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.
