Damien Priest Height Novels & Stories

Damon stood by the glass, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, looking dangerous and hungry. “Close the door,” he ordered. She did. “Damon, about last night—” He moved fast. In two strides he had her pinned against the cool glass, her back to the city. His big hand yanked her skirt up roughly around her waist. “Shut up,” he growled. “I’ve been hard all day thinking about this dripping cunt.” Before she could argue, he dropped to his knees right there in his expensive suit. His strong hands ripped her soaked panties down her legs and tossed them aside.

I turned to lay properly when I found my father in law at the door watching my wet, soaked pussy. My eyes flew open and I quickly wore my gown properly and sat on the bed. My face burned out of embarrassment. As I watched him stand there, I couldn't help but watch his bare chest. As far as I'm concerned, Damien's dad was 46 yet sexy. He was all Damien wasn't. He had abs, he was very tall and handsome and he didn't age at all. My gaze dropped down to find him wearing joggers and even with that, I saw his inches. It was freaking big.

On the officiant standing beneath it. And on the man standing in front of it. Damien Blackwood. I had seen photographs. I genuinely thought I was prepared. I was not prepared. He was tall in photographs. In person he was something else entirely. Six feet three of absolute stillness, dark suit, dark hair, the kind of presence that made every other man nearby seem somehow smaller without anything being said. He stood with his hands folded in front of him and he did not move and he did not smile and he watched me walk toward him with an expression I could not read from twenty feet away.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the moonlit snowy landscape, while the cool mountain air seeped through subtle gaps, creating sharp contrasts with the blazing heat. Victoria Hale, a 26-year-old American tech heiress with porcelain skin, long platinum blonde hair, and a toned, curvaceous figure, stood by the fireplace in nothing but a silk robe. The heat licked at her front while the chill from the windows raised goosebumps along her back. She had come for a private getaway after closing a major deal. She found something far more consuming. The heavy door opened. Damien “D-Train” Brooks, the world-famous Black NFL superstar and business mogul, stepped inside. Towering at 6’10” with a powerful

"You understand my situation and are very much aware of how dangerous it is for you to keep coming here." "You need not bother yourself about that. Besides, I look fine. Do I look like who's dying anytime soon?" Mark asked, assessing himself. He couldn't tell the same for Damien, though. With the appearance of a twenty-five-year-old, tall, domineering, he was, in fact, old. Damien was times six of the present age, he was assuming. Mark was right, Damien mused. He looked hale and hearty and wasn't even exhibiting any of the symptoms of the others.

Creepy. "My c*ck is bigger than your brain!" Zack snapped back, stepping closer. He doesn’t scare me at all. Damian’s body is way bigger than his. If anyone could size me up, it’s Damian. Zack looks like a freaking Chihuahua compared to him. "Enough, you two," the priest stepped in with a fed-up expression. "I’ve had enough of this vulgar language and inappropriate behavior. You two will be cuffed together until you learn to get along," the priest said, his tone controlled, but anger leaking through.

Damian was another of my good friends that I made in the last three years. He was the gamma’s son and my next gamma when I get crowned as Alpha. He had blue eyes and dark blonde hair with a height of 6’3. He was a charmer and he loved to believe he was still eighteen years old. “I’m going to take a long nap,” I announced when we dropped everything in Aurora’s room. “Roe, are you sure you’re not pregnant or something? We will always be there for you, you know,” Damian mumbled when he took in all the things we bought.

I laugh at myself, this is the kind of guy I want to like, already like. What a pity. Damaged people are attracted to damaged people. "You will get to know him soon enough." Isa interrupts me from my pity party. After our heart to heart talk she goes home and exactly a week after me falling from my room to the ground he walked into the coffee shop l worked in. Not that he wanted to buy something but he came for a job. He was the barista replacement. I guess he somehow qualified because Melchior Paige, Isa's dad, the manager does not just accept anyone into his family.

I wasn’t to gather any information, just pick up any red flags during my interview. Oh, what else? Right Damien is left-handed. He had a sweet tooth, he loved watching football. He even played in high school, until a knee injury. His knee pains when it’s raining or cold. Damien makes a mean sandwich but can’t cook to save his life. He loved eating Mia’s food the most. I’ve also learnt Mia isn’t the help, more like the protector of all the Priest secrets. Damien has degrees in business, finance, and sports administration. He’s lifelong goal is to buy a football team. He’s looking into Phili or the Chief’s.

In case anyone kills him, those men will get to work. He's five foot five, but he's a hell of a man. Everything about him is intimidating despite his short stature. He's observant, too, so Ethan has no idea of how Damien plans on negotiating with him with that long face. Perhaps he'll be the one to take matters into his own hands today.