Page 45 of Twisted Devotion

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, my voice softer now, testing her.

She bites her lip, hesitating only momentarily before shaking her head.

A dark chuckle escapes me. “Good,bambina,” I say, my tone edged with possession.“Because I wasn’t planning to.”

My gaze drops to her breasts, and I can’t resist the temptation. I take one into my mouth, my tongue circling and teasing her until I feel the peak harden against me. Her soft gasp fuels the fire roaring in my chest.

My free hand slides to her neck, fingers wrapping firmly but not too harshly. I tighten my grip just enough to hear the faintest hitch in her breath—a delicate choke that sends shivers through her body. She bucks slightly against me, the tension in her frame translating into raw desire.

Releasing her neck, I move my hand lower, cupping her breast briefly before continuing downward. My palm grazes her ass, the skin still warm from earlier, and she winces slightly at my touch. I don’t stop; instead, I squeeze, reveling in the reaction it draws from her. My fingers trail back up her spine, sending little tremors through her.

I shift my mouth to her other breast, savoring the way she arches into me, a sigh of pleasure escaping her lips. She’s giving herself to me now, piece by piece, and I’m taking all of her.

Tonight, she’s mine—in every possible way.

13

ARIA

I’ve never felt so many emotions colliding at once—terror, anger, disbelief, and lust. The last one is the strongest, burning through me like a wildfire I can’t control.

I want Nicolas so badly that if he pulls back now, I might collapse. I’d cry, I’d beg—I’d do whatever it takes for him to stay, to touch me, to fuck me. If he doesn’t take me in the next few minutes, I might actually die.

Lust isn’t just coursing through me; it’s consuming me. Every cell in my body is screaming for him, and somehow, I know that only he can satisfy that need. Not because he’s a man, not because he has a dick, but because he’s Nicolas.

Simple. Absolute.

His hands are everywhere—exploring me like I’m something sacred yet forbidden. The way he touches me, it’s like he’s memorizing me, claiming me, not quite believing he’s allowed. His lips trail fire down my neck, each kiss sending tremors through me.

I don’t resist.

I don’t think.

I just let go.

“You remember what I told you about consequences?” he murmurs when our kiss breaks. His voice is a low growl that makes my knees weak.

Before I can answer, he leans in, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, trailing down to my neck. When his tongue flicks over the sensitive spot at the nape, I gasp, a sharp intake of breath I can’t control. Then his mouth seals over that spot, sucking hard enough to mark me.

A jolt of electricity runs through me. The thought of him marking me should infuriate me, but instead, my heart leaps, and I hate how much I want it.

I thought I hated him.

Maybe I do.

But right now, I don’t care.

I try to process his question, my mind spinning as wild thoughts race through. “Yes,” I finally groan, my voice raw with anticipation, my body trembling with the weight of what those consequences might be.

He kisses me again, and it’s a kiss like no other. It’s more than that—a challenge, a demand, a promise. It’s the kind of kiss that changes things, that burns itself into your memory.

I could spend my entire life just kissing Nicolas.

He kisses me like he’s claiming me, like he’s daring me to hold anything back. Just when I think I’ve given him everything, he pushes me further, asks for more—and I give it.

It’s hot as fuck.

He lifts me up effortlessly, turning me so my back meets the mattress without breaking the kiss. His weight settles between my legs, solid and commanding, making me feel small and completely at his mercy.

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