Damon Torrance Book Novels & Stories

I found out later that Damian could see the reader comments too. It happened the next morning. New York was blue with early light, and Damian was wrapped around me from behind, lazy and satisfied in a way that made him look nothing like the untouchable heir everyone feared. I reached for the water on the nightstand when a comment floated across my vision. [@BookTokAfterDark: A full night behind a fade-to-black? Author, count your days.] I nearly choked. Behind me, Damian laughed softly. "They still want more."

Damon: You can't get away from me wifey. He leaned to her face brushing his lips on hers. Her breathing was already heavy and his doings were making more hard for her to breathe properly. She was scared. Afraid of what he will do next. Her trembling body was giving him a sense of dominance but God knows why he didn't like to have a control on her. Damon: I now want whole you. I want all of you only for myself. He grabbed her hand which was clutching his bicep and brought it to his lips licking her finger tips gently. He smiled a little when he witnessed her nails so small. They weren't like other women he met sharp like knife. They were small and held no harm.

Damon shrugged, pushing his head forward to a book that was placed on the man's table, and the title that was written by the side was vivid, at least, enough for him to see. “That book,” he announced, raising an eyebrow. “Walking free by Dr. Munjed Muderis, in the year 2014.” “You've read it already?” The man kept revealing the shock on his face, after every word that left his mouth. “Yes,” Damon replied almost immediately, placing one hand in his pocket. “About three times to be precise, so yeah, that should be an easy guess.” “Then why did you use two options?” the man questioned, squinting.

Damon seems to know what to say and when to say it, making me feel appreciated. "You're being so nice to me!" I laugh. "I don't see why I should not be," "Tell me, are my friends still behind that door?" Damon glances at the door for a few seconds before turning to look back at me, his eyes piercing directly into my own. When there isn't a tint of yellow, they appear warm and homey. The brown, for some, might appear dull and dark but for me, they appear light and full of life. Maybe, it's by the way he is staring at me.

the only reson im even watching this show is because I can't find the remote and I don't want to move. After last nights little "brattying out" as Damien called it I was told no ice cream for two weeks and got my ass turned red, trust me when I say I love it when they all show me their domanince, at first I wasn't sure about it because well I think ive had anough abuse for a few life times but once I found the book and also did some research i understood that its not about abuse, and once I opened my mind to it I found myself craving it more.

This image—this proof of new life—brightened my entire day. “Damon,” I called out, trailing him toward his office. “I want to see that photo book.” “Oh, right. Follow me,” he responded, leading me to his room. It was my first time stepping into his space, which resembled a bachelor pad yet exuded luxury and comfort. Damon walked over to his safe and carefully took out the photo book. “You keep a photo book in a safe?” I asked, my surprise evident. “I had to,” Damon replied seriously. “With June’s jealousy, who knows what she might’ve done to it? I couldn’t risk losing this book,” he explained, his words sending a flutter through my heart.

"Rest up. Mom said you'll need to be back out there for the second half." The door clicked shut, and the room fell silent. The pills seemed to take effect. My throat eased, and air finally filled my lungs more fully. But dizziness hit me harder than ever. I pressed a hand to my belly, and felt a twist from within. It grew stronger, tighter with each breath. No. This isn't right! The dizziness worsened. I tried to leave. But the doorknob wouldn’t budge— she had locked it from the outside!

I heard rumors that he was spending sixteen hours a day on the borders, pushing the warriors to their limits. He was hunting and I knew what he was looking for. On Thursday, I was deep in the back stacks, trying to organize a crate of moldy tax returns, when the door opened. I didn't look up. "Thorne, the maps are on the table. I haven't finished the census yet." "I'm not Thorne." I dropped the folder in my hand. Damon was standing in the doorway. He wasn't wearing his tactical gear, instead he was in a simple black shirt and jeans, but he still looked like he could level the building with a glare.

Liam's voice is tight. Aldara doesn't answer immediately. She moves to another shelf. Pulls down a different text. Reads faster. "Aldara," Marcus says. "What did you find?" She looks up. Her ancient eyes are wide. Afraid. "The Dormant Luna isn't just a bridge between species," she says slowly. "She's a key." "A key to what?" I ask. Aldara sets the book down on the pedestal beside the lunar stone. Points to a passage written in larger script.

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.