Page 18 of The Devil

For me. Exactly and perfectly for me.

I shake my head to clear the thought. She’s inexperienced, I’m sure of it. Her biting her lip is not meant as an invitation to me and even if it was, I would only hurt her.

“I’m not scared of Cassian Trevino,” I tell her. It’s the truth.

She considers that, shifting her gaze momentarily away, then back. “Lucky you, you can make your own choices.” She pauses as if deciding whether or not to continue. “You know what he’s going to do. What I’ll be expected to do.”

I clench my teeth. I do know. I’ve always known. She was safe for a while. At school. Too young. Now, she’s almost done with school and at twenty-two, old enough.

“I won’t let that happen,” I say, my voice coming out hoarser than I expect because I realize I’m making a promise.

“But you don’t get to decide. He does.”

“I won’t allow it.”

Amal’s eyes narrow as she searches mine. Her gaze drops to my mouth momentarily. Her eyebrows furrow. She’s thinking. Trying to work out a plan.

She draws a deep breath in and stands up a little straighter. “There’s a solution.”

“You’re not going to disappear,” I say, thinking that’s what she means.

She looks surprised by that and gives a quick shake of her head. “No, that’s not. I mean…” she hesitates, then steels herself. “Make love to me.”

I blink. I’m sure I misheard. “What?”

She lowers her head, looks up at me through thick black lashes, those blues like shards of sharpest glass now. She steps backward, putting just enough space between us that I can see her fully. She reaches back and I hear the zipper of her dress. A moment later, she slips it off and lets it drop to the floor.

I keep my eyes on hers, swallowing, trying not to look as she steps out and comes toward me, undoing her bra, letting it, too, fall to the floor. Next is the sliver of lace that served as her panties.

I swallow, unable to not look. Just a glance. A quick glance at those small, round breasts with their dark tight nipples, unblemished, perfect skin, the shaved slit of her pussy is right there and fuck me.

Fuck. Me.

I shove my hands into my pockets because fuck knows what I’ll do with them if I don’t. My cock, like the cock of a fucking teenage boy at his first sighting of a pair of tits, is getting stiff. And when her fingertips skate over my chest, my dick stands fully at attention, as if giving me the signal that he’s all in.

“What the hell are you doing, Amal?” I ask more harshly than I intend.

“Make love to me, Jet.” She rises on tiptoe and brings her face to mine, inhaling, brushing her lips over mine. “I see how you look at me. And I feel you. You want to.” At this she slides one hand down between us and, more boldly than I’d expect, wraps her hand around my shaft. “You really want to. And I want to. So, I’m telling you to make love to me.”

After a long, long moment of me telling myself one of us has to be responsible here and it looks like it’ll have to be me, I draw a hand from my pocket to brush a lock of hair behind her ear before cupping her face, tilting it back so I can really look at her. “Be careful, sweetheart. You don’t want this.”

“I don’t want to be careful. Make love to me, Jet.”

“I’m going to say that’s the whiskey talking.”

The seductive look of her eyes turns to something else. A blush creeps into her cheeks. She’s embarrassed. She drops back onto flat feet.

“I can hold my liquor.”

“Clearly not.”

“You know what? Never mind. I’ll find someone else.”

She tries to walk away from me, but I block her way. Taking hold of her wrists I draw her hands behind her.

“You’ll find someone else?” My voice comes out darker than I intend. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“None of your business. Just never mind.”