Page 28 of An Illicit Seduction

As the second week following his release came to a close, she went through the motions of her nightly routine—plaiting her hair, selecting her clothes for work the next day, and getting ready for her shower. Throughout the entire process, she told herself that her constant sighing at regular intervals was because of the relief she felt at finally having some peace and in no way had anything to do with possible withdrawals.

Just as she stepped into the bathroom, she was startled by a hard pounding on her front door. It sounded like the police trying to beat her door in, and she rushed toward the front of her apartment, tugging on her robe and cinching the belt as she crossed the living room. Yanking open the door, her brows furrowed even as her belly leaped when she saw Damon standing on the other side, his face pinched into a frown with his eyes trained at the ground. He wore a pair of orange joggers and a black t-shirt that clung to a defined chest that she was well acquainted with. She noticed that he held his cell phone in one hand while his other was tucked into the front pocket of his loose jogging pants. The new scar across his forehead reminded her that it hadn’t been that long since his accident, and she kept that in mind as she opened the door wider.

“Hey, Damon. What’s going on?” She kept her voice light and comforting, hoping to ease whatever was on his mind that had his face scrunched the way it was, but inside, her body was buzzing at the sight of him.

His expression was impassive as his deep brown eyes rose from the ground, trailing slowly up her body from her bare feet until his gaze met her own, and she experienced a full-body shiver as if a gust of wind had just blown over her. The look itself wasn’t exactly like the ones he’d given her recently, but it was still something more…intimate…than what she was used to from the Damon from…before.

“Sorry for popping up unexpectedly, but I haven’t seen you since I woke up, and I didn’t want to discuss this over the phone.”

Seraph swallowed against the lump in her stomach. That was shade that she’d have to let roll off of her back. He doesn’t remember that they’d been here before. Although he was back to the Damon she’d always known, she couldn’t help but be acutely aware of her nudity beneath her robe and the way he’d just ogled her didn’t help. Even subtle, it made her anxious as her body responded in kind, preparing her for what usually came next.

Pulling the belt of her robe tighter and knotting it once more, she stepped aside to let him in. “It’s fine; come on in.”

He crossed the threshold with a slight limp in his step, and she wondered where his crutches were as she closed and locked the door behind him. When she turned around, he was sitting in the middle of her two-seat couch, his legs spread unnecessarily, taking up way too much space. Mentally, she knew that he was probably here for some arbitrary reason, but she didn’t know how to act around him anymore. Just being in his presence spiked her temperature and made her pussy quiver, both inappropriate responses to someone who was essentially family—blood relation or not.

Completing the binding ritual and casting out the incubus was supposed to eliminate these feelings she had for Damon, yet they felt as prominent as ever. Her heart had begun beating at double speed the moment she laid eyes on him, and she felt sweat bead along her forehead as the temperature in the room seemed to go up a few degrees. This was insane. The man sitting on her sofa was her Damon; not the sex-crazed, orgasm-fueled monster she’d been spellbound by. She needed to get it together.

Clutching the lapels of her robe, she remained standing and leaned her hip against the back of one of the two armchairs in the room that faced the couch.

“So, what’s up?”

“You kissed me.”

The simple words were accusatory, and she should have seen it coming. It was the first thing he saw when he woke up and completely out of character for her, so, of course, he would remember. Closing her eyes, she dropped her head and shook it.

“Yeah. I did.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “But I shouldn’t have. It was wrong of me.”

He stared at her unblinkingly. “Why’d you do it?”

“I—” She opened her mouth then quickly closed it. How did she answer that without divulging information that he never needed to know? “It felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

He didn’t respond to that, he just continued to stare at her for a long moment. Without saying another word, nor taking his eyes off of Seraph, he held out his phone. From where she stood, she could see that the screen was lit and, though confused, she moved to stand in front of him and pluck it out of his hands, being careful not to touch any part of his skin. When she registered the image on the screen, her jaw slackened and the blood drained from her face. And… maybe a part of her that she called herself burying deep down beneath propriety was turned on.

It was a picture—one that she recognized instantly—captured from Damon’s point of view. Even though neither of their faces was in the shot, she knew, without a doubt, that the two bodies visible belonged to them. In the picture, Seraph was lying naked, on her back, hands cupping her breasts, fingers pinching her nipples, legs spread wide, with Damon’s beautiful, hard dick lodged halfway inside of her body and his thumb lifting the hood of her engorged clit. She remembered how after the picture was taken, he’d later made her hold the phone in the air while he stared at it and simultaneously ate her pussy.

Slamming her eyes shut against the memory—and the sudden throbbing between her legs—Seraph clutched at the collar of her robe. She shouldn’t pine for the time in that photo, shouldn’t miss the freaky shit Damon had done to her while he was…not himself, but Lord help her she did. Barely a month had gone by, but instead of being grateful that she was no longer under attack, she was miserable. She could only say it in her head, but if she were being honest, she’d admit that she missed it—missed him.

However, the Damon in front of her was innocent and didn’t know anything about that time, so she decided to feign ignorance.

“Uh, not sure why you felt like showing me some homegrown porn or nudes or whatever this is, but at least homegirl has some nice titties. Thanks? I guess.” She tried to pass his phone back to him, but he refused to lift his hand and receive it, instead, nodding at the device.

“Keep scrolling. There is so much more than that one image.”

She shook her head. There was no way she could continue looking at erotic pictures of the two of them and pretend to be unaffected. She could already feel her breaths shortening as her arousal started to set in. “I’m good, thanks. Here’s your phone.”

Stonily, he stared at her. “Do you think I’m stupid, Seraph?”

His gritty tone was so surprising to her that she took a step back. “Wha—what? I didn’t—”

“Do you think I don’t know what your body looks like? Hmm? All of the years I’ve spent watching you, wanting you, craving you—you think I don’t have your curves committed to memory?”

“I—” She didn’t know what to say, too busy trying to process his admission.

“You must think I’m dumber than a box of rocks. Why else would you look at this picture and try to play me like I don’t know that’s us?”

“Uh…” Taking another step back until her butt hit the chair, she sat down and folded her arms across her chest, putting pressure on her now aching nipples. This Damon was unfamiliar to her. With steel in his voice and in his eyes, he was neither the one she knew nor the one she’d known intimately, yet, she couldn’t deny that he still succeeded at turning her on.

At this point, she’d forgotten what level of hell she was doomed to; she just kept sinking lower and lower.