Five Years Later - Damon

Swiping a credit card through the machine, I hand it back to the customer through the window, along with two of our famous jalapeno and chocolate cupcakes. The woman gives one to her kid, who hastily unwraps the foil and thrusts it into his mouth. There's chocolate icing rimming his pie hole, but he's beaming like my food just made his day. So I reach over and hand his mother a stack of napkins.

"Looks like you're gonna need these."

She takes them from me, offering an appreciative smile. "Thanks."

"Have a good one."

They turn and head down the sidewalk, making way for the next customers to approach the window. There's a line almost halfway down the block and I'm not gonna lie, when I bought this piece of shit food truck three years ago, I never expected my business to take off the way it has.

Apparently, even in LA where carbs are shunned like an infectious disease, people can't resist my 'fascinatingly delicious dishes'. And no, those aren't my words. They're direct from the famous food critic who just-so-happened to stop by my truck a year ago and posted about my 'uniquely refreshing approach to take-away food' on his blog. I've been a success story ever since.

Owning a food truck isn't exactly a prime life goal for most, but to me it's damn satisfying. I get to cook my food, be my own boss, order around the three employees who work for me, and make pretty sweet money in the process. Plus, I get to pick my own hours. And considering the life I get to go home to when I leave this hunk of metal, I feel like I've hit the jackpot.

When I hand off a plate of mac-n-cheese pancakes to another customer, Chad, one of my employees, checks me with his shoulder.

"Get out of here, man. It's your day. You shouldn't even be here in the first place."

He's right, but since Elena was up and out the door at the asscrack of dawn this morning, I didn't really feel like spending the day lying around the house being useless. This business is my baby, well second to her, of course, and I might be a little addicted to keeping it running smoothly. Not like I need to be. My employees are top-notch and not only do I trust them, I consider all three as friends.

I take the next customer's order. "Why the need to get rid of me, man? You got a joint in your pocket you planning on smoking when I duck out?"

He laughs, loading up a sandwich with our Coca Cola pulled pork and giving it to the customer.

"How'd you know?"

"Intuition." I shrug. "Well that and I've known you too long."

He laughs again as I put the customer's twenty into the register and pick out the change.

"Seriously, get the hell out of here." He pushes me aside, claiming the position behind the register. "I'm sure Elena has something planned and your ass is ruining it by being here."

She might, but I'm also aware she's stuck at the office until five today since they're launching Alaric Saltzman's latest novel. She and Rebekah have been pulling some crazy hours this past month making sure this book hits the stands with a deafening boom. There's not a doubt in my mind it will. My girl's an ace at this publishing thing. So is Rebekah. Together they've dropped sixty-two best sellers over the past five years. This one is sure to be number sixty-three.

"I'm good for a few more hours."

Glancing at the next customers, I realize it a pair of LA's finest. We have macho-douche sporting a steroid induced set of biceps, white-beater, and scowl on the left. And on the right we have sunset stripper hardly concealing a set of purchased tits beneath a tiny bikini. Her platinum hair dangles to her ass in little ringlets and she's giving me her best 'fuck me' eyes.

Elena thinks I'm ignorant to the slew of googly eyes aimed my way through the day, but here's a secret: guys–we all notice. I just don't give a shit. As sunset stripper savors my physique, I feel nothing. In fact, a girl could offer to drop to her knees behind my food truck and suck me dry and I still wouldn't spare her an interested glance.

My dick and I are solely interested in Elena. She has me wrapped around her pretty little finger. Literally. That became official when I swooped down on one knee two years ago and asked her to spend her forever with me. It was cheesy and romantic and when she gave me an astonished smile and spastic little nod, it nearly split my chest in half in happiness. I'd been faithfully hers before that and have been ever since.

Sunset stripper either fails to notice the titanium band on my left hand or purposefully fails to ignore it as she leans through the window and bats her thick lashes. "Do you have any salads?"

Her balloons are perked on the countertop and as I glance between her macho boyfriend who looks like he's a second away from pummeling me–not like he'd actually fare well in that fight–and her seductive doe eyes, I turn to Chad.

"On second thought, I'm out of here."

He chuckles. "See ya later, man."

When I pull into our driveway in my 69' Ford Mustang (yes, dreams really do come true), I turn off the rumbling engine and head inside. We have a single-family home; nothing too extravagant, but something comfortable thanks to Elena's salary and my booming little business. There are two bedrooms, two baths, and a large living area connected to the open kitchen. Stainless steel appliances, cherry hardwoods, and hundreds of books accent the space. There's also a very important kitchen island since neither of us was willing to part with that architectural gem.

As I open the front door and step into the house, the first thing I notice is Elena's home early.

I'm not complaining. In fact, my heart does that familiar little drop to my stomach, same way it always does when I catch sight of her. Call me sappy, but I fucking love my girl.

Sex And The City plays on the television and because I've seen every damn episode at this point, I know exactly which one it is.

We all do crazy things for the people we love. For me, it's watch and re-watch episodes of this chick shit. Well, that, and move across the country. But I don't regret it. Not a single bit. New York held nothing for me. This place, this home, this life with Elena – it holds everything.

Her toned, tan legs are stretched in the shape of a triangle, giving me one hell of a view. She's bent forward doing yoga in front of the television wearing a fitted white camisole and grey cotton shorts. I love those shorts. More importantly, I love the way her ass cheeks poke out from underneath to tease me.

My dick springs to life, painfully slamming against my jeans. It's been five days since I've been inside her since we spent the last week staying with Caroline and her fiancé, Stefan, at their NYC loft.

I'm two seconds away from striding over to her and peeling those shorts down her legs when I hear a little sniffle come from her. It's followed by another and… dammit. My dick goes slack. As much as I want to feel my girl pulse around me as I send her to her inevitable orgasm, I'm not the kind of guy who'll screw his wife when she's crying.

I'm not alarmed, however, since this has become a regular occurrence. She's the strongest woman I know, handling so much life has thrown her way and never blaming anyone for it. Her tears are rarely present and she holds enough strength for the both us of. But lately she's been spewing tears over everything. And I'm talking everything–puppy commercials, pop songs, burnt dinner. Hell, a bug splattered on the windshield last week and she mourned the life of that dragonfly for hours.

I'm not sure what's gotten in to her, but I'm here for her regardless. God knows she's put up with more from me in the past.

I kick off my shoes beside the front door and make my way to her. "Dog commercial again?"

She lifts, wiping her tears through her embarrassed laughter. Her cheeks are the most adorable shade of pink and I can't help but lean in and kiss her. It's a quick one, all sweet and tone-downed passion, but just like everything with her, it threatens to take me out at the knees.

I swear, the girl can blow her nose and I feel it in my damn chest.

She pulls back and shakes her head. "It was some stupid life-insurance commercial."

"The one with the old couple on the bench with flashes of their life together?" I cock my head to the side. "Yeah, that one can be brutal on the heartstrings."

She glares at me.

"I'm kidding." Sweeping my arm around her, I pull her into my chest so her sweet vanilla scent floods my senses. I dip her head beneath my chin. "You cry whenever you damn well please."

Her laughter has my dick twitching in my pants. It's been five fucking days.

She presses a tiny kiss to my throat before backing away and running a hand over the smooth hair leading into her ponytail. "Well, I'm done now."

Giving her a quick once over, I confirm she's speaking the truth. No tears crowd her eyes and although she's still flushed from her mini sob session, there's that perfect smile on her face letting me know she's okay.

"Good." I step around the coffee table and sit down on the center cushion of the couch. An outstretched arm rests along the back on both sides. "Now you just keep doing what you were doing while I sit here and watch."

She lifts one challenging little brow. "As much as I'm sure you'd enjoy that, I was actually finished."

I grin and slap my thighs. "Then get your ass over here and tell me how the launch went today."

She pads across the room to straddle my lap. "The launch went great." I stroke the silky skin of her bare thighs, relishing the feel of her beneath my fingertips. "Bex is still handling a few last minute things, but she told me to get home since it's someone's special day."

"It's just like any other day."

She narrows her big brown eyes seductively. "I beg to differ." Her hands sear the plane of my chest onto my shoulders, pulling the cotton of my t-shirt beneath her fingernails. Then sizzling lips lower to ghost my jawline.

It appears I'm not the only one who's missed our naked time together.

Thank the fucking lord.

"The day you were born is actually pretty special to me." The hum of her breath along my flesh sends a ripple of pleasure down my abs and through my dick. It's getting pretty damn desperate. Thankfully, she's just as desperate.

Lifting my right hand, my fingers grip onto her elastic band, towing it from her hair. Chestnut locks fall over her shoulder and down her back, and after I toss the band somewhere on the floor, I fist my hand into the silky mess. "Is that so?"

"Yep." Her hot tongue flicks over my pulse point, gaining a low growl from me in return. "I worship this day."

Her hips stroke against me.

"It feels like you're worshipping something else." My voice is raspy, but by the way she grinds herself against my hard on, I know it turns her on. "Is this my birthday present?"

She pulls her head back, lifting her mouth to mine. "This is your pre-present."

Her lips are so fucking soft and when I use my grip in her hair to arch her neck so I can taste her with my tongue, she moans into my mouth. She's my favorite flavor. And that sound, it's my favorite sound.

"Pre-present?"

"As in the present I give you before your actual present." Tiny fingers unzip my jeans, freeing me. The purr of the zipper only has more blood pooling in my pelvis. I've missed her–her touch, her heat, this connection. Every inch of me aches for this.

I help her yank down my jeans, next come the boxer briefs, followed by her tight little shorts. I nearly come when there's nothing but exposed skin beneath those perfect shorts and before she can blink, I grab her wrist and yank her back on top of me.

"Nothing can top this." I position her above me, legs spread and ready to be taken.

She licks her lips. "We'll see."

She sinks down, letting me dip into her hot heat. And fuck me it feels good. Birth control is a miraculous thing since there really is nothing better than bare back. It's euphoric. I swear, if I somehow make it up there after this life and Elena and her body isn't up there waiting for me when I do, I'm demanding a refund.

Her muscles grip me, dragging with each rotation of her curvy hips. She's so fucking tight I have to will myself not to come. I focus on her tits, hopeful it'll keep me going long enough for her to join me. I may be many things, but a greedy lover is damn sure not one of them. I rip her camisole over her head and flick her erect bud with my tongue, eliciting a throaty little moan that has my hips striking against hers.

She smiles at the impact, arching her back and tilting her head so I get a visual of her long, slender throat. Abandoning the nipple, I skim my tongue along her collarbone, up to the spot on her neck–the one that drives her absolutely wild. I give her an opened-mouthed kiss first, tasting the saltiness of her skin, before swirling my tongue in slow circles. Another moan falls from her mouth and her body shudders in bliss. God I love making her shudder. But there's something I love more–hearing her whimper.

Her hands thread in my hair to yank the strands, but mine grip her hips, pulling her up and slamming her back down. She covers me completely each time I dive all the way in, wrapping me, tugging me in immaculate strokes. The third crack of our hips results in the whimper I've been craving, and at the sound I lift a hand and force her mouth back to me.

My tongue plunges in, taking what's mine. She responds just as forcefully, pushing me down her throat, craving me deeper. It's followed by a slow curl of her hips as she takes the reins and begins to ride my cock. This surrender of control doesn't happen often, but holy fuck, she's sexy when she's dominant. I'm about to lose it.

Each circle brushes my sensitive head along her tight inner walls, sending a swell of relief down my spine. Elena, the naughty minx she is, knows exactly what she's doing. You don't sleep with the same person for five years without learning the ins and outs of what drives them to ecstasy. The precise strokes, the pressure points, the delicious dips that make them gasp–they're all uncovered. It doesn't make sex any less sensual, it only makes it hotter.

"Slow down, baby." I've gone too long without being inside her. I want to enjoy this as long as I can.

She responds with laughter, reaching for my hand and dragging it to her clit. "We have all night for round two."

At that incentive, I spiral my thumb on her clit, feeling it throb beneath my fingers. Her breathing starts to escape in little pants, making me smirk. She may know my body, but I know hers too and she's seconds away from release when I move my thumb like this. I press it against her, rough. Once, twice, then coil it around before repeating the action.

She takes a deep breath, allowing me to sink into her again as she clenches around me and trembles through her release. The image of her parted lips, flushed cheeks and the little gasp she makes has me finding my own climax. I pump into her twice more. My body goes rigid, my muscles seizing as I empty myself inside her. She rides me through the whole thing, milking every last drop. Both of us pant while I grip her sweltering body like my life depends on it.

She presses her lips to my cheek, her exhale searing my skin. "Happy Birthday, Damon."

It's more like happy life.

We're both sitting at the island two hours later. I'm choking down the last bite of lasagna Elena cooked for my birthday dinner. And yes, I literally mean choke.

The edges of the dish are burnt since she left it in the oven twenty minutes too long, and the noodles scrape my throat like sandpaper the entire way down.

My girl is a master at many things, but cooking still isn't one of them. If it doesn't come straight from a box, she's screwed. This is why I still prepare every meal in this house.

But she's gone out of her way to try the homemade dinner bit. So I smile through my pain.

"This is fucking delicious."

She shakes her head, catching my eyes with her narrowed one. We both laugh at the shameful dinner attempt. It's instances like this where I'm most grateful for what we have. Life isn't perfect. We know that far too well. But when you have someone to laugh through the hiccups with you, it somehow feels that way.

Elena rolls her eyes, setting down her fork. She's abandoning her piece. There's still half left, meaning I'll be whipping something up in an hour when she's starving.

I don't care. I love cooking for her. I especially love the way her eyes still roll back in her head as she savors each bite and the tiny moans she releases as she eats.

My balls clench.

Shifting my legs, I reach for her hand. "You know it's the effort that counts."

I lean to the side and kiss her, leaving a smile on her lips. I grab our two plates, rinsing them in the sink.

She watches me. "Chad dropped off two cupcakes this afternoon before he went in to work. So at least we don't have to worry about dessert."

That's my employees for you, always going above and beyond. This town is superficial as hell, but I managed to find three of the best workers and friends there are.

"Chad's a good man."

She nods in agreement. "Now get back here so I can give you your real gift."

"You're such a bossy thing today." Wiping my wet hands on my shirt, I head back to my seat. "I thought it was my day."

She doesn't giggle in her usual fashion. Nor does she have a responding quip. Instead, she lifts a plastic stick from underneath her butt and lays it on the island.

I'm not an idiot. I know what that stick is. I've seen movies. And right now I see the two lines and know what they represent. But because I'm a jackass, my mind immediately goes to a joke. It happens whenever my nerves spike to red levels and my brain refuses to process information.

"Is that your piss stick on our island? Cause if so, my wife's gonna kill you when she gets home." And because I haven't shoved my foot far enough into my mouth, I add, "It's gonna take ten Clorox wipes to disinfect that."

Her bottom lip becomes trapped beneath her teeth. "Damon, now is one of those times I need you to be serious."

Hell, I know that. I'm just having a tough time wrapping my head around what this actually means for us.

Glancing at the test, the result glares at me. Positive. As in, life is about to get insanely more complicated. I guess this explains all the crying lately.

The weight of those two lines smack into me like a freight train. The jackhammering of my pulse matches the catastrophe of thoughts whipping through my head. And before I can latch onto a single one and form a coherent response, I say, 'Shit."

Wrapping my fingers around my neck, I scratch the line of my hair. "We're gonna have a kid."

"I didn't intend for it to happen, but I'm also not upset about it either."

I don't miss the remorseful glaze slicking her eyes, or the way she's explaining herself–like I think she planned this behind my back. I want to kick myself in the dick. Clearly, this is supposed to be a special moment and I'm totally ruining it.

I'm the epitome of an asshole.

Her chest is rising and falling when I give her a smile, pulling her into me. Her legs dip over the left side of mine and I tuck her head against my chest, kissing the top of it.

"We've been screwing like rabbits for five years, babe. This was bound to happen eventually."

Her entire body relaxes, except her eyes. They pull back and lock onto mine, wide as ever.

'So you're okay with this?"

My thumb brushes her cheek. "Yeah, I'm okay with it."

"Are you sure?"

She's still searching for a hidden truth that contrasts my words. But she won't find it.

The version of me before her would have had a completely different answer than the one I'm about to give. I'm talking about the guy who fucked and stormed his way through life, taking what he wanted, not because he deserved it, but because he didn't give a damn. That guy's issues with attachments and his underlying insecurities would have resulted in a spineless bolting for the door at the thought of raising a kid. Hell, that guy wouldn't have stuck around long enough to find out there was a kid.

But I'm not that guy anymore. Haven't been for a long time.

My dad created that guy, Zane manipulated him, and I ensured he stayed that way. But Elena found that guy, pushed through his bullshit, and uncovered a way to fix everything that was once broken. Well, not everything, but the important things. The therapist I begrudgingly saw for two years once we moved here fixed everything else.

Thanks to the two of them, I actually like myself and the person I've become. But I love Elena. And although this wasn't planned, I want nothing more than to start a family with her. If there's one thing I'm sure of it's her ability to kill it as a mom. Her huge heart and never-ending compassion are gonna make this one hell of a kid.

I'm just the lucky bastard who somehow gets to share it all with her.

"I'm absolutely sure."

Her satisfying smile blinds me.

Elena Salvatore is a work of art, but when she smiles like this she's a masterpiece. It's this image of her that vanquished the daily nightmares, replacing the other faces with warm eyes. They still reappear once in a blue moon, but she's always there when I wake in a cold sweat, soothing the pains of my past with her fingertips and soft words.

She taps me on the nose, her eyes alight with glee and a little lust. The lust is normal and it never fails to keep me smug.

"We're going to have to work on that mouth of yours when the little one gets here."

"I'm not the only one with a dirty mouth." Inching forward, I taste that mouth again. Her lips part beneath mine.

My dick once again strains beneath her ass, and I'm suddenly struck by a wave of panic.

"Shit. Are we supposed to be having sex?" It's a stupid question, but I have no clue about anything baby-wise. I'm gonna have to read a book or something. She's gonna love that.

I dip my brows at her humorous smile. "I mean, when we just –" I motion toward the couch, "–I'm not jabbing the kid or anything, right?"

The smile turns into a full laugh. "You're impressive, but no one's that impressive."

"I take offense to that."

"Of course you do."

I grin. "You still love me."

"Always."

She dusts her forehead against mine, gratification lighting her features. Seeing my girl this happy, knowing I'm the reason it's there, it doesn't get any better than this.

Her head lowers to settle against my chest. I wrap my arms around her and breathe her in. Images of her round belly glide through my mind. They're followed by a little girl running through the living room, dancing with Elena and tumbling around as they do yoga together. Then they're a little boy kicking a soccer ball, flailing his arms as I teach him how to throw a proper punch. All have warmth resonating in my chest, right beneath the surface where Elena's head rests.

"Do you think we're gonna be good parents?"

Her question is soft, fearful. I don't pull back right away.

Do I think she'll be a good parent? Of course. But me? God, I hope so.

I'm nervous I'm gonna find a way to fuck this up. I've figured out how to take care of myself and Elena, but supporting and shaping another human from their beginning is worlds more difficult. That's a lot of pressure. Especially for someone like who spent a quarter of a decade fucking everything up.

But as I pull back and look at her, I know we're in this together. She's gonna be there every step of the way, same as I am with her. Together we'll figure this out. And besides, we share one important lesson.

"Thanks to our shitty stack of parents, we know what not to do." My left hand lifts to her cheek, stroking her skin as I pull her focus up to mine. "That's something we have going for us."

"That's true."

I narrow my eyes. "Your mother will never spend a moment alone with our kid."

Her eyes go all gooey and that breathtaking smile lights up her face. "Someone's getting protective already."

That catches me by surprise. But hell, I guess I am. Maybe I'm not gonna fail miserably at this dad business.

"I love you for that," she says.

That love ignites through me, dousing me in something I once believed impossible. Every day I'm amazed I found this woman. Every day I'm amazed she gave me life again. And today I'm amazed we get to spread that life into someone new.

"How did we end up making life our bitch?"

She pulls back and grins, tracing the reflection of it on my mouth. "We became happy."

We did. We became indescribably, annoyingly happy. And I have no doubt we'll stay this way.

I cock a brow. "Want to make me happy again?"

She jumps from my lap and levels me with those 'come hither' eyes of her. They catch my breath every time. "I'll meet you in the bedroom."

I watch her sashay through the living room and into our dark bedroom. Then I chase after the two most important people in my life.

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