Elena Damon Stefan Novels & Stories

Damien fed her actual food after that, each bite accompanied by lingering kisses and promises of what he’d do to her once they recovered. By the time the clock struck three, Elena was thoroughly marked by his mouth and hands, and already craving the next private invitation. Chef Damien Voss was arrogant, demanding, and utterly intoxicating. And in his kitchen, she was more than happy to be the main course.

Chapter 15: Damian’s POV ​I stood in the doorway of Studio B, looking at my ex-wife. ​Elena was leaning against the console, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her hair was slightly damp from the rain outside, her coat pulled tight around her shoulders. She looked exhausted, her face pale under the fluorescent studio lights, but her eyes were still burning with that stubborn, infuriating defiance she had been carrying around since the day she walked out on me.

When his cold gaze landed on Stephan, a smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, well,” he said mockingly. “Stephan… it’s been years, and you’re still hung up on my wife?” Elena’s face flushed with anger. “Stephan and I are just friends, Damien. Please, have some respect for both your wife and your old classmate.” The air grew tense, heavy enough to choke on. “Wife?” Damien repeated coldly. “So you do remember you’re my wife? Then why are you out here, getting cozy with an old flame right outside our door?”

It was soon eight in the evening. The press conference commenced. Elena walked on stage and flashed everyone her most charming smile. “Hello, everybody. I’m Elena Steves, a colleague of Daya Stoermer. I have a very sad issue to reveal to all of you. Daya looks like a saint on the surface, but she’s actually a cunning b*tch. Her personal life is messed up, and it’s not her first time interfering in someone else’s relationship…” Right then, one of the staff members rushed on stage and whispered into Elena’s ear.

Wife’s Watch💦🫦 Elena’s command hung in the air like smoke. “Lock the door.” Damien did it without hesitation, the click echoing through the office. I was still on my knees, lips swollen, Damien’s thick cock glistening inches from my face. My heart hammered so hard I could barely breathe. Elena stepped closer, her designer heels silent on the carpet. She was stunning up close, sharp cheekbones, dark hair pulled into an elegant twist, and eyes that burned with something between fury and hunger.

Several students had turned to watch us, curious. My mouth went dry. I wanted to say it. My mother worked as your personal housekeeper. Maria Reyes. But I couldn't, not with everyone watching. Instead, I stuck out my hand, forcing brightness into my voice. "Elena. Elena Reyes. We met... a long time ago." He didn't take my hand. Just looked at it like it was something distasteful. The seconds stretched out, awkward and painful, until I dropped my arm. Then, deliberately, Damien pulled a small bottle of hand sanitizer from his pocket. He squeezed some into his palm and rubbed his hands together slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

When the grand doors opened that afternoon, Amelia’s heart lurched violently. Elena stepped inside like she owned the world. Tall, graceful, and dressed in a pale lavender dress that shimmered like sunlight on water, she was the kind of woman people noticed instantly. Her raven-black hair fell in smooth waves down her back, and her smile was sweet, almost angelic. But when her eyes flicked to Amelia, there was something sharp lurking beneath the sweetness—a glimmer of triumph. “Damien,” Elena breathed, her voice soft, musical, familiar. She crossed the marble floor as if floating, and without hesitation, Damien rose to meet her.

As soon as he stepped into the penthouse, Ary opened the email fully and began reading: Elena Ava Nolan, born December 25, 1997 to Jon Patrick and Gina Marie Nolan, both of Essex, Massachusetts. Mother, deceased. Personal Details: - Age: 23 - Nationality: American - Marital Status: Married (Bradley “Brad” Hawkins) Residence and Employment: - Last confirmed residence: Shared condo with Bradley Hawkins in Lawrence, MA. - Last known employment: Junior Chef at Scavos Eatery, Essex, MA, from where she resigned, citing “personal reasons”

He milked every drop, keeping eyes on mine, and the room went quiet except for our heavy breathing. Elena stepped back and fixed her shirt. Her panties were dark with wetness, and I could tell that she’d come while watching. She smiled, clearly satisfied and calm. “Deal’s done,” she said. “Fuck her all you want, and I won’t get in the way.” She walked to the door and paused. “You two are perfect together,” she said. “Disgustingly perfect.” Then she was gone, and the door clicked shut. Damian pulled me into his arms on the bed, his hand stroking my hair. I was wrecked, my body shaking, covered in him, and sore everywhere, but I also felt… free.

Because guessing wouldn’t help. Hale’s gaze shifted past him. To her. Of course. Damon turned. Slowly. The woman stood exactly where she had been. Calm. Unmoved. Unafraid. For the first time Damon really looked at her. Not as an ally. Not as a solution. But as a variable. “…who are you?” he asked again. This time She answered. “My name is Elara.” The name meant nothing. And everything. Hale exhaled softly.