Page 55 of Heart of a Devil

For once, I cooked, managing a basic pasta dish spiced up with chili flakes and dried porcini mushrooms, and we ate together in front of the fire. Since then, though, he’s been locked away in his den, doing who knows what. I peek my head around the corner a couple times, but he seems determined not to be diverted.

“I’m really sorry, sweetheart,” he says, barely glancing up from his screen. “I have to crack on. Can you entertain yourself without me for a bit tonight?”

I try to hide my disappointment, not to mention my surprise. This is the first time he’s chosen work over me, and it sucks. I tell myself off for being a brat. Seb has a business to run, and he hasresponsibilities to the people he works with. I can’t expect him to be at my beck and call twenty-four seven.

“Don’t worry, Hot Sauce. I know this is our last night here, and I won’t waste it, I promise.” He looks up at me with dark eyes, and I shiver at the promise in them. “Now do as you’re told and scarper.”

I do as I’m told with a smile on my face. I don’t know what he has planned, but I’m excited about it.

After taking a shower, I climb into bed with a Lee Child thriller. Seb’s reading material doesn’t exactly skew on the varied side, and all of his books seem to feature violence, vengeance, and very large men. It’s engaging enough, though, and I read until I fall asleep a bit after eleven without Seb once emerging from his office, showing no sign of delivering on his earlier promise. It’s probably for the best, anyway. I’ll be playing catch up at work for the rest of the week, and a night of solid rest will refresh me.

I don’t know what wakes me up later or what time it is. My eyes open, and I’m confused in that way you get when you’ve been disturbed from a deep sleep. I feel around on the other side of the bed, instinctively reaching for Seb and finding the sheets cold. A creak comes from the hallway, and I’m instantly more alert, sitting upright and rubbing my eyes. I listen carefully and hear the sound of a door banging. “Seb? Is that you?”

Silence. Huh. I switch on my phone and see that it’s almost one in the morning. He should have finished work by now, surely. I climb out of bed and tiptoe across the room. Maybe he went outside and left the door open or is moving around in the bathroom. Maybe?—

Before I can finish the thought, I’m grabbed and lifted off my feet. My back slams into a solid body, my chest crushed by arms made of steel. I scream and kick out, slamming my heels against his shins and struggling furiously.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls in my ear, squeezing my throat so I can barely breathe and dragging me bodily across the room. He throws me down onto the bed, and I immediately scramble to climb off it and run. Growling, he pushes me flat and places one big hand on my chest to hold me in place while he straddles me. He’s dressed entirely in black, a ski mask covering his face, his hands encased in leather gloves. The blade of his knife glints in the darkness as he holds it in front of my face.

“Be quiet and do exactly what I say. Don’t try to fight me. You know you can’t win.”

I slap at his arms, bucking and kicking and trying to throw him off me. Just like I knew he would, he grabs my wrists and pins them to the mattress as he bears down on me. The knife flashes again when he raises it to my throat, and the sharpness of the metal against my skin gives me a moment of primal panic. What if it isn’t him? What if it isn’t a game? What if I’ve got it all wrong? I suck in a shaky breath, inhaling his scent of Chanel and masculinity, and the smell of him is all I need to fully commit to the game we’re about to play. The game I suspect he’s been planning all night when he deliberately ignored me and made me wait.

The point of the knife bites into the soft flesh under my chin, forcing my face upward and exposing my throat. He leans down and puts his mouth to my neck, biting and sucking at me hard enough to make me cry out. Hard enough for me to feel the first rush of wet heat seep from my pussy.

I’m wearing one of his shirts, and he roughly shoves it up to my waist while I scream and thrash. I score a few hits before he slaps me across the face. Tears spring to my eyes, and he snarls again. “I told you to keep fucking still. You’re mine, all of you, and I’ll do whatever I want to you.”

He keeps my hands pinned with one of his and slides the other between my legs. I try to keep them tight together, tryto deny him access, but he’s too strong. He jams his fingers between my thighs and pushes them apart with brute strength. I gasp as he parts them and, without taking off the leather gloves, enters me. The smooth leather fills me, the alien sensation triggering waves of pleasure that cascade from my core to every cell in my body. He drives his finger in and out of me, growling as I contract around him.

Fuck. I’m already about to come. He lets go of my wrists and places his hand on my throat instead. He compresses it in perfect time with the tightening of my pussy walls, and the touch of the leather is enough to push me over the edge. My hips rise up beneath him, and I fight for breath, the orgasm ripping through me even as he chokes me. I slap at his arm, feeling dizzy from the lack of air, the delicious fear, the rippling aftermath of my release.

He suddenly lets me go and flips me onto my stomach. I’m still breathless, still trembling, still unbalanced as he grabs my wrists and tugs them behind my back. My face is crushed against the duvet, and I struggle against him, writhing and lashing out with my feet. He puts his hand to the back of my neck and holds me down. “Stop fighting or I’ll cut you. I’ll cut my name into your skin and fuck you while you bleed.”

Oh lord. Part of me so wants him to do that. I want him to carve his name on me, mark me, take me any way he likes. I want it all.

He ties my hands together behind me and climbs off my legs. As soon as I’m free of his weight, I try to roll over, intending to try to run for the door while I can. He predicts it, of course, and slams me back down on my belly as I curse and yell. Then I can’t scream anymore because he has pulled off his leather glove and rammed it into my mouth to shut me up. He twists my head around and glares down at me through the eyeholes of the skimask. “Can you taste yourself, you filthy slut? Can you taste the cream you squirted all over me?” Oh my god! I absolutely can.

He uses his knife to slice the shirt off me, leaving me naked and vulnerable, my skin shivering in the night air. He tears it away and throws it to the floor. “Look at that ass,” he growls, running one leather-clad hand over my cheeks. “That’s an ass I’m going to fuck, right now.”

My eyes go wide, and I try to scream, but it comes out as a muted squeak as he grabs my hips and raises them up so I’m face down and on my knees in front of him. The knife skims my inner thighs, the sting telling me he’s cutting into the skin. It’s so damn good, so damn scary, and I’m growing wetter by the second. I’ve wanted this for so long, and now that the moment is here, I’m terrified. Terrified in a way that makes me vibrate with need.

He rubs his hand down my butt again, then pulls my cheeks apart. There’s a rush of shame when I imagine how I must look, how vulnerable I am. How this part of me that should be private has been so embarrassingly exposed.

“Fuck. Look at your hole, you dirty little slut. All puckered up and tight, just waiting for me to fill it. Just waiting for me to shove my massive cock right in there. I’ve wanted to ass-fuck you since I first laid eyes on you. I warn you—this is going to hurt.”

He reaches between my legs and wipes his fingers through the folds of my pussy. I’m so wet that it makes an audible slurping sound, and he rubs my own arousal around my back entrance. I feel his breath suddenly there as well, and he spits to add to the moisture. My stomach tenses into a knot of anxiety. Despite the butt plugs and the homemade lube, this will be painful. Maybe if we’d done it some other way he would have been gentle, eased me into it, let me get used to the sheer size of him. But this is not a time when he’s capable of gentle. And I don’t want gentle.

He grunts as he spreads me wide with the crown of his engorged dick, sliding just inside me. I stretch to accommodate him, and my skin stings as he pushes farther and farther into my ass. This will be easier if I relax. If I breathe deeply. Except that’s hard to do when your hands are zip-tied behind your back and your mouth is crammed full of leather.

I know I could stop him. I’m in complete control here despite the situation. I can kick the bed three times and he’ll stop. It’s that simple—three little kicks, and all the pain goes away.

Instead, I suck in a breath through my nose and thrust my ass as high as I can to meet him, shoving myself around him. He snarls, utters a rumbled “fucking hell,” and slams himself all the way inside me. My scream is muffled by the glove, and he reaches around and tugs it out, thrusting into me with all his strength.

“I want to hear you crying, Lauren. I want to hear you scream.”

He holds my hips to steady himself, then rails into me as hard as he can. His cock is huge, driving in and out of me, the pain and the pleasure and the tears and the joy all merging inside me. I feel so full, so completely possessed, so totally taken by this man. He reaches one hand around underneath me and rubs his fingers against my swollen clit. “I’m going to come, sweetheart. I’m going to shoot my load in this beautiful juicy arse of yours. And you’re going to come with me.”

His fingers sink deep into the flesh of my hips, all the while he’s pounding into me. My orgasm builds, pussy walls clenching, my vision blurring. He crashes into me one final time while yelling my name and finds his release the same moment shockwaves of ecstasy flow through my body. We ride it out together, both of us convulsing and jerking in spasms of pure physical bliss.

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