The Threshold of Shadow

The rain was slamming hard against the panoramic glass of the penthouse elevator as it shot up to the top floor of Vance Tower. My skin felt hot, my throat dry, and my pulse was hammering with a fast, heavy rhythm that had nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with pure, desperate physical need.

Ethan had texted earlier with some boring complaint about his father tearing apart his quarterly projections, but I hadn't even bothered reading it. My body wasn't thinking about Ethan. My body was thumping with a deep, aching itch that had been building at the base of my spine since the moment I woke up. I wanted dirty, ruthless, uninhibited sex, and there was only one man who knew how to give it to me.

The elevator doors opened directly into Damon’s penthouse with a soft, electronic chime.

He didn't have his suit jacket on. He was standing near the edge of the dark hardwood floor wearing just his tailored trousers, his crisp white dress shirt completely unbuttoned down the front, exposing a broad, hard chest coated in dark hair and flexed, corded muscle. He held a crystal glass of amber scotch in one hand, but the second his dark, obsidian eyes locked onto mine, he didn't waste time with small talk. He didn't ask how my day was. He saw the sharp, desperate look in my eyes, and a slow, filthy smirk spread across his face.

"You look like you're about to jump out of your skin," Damon’s voice dropped low, a heavy, gravelly rasp that went straight to my core.

"I am," I said, my voice tight as I walked straight up to him, kicking off my heels on the Persian rug without slowing down for a single second. "Stop talking."

I reached out, grabbing the open lapels of his shirt and pulling his chest hard against mine. The physical heat coming off him was like stepping into an oven. I didn't want gentle; I didn't want sweet. I leaned up on my tiptoes, digging my fingers into his short hair, and slammed my mouth against his in a hard, hungry kiss that tasted of rich scotch and pure lust.

Damon let out a low, dark growl into my mouth, setting his glass onto a nearby marble counter with a sharp clink before his large, calloused hands immediately slammed around my waist. He lifted me completely off my feet, pinning my back hard against the nearest concrete pillar. The sudden impact made me gasp, and he instantly shoved his tongue deep into my mouth, claiming it with a filthy, relentless rhythm that made my head spin.

His hands were rough, heavy, and greedy. He reached down, grabbing the hem of my silk slip dress, and yanked it up to my waist in one sharp motion, letting the cool penthouse air hit my bare thighs. He didn't bother unbuttoning my trench coat properly—he just shoved the heavy charcoal wool off my shoulders, pinning my arms briefly against the concrete as his mouth slid down my jawline, biting hard at the sensitive curve of my neck.

"God, you're fucking desperate tonight," Damon rasped, his hot breath steaming against my wet skin as his mouth moved lower, trailing down to the heavy swell of my breasts exposed over the delicate lace of my dress.

"Just touch me," I choked out, arching my back off the pillar, my fingers digging desperately into his broad shoulders. "Damon, now."

He didn't tease. He hooked his broad hand into the center of my lace bodice and tore the delicate silk downward, completely exposing my bare breasts to the cool air of the room. Before I could catch my breath, his mouth closed tightly over one dark, hardened peak, sucking so hard that a sharp, breathless scream tore from my throat.

The raw physical sensation hit me like an electric shock. I squeezed my eyes shut, my legs instinctively wrapping tightly around his broad hips, pulling my bare, aching center flush against the hard, massive ridge straining against his trousers.

Damon didn't slow down. He worked my breasts with his teeth and tongue, biting, sucking, and kneading the soft flesh until I was squirming frantically against him, completely consumed by the sudden, overwhelming wave of pure physical arousal.

"Look at you," Damon growled against my wet skin, his thumb roughly grinding against my other hardened nipple until electric sparks shot straight down to my thighs. "So damn horny you can't even stand up."

"Shut up and put your hands on me," I gasped, my head resting back against the cold concrete pillar as my core throbbed violently, soaking the thin silk of my underwear.

He slid one hand down my back, cupping my bare ass through the bunched-up dress, squeezing the soft flesh with possessive, bruising force. His other hand slid between us, tracing down my flat stomach until his broad fingers hooked into the damp elastic band of my panties. He didn't gently slide them off; he yanked them down my legs until they snapped at my ankles, freeing me completely to the humid, charged air of the room.

His warm, rough palm swept over my inner thigh, tracing the sensitive skin right where my leg met my hip. When his fingers finally slid into my soaking wet fold, rubbing a long, slow stroke through my slick heat, I let out a loud, breathless whimper that echoed off the glass walls.

"Fuck, Robin," Damon rasped into my ear, his thumb finding my swollen clitoris and applying a heavy, grinding pressure that made my hips jerk violently against his hand. "You're dripping for me before I've even unzipped my pants."

"Because you took too long," I choked out, my fingers tangling in his shirt as I rode the tight, filthy rhythm of his hand. "Don't make me wait any longer, Damon."

He chuckled, a dark, low sound in his chest, his fingers sliding two inches deep inside my tight, wet core, stretching me open right there against the concrete wall. He set a fast, shallow rhythm with his hand, pumping inside me while his thumb worked my center, driving me so close to a preliminary edge that my knees shook helplessly around his waist.

"We're not finishing against a pillar," Damon murmured, his dark eyes burning as he pulled his fingers out with a wet, heavy sound, leaving me gasping and completely empty. He shifted his weight, carrying my bare, trembling frame straight toward the wide leather sofa in the center of the room.