Damon Degrassi Novels & Stories

If I had just stayed put and hadn't followed Sabrina to the party, then none of this would've happened. I feel so horrible that he went through whatever it was he went through to save me. And now here he is, peering at me with those stony grey orbs of his, so intense, my heart races. Liam's gaze drifts to the TV, his face twisting into a little frown as the anchor woman's voice continues to talk about Damien. “Damien Blackwell, 32, was a visionary entrepreneur and philanthropist, known for his innovative approach to technology and business. His company, Vismo, revolutionized social media and...”

the girl guided. “Boyfriend,” Boma said. “I bless you with the kind of boyfriend- in- in my life.” “His name, please. Add it.” “I bless you with- may you have a boyfriend like Donovan.” “Thanks, but Donovan who?” Boma hesitated. “I need the blessing to be specific.” The girl said pleadingly. “Because there is more than one Donovan in the world.” “Okay. Donovan Garrett” “So be it. Thank you.” The girl said excitedly, hugging Boma before exiting the restroom.

"That hunk doesn't look like he's into inexperienced college girls" "you're right. There are always pictures of him with different models on the internet and even magazines". That had my eyes popping. "Wait...you know him?". She gave me a look of *are you kidding me right now*. But I only stared back at her like a dumb little girl. "that's Damon Graves. Dude is a freaking billionaire. He's the CEO of Voxel Enterprises". She clarified. " oh". That was all I could say. Between, his name gave me the chills. I mean, who on earth answers "Graves"?

Her voice still had that warm, sultry flavor to it, only now it didn't get quite the same reaction from him. He gave one short, sharp nod of his head. "Laura." "This is Damien Frost. Damien, meet Trey DeMarcus." Trey knew the name. He was one of the young dot.com geniuses who had amassed quite a fortune before he was thirty. So. Youth and money. A double whammy. Damien looked from one to the other, recognition lighting his eyes, then curved his lips in a professional smile. "Nice to meet you, DeMarcus." "Same here."

the sender line freezes my blood. Damian Holt. timestamp: minutes before his arrest. my stomach twists, and with cold fingers, I click it open.

Hell, Amber herself had masturbated to his pictures many times before she ever set foot into his penthouse and got to experience the real fucking thing. “I’m Grayson Godwin. Thanks for you and your family helping my friend Leo. I greatly appreciate it. And if there is anything I can do for you in return, please let me know.” Donovan was easy on the eyes himself and had a nice collection of muscles peeking out his t-shirt. His blond curly hair skimmed his shoulders and his eyes were grey that pretty kind rarely achieved naturally, but often through contacts. He also had impressive teeth for someone born in a ghetto with limited access to dentists.

"I'm listening." Kendrick launched into a detailed explanation of his plans, but Damon's mind began to wander. He was thinking about the potential profits, the ways he could manipulate Kendrick to get what he wanted. Just as Kendrick finished his pitch, Damon's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening. "Excuse me for a moment," he said, standing up. He stepped out of the room, his right-hand man, Marcus, waiting for him in the hallway. "What is it?" Damon asked, his voice low and even.

Still she had to sit. Biting her lip once again she glanced around as she was called a few minutes later, this time when she walked into the same cabin, there was yet another person sitting. She could not pinpoint his age because of his heavy body but with the hair, she could say he was somewhere around 29 perhaps. And then her eyes met his again, the same brown stealing her breath again. ‘Nope, don’t go down that line, Maya,’ yes she had named her inner self as Maya.

Standing beside them were two men, inconspicuous and silent, their faces unreadable as they stood off to the side. At the center of the conference room sat a tall and imposing man—Damon Greyson, a core figure in the Dragon Gang. Standing at around 188 cm, his muscular frame was clad in a dark suit, which gave him an air of authority and solemnity. His sharp features and piercing eyes often sent a chill down one’s spine, making it clear that he was not a man to be trifled with. The moment Damon entered the room, the atmosphere thickened with an undeniable sense of tension and gravitas.

Worlds don’t like that. CORRECTION IS NECESSARY, the Arbiter insists, but there’s strain now—lag in its recalculations. ENTROPY THRESHOLD— “Let me simplify this for you,” I say, drawing myself up despite trembling legs. “Midnight isn’t broken. It’s alive. You can’t debug a heartbeat.” The Arbiter turns its gaze fully on me. YOU ARE THE FRACTURED INTERFACE. YOUR INSTABILITY— “I know,” I snap. “I’m a mess. But I’m our mess.”