“Why wouldn’t a boyfriend come over to his girlfriend’s place?”
Claire’s face instantly caught fire.
“I—I didn’t mean it like that.”
Damon raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“You called me your boyfriend in front of your sister.”
“Because she wouldn’t stop grilling me!”
“So you panicked.” She nodded quickly, eager to fix her mistake.
“Exactly.
It was a fault.”
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes tracking her every movement.
“And you couldn’t think of anything else to tell her?”
She opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat.
She snapped her jaw shut and looked away, her cheeks burning hotter.
“No.”
He let out an amused huff.
“Don’t make that face,” she grumbled.
“What face?”
“That one.”
She pointed a finger at him, trying to look stern, but the sheer embarrassment radiating off her made it impossible to take the threat seriously.
He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.
A heavy silence settled between them, the playful tension shifting into something thicker.
Claire’s expression softened.
“But really…
why did you come here?”
“I was hungry.”
She blinked.
“That’s it?
You came all this way for food?”
“I also wanted to see you.”
The bluntness of the answer caught her off guard, stealing the breath right out of her lungs.
It wasn’t a total lie.
He did want to see her or more accurately, he wanted to observe her.
He needed to gauge exactly how much the corruption had progressed since they last crossed paths.
And judging by how intensely she was reacting to him today, the answer was staring him right in the face.
She was finding it harder and harder to ignore his presence.
She looked down, suddenly fascinated by her own hands.
“You could have just told me.”
“Would you have let me come over if I did?”
She hesitated, her gaze flickering back up to his.
“Pro…
probably.”
He stood up, the casual movement suddenly feeling deliberate .
He walked around the table, closing the distance between them until he was standing right in front of her.
Claire didn’t step back.
Instead, as if pulled by an invisible thread, she slowly rose to meet him.
Their eyes locked, and she swallowed hard, her pulse hammering against her throat.
When he reached for her, she didn’t flinch.
She leaned right into his touch, tilting her face up just as his lips found hers.
It started soft.
His lips against hers, warm and unhurried, like he had nowhere else to be.
Her hands found his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
She made a small sound against his mouth—half surprise, half relief.
He pulled back just enough to look at her.
Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, her eyes dark with something she probably didn’t want to name.
“Tell me to stop,” he said.
She didn’t.
Instead, she reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up.
He helped her, raising his arms, letting the fabric slide over his head.
Her breath caught at the sight of him..
lean muscle, pale skin, those faint black veins pulsing beneath the surface like something alive.
She touched his chest.
Her fingers traced the lines of him, slow and deliberate, like she was memorizing the shape of his body.
“You’re cold,” she whispered.
“I know.”
She kissed his collarbone.
Then his sternum.
Then lower, dropping to her knees in front of him with a grace that surprised them both.
She unbuttoned his pants, pulled them down along with his boxers.
He was already hard, thick and flushed, and she wrapped her fingers around him without hesitation.
Her hand moved slowly, testing, learning the weight of him.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
She leaned in and took him into her mouth.
The heat of her tongue made his hips jerk.
She worked him with a slow, patient rhythm..
lips sealed, tongue flat along the underside, hand stroking what she couldn’t fit.
Her eyes flicked up to watch his face, and the sight of him..
head thrown back, jaw tight, fingers gripping the edge of the table..
sent a pulse of heat straight between her legs.
“Claire..” His voice was rough.
“Fuck!
your mouth..”
She hummed around him, and he groaned, low and guttural.
His hand found her hair, not pushing, just holding, like he needed something to anchor himself.
She pulled off with a wet sound, looking up at him through her lashes.
“You.” He pulled her to her feet, kissed her hard.
“I need to be inside you.”
Her clothes came off in a rush ..
shirt, bra, jeans, panties, all in a heap on the floor.
He lifted her onto the table, spreading her legs, stepping between them.
She was already slick, already ready, and when he pushed inside her in one brutal stroke.
“Ah..
Damon…”
She cried as she felt the tearing pain near her little sister.
“Shh.” He kissed her throat.
“I’ve got you.”
He moved slowly at first.
Deep, deliberate strokes that made her gasp with every thrust.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging in, her body arching into his like she couldn’t get close enough.
“More,” she begged.
“Please, more..”
He gave her more.
Faster.
Harder.
The table creaked beneath them, plates rattling, and Claire didn’t care.
She was moaning now, loud and shameless, her head falling back as he fucked her.
“Fuck, Claire..” His voice was strained.
“You feel so good..so fucking tight..”
“Don’t stop..ah…please don’t stop..”
He didn’t.
He drove into her with a brutal rhythm, each thrust hitting deeper than the last.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in, and he groaned at the feeling of her clenching around him.
“I’m close,” she panted.
“I’m…oh God, I’m”
“Come for me.” His mouth was at her ear, hot and demanding.
“Come on my cock.”
“Damon!Ah..
Ah”
Splash…
She shattered.
Her body convulsed around him, a broken cry tearing from her throat.
The pleasure crashed through her in waves, and he fucked her through it, chasing his own release.
“Inside,” she gasped.
“Come inside me….”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
His hips slammed into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt.
Splurt….
And then he was coming—hot, thick ropes of cum flooding her, filling her, marking her.
She whimpered at the feeling, her body still trembling, her pussy milking him dry.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
“Fuck, Claire…”
She pulled him close, arms wrapping around his neck, holding him there.
They stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together, breathing hard.
When he finally pulled out, she made a small sound of protest.
He watched his seed leak from her, slow and thick, and something dark and satisfied curled in his chest.
But beneath that satisfaction, the ember pulsed.
Stronger than before.
He closed his eyes and focused on the sensation.
The nourishment was unmistakable.
His demonic essence was growing.
More, it whispered.
I need more.
He closed his eyes and steadied his breath.
Claire was still sprawled on the table, flushed and dazed, looking at him like he was something worth keeping.