Page 62 of Blind Devotion
“Un vrai petit démon.” A real little demon. He retaliated. Back and forth, they splashed each other until she tired and gave up.
“Adrien,” a woman called in the distance. “Persetta. Lunch.”
“Race you back?” the girl challenged, still catching her breath. She started swimming to shore. “Last one back’s a rotten egg.”
“I will show you a rotten egg,” the boy called after her, but still he waited before she reached the shore to begin racing after her.
The images of the memory faded away before the children reached the blurred woman at the beach house along the sandy rise, but I didn’t need to see the next part to know what happened next. The boy—that girl’s very best friend—let her win.
It was a beautiful memory. I could still feel the heat of the sun on my face, the coolness of the water, and the sand between my toes, but the visuals stuck with me more. The sea was mesmerizing, a deep foamy blue. The sand glimmered between gold and gray. Light clouds floated up ahead like puffs of fuzz.
The boy, Adrien. More than ever, I was certain there was a link between him and the Adrien here with me.
My fingers drifted up to Adrien’s face, searching for the one sure thing that would clear my doubt. His scar. I felt the grooves of it from chin to eyebrow, exactly where I remembered it. Itwashim. My Adrien. My paper boy. My lion. My eyes pricked and stung.
“Why are you smiling and crying at the same time?”
I chuckled and kissed him. “I’m so happy to be here with you.”
Nothing else needed to be said. We simply held each other under the moonlight, the dread of my horrors sweeping away with every lap of the waves. When it was time to go in, he sweptme back into his arms, and I quickly drifted off in the comfort they provided.
Chapter 25
BythetimeIreached my patio, Tessa softly snored in my arms. The wind picked up, making her shiver and snuggle in closer. My chin cradled her head as my fingers dug into her thighs and arms. I couldn’t explain it, but this felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like she was meant to be there, and I was never meant to let her go.
She drowned me in her wildflower scent until I could practically taste it. On a moan, her nose nudged my neck. She murmured random nothings, and I snorted my amusement.
“Ma petite fouteuse de merde, pourquoi toi?” I whispered.My little troublemaker, why you?
I nodded to my men standing guard and took her inside up the stairs. At my bedroom door, I paused, glaring at the cherrywood. I wanted her in there. In my room. On my bed, wrapped in my sheets and my arms. In my safe space that no one invaded, not even the maids, except for the house manager.
My cock hardened painfully in my pants. Oh yeah, I could definitely see her in there. Sprawled on my sheets. Naked. Tiedup. Presenting on all fours, her pussy dripping wet and aching for me.
She drew me in like a moth to a flame. It made no sense, but I was lost to it. She was the crack in my flawless reputation, and she made me want to jump into the pit it created.
I wasn’t the type of man who fucking hesitated. I charged. I seized. I damn well conquered. Hesitation was what got me kidnapped. Hesitation broke my brother. Hesitation brought down strong men. Except hesitation was also what gave me her. Now I wasn’t sure whether the ideology my father crammed in my head was the absolute truth he professed it to be.
I never hesitated to follow my father’s orders when he lived, even the last one on his deathbed, against the girl who’d become a part of me for more than a decade. I hated that order, but I obeyed. Without hesitation.
Guilt was another matter entirely, and I carried that on my shoulders ever since. Maybe that’s why I hesitated with Tessa. Maybe the guilt was too much to bear. I wasn’t a good man. I killed and tortured and manipulated, and that wasn’t about to change. But maybe, just maybe, Tessa was the redemption I never knew I needed.
When she whimpered against my chest, the need to comfort her raged within me. I shoved my door open and gently laid her down on my bed. Her body immediately shifted back into me, her sweet scent wrapping around me. That just made my raging hard-on worse. She needed me. When had a woman ever really neededmebefore, not my money, not my position, just me?
She shivered in her wet gown. I peeled it off her and slipped a clean shirt of mine over her head and body. I imagined exactly what she looked like in one of the pairs of lacy panties I purchased for her. My dick throbbed painfully. It was a miracle my slacks kept it contained. Any harder and it would take on the imprint of my zipper.
I didn’t linger. I got out of there. With her recovering from trauma, my desire was fucked up six ways to Sunday.
I stormed through the halls toward my office, away from the little vixen. Little, that was exactly what she was. Petite, with collarbones on display, with an elegant thin neck, perfect to wrap my fingers around. To squeeze. I imagined how her sultry, breathy voice would croak ever so beautifully as she begged me. To stop? For more?
My steps widened. I adjusted myself, then accelerated my pace. I needed some relief and quick.
As soon as my office door thudded shut behind me, I released my cock. It rebounded against my stomach before standing stiff. My hand wrapped around it and stroked slowly. She would hold me looser than this, but I’d help her. She would be gentle, too much at first, until I pinched her nipples and showed her how good some hard pressure felt.
A vision of her on her knees before me sparked to life, her mouth wide, her inhales stuttering with apprehension, those damn eye shields keeping her expressions hidden. She sheathed my cock with her wet heat, her lips stretched taut around me. She was hesitant at first, her licks tentative and delicate, until I caressed her cheek and praised how beautiful she looked at my feet, how crazy she was driving me. Her palms skimmed up my legs and wrapped around my thighs, hollowing her cheeks to draw me in deeper.
I grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled out, then thrust back in. Her imagined moans were surreal, and my head fell back against the door. Pressure built, driving my strokes faster. I wanted to come down her throat and watch as she swallowed it down, keeping part of me inside her. One of her hands left my legs to delve between her parted thighs.
My thrusts got rougher as her fingers slicked through her wet folds. I was chasing it now, the crest just there. When I gazedback down for a final glance before she sucked me dry, the eye shields were gone, her vibrant and expressive scarred green eyes staring back at me, teary and begging for more. Eyes that were so familiar, they were burned into the back of my mind. Within seconds, I was coming in my hand.
