The grand lobby of the Hotel Imperial in Berlin buzzed with the low hum of travelers. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the marble floors, and the air carried the faint scent of fresh coffee from the nearby café. You stood near the check-in desk, your arm linked with Alice's as she chattered excitedly about the itinerary for your holiday. Sam trailed behind, scrolling through his phone, occasionally nodding along to her plans.
"I can't believe we're finally here," Alice said, her eyes sparkling. "Berlin's going to be amazing—museums, street food, and that club you mentioned, Sam. We have to hit it tonight."
You smiled, half-listening, your mind already wandering to the freedom of this trip. It had been years since high school, and life had pulled you in every direction—jobs, relationships that fizzled out, the usual grind. But Germany felt like a reset, a chance to breathe. Little did you know, fate had other plans.
As you turned to grab your suitcase from the bellhop, your gaze caught on a figure across the lobby. Tall, broad-shouldered, with ink-black hair cropped short and a jawline that could cut glass. Tattoos peeked from the collar of his crisp black shirt, snaking up his neck like shadows claiming territory. He moved with a predatory grace, commanding the space around him without a word. Two men in suits flanked him, their postures tense, eyes scanning the room like bodyguards.
Your heart stuttered. No. It couldn't be.
But those eyes—piercing blue, sharp and intelligent—locked onto yours. The world narrowed to that moment. Damon. The skinny kid with the thick glasses and sweater vests, the one you'd shielded from bullies time and again, the one whose quiet humor and kindness had wormed its way into your heart. The boy you'd crushed on not for his awkward frame, but for the warmth he sparked in you.
He'd vanished after senior year, no goodbye, no trace. Rumors swirled—family issues, a sudden move—but nothing concrete. And now... this. Muscular, tattooed, exuding danger. A mafia boss? The thought flickered through your mind, pieced together from half-remembered whispers in your old circle.
"Holy shit," you whispered, frozen.
Damon broke away from his entourage, striding toward you with purpose. Alice noticed, nudging you. "Friend of yours? He looks intense."
Sam glanced up, frowning. "Yeah, who is that?"
Before you could answer, Damon was there, close enough that you caught the subtle scent of his cologne—woody, masculine, mixed with something darker, like gunmetal.
"It's you," he said, voice low and rough, a far cry from the soft stammer of high school. His eyes raked over you, lingering on your curves, the way your sundress hugged your hips. Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you held his gaze.
"Damon? God, it's been... forever." You stepped forward, impulse overriding shock, and pulled him into a hug. His body was solid, unyielding—muscles honed from years you could only imagine. He stiffened for a split second, then his arms wrapped around you, strong hands splaying across your back. The press of his chest against yours sent a jolt straight to your core, awakening memories laced with unspoken desire.
He pulled back, but not far, his thumb brushing your arm. "Yeah, too long. You look... incredible."
Alice cleared her throat dramatically. "Okay, spill. How do you two know each other?"
You laughed, a bit breathless. "High school. Damon was... my friend. Protected him from the assholes who thought it was fun to pick on the smart kid."
Damon's lips curved into a smirk, but his eyes held something deeper—gratitude, maybe, or hunger. "She did more than that. Saved my ass more times than I can count."
Sam extended a hand, wary. "Sam. This is Alice, her best friend. We're here on vacation. You?"
"Business," Damon replied curtly, shaking Sam's hand with a grip that made the other man wince slightly. His attention snapped back to you. "We should catch up. Dinner? Tonight?"
Your pulse raced. Alice grinned, whispering, "Go for it. He's hot as hell."
"I'd like that," you said, voice steady despite the butterflies.
The rest of the check-in blurred by. You couldn't stop stealing glances at Damon as he rejoined his men, issuing quiet orders. By the time you reached your room—a cozy suite overlooking the city—you were buzzing with anticipation.
Alice flopped onto the bed, fanning herself. "Girl, that man is trouble. The good kind. Those tattoos? I bet he's got stories. And the way he looked at you... whew."
Sam chuckled from the bathroom. "Just be careful. Guy seems like he runs with a rough crowd."
You waved them off, unpacking with trembling hands. Dinner. Alone with Damon. The crush you'd buried years ago resurfaced, twisted now with curiosity about the man he'd become.
Hours later, after a quick shower and slipping into a sleek black dress that accentuated your breasts and ass, you met him in the hotel's private lounge. Dim lights, velvet booths, jazz humming in the background. Damon waited at a corner table, sleeves rolled up to reveal intricate tattoos coiling over forearms like serpents.
He stood as you approached, pulling out your chair. "You clean up even better than I remembered."
Dinner was a whirlwind—stories of the years apart, laughter over high school mishaps. But beneath it, tension simmered. His knee brushed yours under the table, deliberate. When the waiter cleared plates, Damon's hand found your thigh, fingers tracing slow circles on your bare skin.
"I've thought about you," he murmured, leaning in. His breath was hot against your ear. "Wondered what you'd say if you saw me now."
Heat pooled between your legs. "I like what I see," you admitted, emboldened by wine and want.
His grip tightened, sliding higher, thumb grazing the edge of your panties. "Good. Because I want to show you more."
You nodded, heart pounding. He paid the bill swiftly, leading you to the elevator. The doors closed, and he was on you—mouth crashing against yours in a fierce kiss. His tongue invaded, claiming, as his hands roamed, cupping your ass and pulling you flush against the hard bulge in his pants.
"Fuck, I've wanted this," he growled, breaking away as the elevator dinged. He tugged you down the hall to his suite, keycard fumbling in his haste.
Inside, the door barely shut before he pinned you against it, lips on your neck, sucking hard enough to mark. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders, feeling the ripple of muscle under your touch.
"Damon..." Your voice was a moan as he hiked up your dress, fingers dipping into your soaked panties. He stroked your clit with rough precision, circling the swollen nub while his other hand freed his cock—thick, veined, throbbing with need.
"You're wet for me already," he said, voice husky. He rubbed the head against your slick folds, teasing your entrance. "Tell me you want it."
"Yes," you breathed, wrapping a leg around his waist. "Fuck me."
He thrust in with one powerful stroke, stretching your pussy around his girth. You cried out, nails raking his back as he pounded into you, hips slamming relentlessly. The wall shook with each drive, his balls slapping against your ass.
"So tight," he grunted, pinching your nipple through the fabric. "Been dreaming of burying my cock in you since high school."
Pleasure built fast, coiling tight. He angled deeper, hitting that spot inside you, and you shattered, walls clenching around him as you came hard, juices dripping down your thighs.
Damon followed with a roar, pumping hot cum deep into your pussy, filling you until it leaked out.
Panting, he kissed you softly, still buried inside. "This is just the beginning," he whispered.
Outside, the Berlin night hummed on, but in that moment, the world was only you and him—reunited, raw, and insatiable.