Page 57 of Twisted Devotion

I start to shake my head, but then I stop. I can’t promise that, and I won’t promise that. Nicolas drives me insane in every possible way. Of course, I’m going to challenge him. It’s inevitable.

“I see,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his voice as he chuckles, still maddeningly close to where I need him. Then, he starts to rise.

Panic surges through me.

I reach for him, desperation slipping into my voice. “Please,” I whisper, my fingers grasping at his shirt. “Please, Nicolas. Don’t do this.”

“Do you need to come, Aria?” he asks—his voice low and teasing.

“I…”

“Do you want me to make you come?”

“Yes. Please.” I breathe out, my voice shaky with need.

He pinches my nipple, drawing gasp from me, andI can’t stopthe groan that follows. “So responsive,” he murmurs, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “Then beg me. Beg me to make you come.”

“Please, Nicolas,” I beg, my voice trembling, the words slipping out through the haze of desire. “Please, make me come on your face.”

His grin widens. “As you wish.”

As his mouth returns to my pussy, his two fingers slide inside me, finding their rhythm effortlessly. The pressure is perfect. I move against him, my hips rocking in sync with his motions, the world narrowing to just the feeling of him, the perfect tension that only he can provide.

I can’t stop the desperate whines and grunts that escape me as he increases his pace. My body trembles, pressing him closer as the sensation builds.

“Come on your husband's face,” he breathes, his voice rough. “Let him taste your wet, creamy juices.”

And then, it happens—like a rush of energy flooding through me, a wave of pleasure that courses through every part of me, filling me completely.

He doesn’t stop until the tremors fade, until the last shiver subsides. Then, he rises, his hand grabbing the back of my head, and crashes our lips together.

His lips are hungry and intense, and he kisses me with the same urgency as he did with the lips between my legs. Using his tongue, sucking, biting, lapping. Then he pulls back to look at me.

“The next time you push me, the consequences will be worse,” he warns, his tone serious.

Though his words hold weight, the idea of what might come next stirs something deep inside me, making my body pulse once more.

I straighten slowly, brushing my hair out of my face as I try to collect myself. The ache between my legs lingers, an overwhelming reminder of everything that just happened. I want more. I shouldn’t, but I do.

I expect him to say something; instead, he’s gone. Leaves me here, flushed and wanting.

Frustration bubbles up inside me, and I exhale sharply. I glance around the room, my mind still spinning. As I gather myself, my eyes fall on the papers he left behind. I look at the glass door, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

I don’t know how long it’ll take him to notice that the paper is missing, so I move quickly. I sift through the documents, my fingers moving with urgency, searching for something useful.

My body is still on fire, but it doesn’t matter. The moment has passed, and now it’s time for me to think. This is what I need to regain control of my life, and Marco can help me do that.

I don’t want to remain trapped as the wife of a mafia boss, someone who will never truly love me. He may want me, lust after me, but love? I don’t see that ever happening.

Something catches my eye, and I freeze. It's a single sheet of paper with bold markings that stand out against the white. As I study it, I see that it’s a map, lines and coordinates crisscrossing the page. Locations are marked with red circles, and handwritten notes accompany each one.

The more I study the paper, the faster my heart races. This isn’t just a map—it’s something much more. Important information.

The mission Marco drilled into me flashes in my mind. I promised him I’d find something useful, and this… this could be it.

My fingers tremble slightly as I pull out my phone, capturing the image with a quick camera click. I angle it carefully, making sure to get the entire page. The rush of adrenaline washes away everything else—the confusion, the lingering warmth of Nicolas’s touch from earlier, the desire.

I slip my phone back into my pocket and leave the office. Outside, there’s no sign of Nicolas or his men. Just my driver, patiently waiting.

---