NOVEL NEXT Chapter 48: Screw The Bed! *
Warlock Ch 48. Screw The Bed!
"Ngh…" Evelyn moaned softly, her fingers tightening in his hair as she tilted her head to give him more access. It was a quiet sound, but it was enough to push Damian further, to make him want more. The way her body responded to his touch, the way she seemed to melt into him—it was overwhelming.
Evelyn pulled back slightly, her breath ragged, but she didn't move far. Her forehead rested against his, her eyes half-lidded, as if she was trying to catch her breath, trying to steady herself in the intense emotions that had swept them both up.
Damian let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest. "Evelyn..." he started, his voice rough, almost hoarse. He didn't even know what he was trying to say. His thoughts were tangled, but he knew one thing for certain—this was real. Whatever this thing between them was, it was real. It was intense. And it wasn't going away.
She looked up at him, her eyes soft but filled with something intense, something raw that mirrored what he was feeling.
"The bed," Damian blurted out, his voice rough, his thoughts tangled. "We should go to the bed."
He hesitated, realizing how awkward and rushed it sounded. 'What the hell am I saying?' he thought, mentally kicking himself. He wasn't trying to rush her, but his words had come out all wrong. He meant that he wanted to be with her, to share something more intimate, but somehow it sounded like he was just ready to crash and sleep. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassment creeping up his spine.
"I-I mean..." he stammered, trying to recover. He wasn't used to this—despite his previous job as a bartender, despite his easygoing, friendly nature, he'd never been the type to hit on girls or act like some suave player.
Truth be told, he wasn't experienced with this kind of intimacy. His ex had left him because she didn't see a future with him, and whatever they had shared wasn't exactly what he'd call romantic. Sure, they'd slept together a few times, but it never felt like this.
With Evelyn, though, everything felt different. The connection between them wasn't just physical. It was emotional. And that scared him a little. He wasn't sure how to handle it. He didn't want to mess it up, but at the same time, he didn't want to overthink it. He just wanted to be with her, in the moment, feeling everything.
Evelyn seemed to catch on to his awkwardness. She smiled slightly, touching her lips with her fingers, a knowing look crossing her face. "You... want to do it, don't you?"
Damian felt his throat tighten, but he nodded. He couldn't hide it, and he didn't want to. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice low and honest. "I do."
Evelyn tilted her head slightly, her gaze soft but curious. "Aren't you tired?" she asked, her tone playful yet concerned. "After all the training and all those books?"
He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No. I'm not tired. Not at all."
She looked at him for a moment, her expression shifting from teasing to something more serious. "Okay," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached for his hand, ready to pull him toward the bedroom, but then Damian didn't move.
She stopped, turning back to him with a questioning look. "Damian?" she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong?"
He met her gaze, his heart racing in his chest. For a moment, he wasn't sure what to say, but then it hit him. He didn't want to overthink this, didn't want to plan every little detail. He just wanted to be with her—right here, right now.
"You know..." he said, his voice soft but firm. "Screw the bed. We'll do it here."
Evelyn blinked, her eyes widening slightly as she registered his words. For a moment, there was a flicker of surprise, but then a smile crept onto her lips, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Here?" she echoed, her voice teasing. "In the kitchen?"
Damian grinned, his confidence returning. "Yup." His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer, his body pressed firmly against hers. "Here," he stated.
There was something different now—a quiet certainty, a need that wasn't driven by hesitation or doubt anymore. His fingers gripped her hips as if they had been there a hundred times before, but this time it wasn't about exploring. It was about claiming the moment, making it theirs.
Evelyn's breath hitched as she felt his touch, her body responding instinctively, leaning into him. Her teasing expression faded, replaced by something more serious, something more raw. She could feel it in the way Damian's hands roamed her waist, up her sides, as if he couldn't get close enough.
He leaned in and kissed her again, this time with more intensity, more hunger. His lips pressed against hers, parting them as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tasting her with a kind of fierce determination. He wasn't holding back anymore, and neither was she.
Evelyn melted into him, her hands gripping the back of his neck, pulling him even closer as the kiss grew more heated.
Damian's hands moved quickly, almost instinctively, as they tugged at the fabric of her clothes. He wasn't thinking anymore; he was just acting. His fingers found the hem of her dress, pulling it up and over her head in one swift motion. He barely gave it a second thought before his hands were back on her, his lips trailing down her neck, tasting her skin, breathing her in.
Evelyn gasped softly, her head tilting back as his lips moved along her throat, her pulse racing beneath his mouth. She wasn't used to this version of Damian—the one who took charge so confidently, who knew exactly what he wanted and wasn't afraid to take it. And the more he touched her, the more she felt that spark between them grow into a full-blown fire.