Page 5 of Devour
“Strip.” Her breath catches. “Now.” The command slices through the room like a blade. Sharp. Final. I wait.
Let her feel the weight of my gaze, the silence pressing in like a vice. Let her come to terms with what she’s stepped into. I see it, the moment she realizes there’s no way out. No mercy. No one is coming to save her. This isn’t a fucking interview. It’s a reckoning.
“Take it off,” I repeat, low and steady—calm, but dangerous. “And pray I’m in the mood to be gentle.”
CHAPTER THREE
Ariel
Ican feel his piercing gaze on me, like sharp knives grazing my skin before digging in. My heart is pounding so fast it feels like it’s going to jump right out of my chest at any moment. He’s not going to let me go until—
I swallow my pride and slowly slip off my blazer, fingers trembling. One by one, I undo the buttons of my shirt.This is for Noah, I remind myself. I don’t have to enjoy it. I just have to survive it.I slide the fabric off my shoulders, exposing more of myself than I ever intended.
Once he’s done with me, I’ll Walk out of here none the wiser and he’ll never see me again. My skirt follows, pooling around my heels as I step out of it. Shame clings to my skin like sweat, heavy and inescapable. But I see it just for a second before he masks it. That look.
A starving man at a feast. His eyes rake over me, hungry, possessive, and far too knowing. It makes my body heat in ways I hate, every nerve buzzing with awareness I never asked for.
My traitorous skin betrays me, flushing under his gaze, a slow burn crawling up my neck and spreading across my chest. I want to disappear. I probably look like an overripe cherry by now.
I stand before him in my matching pink bra and panties—lacy, delicate, hopeful. I bought the set last month, thinking I’d wear it on my first day at a real job.
Something to make me feel strong. Confident. But the job never came. So, I wore it today, my lucky charm. For this interview. Some luck. Who was I kidding?
“Do you need me to tear that off you?” he asks, harsh sarcasm dripping from his tone.
“I’d be happy to.”
Shame floods my face as I reach behind me, hands unsteady as they fumble with the clasp of my bra. I unhook it, sliding one strap off my shoulder, then the other, and let it fall. My nipples harden instantly, reacting to the cool air and to the intense weight of his gaze.
I tell myself it’s just the air conditioning. Just stress. Just… everything but him. I fight the instinct to cover myself, to protect the parts of me I’ve grown more self-conscious about.
Motherhood changed me. I breastfed Noah for a year. My body tells that story whether I want it to or not.
For a moment, shame creeps in… but then I lift my chin. If he doesn’t like what he sees, he can send me away. I slide my thumbs beneath the waistband of my underwear and step out of them, slow and mechanical.
My last defense falls to the floor like a final surrender. I bend to take off my heels, but his voice stops me. “Leave them on.”
The command is quiet. Absolute. The room falls into silence as his blue eyes sweep over me with slow, clinical precision. My skin feels heated, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
“Come here, kitten.”
I hesitate. For a second, I can’t move. My feet feel rooted, not just from fear but from the memory of who he used to be. Because the man standing in front of me now is nothing like the sweet boy I once knew. I take a step forward.
“Crawl.”
I freeze.
“What? Crawl? Not walk?”
His lips curl darkly at the corners as heat floods my face.
“Why?”
His voice drops.
“Because I fucking said so. And because you would look better on your knees.”
My face ignites, a thousand shades of humiliation prickling my skin. But I drop to the floor.
