Page 50 of Whispers of Helena
“Why does that frustrate you?” I press, voice trembling.
“Because I don’t want to tarnish you. I don’t want to steal your halo.” His jaw tightens, a war waging behind his eyes. “But the devil inside me wants to wreck you. To wake you up to the temptation you are.”
“I don’t try?—”
He doesn’t let me finish. With unsettling precision, he grabs my arm and spins me toward the desk. His hips press me firmly against its edge, and his hand pushes down on my shoulder, bending me over the cool wood.
He trails his palm slides up my spine, fingers curling possessively around the base of my neck. Leaning in, his heat consumes me, his chest a suffocating pressure against my back.
“Don’t lie to me, little dove,” he breathes against my ear, his voice a dangerous snarl.
“I don’t lie, Mr. Hayes,” I manage, though my voice betrays my trembling resolve.
His laugh is dark, the sound rolling through me like thunder. His lips brush my ear as he whispers, “I don’t think you understand the restraint I’ve gifted you these past weeks. But as each day passes, my patience wears thin.”
My body tenses beneath him, my breaths coming shallow as his grip on my neck tightens just enough to hold me in place. His heat sears through my thin gown, every sensation magnified as my pulse races wildly.
He nudges my legs apart with his knee. His free hand moves with ruthless intent, cupping me possessively through the delicate fabric of my nightgown and panties.
My hips twitch involuntarily, a small betrayal that earns a guttural sound from his chest.
“My innocent little dove,” he rasps, his voice laced with dark satisfaction. “Already wet for me. I should take you right here for lying to me.”
His fingers flex, asserting his claim, and a primal satisfaction drips from his tone.
“You can deny it all you want. Lie to yourself. Lie to me.” His hand presses harder, every word spoken with intensity. “But this?” He grips me, portraying his control. “This tells me the truth. You want it. You need it.”
His hand slides away from the column of my neck, leaving my skin tingling in its absence. I take in a shaky breath, my pulse pounding in my ears. The sound of his belt unbuckling behind me is both a threat and a promise, the soft clink igniting something wild inside me.
“Do you want to remember, little dove?” His voice is rough with intent, cutting through the haze clouding my mind.
My body betrays me, responding to his proximity, his power. A sharp ache blossoms within, my skin tingling with anticipation. But my mind battles fiercely, tugging at the threads of restraint. Is this what I want? Do I truly crave him, or is this need just a phantom of something deeper, something he can no longer fulfill?
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the tidal wave of desiresurging through me. My breath catches in my throat. Do I risk losing myself to him, knowing he might only leave me emptier than before? Will his touch satisfy the hollowness within me, or will it tear me apart?
A shudder runs through me, and I force my trembling hands to grip the desk for support. He takes a step back, allowing me the space to turn my body toward his. I glance down at his hard cock pressing against the zipper of his worn jeans, then back up into his eyes. “What happens if I do?”
Devil
Silas
I watchher eyes fill with lust as she scans my body. “What happens if I do?”
With a quick glance at the shelf behind us, I look for the thin coil of rope I had placed there weeks ago. It sits, waiting. It’s an impulsive thought, I've never tied a woman up before. Yet the tension between us demands release, and I know I can't bear the intimacy of her touch. Not yet.
To numb the confusion of the evening and quell the chaos in my head, I had planned to drown myself in the oblivion only a bottle of gin could offer. But then she appeared in the doorway, her figure clad in nothing but a thin white nightgown. The delicate fabric clung to her, hinting at curves I’d tried to push from my mind, while the ethereal sway of fabric reminded me she was more than flesh. She was temptation itself, a living ghost of everything I wanted but shouldn’t have. The war inside me—grief, guilt, anger—flickered and faded like a candle snuffed in the wind, leaving only a singular, consuming need in its wake. All that remained was her, standing there like a challenge, and the growing heat of my own desire, impossible to ignore.
Stepping back further, I close the door and the lock clicks shut, loud and final, as I twist it into place. Then I point to theshelf. “See that rope?” She follows my finger to the back wall and nods.
“Go get it.”
The command ripples through the air, and I see the conflict in her eyes. Nervous energy dances in the flutter of her lashes, but she obeys, moving hesitantly across the room. Her slender fingers curl around the rope. When she turns back, her questioning gaze pierces me. I spin one of the side chairs toward her, then drop into it, my eyes never leaving hers. Taking the zipper of my jeans, I slide it down, pushing down the denim along with my briefs. She breaks our stare; her eyes lowering, watching as my cock springs free, red and angry. I grip it, trying to find a bit of relief.
“You want to know what happens?” I stroke my dick as I speak, her focus never straying as she lightly nods. “Maybe the devil could take you to heaven. I want you to sin with me, Helena. Now, put the rope on the floor and get on your knees.”
With a heavy blink, her eyes find mine again, growing wide at my command. I can see her mind working, deciding to follow it or not. After a heady moment, she drops the coil and lowers to her knees. The world moves in slow motion. Her nightgown can’t hide her body, can’t hide the bouncing of her tits as she settles on the floor. Kneeling across the room, I watch her eyes flutter, waiting for her next command.
“Put the rope in your mouth and crawl to your devil, Helena.”
