sit down. Once she was seated, he disappeared for a moment before reappearing with two large bowls of pasta. He sat down across from her.

The pasta was divine. He'd made it. He'd come home early just to make it for her. But then she knew by now, after three months of marriage, what it was like to experience his full seduction. Every thing about the man was so seductive to start with; the way he moved, the way he smiled, the way he talked, the way he made love. But that was only the beginning. When he set out to seduce her, he launched an all out attack on every one of her senses. The dress that he'd picked out for her, for example, was so soft against her skin that every time the dress shifted it felt like a caress. His aftershave, combined with the sexy smell of just him, was so alluring, so delicious, that if she bottled it, she would be the billionaire. Soft music played in the background. She thought it sounded liked something from the 1920s; something jazzy and romantic. And to top it off, to go with their pasta, he had a bottle of the wine she'd liked most from the winery in Tuscany. He always put so much thought into everything.

After dinner, Damon put a CD on the stereo. She didn't think anything of it until she heard the familiar voice of Sade filter softly through the speakers.

"Damon, is this my CD?"

He nodded. "I've heard you listening to this song a bit. You seem to like it." He offered her his hand. "Dance with me," he told her.

She put her hand in his and let him sweep her up in his embrace. He held her close and she rested her head against his shoulder, letting herself be completely swept away by the song and his arms.

After a time he slipped his finger under her chin and tilted her head so she was looking at him. It was as she stared into his eyes that the truth finally dawned on her. How had she not seen it before? She had an all consuming need to have him; she was unable to think about anything else but him. She'd obviously fallen in love with him. She'd fallen in love with her husband. She couldn't even be sure when it had happened.

He brushed his lips against hers; that small display of affection sending heat straight through her. She'd never stood a chance. Not really. And she didn't stand a chance of not going to bed with him tonight. When it came to this man, she felt powerless; powerless against her own urges, her own desires, and powerless against the man himself. He had charmed her, bewitched her and she didn't think she would ever be able to resist giving him anything he wanted.

So when he picked her up in his arms and carried her to their bedroom, she didn't resist. When he laid her on the bed and removed all of her clothing, she didn't protest. When he kissed every inch of her body, paying special attention to every one of her erogenous zones, she did nothing but murmur her appreciation that he didn't miss any of them. When he finally gave in to her heated requests, and plunged into her, filling her to the hilt, she screamed her approval. And when it was all over, she wiped the tear away that had fallen sometime during it all, and marveled at how much it could hurt to sleep with someone she loved, when they didn't love her back.

Damon lay in bed beside Elena and wondered what the hell had just happened. He was lying on his back, one arm behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. She was on the very edge of the king sized bed. She wasn't even within arm's reach. He'd thought they were having an enjoyable evening. He thought that she had enjoyed sex as much as he had, but in the dim light of the lamp, he thought he'd seen her crying. He didn't know why or understand it. He'd been doing everything he knew how to make her happy. He was trying, damn it, and he had no idea why she was unhappy. What more did she need from him? All she had to do was tell him and god knows he'd find a way to give it to her.

These last three months had been the best of his life, and he'd wanted to celebrate tonight because he just felt happy, and he felt happy doing things with her. He liked to surprise her with things, and take her places, and he really just liked to spend time with her. At the end of each day, instead of lingering on last minute details at work, he found himself pushing it aside for the following morning. All he could think about was getting home to Elena as soon as he could. She lit him up, she made him feel alive. And for the first time in his life he admitted that before she came along, he'd been living life as if nothing mattered. Now he felt something mattered to him; mattered very much to him. Things had changed since he'd married her. She'd given him perspective on things. Everything in his life just felt a little easier because she was in it, she was by his side.

She obviously wasn't as happy as he was though, and the thought upset him enough to make him feel restless and dissatisfied. There was a whole bed between them, but it felt more like an ocean that he needed to swim across to get to her. He sighed before he got up. He needed a drink. A drink always helped him think.

Elena felt the mattress move as Damon got up. She wanted to ask him where he was going but instead she shut her eyes as she heard him move around to her side of the bed. She literally held her breath as she felt him stroke the side of her face with his finger. Typical, she thought, he always made her feel everything that she wanted to avoid. Right now she didn't want to feel how tender he was with her. Her heart ached. She knew it was pointless to want more than he could give her. He'd warned her upfront that love wasn't on the agenda. To be fair he gave her a lot, and many women would probably be more than satisfied by this arrangement; money, a gorgeous man who looked after her, looked out for her, made her body sing in bed. Some would definitely tell her to suck it up and be grateful for what she had; but she couldn't change the fact that she was one of those people who wanted to be loved back. Was that really so wrong?

She sighed before sitting up and taking out a pen and a spare notebook out of the draw next to her. She hadn't kept a diary since she was a teenager, but her head needed sorting out and she thought journaling just might help. Here she could work her emotions and thoughts out onto paper and say what she needed to. Once she started writing, it was hard to stop, the words came pouring out, and as they did, a plan was formulated. 1) Find out what she was up against – e.g. find out more about Katherine. She was after all the reason why Damon said he would never love again. 2) Make Damon fall in love with her, Elena.

So her number two was kind of vague, but she couldn't count herself out, not yet. Maybe, just maybe, if she loved him enough, if she gave of herself enough, if she accepted enough, maybe he would open his heart to her and he would find a way to love her back. She had to have hope. What would life be without hope? Besides, it was too late to go back, and it was useless pretending she didn't love him. She put her pen and notebook back in the top drawer before climbing out of bed. She felt much better. She'd always found writing extremely cathartic. Now she wanted her husband back in bed, back in her arms, so that she could show him just how incredible it was to be loved by somebody; again and again and again. Operation make Damon fall in love with her, started right now.

A/N: Once again, I'm absolutely overwhelmed and honored that so many people who've read this have taken the time to leave me a comment. This story doesn't have too long to go now. Eleven chapters should be enough to cover everything. I sincerely hope this chapter kept your interest, and that the following chapters keep you entertained. Some drama coming up. More of Damon's POV in upcoming chapters.

I've been on line looking at fanfic expressions and meanings, but if someone could tell me if there is a difference between a 'lemon' and 'smut', I would be really grateful. Thanks for reading and please review.