Elena's head tilted backwards, towards the table top, as she let herself revel in the touch of Damon's hands. There was no way he didn't realise what he was doing to her, how he was making her squirm with pleasure at his touch. He knew her too well and he was far too good at this. Elena had wondered, now and then, always only briefly, whether she should be irritated by how skilled he was, since she knew he'd nurtured his talent over many years with God knew how many women, but she knew she couldn't complain, not when he was focusing all his attention on making her weak with happiness.
When he pulled away, Elena lifted her head with a little pout to look up at him, missing his attentions. However, she was quick to notice why he had pulled back and, within a split second, she was sitting up, her legs dangling over the edge of the table with her boyfriend positioned between her open thighs, her small fingers nimbly taking over from Damon at the front of his pants. She wanted them off and Elena liked getting what she wanted. He wasn't the only one that could be selfish.