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The Devil is in my apartment, terrorizing me. Just because he did me a favor doesn’t mean I owe him shit.
I bowed to the Devil once. I won’t give him the satisfaction of doing it again, especially if he’s here to kill me.
The beauty of learning to die before you die is that you can die mentally, too.
Resetting my jaw, I look down at him. At the Devil who wiped away my sin. The mysterious monster who owns the New York skyline. He needs to know that I am stronger than he thinks.
I make that decision to die.
“You make me feel nothing.”
His grin widens. The flames in his eyes flicker and spit. Slowly, he peels himself off me, reaching up to push his glitzy watch farther up his wrist. “Silly girl,” he tuts, placing his hands on my bare legs. “Did you never learn not to test a monster?”
His hands glide north, moving from the outside of my thighs to the inside the higher they travel up my legs. At the hemline of my shorts, he pauses to look up at me. I stare back, unwavering. If he wants a reaction, he won’t find one here.
“If you want me to stop, silly girl, then you better tell me now. Because once my hands are inside your panties, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to stop when you beg me to.”
I don’t move a fucking muscle. In fact, I don’t even blink. He devours my silence like it’s a delicious challenge. “Such a stubborn girl,” he tuts. “You were stubborn even when I found you hovering over Danny English’s dead body, blood on your hands and panic in your eyes. You would have rather gone to prison than get on your knees and beg me for help,” he says softly. As he talks, his knuckles dip into the crotch of my shorts, lightly brushing against the fabric of my panties. My fingernails carve half-moons into my palms. I’m going up into the clouds. “And now, you would rather shut down than admit you like me touching you. So…” He drags his knuckle over the thin strip covering my lips. Please don’t notice how wet I am. I am above the clouds. I’m in the fucking sun, goddammit. “One last chance, sweetheart. One last opportunity to tell me to stop.”
Instinctively, my mouth opens, but I clamp it shut just as quick. The Devil chuckles into the seam of my thigh. The tickling sensation from his beard raises goose bumps. With all of the strength I can muster, I pin him with a hard stare and say, “I don’t hate you touching me. I don’t like it either. You make me feel absolutely nothing.” For good measure, I pretend to stifle a yawn.
For some reason, I know this will make him angry. From the moment he crashed into the hotel room, I knew he liked to play games. He feasted off my discomfort, devoured the taste of my dilemma, and would have spat me out if I hadn’t got on my knees for him. I have no doubt he’d get off on my reaction, whether it be disgust or lust.
So, I will show him nothing.
His lips tighten. Without breaking eye contact, he hooks one hand around both the gussets of my shorts and panties and yanks them to the side, exposing my most sensitive area. He arches an eyebrow. As his nostrils flare, his cool breath ripples across my bare pussy, creating a hard knot in my throat. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, determined to give this fucker nothing. With the other hand, he takes one thick finger and swirls it around my entrance.
The hard, dark lines of his face break into a shit-eating grin. “Your pussy betrays your scowl, sweetheart.” Slowly, he pushes that finger inside me, stretching my walls. No, no, no. Ignore the ache ripping through your pussy. Don’t you dare arch your hips. I swear, if you dare moan—
He slides his finger out and holds it up. Even in the low lighting, I can see it glistens with my juices. I grind my teeth, keeping my features impossibly blank. “I’ve barely touched you, and you’re this wet already.” I can’t believe my eyes when he slips that finger into his mouth, sucking it clean from knuckle to nail. “You don’t taste stubborn, silly girl.”
I’m meant to be above the clouds. Somewhere way above the storm hammering down on the roof, somewhere the sun constantly shines, warming my skin. But I can’t do it. Instead, I’m down here, in the pits of hell, melting in the Devil’s sick hands. The question slips from my lips before I can stop it. “What do I taste like then?”
He smiles, satisfied, and gives his finger another lick. “You taste like you want me,” he says huskily. “You taste like you like me touching you.” Eyes twinkling, he uses his nose to part my lips, breathing in my sex. He groans, sending a shock wave of pleasure through my clit. My toes curl, and my heart rate would probably break a Fitbit right now. “You taste like you want me to lick you.” He draws his head back, tongue dancing behind his Hollywood smile. “Tell me it’s not true.”
The heat of his mouth and the harshness of his words are making me squirm. I know squeezing my eyes shut is a sign of weakness, but I have no choice. It’s the only hope I have of blocking him out. Goddammit, why can’t I do it? Why can’t I switch off my mind?
“It’s not true,” I rasp, the lie getting stuck in my throat. How the fuck did this happen? How did my reality turn from the Devil breaking into my apartment and announcing he’s about to kill me to me being on my back, legs spread, quivering with unwanted pleasure under his venomous tongue?
This is a new level of fucked up, even for a pustosh’ kid.
“It’s not true?” he taunts, sliding his tongue from beneath his teeth. He spreads my pussy with his thumbs, unfolding my lips and stretching my entrance. White-hot heat burns in my cheeks as I feel what he undoubtedly can see—my juices trickling down the inside of my thigh. I’m so exposed to him, and it’s making me feel delirious. “So then, you won’t mind if I test my theory?”
“What’s your theory?” I manage.
His eyes flash with anger. “That you’re a fucking liar,” he growls.
I can’t stop the moan from slipping between my lips. I can only hope he didn’t hear it because he’s too busy planting venomous little kisses along the length of my pussy. He starts at my hole, quickly dipping the tip of his tongue into my entrance as if he just wants to taste me. Then he trails them upward, along the delicate path to my clit. When he reaches the bundle of nerves in my nub, he pauses. I realize the fucker is teasing me. Then I realize I shouldn’t fucking care.
Come on, Romy,die.
But I can’t because my body is too alive. It’s on fire, and each slow, wet kiss that the Devil delivers to my body stokes that fire, making the flames burn bigger and brighter.
I suck in a lungful of air and let it out in a long hiss.
“Something to say, sweetheart?” he taunts before quickly flicking my clit with the tip of his tongue. Lust ripples through my body like a sonic boom, and the moan that escapes my lips is involuntary.
“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”
