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He pulls back the covers on his side of the bed and slides beneath the sheets as I shift as far onto my side as I can without actually falling out. He laughs again at my attempt to put space between us as he gets comfortable on his back and closes his eyes. The sheets are draped around his waist, and against my will, my eyes keep dropping to roam over the hard ridges. God, it has to be a crime to look so distracting.
“You planning on staring at me all night, or are you going to lie down?”
I stare at him for another moment, satisfied when his eyes remain closed, before moving further down in the bed and rolling onto my side. With my back to him, I bring my knees up to my chest, and will myself to go to sleep.
CHAPTER SIX
Cracking my eyes open, I’m met with the most surprising yet beautiful sight. I blink as everything from yesterday rushes back to me. I left behind my family and the only place I’ve ever known to go galavanting with a mysterious newcomer who makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. Despite how completely my world has changed, I don’t feel scared. I’m not afraid of this stranger or the future awaiting me.
The opposite, in fact. I’m excited. For the first time in my life, I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and his promise of freedom flutters in my chest like newfound hope.
The entire situation is surreal, and yet there’s no doubting the large man sleeping beside me. With his eyes closed and thick eyelashes resting against his cheek, dark hair disheveled, and all that gorgeous skin on display, I have the opportunity to simply look at him.
Even in sleep, he’s so imposing. As though his mere presence sucks all the oxygen from the room. I thought it was just the demanding air he gave off and his penetrating stare I can’t seem to look away from, but even now, I still feel as though I can hardly breathe.
As we’re lying facing one another in the bed, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off him since I woke up drinking in the soft lines of his face, the corded muscles along his forearm, and the strange tattoos on his skin. Most notable is the unusual one on his right pectoral. There’s a sizeable horned goat’s head in the center, on a background of an upside-down pentacle and surrounded by peculiar symbols. Some I can identify as the occult or from ancient languages, although many I don’t recognize at all. Regardless, the markings only add to his allure.
I jolt in surprise when he grumbles in a gravelly tone that goes straight to my center, “It’s rude to stare.” His eyes are still closed, and I definitely didn’t think he was awake, let alone aware of me gawking at him.
Embarrassed to have been caught staring, I move to roll away. However, his eyes snap open before I can, and I’m trapped in their sooty depths.
With his typical stony-faced expression in place, his eyes scour my face, noting every minute detail before slowly lowering them to roam over my body. I’ve never felt so exposed, felt more naked beneath someone's gaze. It’s as though he can see past all my layers—physical and mental—to the vulnerable woman hidden underneath.
His eyes narrow when they stop at my thighs. Something dark and violent passes in his onyx gaze, and he bites out, “What the hell is that?”
I glance down, noticing that the bedsheet is tangled around my legs and the t-shirt I borrowed has ridden up and exposed the bruised and scarred skin from the cilice. There are several bands, all in various stages of healing, but after years of penance, the scars have never fully disappeared. Instead, they leave behind pale white markings as a reminder of my failed attempts to appease God.
“Nothing.” I hurriedly yank the t-shirt down to cover the mutilated skin, except Don snatches my wrist in his tight grip.
“Kali,” he growls in warning as his other hand pushes the fabric out of the way. His fingers lightly brush a strip of traumatized skin. “A cilice,” he hisses in disgust, his attention glued to where his fingers are still caressing my skin. He presses his thumb against one of the fresh puncture marks, his gaze snapping to mine when I hiss in pain.
He does it again, his pupils dilating and his tongue flicking out when I flinch. With a hungry possession burning in his eyes, he pushes me onto my back.
“W-what are you doing?” I stutter, my heart beating an irregular rhythm against my chest as my back hits the mattress.
“From here on out, the only pain you’ll experience is at my hands.” He spears me with a severe look. “No more punishments or self-inflicted pain, got it?”
He moves to kneel between my legs. My t-shirt is indecently high, offering him a glimpse of my white cotton panties, and I watch, speechless, as he lowers his head until his lips skim my bruised flesh.
“I need you to use your words, little devil.”
I gasp when his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin before his tongue flicks out to soothe the sting.
“Y-yes,” I stammer, unable to string together more words than that.
His eyes heat at my obedience, before his tongue traces a circle around one of my bruises. Everywhere he touches erupts in goosebumps, and my heart is beating so hard, I swear it’s about to jump right out of my chest. I’m barely breathing as I watch, entranced, while he worships the strips of mangled skin.
With every scorching touch, a strange sort of pressure builds in my lower abdomen, this undeniable need to squeeze my thighs together intensifying with every sweep of his tongue. I squirm, unable to lie still any longer, and catch his haughty smirk as he shifts to grace my other thigh with the same attention.
I can’t stifle the small moan when he licks a path across my skin. A growl rumbles through his chest and his eyes dart to mine, his pupils blown with desire. “I can smell your arousal, little devil.” My cheeks flood with embarrassment, causing him to chuckle. “It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever smelled. I can’t wait to taste you.”
My lips part on a gasp, and all I can do is gape at him as he goes back to his task of lavishing my skin with kisses, sharp bites, and soothing flicks of his tongue.
By the time he’s finished claiming every inch of damaged skin, I’m a confused, wanton mess. A rush of unfamiliar feelings has taken control of my body and scrambled my brain, eradicating any doubt that this man is the Devil. Not only is he the Devil, but he will be my damnation. He’s going to sink his teeth into my skin and corrupt my soul, and when I’m completely ruined, he’ll drag me down to the fiery pits of Hell. The thing is, I’ll let him, because I’d hand over any chance at redemption to bask in his reverence and have him worship my skin with his tongue.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Our Father in heaven. A new day unfolds, and I pray to thee to give me the strength to avoid temptation. Please aid me in casting out the devil and pour out your Spirit onto me, so I do not bring grief or pain to those around me. I only wish to be your obedient servant, and with you in my heart, I know I can be. When you are guiding me, I am safe. In Jesus’ name, I offer myself to you. Amen.”
