Damian Priest Tattoos Novels & Stories

“Damian, love me harder please.” Damian groaned and pushed harder inside of her, as requested, and her moans invited him to go faster than he could. Avery’s nails gripped on his back, and they worked on drawing a beautiful masterpiece all around his skin. Damian thrust again as he sucked on Avery's neck, making sure to leave a purplish hickey to show the world that she belonged to him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

comes Samantha's voice from a wall of screens. "This is the our boss" Damian asks with broken English as he takes a seat on one of the very expensive gamer chairs I had delivered. "Her name is Demitria but prefers to be called Demi she has asked that you go through the base, wear houses and mansion setting up all new state of the art security with palm readers for all restricted areas" I pass out the packets I put together for them. “You will all be sworn in by blood, this is to insure your ties to the family and your loyalty to her.” I say after everyone has their packets.

And that’s how the Gods were lost to history until a warrior from both Heaven and Hell was born. This is the story of Damian Morningstar. A warrior with Hell’s fiery rage and a glimmer of Heaven’s light within him. With the Gods knowing his true nature he was imprisoned, bound by chains in the Prison of the Damned. He vowed that he would escape and that there would be no one to stand in his way. So, Damian made sure that he had gained his strength as he was bound by two bladed weapons, Heaven’s Light and Hell’s Fury.

I scream running back to the black Cadillac, our car. “Stop her!!!” someone shouts but I keep on going, the moment I reach the car I open the door and what I see has me tongue tied. On the driver’s seat laid Jeremy, blood all over him; a sharp, deep cut on the hand that had the black and white bracelet (our friendship bracelet). I looked at my wrist but there was nothing. I could not believe Jeremy was laying there, a black triangle near him and his left wrist had a black cloth tied on it.

"Stop for a second. Whooo." Diana released the cock and watched it twitching up and down in front of her. The end of it was wet with her spit and the whole thing looked even more inflated. "Whoo-eee," The priest said weakly. "You sure are good at that." "Am I?" She asked, pleased with herself. "Really?" "Yes, yes indeedy," Father Bland replied, before taking a few deep breaths. "Yes indeed. Now, I think we need to try it again, just a little differently. Okay?"

“Call it in,” Anton was already dialing. “Ambulance. Immediate dispatch. Multiple casualties.” Damian stepped forward slowly, his eyes scanning every detail. The bodies. The positioning. The damage. A fight. A real one. His gaze dropped to one of the attackers. Something caught his attention. A mark. He crouched, slower this time, his body protesting but ignored as he grabbed the man’s arm, turning it slightly. A tattoo. Crude. Recognizable. His expression darkened instantly. “Pathetic,” he muttered.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this… but you seem good for him.” I almost dropped the teapot. “Me.......?” “Yes, dear.” Her eyes softened. “Damian has always been… controlled. Too controlled. He carries his father’s name like it’s armor and chains at the same time.” She sighed. “He needed someone who sees the man, not the title.” Something tugged deep in my chest. “Damian is… complicated,” I said softly. “Of course he is. You don’t build an empire without learning to lock a few doors in your heart.” She smiled knowingly. “But he’s opening those doors for you. I can see it.”

Damian emerges from the trees. He wears the ceremonial white of a Silvermoon Alpha. His sleeveless vest is open at the chest, completely exposing his neck, throat, and broad shoulders. A silver sash is tied tight across his waist—our pack's colors. His dark hair is damp, combed back from his face. His eyes find mine across the water. I forget to breathe. He walks toward me. His steps are slow, deliberate, the bare soles of his feet making no sound on the stone. The small crowd watches in absolute silence.

He asked, his hardened gaze focused on Damian. He shook his head “It better be, because if you hurt her again. You will have me to contend with” He spat before storming out of the office. I walked towards Damian and hugged him, he hugged me tightly, wailing softly “I am undeserving of your love” He whispered. I patted his back, “No one is perfect D” ******* The next few days, I sought my inner spirit trying to heal his mother. I was gradually losing blood because there seemed to be little to no progress.

"I'm not sure I've earned the title of Father given what you're about to hear." "Tell me about your past." David's pen was poised above his notebook. "Before you came to Bellmare, before you became a priest, who were you?" Damien took a breath and I squeezed his hand, silently reminding him I was there, that whatever he said I wasn't going anywhere. "I was a criminal. I worked for an organization that specialized in intimidation and violence, doing whatever my boss needed done without asking questions about morality or consequences." "What kind of violence?" David's expression remained neutral but I saw him write something quickly.