Page 29 of Destined for the Devil
I was praying,prayingto God that he would fucking rip my clothes off. My mind oscillated between wanting to never give in and wanting to only have his hands on me.
"Not one night. Every night. Every night in my bed. Just you, no one else. No one ever again...only you. You're so fucking oblivious, Isla." Pain sounded so clearly in his voice, and he furrowed his eyebrows, searching my eyes for understanding.
But I understood nothing at that moment. Only that the softest, warmest touch landed on my cheek, his hand barely ghosting over my skin. He was so gentle, so careful, like he was afraid I would break. My eyes slipped shut involuntarily, blazing heat burning my skin.
I was speechless, stunned, and dumbfounded. I couldn’t look at him, avoiding his eyes like the plague. I wanted this. So. Fucking. Much. But in my heart, I knew he was a player and nothing else. He more than proved it two days ago, making me watch him fuck a girl.
So what was he talking about then? Only me? No one else?
As quickly as we ended up in this situation, he stepped back, roaming his eyes on all of me. "That dinner is this Saturday. I'll send you what to wear. Be ready at seven.”
And with that swift change in attitude, he walked out of my room and out of my apartment, leaving me pressed against the wall, conflicted, disoriented, and turned on beyond belief.
Roman didn't do the one-girl thing.
15
Why couldn’t it be real?
Roman
Theentirewretcheddayafter Isla left, I wanted to die. I stepped inside my home, usually cozy, warm, and filled with her magnetic energy, and it was empty and cold. Sad, lonely, silent, gray. She took all the light, all the joy, all the happiness. I showered and changed, trying to just power through and distract myself, but once I caught sight of her empty room, vicious resentment clawed at my chest.
I had to do something—I had to see her; I couldn't just sit there alone and fucking cry like a loser. Without thinking much of it, I drove over, andmy oh my, did she look as good as ever. It was downright criminal that she was not in my house. Like she was not mine. And she fucking wasn't. And it was tearing me apart.
I had no idea what the fuck got into me when I saw her in those nonexistent shorts. It was like I was no longer in control of my own thoughts and words; it was some kind of out-of-body experience.
I needed to know how she felt, but she stayed silent, like a goddamn spy. So I pushed it and pushed it, and finally, I said what I wanted. But it came out all wrong. I didn't just want her in my bed. Fuck, I wantedher, all of her, with me forever.
She obviously thought I was going to fuck her and discard her, just like she said before, but she couldn't have been more wrong.
I was in love with her.
The night before she left, when I said goodnight to her for the lasttime, I understood. But I had no idea how to communicate it to her, never having said those words to anyone before. What was I supposed to say? I love you? Just out of the blue like that?
The week slithered by, my heart feeling heavier with each passing day, but on Thursday, I meticulously picked out her outfit and had it delivered in the evening. A strapless ivory dress with art deco beading decorations, complete with a strapless bra with little red hearts on it that I knew she would love. I couldn’t pass up on adding a matching silk thong that I was dying to take off her with my teeth.
There she was, at seven in the evening on Saturday, appearing outside her little building, and I literally had to bite my tongue before I fucking moaned at how gorgeous she looked. Her voluptuous dark brown hair cascaded down one side, and whatever make-up she was wearing accentuated every single one of her beautiful facial features.
All of her was one of a kind. All of her riveted every single fiber of my being.
This whole situation was breaking me apart. She acted like she would never give in and had every reason not to. I wasnotgood for her.
"You look stunning." I only managed to half whisper, clearing my throat.
"Thanks. You look great too." She shot me a warm smile as she climbed inside my car.
I despised these events, but they were crucial to know whose palm to keep greasing to maintain our business. All of my insides shook as I intertwined my fingers with hers, introducing her as my date, as if this was real.
Why couldn’t it be real? Why couldn’t she be by my side,mine,my woman, my better half?
I pulled her closer into me, acutely noticing how she flinched at the touch. But then she relaxed and wrapped her arm around my waist,giving me the deep satisfaction I chased.
“Any closer and you will absorb me inside you,” she added with a giggle, her light attitude a welcome change to how I last left her.
“Yeah? Then you could shed some light onto my black soul.” Both of us looked on at the grand and overdone ballroom as we chatted. Private, just us two, just like acouple.
“You don’t have a black soul. What are you talking about?” She looked up at me, the innocence in her eyes and her voice too pure for this world.
