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I do not own anything associated with The Vampire Diaries. These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. Copyright infringement is not intended.





Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


They needed to keep their distance from each other. Nothing good ever happened whenever they were alone. Well, that wasn't entirely true. When they weren't screaming at one another, insulting the other, or shooting down ideas, the moment they stopped and realized how undeniably sexy they were, hands attacked flesh, lips met with a bruising force, and clothes got ripped off.

 

 

 

Damon Salvatore lay in the center of his humongous bed, one arm bent behind his head, the other draped over his naked torso. He worked his tongue back and forth across his teeth. Earlier today he had met with the "gang" at Mystic Grill to explain the new round of mysterious deaths that had plagued the city. They had a serial killer on their hands and no one was sure if the person was supernatural in nature or not.

 

 

 

This wasn't exactly something he wanted to dump into the hands of an eighteen year old chick with family issues, but at the moment Bonnie Bennett was the only one capable of helping him.

 

 

 

He hated asking people for help because to him, in his mind, it exposed a weakness. But Liz had come to him since he was the resident expert on death, hoping he might be able to shed some light on her new case. Well, Damon had exhausted all of his expertise and came up with nothing. No one, as usual, had seen or heard anything.

 

 

 

Yet all of that was just the tip of the iceberg because whoever the killer was, they were using weapons from Alaric's personal collection which had Elena's DNA all over them.

 

 

 

Apparently someone was trying to frame her.

 

 

 

And the only person he could think of who might be able to help him was the witch. He already had the magic words locked in the bank to get Bonnie to agree to help: It's Elena. So when he showed up at her house a week after the first two victims were found, he didn't expect her to answer her door dripping wet and wrapped in a towel.

 

 

 

Damon was too stunned to say anything—missing the perfect opportunity to embarrass the living daylights out of her. His jaw had been a little slack as he boldly raked his eyes over her form beginning with her cute manicured toes, to her perfectly shaped legs—she had awesome legs—to her heaving cleavage that was exposed due to the knot in the towel.

 

 

 

When he managed to make eye contact with Bonnie she was more annoyed than caught off guard.

 

 

 

"What do you want?" she asked brusquely.

 

 

 

"I…uh…need to talk to you about something."

 

 

 

"Well can it wait because I was in the middle of something?"

 

 

 

Damon shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I don't mind waiting. Just throw some clothes on. This is important."

 

 

 

She had frowned at him and for a second he almost thought she might have had someone in her room, but then discarded that notion as preposterous because Bonnie was asexual.

 

 

 

However, he did smell something peculiar and mouth-watering floating off her skin.

 

 

 

His eyes widened just a bit when he recognized the scent. Female arousal. Had she been…masturbating when he showed up?

 

 

 

Damon looked her over again and dismissed it because Bonnie didn't seem to even know what the word meant.

 

 

 

Bonnie really didn't want him loitering outside of her house while she changed clothes. Yet, she didn't want to invite him in either.

 

 

 

It was bad enough that before he arrived she was preoccupied in the shower, using the new detachable showerhead after discovering a more explicit use for it.

 

 

 

She had been pent up, wound up, and just a touch over crazy the last few weeks, and didn't know how to let out the frustration. She had tried listening to soothing music, tried meditating, tried working out new spells, tried, tried, tried. Nothing helped. So then, after an intense Zumba session, Bonnie hopped in the shower, using the detachable head and found the pulse of streaming water against her skin—stimulating.

 

 

 

She wasn't prone to self-pleasure. Her mind was always preoccupied with more important stuff than seeking out that all elusive orgasm, but she merely let her problems dissolve into background noise as she allowed the stream of water to stimulate her neglected skin.

 

 

 

Bonnie had sighed happily when she targeted her breasts that her eyes fluttered shut and a fantasy began to take over.

 

 

 

She imagined a pair of hands stimulating her chest until her nipples stood out proudly and on full display until a warm mouth covered them.

 

 

 

And just as she moved the showerhead to the apex of her thighs, that's when the freaking doorbell decided to ring.

 

 

 

She wasn't terribly surprised it was Damon. Just a touch annoyed that he interrupted the makings of a long overdue orgasm and now, there was no way for her to recreate the heat of that solitary moment.

 

 

 

Yeah, it didn't escape her that he drank in her half-naked and dripping wet appearance either. Bonnie avoided any and all contact with Damon unless it was just unavoidable so to have him show up at her door out of the blue more than likely to ask a favor that involved her, candles, and her spell book, right now she just wasn't in the mood to play nice.

 

 

 

"Look , I'll meet you at the boardinghouse."

 

 

 

She slammed the door in his face and trod her way back upstairs to get dressed.

 

 

 

Her desire however wasn't as completely gone as she thought it was.

 

 

 

When Bonnie showed up in her customary uniform of painted on jeans, a flattering shirt that accentuated her over average sized breasts, that she paired with a military inspired coat, and her favorite boots, she found Damon standing in front of the stain glass window.

 

 

 

His back was to her and as usual he was drinking in the middle of the day, although it was a Saturday.

 

 

 

She didn't slam the door to capture his attention. He already knew she had arrived. Bonnie dumped her purse and grimoire on the sofa, wove her way through the maze of furniture to stand beside him.

 

 

 

Silently the both of them stared out the window and when she looked up at him, the sun hitting him straight in the face making his celestial eyes ignite like a methane flame, her breath got lodged painfully in her throat. In sunlight his skin was alabaster, the color of the moon made even more startling by his hair that was so black it almost looked blue. His lips were pinker than usual and they drew her attention the most and held it.

 

 

 

"Staring is rude, Jugdey."

 

 

 

His condescending voice decimated whatever spell nature was cruelly trying to weave around her. Feeling anything other than contempt for Damon Salvatore just wouldn't do.

 

 

 

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "You wanted a favor so lets hear it."

 

 

 

He smirked and turned away from the window, dulling the effects of his lethal sexiness although not by much.

 

 

 

"There's a killer loose and he or she seems to be targeting members of the founding families. But here's the kicker, all the murder weapons that have been retrieved have come from Alaric's collection and they each have Elena's DNA on them."

 

 

 

Bonnie had expected Damon to ask her anything, but she hadn't expected this. Her eyebrows nearly lifted all the way off her forehead.

 

 

 

"So what do you want me to do?"

 

 

 

"Is there anything in the grimoire that might help identify who's behind these murders? Or something that can expose malicious intent?"

 

 

 

Bonnie wasn't sure about that. She shook her head and went to go retrieve her book. Bonnie automatically began flipping through the pages, not watching her step. The heel of her boot got caught on a snag in the carpet and the next thing she knew, she was being catapulted forward.

 

 

 

Damon moved with lightning quick reflexes, throwing his tumbler of whiskey aside. It crashed on the floor as he reached out to break Bonnie's fall.

 

 

 

The grimoire went flying out of her hands, and she closed her eyes expecting to make contact with the nice hard ground below, but something wrapped around her and when she landed, she realized she was cushioned on Damon's chest.

 

 

 

Their legs were entwined and he had both arms wrapped around her waist. Her heart was beating so fast it was a miracle it was still lodged in her chest.

 

 

 

Bonnie very carefully lifted her head off his impressive and rock-hard chest and met his eyes. She hadn't been this close to Damon since the night she faked her death and he carried her bridal style to his car.

 

 

 

"You okay?" he grunted.

 

 

 

"Yeah. You?"

 

 

 

"No," he grimaced. "Your knee got me in the balls."

 

 

 

She giggled just a little bit as she attempted to climb off his body, ignoring how pleasant it felt against her softer one. Bonnie stilled and then froze when she realized that some how, someway her shirt got snared around the button of his jeans.

 

 

 

"Crikey," she moaned. "My shirt's caught. Hang on a second." Bonnie reluctantly reached between them, and tried to unwrap her shirt from around the button of Damon's jeans when her knuckles accidentally brushed against his manhood.

 

 

 

She didn't know this naturally and wiggled a bit to free herself, but she was inadvertently rubbing against his dick that shamelessly began to engorge and lengthen.

 

 

 

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. After a few torturous seconds Bonnie freed herself and scrambled off him.

 

 

 

Damon made a show of cupping himself, one because there was still a little painful throb going off in his nuts, and two he needed to conceal his semi-erection.

 

 

 

Bonnie blushed and wondered if she should help him to his feet, but instead she went to go retrieve her grimoire that she saw had landed in the puddle of his spilled drink.

 

 

 

"Hot damnit," she cried and picked it up and scowled. Several pages were wet and the ancient writing was bleeding across the page.

 

 

 

"Please tell me that wasn't the spell you needed?"

 

 

 

She glared at him, walked over to the fireplace, and instantly started a fire with her powers. Bonnie held the dripping book in front of the flames, taking care not to get it too close or she'd ignite the whole thing.

 

 

 

Damon for his part cleaned up the broken glass thankful his semi-erection was going down.

 

 

 

That certainly never happened with the witch.

 

 

 

He joined her on the floor as she attempted to dry the wet pages. "I'm not sure what was on those pages and now I'll never know."

 

 

 

"I'm sure there's a spell somewhere in there that can retrieve spells," he tried for optimism. Bonnie just stared at him like she wanted to tell him to shut up and stick to what he knew.

 

 

 

"While that's drying…tell me more about the case."

 

 

 

So he did. Damon spent the next fifteen minutes filling her in on what he knew and what he didn't and who he suspected.

 

 

 

Bonnie had listened intently. She was no closer to coming up with a viable solution.

 

 

 

"I'm still not sure how much help you think I'm going to be, Damon. I'm used to dealing with vampires, werewolves, and hybrids, not humans."

 

 

 

"Yeah, me too."

 

 

 

"I'll look. I just won't know what I'm looking for until something jumps out at me."

 

 

 

"Like this," he said and lunged for Bonnie. She squealed and couldn't scramble off the floor fast enough and found herself once again pressed against his chest, pinned to the floor.

 

 

 

"Get the hell off me!" she glared up at him.

 

 

 

"You can move me," he smirked.

 

 

 

"Damon what's wrong with you?" she asked and refused to take note of how his body fell into her dips and grooves as if they were different sides of the same coin.

 

 

 

"This is what's called being playful, Judgey. Has it really been that long?"

 

 

 

She rolled her eyes, pursed her lips, and attempted to remove him the old fashioned way. Naturally that wasn't happening.

 

 

 

Bonnie used to horseplay with Matt all the time, but they were too old for that now. In the past it was all well and good when they figured the only use for his hardware was to pee. Now that they knew it was meant for way more than that, their wrestling sessions were non-existent.

 

 

 

Bonnie was two seconds from mumbling a spell to get him off him when she made the fatal mistake of looking into his eyes. They were so blue they looked silver framed with thick long lashes any model would pay top dollar for and he had them naturally. Her eyes dropped momentarily to stare at his mouth. When it wasn't stuck in a sh*t-eating smirk, it was a beautifully shaped mouth meant for kissing and nibbling. And for a brief, very brief second Bonnie wondered how his lips would feel against hers.

 

 

 

"Bet you've never been in this position before," he said cockily.

 

 

 

Naturally he'd have to ruin whatever was about to happen by talking. Summoning up her energy she telepathetically pushed him off her. Damon landed on the ground, chuckling good-naturedly.

 

 

 

"Don't ever do that again," Bonnie threatened and brushed off her clothes as if to erase the feel of him off her body.

 

 

 

Bonnie snatched up her grimoire, and stomped over to her purse. She was ready to leave.

 

 

 

Damon rose to his feet and blocked Bonnie's path at the door. "I was only messing with you. No need to get your panties in a bunch. There's still a lot we have to talk about, and you've barely looked in that book for anything that could help me out."

 

 

 

Bonnie huffed. "Do we have to do this now?"

 

 

 

"Time is of the essence," Damon said gravely.

 

 

 

"You think the killer might kill again?"

 

 

 

He shrugged. "The killer might already be killing. That's why we gotta hustle, witchy."

 

 

 

"Fine. But keep your hands to yourself."

 

 

 

For the next two hours they poured through the grimoire going from cover to cover, and retracing their steps.

 

 

 

They found nothing.

 

 

 

Bonnie massaged the crick in her neck. Her eyes were a bit blurry and she checked the time on her cell phone. She didn't have any immediate plans. Caroline had gone on a college tour trip along with Matt. Elena had gone to visit Jeremy in Denver. Alaric was hopefully somewhere not being killed. Tyler was still missing. And Stefan…

 

 

 

"Where's Stefan?" Bonnie asked.

 

 

 

Damon shrugged. Stefan had fled the boardinghouse before he woke up this morning. "Wherever he typically is around this time. I don't know."

 

 

 

"Don't you think you should call him and make sure he hasn't done something stupid?"

 

 

 

"He's a grown man. Whatever mess he's made he's old enough to clean it up."

 

 

 

Bonnie's smile was sardonic. "Oh, to have an older brother like you."

 

"I am the best," he winked at her.

 

 

 

Bonnie snorted.

 

 

 

She rubbed the right side of her neck again. Damon watched her for a moment before approaching her. He stood behind her and observed as she tenderly gripped her skin before releasing it and gripping it again. This prompted him to remove her hand causing Bonnie to jump.

 

 

 

"What are you doing?"

 

 

 

He ignored the heightened pitch to her voice. "I happen to give the best massages, witchy. Just trust me. You've been working this spot for the last hour and that muscle is no more relaxed than when it first started cramping."

 

 

 

"I'll be fine, Damon."

 

 

 

"Pfft, you will be after my hands have had their way with you."

 

 

 

Bonnie gulped nervously. She really didn't want Damon to touch her. Not after the colorful start to their day, and the tripping accident, or when he was trying to be "playful".

 

 

 

Bonnie had never removed her jacket from the time she entered the boardinghouse, so when he attempted to work it off her shoulders, he felt Bonnie stiffen.

 

 

 

Damon bent until his mouth grazed the outer shell of her ear. "Just trust me, Bonnie." He removed her coat and Bonnie shivered against feeling the cool air of the boardinghouse seep through the thin material of her shirt.

 

 

 

Damon's cold hands on her skin didn't help matters much as he slipped them under the collar of her shirt and began squeezing and rubbing her shoulders and neck.

 

 

 

At first she was as stiff as a board, but as he continued to rub, her skin grew warmed, and she felt her tight muscles beginning to uncoil and relax.

 

 

 

"We should move this to another area," he suggested.

 

 

 

Bonnie had damn near fallen asleep. She thought he meant move it to over to the couch where she could stretch out and get more comfortable, but somehow she ended up on his bed—the infamous Damon Salvatore bed that was so big it had its own area code.

 

 

 

Damon strolled back into his room carrying two bottles of oil. He had been a little surprised that Bonnie didn't protest against being alone in his room with him. Probably because she figured he wasn't attracted to her and wouldn't try anything.

 

 

 

Well, she was right but only partially.

 

 

 

Bonnie wasn't the conventional beauty- typical yet unimaginative. Parts of her were girl-next-door, but her features were exotic with her almond shaped emerald eyes, flawless caramel skin, and those lips that stayed quirked in the shape of Cupid's bow. She was petite in height but carried feminine curves. In other words she had a body that was made for fucking.

 

 

 

And as such, his body responded to her how a man's body responds to an attractive woman.

 

 

 

Bonnie lied stretched out horizontally across his bed with her legs crossed at the ankles. She was using her folded arms as a makeshift pillow when he approached his bed and climbed on.

 

 

 

She was still wearing her shirt so that prompted him to grab it by the hem and wrench it up.

 

 

 

Bonnie jolted up from the bed and looked at him over her shoulder. "What are you doing? I agreed to let you give me a massage, not take my clothes off."

 

 

 

He stared at her drolly. "How do you expect the massage to be effective if you're dressed like a nun? I was only taking your top off so it doesn't get oil stains on it. You can leave your bra on."

 

 

 

Bonnie stared at him and wondered if this was part of some undercover, sneaky seduction. Her morals and ethics were already screaming at her that she had climbed into her enemy's bed and that she needed to retreat ASAP, but she really wanted a massage and her muscles were exponentially tight. Those few seconds downstairs had only made her greedy for more.

 

 

 

Minutes ticked off and then Bonnie relented. She turned back around and took her shirt off herself. She threw it on the bedside table and flopped back down.

 

 

 

Damon smirked, moved into position, planting his knees on both sides of Bonnie, opened up a bottle of oil and dribbled it against her skin.

 

 

 

Bonnie bit her lip to keep from making a single sound. She closed her eyes and imagined that Ian Somerhalder was giving her a massage and not Damon Salvatore. With his palm, he rubbed the oil across her back in elliptical circles before going in for the kill.

 

 

 

Damon began with her shoulders, after pushing her long, thick chocolate hair aside to her left shoulder. He kneaded the flesh, felt Bonnie undulate a little bit against the bed, and every so often she'd sigh or moan and if it weren't for his advanced hearing he'd miss every little sound that emitted from her lips.

 

 

 

Her skin was as soft as it looked while he concentrated on her shoulders and lower back. Soon soft snores could be heard and he paused for a moment—thinking.

 

 

 

With her bra on she still wasn't getting the full effect of his massage so he very tentatively unhooked it, slid her arms out of the loops and tossed it to join her shirt on the bedside table. Bonnie murmured something before she relaxed again and Damon went back to work.

 

 

 

He tried to keep his thoughts clean. Failed. He began to wonder how her skin tasted. Wondered if she were a hair puller, back scratcher, if her heat was as tight as adhesive glue.

 

 

 

He groaned as he felt blood coagulate in his shaft and it began to press against the fly of his jeans.

 

 

 

Bonnie was either completely knocked out or she was close to being there. To test his theory, he slid one hand between her stomach and the mattress reaching for the button to her jeans. He quickly undid it, lowered the fly, and then began to pull her jeans off. He almost bit clean through his lip when he realized she wore a see-through pair of dark purple lace panties that left nothing to the imagination.

 

 

 

Bonnie rose again but there was a slumberous expression on her face. "What's going on?" she asked with a slight croak in her throat.

 

 

 

"Shush, lay back down."

 

 

 

Bonnie felt a draft against her legs and realized she was missing her pants. When she looked at Damon and noticed he was still fully dressed it calmed her racing heart but not by much. It was kind of hard to miss the very noticeable tent in his jeans.

 

 

 

"I think I should go," she continued to protest and realized that her bra was gone.

 

 

 

Damon was over her again, pressing her back into the mattress with a firm hand. "How many times am I going to have to tell you to relax?"

 

 

"I guess until it goes through my concrete head."

 

 

 

"You said it, I didn't." Pause. "I'll keep things clean, Bonnie. I promise."

 

 

 

She sucked her teeth, but then relented again. "You better keep your word."

 

 

 

Bonnie really didn't understand why she hadn't demanded her pants back and then promptly set his brains on fire for undressing her down to her knickers while she dozed off. Maybe because it had been so long since anyone pampered her, focused their sole attention on her. Of course her host left much to be desired but as of late she could admit to not hating Damon as much as she used to. When she thought about it, when they put their brilliant minds together they made—for lack of a better word—magic. She trusted him far more than she thought would be possible.

 

 

 

However, she didn't want to use any of those reasons for an excuse for why she simply decided to throw caution to the wind.

 

 

 

Maybe she was testing him and herself—willing to see how far he'd take her guard being down prior to ruining everything.

 

 

 

Bonnie listened to the fire crackling and waited for Damon to put his warm hands on her again.

 

 

 

He didn't disappoint.

 

 

 

He began at her lower back, barely skimmed over her ass that made her bite down on a corner of her lip. His masterful hands worked the flesh and muscle of her hamstrings and worked their way over her tight calves before he massaged her feet and each individual toe.

 

 

 

Damon felt the blood pumping in his veins. Bonnie was stretched out like some delicatessen and he wanted to sample every single delectable morsel of her.

 

 

 

Her heart beat evenly and he could distinguish her calm breathing. As he moved his way back up her body, he aligned himself over her and deliberately laid on top of Bonnie, planting his stiff rod right between her cheeks.

 

 

 

When she leaned up again and looked over her shoulder, Damon angled himself forward and pressed his lips to hers.

 

 

 

Bonnie gasped and pulled away immediately. It would be useless to ask him what he was doing. That was more than obvious. What she wanted to know was:

 

 

 

"Why me and why now?"

 

 

 

"You're a beautiful naked woman lying on my bed. Why not?"

 

 

 

"You're going to have to do better than that."

 

 

 

"Because I want you."

 

 

 

"I don't want you, Damon."

 

 

 

He smiled cockily and boldly ran his fingers over her sex. She gasped again. "Liar. Why are you dripping wet if you don't want me?"

 

 

 

"You were giving me a massage…it felt good…my body was naturally going to respond to the stimulation."

 

 

 

Damon surmised her answer was rational. And he almost believed her. Almost. But her heart rate was picking up and she couldn't stop lowering her eyes to his lips, and he hadn't missed the fact she was grinding herself against him although she'd say she was attempting to crawl away.

 

 

 

He had too much experience and knew better.

 

 

 

Damon began to speak right into her ear. "How long has it been since someone touched you, kissed you, made you cum?"

 

 

 

Her nostrils flared. "You should know the answer to that question."

 

 

 

And he did. But he wanted Bonnie to admit it out loud.

 

 

 

Damon shifted a little to cause some friction on his own extended member who was yelling at him for some attention.

 

 

 

"Don't play this game with me, Damon," Bonnie warned. "Thank you for the massage but I need to go."

 

 

 

"You sure?" his eyes bored into her with barely restrained lust.

 

 

 

She gulped, lost her tongue and forgot how to talk for a minute. Damon never looked at her like that.

 

 

 

After a minute or two passed, Bonnie nodded her head.

 

 

 

Damon lifted off her and she felt bereft. The tepid warmth of his body had singed her skin, raised the hairs all over. She almost wanted to whimper. His weight had felt so good and comforting. But now she realized she was in bit of a pickle. The only article of clothing she had on were her panties which were shamelessly soaked.

 

 

 

Damon made no move to hand her, her clothes. Merely looked at her expectantly waiting for her to make a move.

 

 

 

And she did. Bonnie licked her lips and turned over, exposed her breasts to him and her stiffening nipples.

 

 

 

His eyes immediately dropped to her heaving chest. And the look of pure unadulterated lust that washed over his face made a flood gush between her legs. There was no masking it, hiding it, or writing it off. He knew she was horny and he knew he was the cause of it and that her body was strumming for his touch again.

 

 

 

But she'd be damned to ask him to get her off.

 

 

 

Bonnie had an amazing rack, Damon thought and he imagined testing the weight of her tits in his hands, pinching her dark chocolate nipples between his fingers before salving them with his tongue.

 

 

 

If possible he felt his dick get harder just at the thought.

 

 

 

They stared at one another and wondered who was going to make the first move.

 

 

 

Bonnie rose to a sitting position which brought her closer to Damon. Blindly she reached down to find purchase on the bed to scoot her way off it, but unfortunately her hand landed on his thigh.

 

 

 

His dick jumped at the feel of her scorching hand touching him, branding him through his jeans that felt like they were cutting off the circulation to the rest of his body.

 

 

 

Bonnie inwardly moaned. He was nothing but muscle and steel under her fingertips and that only served to make her deeply curious about that protruding male part of him that was barely being confined in his jeans.

 

 

 

"I won't tell if you don't tell," he said. "We both need this. This thing…has been boiling between us for a long time. You know it was going to come to this sooner than later."

 

 

 

Bonnie could argue the point but wasn't exactly in the mood. "And after tonight, what? We go back to hating each other."

 

 

 

He smiled like a Cheshire cat. "You stopped hating me a long time ago, Bonnie. And you know it."

 

 

 

"Okay so we go back to barely tolerating one another?"

 

 

 

He shrugged. "That's entirely up to you."

 

 

 

"Why are you leaving this in my hands? You're the control freak."

 

 

 

"Maybe because I'm interested in seeing how you handle the challenge."

 

 

 

Her eyes narrowed. "This whole thing…is nothing but a game to you?"

 

 

 

"It's more than that. This is my life, Bonnie." He reached for her hand and placed it right on top of his erection. Her eyes ballooned. "You feel that? That's all for you."

 

 

 

Bonnie mouthed, "Damn." There was no way she could leave his room, this house, without knowing what that pipe felt like buried deep in her.

 

 

 

Damon saw her resolve melting. Victory was right around the corner. "You want it?"

 

 

 

Her mouth parted and Bonnie nodded.

 

 

 

"Good because it wants you too," and in the next second Damon swept forward and captured her lips again.

 

 

 

Her back hit the mattress and she was tunneling her fingers through his baby soft black hair, and swirling her tongue around his. The man could kiss!

 

 

 

Damon forced her legs apart with his knee as he settled himself between her thighs. Her heady aroma permeated the far recesses of his mind and all he wanted to do was rip her panties clean off her, bury his tongue down her hot hole and make her writhe like a fish out of water on his bed.

 

 

 

So he did just that.

 

 

 

He broke the kiss and directed his lips to that hollow space where her shoulder and neck connected, trailed down the column on her neck alternating between licking, biting, and kissing. When he reached her breasts, he pushed them together and sucked one nipple then the other before taking them both in his mouth at the same time. Bonnie certainly never thought that was possible.

 

 

 

When he released her breasts, and they bounced back into place, he dragged the bottom of his tongue over her abs, and ran it along the seam of her underwear before he grabbed a hold of her panties and tugged them off.

 

 

 

Bonnie was breathing spasmodically the whole while, gripping his sheets in her hands, balling them in her fists.

 

 

 

Damon stopped to admire her soaking wet snatch and dove in to eat.

 

 

 

Her back arched several inches off the bed and her hands found new purchase by grabbing him by the hair on the crown of his head.

 

 

 

Damon pushed his eager and thick tongue through the springy curls and parted her folds like a pair of elevator doors, and sought out that bundle of nerves.

 

 

 

Bonnie's eyes crossed, she began speaking in another language, and had effectively clamped her legs around Damon's head and shoulders trapping him.

 

 

 

While his tongue was busy, Damon worked his jeans off, kicked his boots off and positioned himself more comfortably on the bed. He collected a ball of spit on his tongue, circled her clit and pulled away and watched as a bridge formed connecting the tip of his tongue and Bonnie's pearl.

 

 

 

She was hyperventilating and on the verge of dying of asphyxiation. Bonnie came to rest on her elbows so she could watch Damon has he consumed her like a starved man.

 

 

 

Her thighs quivered as she stretched them until she was practically doing a split.

 

 

 

Damon rose up as well, climbed over her, grabbed a hold of his hardened shaft and rubbed the head of penis against her fluttering channel.

 

 

 

Their eyes connected and Bonnie grabbed him by the back of the neck uniting their lips again.

 

 

 

When he broke the kiss, he hadn't made a single move to sink into her. "What do you want?"

 

 

 

"Please…"

 

 

 

He reached between them and played with her pearl. Bonnie hissed and fell back against the bed again.

 

 

 

"Damon…"

 

 

 

He eased the head in, felt Bonnie tense as she almost bit through her lip. But mercilessly he withdrew. She released the breath she had been holding and glared at him.

 

 

 

He winked at her. He could do this all day.

 

 

 

"I'm not going to stick it in until you tell me what you want, Bonnie. You've never held back in that area. No time to be shy now."

 

 

 

She groaned and threw her arm over her eyes.

 

 

 

"Screw you, Damon."

 

 

 

He pressed forward sinking the head along with two inches in, making her pant before he pulled out again.

 

 

 

Okay, that time was a little harder to do. She felt like heated silk. He hissed and she hissed and they sounded like a pit of snakes.

 

 

 

"Stop teasing me!"

 

 

 

"Cooperate and I will."

 

 

 

"Urg!" Bonnie came to rest on her elbows again. Her eyes were nearly black that's how tightly wound she was. "All right fine," she spat. "I want you, Damon. I want you buried all the way to my cervix. Be as dirty as you want. As creative as you want. Just stick that rod in me and keep it there."

 

 

 

To say he was a little surprised by her demands was an understatement, and he chuckled in appreciation of her straightforwardness.

 

 

 

"As you wish," he said and stabbed himself into Bonnie who sighed happily and grunted a bit. She was tight, incredibly tight and he was a little fearful he might not last as long as he wanted. He felt her inner muscles contracting against him along with her heat and wetness and he hadn't even made one pump into her.

 

 

 

Bonnie adjusted herself, wrapping her legs around his waist, getting used to the feel of Damon buried to the hilt in her. She gritted her teeth as he began to move in and out. It had been quite a while since she had sex, so the first few pumps were not comfortable—at all.

 

 

 

She distracted herself by kissing his neck which earned her several grunts in approval.

 

 

 

Damon worked his hips and listened as his balls continuously slapped against the mounds of her ass.

 

 

 

He pulled out and flipped her over, hiked her hips up and impaled Bonnie on him again. He used her backside for leverage and pummeled her into the mattress while alternating between stimulating her clit and her nipples.

 

 

 

Bonnie arched her back accordingly, tried to remember how to breathe, as her face was literally digging a trench in his bed.

 

 

 

Damon wrapped his arms around her, pulled her up so her back could rest against her chest. He was still buried within, pumping, as he wrapped a hand very delicately around her neck.

 

 

 

"How does it feel, baby?" he licked her neck like an ice cream cone.

 

 

 

"Sooooo…goooodddd…."

 

 

 

He released her and Bonnie held herself up by the palms of her hands. She yelped when his hand stung her right butt cheek.

 

 

 

Damon massaged the sting of his spank before delivering another one as he continued to buck into her. Bonnie wasn't sure if she liked being spanked, but the combination of his mind-numbing thrusts and the sting of being slapped on the ass made an interesting dichotomy that made her breath hitch.

 

 

 

Bonnie fell to the bed again, but angled her body until she was resting on her side, spoon fashion. She hiked her right leg over his shoulder and with her in this interesting position, Damon could go just a tad bit deeper.

 

 

 

She looked down at their bodies as he dove into her like a jackerhammer demolishing concrete. Damon leaned over her, kissed her harshly on the mouth, and began to pump like a maniac. He was close.

 

 

 

Her breasts jiggled with each thrust and Bonnie felt all the blood in her body collect in her head. She was seconds from exploding and when Damon pinched her pearl, she squeaked and then screamed.

 

 

 

Damon followed suit and shot the mother load of all mother loads into her channel that milked him like a dairy cow.

 

 

 

Sweat dripped off the ends of his hair and landed on her torso that was equally sweaty. It was now he realized his room was a virtual sauna.

 

 

 

He slowly eased out of Bonnie even as her muscles continued to contract against him. He laid beside her, spooning, kissed her shoulder, and wiped strands of hair off her sweat slicked face.

 

 

 

She was trying her best to regulate her breathing. Feeling Damon beside her made her feel warm and protected yet she was already preparing herself for a snarky comment.

 

 

 

To her surprise, Damon grabbed his burnished gold comforter and threw it over them. He drew circles on her shoulder with his tongue. He had never felt his sated and satisfied in his entire life.

 

 

 

That was days ago that the unexpected shift in their hate-tolerate relationship took not only him by surprise but completely monopolized his thoughts. It was annoying and irritating that when circumstances called for them to be in the same room together, he'd instantly begin salivating. No matter how many times they talked or looked at one another with slightly baleful expressions to hold up the pretense that they still hated each other, in his mind, he played back how Bonnie melted on his tongue like cotton candy, and how he hissed in pleasure whenever she'd rake her nails down his back and over his arms.

 

 

 

Damon didn't want to be infected like this certainly not over Bonnie. But she ruptured all of his preconceived notions, splintered his opinions about her uptightness, and aborted all his efforts in ignoring her existence until he needed her for something.

 

 

 

She consumed his every waking thought. When they were separated he literally had to command himself not to hop in his car and go tearing up the city looking for her. She was invariably in one of three locations: school, Elena's, or Caroline's.

 

 

 

From the way he was behaving you'd think he was a virgin and she the experienced lover. She never gave off any kind of hint that inside she was a volcano about to explode if he didn't touch her, or look at her. She was always as cool as a cucumber, so dang composed it sickened him immensely.

 

 

 

He wanted her to crack. He wanted Bonnie to show up outside of his door, beg and whimper for him to jab his tongue down her slit and hit it from the back.

 

 

 

But all she gifted him with was indifference and maybe, when no one was looking, a warm expression of gratitude.

 

 

 

He couldn't help but feel used.

 

 

 

But he had been laid by some of the best in the business. However, Damon could admit he felt nothing outside of lust for his prior conquests. With Bonnie things were different because they were…dare he say it…friends, which meant she was a little more special to him than the occasional bar hookup.

 

 

 

Yet he'd never know it from the way she was treating him.

 

 

 

Okay so it had been his idea to keep things between them and neither one had made any promises that things would continue beyond the first night.

 

 

 

In fact, they had fallen asleep for a little cat nap and he woke up to Bonnie pumping his dick back to life. They went at again this time testing out the durability of his desk.

 

 

 

And then, sometime during the night, Bonnie slapped on her clothes, grabbed her belongings and got ghost.

 

 

 

He didn't know how he felt about waking up alone in his bed, his dick stuck to his leg, his sheets and room smelling like sex and musk and Bonnie. He was inclined to write it off as another notch on his belt, but…

 

 

 

It would have been nice to wake up next to her.

 

 

 

"Gotdamnit, Damon," he moaned and stabbed the heel of his hand in his eye. "She's a teenager for Pete's sake, not Jenna freaking Jameson. Move on. Get over her. Because apparently she has."

 

 

 

The front door to the boardinghouse opened and he heard Elena's voice followed by Bonnie's. He moaned again, grabbed a pillow and stuffed it over his face.

 

 

 

That didn't block out the sound of their voices, but he heard footsteps ascending the stairs. Thirty-five paces later, his bedroom door was opening. Ten paces and a figure stood at the foot of his bed.

 

 

 

Her scent infiltrated his lungs triggering memories that he hadn't locked away for good.

 

 

 

His bed, to his surprise, dipped and a warm body, fully clothed unfortunately, sat right on his semi-erection.

 

 

 

A tiny hand pulled the pillow off his face and after a moment, Damon opened his eyes to find laughing green orbs staring down at him.

 

 

 

"Hey, we need to talk. My place tonight. Midnight. Bring the oil."






Chapter End Notes:

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