Page 70 of Deal with the Devil
Knock, knock.
The sound crashes through the moment all at once.
I whirl toward the door, unblinking, my breath still shuddering through my teeth.
“Come in!” I growl.
The heavy wood creaks open on its hinges, revealing a meek Daniela first—eyes downcast, shoulders drawn tight—and behind her, Portia.
She looks wary but defiant, wrapped in soft silk like I asked.
Daniela clears her throat gently. “Diavolo, la signora come richiesto.”
My lips twist into a grin. “Perfetto.”
19
PORTIA
When I foundout that Il Diavolo requested me in his private chambers, instant nerves fluttered in my stomach.
The last time he called me to his private room, he’d punished me. He left my ass tender and sore, streaked with red marks that symbolized my rebellion. Then he seemed to lose control as much as I had.
…we got caught up in the moment, the sex so good it’s been on my mind for days.
I arrive to his room a second time, delivered once again by Daniela. She’s dressed me in a silk robe and nothing else.
Il Diavolo’s personal request.
As I arrive to his room and the heavy door snaps shut behind me, I’m calmer than I thought I would be—at least on theoutside.
The inside is a different story. My heart hammers against my ribs as the loud silence drags on between us.
Il Diavolo hasn’t made a move and neither have I.
Instead, we stand on opposite sides of the room and let the trickling rain speak for us.
The room itself has remained the same as the last time I was here, except for a few flickering candles placed throughout the room, adding to the moody atmosphere.
I look straight ahead, ignoring the massive four-poster bed that dominates the space.
The same bed where Il Diavolo had fucked me only a few nights ago.
“Is everything alright?” he asks finally, cocking his head to the side. “If I didn’t know any better, you're trembling.”
“I have no reason to tremble. I don’t even know why I’m here.”
He doesn't answer immediately, taking his time like he usually does. He steps toward me, gradually circling me like a predator sizing up his prey. His footsteps are silent on the plush area rug, but the heat he emanates is visceral.
It’s a thick wave that I feel the closer he lingers. I’m holding my breath before I know it, refusing to meet his eyes. I stare straight ahead as if he’s invisible.
The show of defiance, even as my pulse races, seems to intrigue him.
“Look at me, dolcezza.”
When I look up at him, I'm startled by what I see. His dark eyes burn with hunger so raw that I’m immediately transported to the other night. I’m instantly powerless to resist the way he makes me feel.
The extra beat of my heart. The blush that burns. Even the clench between my thighs…
