Damian Desmond Fanart Novels & Stories

He out and was left alone. "..." his little brother shouted. Damian is thinking about how he can find the kid without a name. He sighs and tells his self that he was just a good dream and thus proceeds to his daily job of conquering the universe. The painting is a reminder to him that in his winter, the sun shines brightly on him. This makes him smile. His guard, Eric and Sebastian, who was in front, smile to their boss for it only once you see his genuine, true smile without a menacing motive, just a pure smile.

His grip tighten a little bit more, crushing my wrist as he dragged me, almost throwing me down the remaining flight of stairs. “Bitch.” he sneered, pushing me into the floor beside the bloody, kneeling guy Bast was torturing a while ago. Luckily, I had braced myself early, enough to save myself from swimming on the floor. I glared at Matias before I turn my gaze towards Bast. But the moment Bast saw me, the world seemed to stop as he turns a shade paler than the ghost. “Diana?” At the mention of my biological mother's name, the alarm in my head had gone off into a frenzy. My tongue seemed to glue itself at the top of my mouth, rendering me unable to say anything.

Arthur sighed before Diana smiled. “You don’t think that Damien will be settling down, do you?” she asked him before the Gamma shook his head. “Not in the least,” “Come on, give him some credit. Damien might be looking like a slacker but if anything, he was the fourth-strongest among you. You might need him later on if anything happens to the pack,” Diana said before Arthur snuggled against her neck, breathing in her scent. “Why are you so damn nice?” he mumbled before Diana chuckled lowly.

Damon’s head snapped up to see one of the other students, Desmond, holding the picture between his fingers with a sly grin. “One of your whores?” Damon’s heart skipped a beat—and then a surge of uncontrollable anger coursed through him. His fists clenched as he rose from the bench, towering over Desmond. “Give it back,” Damon demanded, his voice low but dangerous. Desmond chuckled, holding the picture up just out of reach. “What, is she special or something? I’ve never seen you lose your cool over a girl before. Thought you didn’t care about any of them.”

He placed her on his bed gently like she was an egg that he didn’t want to break. He trailed his lips down to her boobs sucking on her perfect tits, while he took off his pants leaving only his briefs. He trailed up his neck taking in her sweet vanilla scent. He slowly pulled her panty off and her coochie lips where glistening with moist. A groan escaped his mouth and he took a moment to admire her body and he found her looking at her. Damon pulled her up slowly to him and she sat up straight. He took his briefs off, and stroked his dick while leaning down and giving her a kiss which she gladly returned.

"Why don't you show me how much you like this as well!" Damien grinned and nodded. Slipping his long body off the couch and onto the floor between her legs, he complied with her wishes. He slipped his tongue out and circled the treasure before him, catching the first few drops of moisture that had started to leak out between her lips. The moan she let out came from her belly, deep and long. "YESSSS! I have waited all day for this."

She lay back against the sofa, willing him to move faster yet unwilling to let this moment end. But just as she had accepted that Damian was going to make her cum too quickly, he lifted his face and smirked. “Don’t tease me,” she protested. Damian laughed as he stood and unbuttoned his jeans. “You don’t get to cum without me,” Damian said, keeping his eyes on hers. His gaze was the definition of smouldering. Her toes curled with anticipation, her mouth dropped open, and her eyes glazed over as he slowly lifted his T-shirt over his head. His defined abs and his chest held her attention. Damian Steele was indeed a work of art. Even his tattoos, though unexpected, suited him perfectly.

“I just like how people look when they shiver. It’s honest.” She gasped in mock horror. “You’re evil.” “An artist,” he corrected. “Same thing.” He arched a brow, and for the first time, she noticed the faint dimple in his left cheek. Dangerous, she thought. Dimples were emotional traps. When she stood to leave, Damien stopped her. “Before you go—” He turned the canvas slightly, giving her a glimpse. It wasn’t finished, but what she saw stole her breath. It was her but softer. More open. As if he’d painted not her body, but the exact moment she stopped being afraid.

"The artist is relatively unknown, but I think they're going to be huge. There's something about the way they capture duality..." "We'll take it," Damien says. I turn to him. "Damien, you haven't even asked the price..." "I don't care about the price. Do you like it?" I look at the painting again. Really look at it. And all I can see is us. The darkness we've embraced. The power we've claimed. The beautiful, terrible thing we've become together. "Yes," I whisper. "I love it." "Then it's yours." He turns to the owner. "Have it delivered to my penthouse. Tomorrow."

She had fallen helplessly, hopelessly in love with that devastatingly handsome man. Damian was six-foot-three, wearing nothing but a simple T-shirt and jeans, yet his powerful muscles were impossible to ignore—like those of a wild beast. His features looked as if God Himself had sculpted them with divine precision. God, he was gorgeous. She was certain that if he stood among the statues in an Italian gallery, people would pay just to see him.