Damon Salvatore Aesthetic Mga Nobela at Kwento

He'd met him a few times and the dude had always made it his duty to subtly tease him. The door opened behind him without a knock. Logan turned slowly, his expression already annoyed and irritated. Damon Thorne sauntered in like he owned the place. Twenty-seven, sinfully beautiful, with tousled dark hair that looked freshly fucked, sharp cheekbones, and full lips currently curved in a lazy smirk. He wore a tailored white shirt with the first three buttons popped open, revealing smooth skin and the hint of a collarbone, paired with black pants that clung to long legs and a firm ass.

Damian was sitting in a heavy iron chair, dressed in a comfortable black cashmere sweater and dark trousers, looking relaxed, powerful, and strikingly handsome. His sharp amber eyes locked onto me as I stepped onto the stone balcony, taking in the sight of his oversized white dress shirt hanging loose over my small frame, revealing the grey tank top and his collar beneath. A dark, possessive ember flared deep within his gaze, a slow, dangerous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You look remarkably comfortable wearing my clothes, Beverly," Damian rumbled, his deep, gravelly voice carrying a warm, grounded authority that made my core thrum with heat.

Damon fixed his gaze on Zach's whole body. "What?" Damon asked, pretending to be slightly irritated. But deep down, he loved the way Zach called his name. It sounded sweet in his mouth.. "Let me be. Face your front." Damon commanded, with the intent of staring more at Zach while he doesn't notice or suspect. Zach did as told and concentrated on the road, as if he was the driver. The driver, chuckled softly seeing the way Zach behaved. 'However, what makes me fond of him is the way he looks. From his face, he looks Italian. His body is shredded like he’s a bodybuilder.'

This place felt like it had a soul. “This is… nice,” I whispered. “No,” I corrected myself. “It’s beautiful.” “Do you like it?” Damon asked. “Yes,” I said without hesitation. His eyes locked on mine, steady and serious. “Then it’s yours.” I froze. “What?”

I smiled at my beauty whose eyes lit up when she saw my smile reaching my eyes “for once, we are at least one, big, happy family” “And that is how it will always be, neonata” I whispered to my beauty before leaning in to kiss her. She smiled into the kiss before pulling away “I love you, my beautiful, Aurora D’Angelo” “And I love you, my armor, pride, and glory, Dante D’Angelo…” The end.

A sleek, armored black SUV pulled up to the curb, its tinted windows rolling down with a smooth, mechanical hiss. Damon. He sat in the plush leather interior, completely dry, a cigarette resting between his lips. He looked out at my pathetic, rain-drenched form, his gaze raking over the ridiculous pink tulle and the mud staining my knees. A slow, dark smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He didn't look pitying. He looked amused.

Saige explained. Great. Now our plans have come to a pause. Damon’s blonde hair is slicked back and his ocean blue eyes held can pierce the soul of any naïve woman he wanted. He has an athletic physique which he framed with his ripped, black skinny jeans and fitted burgundy top. The black Chelsea boots and the leather jacket perfected complimented this mysterious bad boy picture he tried so hard to put on. I tilted my head to the side. Something about him feels familiar. “Have we met before?” I asked curiously.

He had a proud Roman nose, a mess of curly hair that hung just above his eyes, high cheekbones, and soft lips that women in the bar would probably die to kiss. Seriously, this is the man I get worried about? “Montreal.” Salvatore smiles. The heavy and thick Italian accent rolls his tongue. He quickly stands up from the couch he sat on and moves forward with one arm extended, ready for a handshake. “I’m glad we wouldn't be stood up tonight. I prepared a feast.” Damon joked, clapping his palm on his shoulder. I stay back a little, letting the two indulge in their reunion even though I know they’ve just seen each other at the engagement.

He asked. "No, not at all" Salvador shook his head. "I just want to gain more experience here and I heard that you treat your workers right. I want to be a palace soldier" Damon smirked. "Why? You're a man with freedom, why do you want to be a servant?" Damon isn't foolish, he knows that the man wants to be close to Daisy. He turned and gave Salvatore a look. Salvatore nodded in acknowledgement. Damon wasn't sure if he wants anyone closer to Daisy. He can't do her such favor. Period.

“Your sloppy cunt is dripping even more. Tell me how much you love getting your ass spanked while I pound this pussy.” “I love it—shit, yes!” Elena moaned, tears of pleasure forming in her eyes. “Spank me while you fuck me, fuck yes!” Damon groaned and gave her what she wanted. His big hand slapped her ass repeatedly as he drove his cock deeper, the wet sounds growing louder and messier. Juices ran down her thighs in shiny streams. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to arch against the glass. “Look at the city, baby,” he ordered, voice rough with lust. “All those lights down there, and here you are getting destroyed by your boss’s cock. This tight cunt bel