Chapter 47 Dinner in the cottage
THIRD PERSON’S POV.
Dinner was short, tense, and emotionally charged.
Serena couldn’t focus on the delicious array of dishes in front of her. Only one thought consumed her mind.
Damian.
And on his part, Damian kept his desires well hidden, although he did drink an unscrupulous amount of water.
Their fingers brushed when they reached for the salt shaker. Every now and then, their legs tangled beneath the table.. brief, intentional touches.
But what truly set things in motion was when Damian let his fork fall against the plate and whispered,
“I want to make love to you. Right here. Right now.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she rose, crossed to his side of the table, and straddled him. Damian’s hands found her waist instantly, as though they had been waiting there all along.
Their lips once again find one another.
The kiss deepened, slow at first and then it grew hungry and invasive. The room disappeared around them, the clinking cutlery and half-eaten dinner all forgotten.
She rested her forehead against his, breath uneven, eyes searching his like she was still deciding whether to stop him.
Is this going too far, she asked herself.
Damian didn’t rush her. His thumbs brushed along her waist deftly, steadying her, waiting.
She leaned in again, she had decided to succumb rather than overanalyze the situation.
The chair scraped softly as he stood, lifting her with ease. She instinctively looped her hands around his neck.
He kissed her again, deeper now, then he carried her away from the table, through the quiet cottage, and towards the bedroom.
Inside, he lay her down slowly, as though the moment itself was something fragile. His hands lingered at her hips, his forehead resting against hers once more.
“Come here,” he murmured.
She crawled to him, slow, steady, and without breaking eye contact.
Then he lifted her again, lowered his lips into her neck, and nibbled gently.
She wiggled into position, settling into his lap.
Damian’s hands immediately went up her thighs, snaking up her stomach and cupping her round breasts in his hands.
She wasn’t wearing any underwear, he exhaled sharply, the growth in his pants growing bigger.
She pressed closer, fingers curling into his shirt, tugging him toward her. He answered with a low sound against her skin.
Their clothes came off next, littering the floor with their vibrant colours.
Serena’s back was pressed against the bed, and Damian settled above her, shifting in between her legs.
She looked up at him eagerly.
When he finally lowered himself inside her, she sighed softly. The sound made Damian claim her lips again while thrusting into her.
The world narrowed into warmth and the urgency of their bodies finding rhythm, no rush, no hesitation. Only the steady flow of wants is being satisfied.
And somewhere outside, the rush of the waterfall transformed into a soft quiet rhythm serving as their personal ballad for the rest of the night.
The following morning Serena woke up with a smile on her face, the first time in a long time.
But her face fell when she turned. The space next to her was empty. Panic flooded through her body.
Then the bedroom door flew open and Damian walked in with a tray in his hands.
“Is anyone hungry?” She asked.
“Who made all these?” She laughed, “Thought you dismissed the staff last night?”
“I made it myself.” He declared.
“You still know how to cook?” She asked in disbelief.
“Once a warrior always a warrior.” He winked
“Right,” Serena chuckled.
They spent the rest of the morning eating and taking a walk around the mountain.
Serena didn’t remember ever feeling as happy as she did at that moment.
“I saw her leaving the house with Damian last night,” Clara stated.
She was trying to get Trisha to reveal Serena’s whereabouts to them.
“If you saw her leave with Damian then that should answer your question on where she is. No?” Trisha replied.
“No,” Jonathan said. “That only answers the question of who she is, not where she is.”
Trisha pointed a fork at him. “What have I told you about speaking to me?”
When she moved in, she had warned Jonathan to stay away from her. She was not going to forget the fact that he had tried to murder her and her friend.
“This is a general conversation.” He argued.
Trisha put a piece of pancake in her mouth, ignoring him.
“So, where did she go?” Clara continued her inquisitions.”
“You can ask her that when she returns,” Trisha said, getting up. The doctors had finally removed the cast from her legs and hands and most of the bandages so she could finally walk again, albeit slowly.
“You are not going to finish your meal?” Constance, the chef asked.
“I’ve lost my appetite,” Trisha replied, pushing her chair back.
The sound of a car driving in made all of them turn to the door.
Moments later, the doors opened to Serena standing at the entrance.
She was no longer wearing the red dress from last night, in its place, she now wore gray sweatpants and an oversized black shirt, and Crocs that obviously weren’t hers. Even her hair was a mess.
Trisha smirked, “Someone had an eventful evening.”
Serena laughed, “Shut up Trisha.”
At the edge of the table, Horace who had been quiet all through breakfast finally spoke. He cleared his throat saying,
“This is not a whorehouse Serena. You can’t go for booty calls and come back as if nothing happened. That’s disrespectful.”
“Good morning father,” Serena said, “It will interest you to know that I didn’t go for a booty call, I was with my husband Damian Crowne.”
Everyone turned to Horace waiting for his response but he stayed quiet.
Serena turned to Constance who was trying to set another place on a table.
“No need for that Constance, I already had a filling breakfast.” She winked, “I’ll just go take a nap now.”
“Oh okay, ma’am,” Constance replied.
“Okay family, I’d love to stay and chat but I’m sure you three have some gossiping to get to so I’ll leave you to it.”
Serena said heading for the stairs with Trisha and leaving Jonathan Horace and Clara on the table.
“Tell me everything!” Trisha shrieked the moment the bedroom door closed behind them.