Damon slammed the door to his apartment shut, the sound echoing.
The city lights filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting jagged shadows across the leather couches and polished floors.
His apartment smelled of expensive scotch and the faint masculine cologne.
He was already three glasses deep, the burn in his throat doing little to drown out the image burned into his brain: Seraphina speaking to Lucien at the goddamn party.
"Fuck her," he muttered, pouring another splash of amber liquid into the crystal tumbler.
The ice clinked sharply as he swirled it, his knuckles white around the glass.
He couldn't believe Seraphina was being too difficult to handle.
The doorbell buzzed, a low insistent hum that cut through the haze.
Damon ignored it at first, tossing back the scotch.
But it buzzed again, then again. He stalked to the door, yanking it open with a snarl. "What the fu…"
Caira stood there, her blue dress clinging to every curve like it was painted on, the fabric stretched tight over her full tits and the flare of her hips.
Her dark auburn, long hair tumbled loose from the elegant updo she had worn to the party, lips painted a deep crimson that matched the flush on her cheeks.
She had always had that look in her eyes for him, hungry, hopeful, trailing after him like a shadow whenever he showed up in front of her. Tonight, though, it was sharper, more predatory.
"Damon," she breathed, slipping past him without invitation.
The door clicked shut behind her. "You looked... upset tonight. Saw you leave alone."
She sauntered toward the bar cart, the hem of her dress riding up just enough to flash the lace edge of her thigh-high stockings.
Damon's vision became hazy from the alcohol he had been taking all night
"Party is over, Caira. Go home."
She turned, pouring herself a drink with steady hands, but her eyes locked on his, dark and gleaming.
"You don't mean that." She took a slow sip, her tongue flicking out to catch a drop on her lower lip, then set the glass down and closed the distance between them.
Her fingers trailed up his chest, nails scraping lightly over the silk of his open shirt.
"I saw you staring at Lucien all night. What has that piece of shit done again, I can make you feel better" She caressed his chest slowly.
Damon's breath hitched, the heat of her palm seeping through his skin.
He grabbed her wrist, but not to push her away– his grip tightened, pulling her flush against him.
Her tits pressed soft and yielding into his chest, nipples already hard, peaks under the thin fabric.
"What the hell do you want, huh?" His voice was rough, slurred just enough from the scotch to make it gravelly.
"You," she whispered, rising on her toes, her mouth inches from his.
" I have always wanted you, Damon and you know it. Come on, one night won't hurt. Let me make you forget all your worries"
Her free hand slid down, cupping the growing bulge in his pants, squeezing with just enough pressure to make him groan.
"I've wanted you forever, Damon. Let me make you feel better, for just tonight"
The words snapped something in him. He crushed his mouth to hers, the kiss brutal and demanding, teeth clashing as his tongue plunged deep.
She tasted like vodka and cherries from the party, sweet and sharp, her moan vibrating against his lips as she opened for him.
His hands roamed rough, one fisting in her hair to angle her head back, exposing the column of her throat.
He bit down there, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, the salt of her skin flooding his mouth.
Caira arched into him, her pussy grinding against his thigh as she hooked a leg around his hip.
"Fuck, yes," she gasped into his mouth, her fingers fumbling with his belt, yanking it open with a metallic jangle.
His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the head already slick with pre-cum. She wrapped her hand around it, stroking firm and slow, thumb circling the sensitive ridge while her tongue tangled with his.
Damon growled, shoving her back against the nearest wall, the coldness of the wall sends a shock against her heated skin.
The impact rattled a nearby lamp as it fell and shattered into unfixable pieces– but he didn't care.
His mouth devoured hers again, sloppy and wet, spit slicking their chins as he devoured her.
He hiked her dress up, bunching the fabric around her waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs.
Her panties were soaked, the damp lace clinging to her swollen pussy lips.
He cupped her there, rubbing hard over her clit, feeling it throb under his palm.
"God, you're so wet," he rasped, breaking the kiss to nip at her jaw, her earlobe.
The scent of her arousal hit him—musky and heady, mixing with the scotch on his breath.
"Been dreaming about my cock, haven't you?"
"All the time," she panted, her hips bucking into his hand, chasing the friction.
She pumped his cock faster, the wet schlick of pre-cum easing her strokes filling the air.
Precum beaded at the tip, and she smeared it down his length, twisting her wrist on the upstroke. "Want it inside me. Use me tonight, Damon. I am all yours"
He silenced her with another kiss, deeper this time, his tongue fucking her mouth in short, savage thrusts that matched the grind of his fingers against her clit.
He hooked her panties aside, plunging two fingers into her dripping pussy without warning. She was tight, hot silk clenching around him, the squelch of her wetness obscene as he curled them against her G-spot.
Her walls fluttered, sucking him in, and she cried out into his mouth, nails raking down his back hard enough to draw blood.
Damon's head spun from the booze and the fire in his veins, anger twisting into pure lust.
He finger-fucked her relentlessly, thumb mashing her clit, while his other hand pinned her wrists above her head against the wall.
Her tits heaved with each breath, spilling over the low neckline, and he bent to capture a nipple through the fabric, sucking hard, the cotton barrier dampening under his tongue.
"Damon…oh fuck, don't stop," she whimpered, her pussy gushing around his fingers, the lewd drip of her juices trickling down his wrist. She stroked his cock in time with his thrusts, squeezing the base where his balls tightened, heavy and full.
He pulled back just enough to look at her—lips swollen and bruised, eyes glassy with need, mascara smudged like she'
had already been fucked raw.
"Not stopping till you cream all over my hand," he promised, voice thick, crashing his mouth back to hers. Their tongues battled, breaths mingling in hot pants, bodies slick with sweat as the make out turned frantic, edges blurring into something primal.
Her free leg trembled, thigh muscles quivering against his hip, and he ground his cock against her belly, the veined shaft leaving a sticky trail on her skin. The apartment filled with their sounds—the wet smack of lips, her muffled moans, the rhythmic plunge of his fingers in her sopping cunt.
Damon quickened the pace of his finger inside her.
Ciara stroke his cock harder and they both exploded with orgasm.
The sound of their heavy breath filled the apartment.
Outside, the city hummed indifferently.