The Vampire's Luna
Chapter 114: Trey Songz - Neighbours Know My Name

Chapter 114: Trey Songz - Neighbours Know My Name

He tossed her gently onto the bed, his motions fluid but desperate. She laughed breathlessly, her hair wild, her cheeks flushed, and her lips glistening.

He yanked his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor with the rest of his defenses. Then he was over her—covering her body with his. Surrounding her.

Luna cupped his cheek, eyes soft, playful. "Too much?" she whispered.

"Not even close." Then he leaned in and kissed her.

He kissed her chest reverently. His mouth moved lower with deliberate slowness, tracing heat across her skin. When he gently freed her from the confines of her bra, it felt like unveiling. Damien feasted on each mound of flesh, groaning low in his throat as her back arched in response, her fingers tunneling into his hair.

Luna writhed beneath him, in the sudden release of every guarded wall she’d ever built. Her legs tangled around him, her body alive with sensation, her heart terrified and elated at once.

His hand drifted lower, fingers searching for her warmth. She was wet, aching, open.

He didn’t even try for patience.

The delicate fabric that separated them was torn away, a useless obstacle now discarded in the chaos of their desire. He kissed her again, mouth hot and consuming.

"I’m not going to stop, even if you tell me to.". This was it—the moment of no return. If she was going to push him away, now was the time.

Luna looked up at him, her eyes glistening. "Please..." she whispered.

Damien held still, barely breathing. "Tell me what you want, my moonlight." The name was a prayer now.

She reached up, cupping his face with both hands. "I want you," she said. "I want you. Please."

It was all he needed.

He entered her with care, guiding himself into her. He buried himself to the hilt, but didn’t move. He held her tightly, grounding himself in her scent, in the soft tremble of her breath, in the hitch of her gasp.

Luna grunted softly at the fullness, clutching his shoulders, and he stilled completely, giving her time to adjust, to breathe, to feel.

"You’re okay," he whispered, more to himself than to her. He still didn’t quite believe it—that she had truly let her walls down. That she wasn’t pushing him away, or building new excuses.

She was his. Finally. Willingly. Entirely.

He began to move. Each roll of his hips was a vow, a memory, a silent apology for the time they’d wasted in pride and pain. Luna wrapped her legs around him, clutching him.

As he built his pace, curling and curving into her, Luna felt herself unraveling. Her body buzzed but her heart... her heart cracked open wider with each thrust. Because she knew. She knew. Every moment they had was borrowed time. He had given everything—his future, his peace, his life—just so she could exist.

Tears slid from the corners of her eyes before she could stop them, trickling down into her hair, wetting the pillow.

Damien felt her tremble and slowed, his gaze flicking up to catch the glimmer on her cheeks. He froze. "Am I hurting you?...Talk to me, Luna."

She shook her head violently, blinking away her tears. "No... goddess, no..." She cupped his face, pulling him down until their foreheads met. "I just... I love you."

Damien let out a soft, broken laugh. He kissed her like he was drowning and she was air, like she was the answer to every prayer he’d never dared to speak aloud. Then he moved again—faster, deeper.

And when her climax came, it was release. A flood. Her fingers clutched his back, nails scraping down. Her cry was of sorrow and gratitude and aching love.

Damien tried to hold back. He really did. But she was warm and wild beneath him, and the sound of her voice breaking, the feel of her body pulling him in—he couldn’t last. He came undone with a grunt, shuddering as if the soul had been pulled right out of him. His climax shook him, overwhelmed him, and left him panting above her, utterly wrecked. f.(r)eewe/bnov\ll.com

He collapsed beside her, arm flung across her middle, both of them catching their breath.

After a beat of silence, Damien huffed a laugh, still breathless, his voice dazed. "What the fuck just happened?"

*****

Seliora strutted into the royal salon. Her red gown swished behind her, her diamond hairpins catching the morning light. She had come to make her hair but when she saw who occupied the plush chair by the window, her nose wrinkled.

There, with her feet soaking in rosewater was Luna.

Seliora stopped in her tracks, eyes narrowing.

She huffed. Her heels clicked with purpose as she approached the attendant desk.

"I booked an appointment for this morning," she snapped. "Do you have any excuse to why I am not the only one here?"

From the comfort of her reclined chair, Luna didn’t bother. She merely raised a brow and rolled her eyes slowly, as if she’d just been interrupted by a housefly buzzing too close. Honestly, at this point, Seliora’s tantrums were just another part of Luna’s life.

She was just genuinely grateful that Morvakar’s spell on her mark had worked. Damien had been sleeping for days, only waking up to eat and drink. There was no pain.

The nervous attendant wrung her hands, trying not to quake under Seliora’s glare. "I apologise, my lady, but the princess booked—"

"I do not care who booked," Seliora barked, turning her sharp chin up. "You should ensure I am the only one here. I am carrying the heir to the throne. I cannot afford to be around... fleas and ticks."

Luna had a scathing response on the tip of her tongue but she held it in. Barely.

She took a deep breath. After all, they were in public.

Instead, she turned to Seliora with a calm, pitying smile and said smoothly, "Seliora... you are embarrassing yourself."

"I beg your pardon?" Seliora demanded, hand on hip, volume rising.