Chapter 25: "Was that what you wanted?"[R18]

The bedroom was dark.

Damon walked her backward until the backs of her knees hit the mattress edge. Eleanor caught a breath, her fingers still curled into the hard muscle of his shoulders, feeling the unnatural warmth of him through her palms. He was running hot, hotter than a man should, the demon blood in him still simmering from the night’s work.

"Take it off," he said.

Not a request.

Her hands moved before her mind caught up. She grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head, tossing it somewhere into the dark. Her jeans came next, shoved down her hips and kicked aside. She stood in front of him in nothing but a thin black bra and matching panties, her skin prickling with goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold.

Damon’s eyes travelled down her body, slow and deliberate. He reached out and hooked a finger under the strap of her bra, dragging it down her shoulder. The cup fell away, exposing her breast to the cool air. Her nipple tightened instantly.

"Beautiful," he murmured. It was the first compliment he’d ever given her.

He pushed her back onto the mattress. Eleanor landed on her elbows, her hair spilling across the sheets, and watched him unbuckle his belt. The leather slid through the loops with a whisper. His trousers dropped. He stepped out of them, and then he was on the bed, one knee sinking into the mattress beside her hip.

She reached for him. Her fingers found the waistband of his boxer briefs, and she tugged them down. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, already hard, the head flushed dark. Eleanor’s breath caught in her throat. He was bigger than she’d expected and the sight of it made her mouth go dry and her thighs press together.

Damon caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up.

"You know what to do," he said.

Eleanor slid off the bed onto her knees. The floorboards were cold against her bare shins, but she barely felt them. She wrapped her fingers around the base of him, and he was so warm, so impossibly warm, the skin like heated silk over steel. She leaned in and dragged her tongue along the underside, from root to tip, slow and wet.

Damon’s jaw tightened. His hand came down on the back of her head, not pushing, just resting there, fingers threading into her hair.

She took him into her mouth. The first inch, then more, her lips stretching around his girth. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked, sliding down until he hit the back of her throat. Her eyes watered. She pulled back, gasping, a thin string of saliva connecting her lips to his cock, then went down again.

"Mmh" she moaned around him, the vibration traveling up his shaft.

"That’s it," Damon said, his voice low and rough. "Just like that."

She worked him with her hand and mouth together, twisting her wrist on the upstroke, lapping at the head, tasting the salt of his skin. Above her, his breathing had gone heavier, the muscles of his abdomen flexing with each pass of her tongue. She could feel the power coiled in him, the same power that had snapped Julian’s neck, and it thrilled her in a way that should have terrified her.

His grip in her hair tightened. "Enough."

He pulled her up off her knees and onto the bed, and then he was over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. He kissed her, hard and demanding, his tongue forcing past her lips. She moaned into his mouth, her hands roaming the broad expanse of his back, feeling the ridges of old scars under her fingertips.

He broke the kiss and looked down at her, his dark eyes nearly black in the low light.

"Turn over."

Eleanor rolled onto her stomach, her heart hammering. She heard him move behind her, felt his hands on her hips, lifting her onto her knees. Her cheek pressed into the pillow. Her back arched. She was trembling, and she didn’t know if it was fear or want, and she didn’t care.

He pressed the head of his cock against her entrance. She was already wet, embarrassingly so, slick and ready. He pushed in, just the tip, and she gasped, her fingers twisting into the sheets.

"Please," she whispered. "Please, please -"

Damon drove into her in one hard thrust.

"Ahh..fuck," Eleanor cried out, her back bowing, her whole body clenching around him. He was so deep, stretching her, filling her completely. For a moment he didn’t move, just stayed buried to the hilt, letting her feel every inch of him.

Then he pulled back and slammed in again.

"Mmh..oh god.." The force of it drove the breath from her lungs. He set a rhythm, hard and steady, his hips slapping against her ass with each thrust. The bedframe creaked. The headboard knocked against the wall. Eleanor gripped the sheets and moaned, long and shameless, her mind going blank except for the sensation of him moving inside her.

"Ah..ah..ah.." Each thrust punched a sound out of her, rhythmic and helpless.

"You feel that?" Damon’s voice was a growl against her ear. He’d leaned over her, his chest pressing into her back, his lips brushing her shoulder. "That’s what you’ve been missing."

"Fuck..yes.." she gasped. "Don’t stop..please don’t stop.."

She couldn’t answer beyond that. She could only moan, pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts. He reached around and slid his hand between her legs, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight circles while he fucked her.

"Mmh..oh..oh fuck.." The pleasure spiked, sharp and electric. Eleanor’s thighs shook. Her moans turned into broken cries, half-muffled by the pillow. "Right there...right there..don’t stop..."

"Say it," Damon growled. "Say you’re mine."

"I’m yours.." she sobbed. "I’m yours, fuck, I’m yours.."

Damon didn’t stop. He fucked her harder, deeper, his fingers relentless on her clit. The coil in her belly wound tighter and tighter until it snapped, and she came with a shuddering cry, her inner walls clenching around him, her whole body shaking.

"Ahh..fuck..Damon!"

He didn’t slow down. He rode her through the orgasm, his thrusts growing rougher, more erratic. His breathing was harsh, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise.

Eleanor was limp beneath him, oversensitive, every stroke sending a fresh jolt of pleasure-pain through her. She moaned weakly, her face pressed into the pillow, her body nothing but a vessel for his use.

"Too much.." she whimpered. "It’s too much..ah.."

"You can take it," he said. "You’re going to take all of it."

And then she felt it. A surge of heat, deeper than before, spreading through her core. Damon’s rhythm stuttered. He groaned, low and guttural, and buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing inside her.

He came. Hot and thick, flooding her, filling her to the brim. Eleanor felt each pulse, each spurt, the warmth spreading through her belly. He held himself there, hips pressed flush against her ass, emptying everything he had into her.

"Fuck," she breathed, her voice wrecked. "Oh fuck, you’re..you’re so deep.."

When he finally pulled out, she collapsed onto the mattress, her legs giving out completely. She lay there, panting, feeling his seed trickle down her inner thigh.

Damon didn’t lie down beside her. He sat on the edge of the bed, reached for the glass of water he’d left on the nightstand, and drank.

Eleanor turned her head to look at him. His profile was sharp in the dim light, his chest still rising and falling a little faster than normal.

"Was that," she started, her voice hoarse, "what you wanted?"

He set the glass down and looked at her over his shoulder.

"That was the first part," he said.

Her stomach flipped. She watched him stand, watched the streetlamp paint new shadows across his back, and she realized with a strange thrill that the night was far from over.