Chapter 52: I Want To See Your Everything [R18]

#Bonus Chapter

The door clicked shut behind them, and for a moment neither of them moved.

Damon’s room was warmer than the hallway. Late afternoon light came through the tall windows and pooled gold across the dark wood floor.

A low fire had been lit against the evening chill. Vivian stood just inside the threshold, hands at her sides, and he watched her take it all in. The bed. The heavy curtains half drawn. The quiet.

She held herself differently now, shoulders drawn in, breath shallow.

He could see the pulse beating at the base of her throat.

He let the silence stretch. He wanted to see what she would do with it.

She turned to face him.

"So," she said, and her voice came out steadier than her hands, "are you going to stand by the door all afternoon?"

"I might."

"That seems like a waste of the afternoon."

He crossed to her slowly. She did not back away. When he stopped, there was barely a hand’s width between them. He could smell whatever soap she used, clean and faintly floral, and under it the warmer note of her skin.

"You’re nervous," he said.

"I’m not."

"Your hands are shaking."

She looked down at them, then back up, and something flickered across her face. Annoyance, mostly, and a little embarrassment. "That’s not the same thing."

"No," he agreed. "It isn’t."

He reached for one of her hands and lifted it, turning it over in his. Her fingers were cold. He pressed his thumb into the center of her palm, slow, and felt the tremor run through her.

He smiled at that. Then he bent his head and kissed her.

It started slow. He kept it gentle, letting her find the rhythm, and for a few seconds she was stiff against him, unsure where to put her hands.

He caught one of her wrists and guided it up to his shoulder. She took the hint and put the other one there too, and something in her posture loosened.

He deepened the kiss. Her mouth opened under his, and she made a small sound against his lips. Half surprise, half something else. He felt it travel down his spine.

He walked her backward until her shoulders met the door. Not hard. Just enough that she had nowhere to go. She gasped into his mouth and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

He broke the kiss and looked at her. Her lips were parted. Her eyes were dark.

"Still sure?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Say it again."

"I’m sure, Damon."

He kissed her again, harder this time, and she moaned into it, low in her throat. Her body pressed up against his, and he let her feel how hard he already was against her hip. She made another sound, sharper, and her hips shifted.

He pulled back just enough to speak. "Arms up."

"What?"

"Arms up. I’m taking this off."

She raised her arms and he pulled her shirt off over her head in one motion. It landed somewhere behind him. She was left in a thin bra, and immediately her arms came down to cross over her chest.

He caught her wrists.

"No," he said. "Don’t do that."

"I wasn’t..."

"You were." He held her wrists at her sides, firm but not painful, and looked at her. Really looked.

The flush spreading down her neck. The way her chest was rising and falling too fast. The small dark spot on the lace where her nipple had already gone hard against the fabric.

"Let me see you," he said.

She swallowed. Then she nodded, just barely, and he let go of her wrists.

He reached behind her and unhooked the bra with one hand. It came loose and he slid the straps down her shoulders, one at a time, until it fell away between them.

She didn’t cover herself this time. Her hands stayed at her sides, fingers twitching.

He looked at her for a long moment. Then he bent his head and kissed her neck.

She moaned. A real one this time, not a gasp.

Her head fell back against the door and she gave him more of her throat. He kissed down the side of her neck, then her collarbone, then lower.

When his mouth closed over her nipple she cried out and her hand flew to the back of his head, fingers gripping his hair.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, that’s..."

He sucked harder and she arched off the door, a long moan tearing out of her. Her hips were moving now, small restless circles, and he could feel the heat coming off her through her trousers.

He switched to the other side. She moaned again, higher this time, and her fingers tightened in his hair.

"Damon..."

"Mm."

"That feels... I didn’t know it would feel like that."

He lifted his head and looked at her. "We’re just getting started."

He unbuttoned her trousers.

She watched his hands the whole time, breathing fast.

He pulled them down together with her underwear, and she stepped out of them one foot at a time, using his shoulder for balance.

When she was standing there completely bare in front of him, she tried to close her legs.

He put his hand on her thigh and held her open.

"Don’t," he said.

"I’m..."

"You’re what?"

She shook her head, face red, and didn’t finish the sentence.

He slid his hand between her legs. She was soaked. Wet enough that his fingers slipped through her folds without any resistance at all, and she gasped and her whole body jerked.

"Look at that," he said, low. "You’ve been like this for a while, haven’t you."

"Don’t say that."

"Why not. It’s true."

She moaned as he rubbed her, slow circles, spreading her wetness around. Her hips chased his hand and her head tipped back against the door again.

"Please," she said. She didn’t seem to know what she was asking for.

He kept rubbing her, unhurried, watching her face. Her mouth was open. Her eyes were half closed. Every few seconds a small moan escaped her, and she was getting louder the longer he went.

Then he stopped.

She made a frustrated sound and her eyes flew open. "Why did you..."

He dropped to his knees in front of her.

"Oh," she said. "Oh, you don’t have to..."

"Shh."