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“Don’t move.” I thrust my fingers slowly in and out of her mouth in imitation of a coarser act. “Do you like that? Being on your knees in some hotel room? Letting me fuck your throat with my fingers?”
She nods, convulsing once more. She’s got a shit gag reflex for a woman who talked so brazenly about wanting to be ruined. Her eyelashes are wet with tears. I’ve never seen eyes green the way hers are, like dark venom.
Looking at her eyes makes me feel almost dizzy, and I have to force myself to refocus on what my hand is doing. I make her gagaround my fingers, letting her adjust, and then I slide my fingers free, grabbing her face in my hand and forcing her head up.
“Do you know why I don’t take my gloves off to fingerfuck your mouth?”
“Because your hands are cold,” she answers. Her tone is mocking, but her voice is rough, and when she blinks, tears roll down her cheeks, leaving watery streaks of mascara behind.
I tighten my grip on her face. “Because I don’t know how many other men have put their fingers and dicks down there.”
She smiles, her cheeks pushing against my fingers. “As many as you like. None, if you prefer. I can be the pretty virgin or the dirty slut. Whatever gets you off, Luca.”
“Getting me off would take far more than anything you could offer.”
I stand up suddenly—too suddenly because a heady rush slams through me. Grabbing a fistful of Sasha’s hair, I half-drag her to the bed, where I throw her with a grim smile. She answers with a smile of her own.
“Would you still like me to try?”
I open my mouth to answer her, but a black, dizzying wave washes through me once more. I steady myself against the bedpost, taking in a sharp hiss of air.
My knees buckle, as though my body is suddenly too heavy for my legs to carry. I sink down onto the bed. The dizziness came out of nowhere, but instead of fading away when I sit down, it spins faster, a black vortex drawing me further.
Behind me, Sasha rolls herself off the bed. She stalks in front of me and grabs my arm by the wrist, holding it up. I realise, with some irritation, that I can’t stop her. She pushes my sleeve back and checks my watch before dropping my arm back with a dismissive flick of her wrist.
“Right on time,” she says, looking at me. “Jesus fuck. You do love the sound of your voice, don’t you?”
I open my mouth to tell her I could say the same thing about her, but she shakes her index finger in front of my face.
“Shush. Shut the fuck up. Now be a good boy. Go to sleep.”
I slump back onto the bed. The black vortex closes in around me.
I come to proppedagainst pillows with my arms bound to the bedposts in a parody of the saviour on the cross. I’m completely naked, my clothes in a pile at the foot of the bed. My head is a dark, confusing place, my thoughts a tangle of snakes.
I’m too sluggish to be alarmed, but I know I should be. Vulnerability isn’t something I’m used to, and this is my first time falling into such a trap. Lifting my drooping head, I look up.
The devil straddles me. She’s got long dark hair and two red horns and a smirk you want to slap off. She’s looking down at the phone in her hand, and she looks up when she hears me prop my head back against the headboard.
“Oh, you’re awake,” she says. She taps her phone and props it on the bedside table, the little blinking dot of the camera facing us. “Let’s get on with it, then, shall we?”
Should I be frightened of her? I’m well within her power, bound and incapacitated in her hotel room. But fear doesn’t come naturally to me, and I find myself calm in the face of my own helplessness.
Sasha’s body is hot against mine, burning like a brand. The scent of her, from this close, is dark and intoxicating, black orchids and vetiver, heady as any drug. She grabs my face in her hand in the exact same way I grabbed hers earlier, forcing me to look at her.
From this angle, her eyes look pitch-black, just like the demon she’s dressed up as. She must notice my gaze on her horns because she curls her mouth into that horrid little half-grin of hers.
“I knew the costume would work,” she says in a sweet, high note. “I chose it especially for you, you know. I was inspired by all those satanism rumours.” She giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. “You’re such a fucking bore, but the satanism rumours really give you a bit of an edge. You should consider satanism, as a hobby or whatever.”
I blink slowly, trying to think through the headache pounding through my skull. “Why become a satanist when the devil itself is here to fuck me?”
“The devil!” She waves her hand in my face. “You flatter me too much.”
“I don’t suppose you’re here to exchange pleasantries,Sasha. So why don’t you tell me what it is you want so we can proceed?”
“All business and no fun.” She sighs, scratches at my face with her fingernails. “But since you insist. Unfortunately, Luca, I didn’t manage to get any footage of you fingerfucking my mouth, which is a great disappointment to me because that was the least fun I’ve ever had with something in my mouth.” She gestures towards her phone. “And some footage of me on your lap bouncing around like a sexy devil is going to be very pretty but not very effective, is it? I don’t think you’d feel embarrassed about that. And I don’t know how much mileage I could get out of footage of…” She peers down before looking back up with a moue of disappointment. “Your limp dick.”
“I’m afraid my limp dick is the best you’re going to get.”
