Page 2 of The Devil In Disguise

Growing up, it was no secret to anyone how well-endowed my family is. Honestly, I don’t even know how they have so much money; my father is a lawyer and my mom stays at home doing whatever she likes with her time. When I ask them about it, they usually brush me off and just say they inherited it with no further explanation.

My parents think money and security is all that matters in life, but I disagree. While that is important, there is so much more to life. There’s a whole world to explore, people and cultures to meet and love, and experiences both good and bad to go through. I’ve always wanted a simple lifestyle full of love and happiness, but money can’t buy love. The city life was never for me. I want adventures living a village life with a community that supports each other.

I have never quite belonged here in New York. Always a part of it, but from a distance; as if there was a thick, clear wall between me and the world. Or rather the people in it.

The only way my parents would have ever let me leave the house is if I found a man that would marry me so he can “protect me.” Protect me from what? I have no idea. They’ve always alluded to some sort of hypothetical danger—it’s weird. Regardless, I am perfectly capable of defending myself, but they didn’t care about that. So, I moved in with my first boyfriend to a little apartment in Battery Park City.

“Oh, sweetie, why don’t you stay for dinner? Your dad is working late and I can make your favorite?” Mama asks me with hopeful eyes.

“You know I want to, but I have to get home and cook dinner for Duke,” I say, feeling guilty. I hate leaving her here all alone when Dad’s at work. I’m not really close with him. Sometimes I feel like the older I get the more he despises me.

Mama rolls her eyes. She doesn’t like my boyfriend, but she tries to keep most of her comments about it to herself. “That boy can order himself something on the phone if he’s too lazy to make a meal,” she mumbles. Instead of responding, I give her a look that I hope can convey how I’m feeling. The scowl she had washes away and she gives me a knowing look with a warm smile. “I know, mi amor. It’s okay, go. I’ll see you soon.” She kisses me on the cheek, gives me a long hug, and walks me to the elevators.

Right when I step out of the building, I see the closest thing I have to a best friend. Diablita, my sexy Suzuki V-Strom 650, sits sexy in her sleek, black and candy daring red paint. Yes, I named her—'cause she is a little devil. I even got her name engraved onto the side of the bike.

I don’t need anyone but my bike.

On my way to my apartment, I feel like I’m flying when I ride through the streets. The city fades away in a blur of colors until it’s just me and my bike. In a world where I’m not given many choices and have no power, I have absolute control here. Sometimes I think about taking a different route, one that takes me far, far away from here. Diablita and I can start from scratch.

Today won’t be the day, but maybe one day. A girl can dream.

Duke is usually home unless he has properties to show or has to be in the office for a meeting. He’s a real estate agent, or as I like to call him in my head, a finance bro. We met almost four months ago because his dad is friends with my dad. Suddenly, he was coming around the house and asking me on dates; not to mention that my dad was practically pushing me onto his lap at the time.

Things were good in the beginning—he was smitten with me from the start and constantly showered me with gifts and compliments. What I appreciated most was how he always made time for me. He swept me off my feet quickly, and before I knew it, we were living together.

I don’t really know when it happened, but eventually, the compliments turned into criticism. He started to only make time for me when he felt like it. He isn’t horrible; he has his good days. At first, I thought it was me, and maybe if I tried harder or did things differently, then we would go back to how it was in the beginning. All too quickly, I realized that a relationship is a two-way street. And I’ve been wandering down an alley.

Never once did I doubt myself before and I refuse to be that girl. I know I’m not the problem. It got to the point where I would wonder if moving back in with my parents was a better idea, but I don’t want to feel like I’m moving backward instead of forward.

He doesn’t hurt me or anything, and it’s becoming easier and easier to just avoid him, anyway. He is the safety net my parents want me to have. Aside from some meals and bedtime, either he’s busy or ignoring me, or vice versa.

When I walk in, he’s lounging on the couch watching some show on the TV. He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge that I walked in or hung my keys up. I take a look around the plain, minimalistic designed great room before fully walking in. Nothing is out of place or dirty, but there’s also nothing with color—unless that color is white, black, or gray. It’s all bland, just like Duke is, really. It fits him.

I receive no answer when I say hi, so I try again. “Did you take out the meat from the freezer like I asked?” I ask, preparing myself for disappointment.

He groans and finally looks over at me, feigning innocence. “Baby, I don’t know how to do that stuff. You’re better in the kitchen than I am, you know that.”

That stuff. All I asked him to do was take a pack of chicken breasts out the freezer to defrost. That’s it. This is the same guy who doesn’t know where to put the groceries away, but knows where to find anything he needs.

“All you had to do was take it out of the freezer and leave it out. What do you suggest we eat for dinner now?”

Rising from the couch, he walks over to me and starts rubbing my arms up and down. “Relax, you don’t have to get all mad. I can think of something else I want for dinner instead…” he says, voice thick with insinuation.

He leans in to kiss my neck, but I put my hands up to his chest to stop him. “Not now, Duke. I still have to shower and figure out what we’re going to eat tonight.” He ignores me and tries to pull me in for a kiss this time. “Seriously?” I ask as I turn my face to dodge his kiss.

“Really, Amaris? Fine. I’m sorry that I just want to love my girlfriend and spend intimate time with her. Do you know how many girls want to be in your place right now?”

I don’t know if he thinks that makes me jealous or makes him desirable, but I’m not in a competition. I’m in a relationship. I relent, knowing this won’t last long, anyway. Hopefully, he will tire himself out.

“Fine, let’s go to our bedroom.”

At least he’s excited about that. I start taking off my clothes on the way to the room, ready to finish this so I can shower. He wastes no time getting rid of his clothes once we get to our bedroom, folding them neatly and setting them on the dresser. He pushes me back softly on the bed, like I’ll break if he handles me too hard.

He thrusts his dick in his hand once, twice, until it starts to get semi-hard before rubbing the tip through my slit, trying—and failing—to collect any moisture from me. With no warning or foreplay, he thrusts as far as he can. He begins chasing his own release while I lay there thinking about my day and what I might wear to work tomorrow.

Sometimes I keep my eyes closed because then it’s like there’s nothing to remember. Other times, I visibly see that he’s fucking me, but I don’t feel anything else. Sex has never been emotional for me, it’s strictly physical. At least that’s how it’s always felt with him—I haven’t been with anyone else to compare. Duke has never been able to get me off, but I know I’m not the problem here. My fingers feel better than anything he’s ever tried.

He doesn’t even make any sounds. I want to hear him grunting, groaning, and moaning. I want him to whisper dirty things in my ear. I want him to throw me around, be rough with me, then call me a good girl. I only get that in my fantasies.

---