Page 82 of In Love with the Devil

I want to yell his name and beg him but I can't.

"Come.. just like this. Like a dirty pretty girl." It's too close to what he would say. I squeeze my ass on his hands and he thrusts faster. "So obedient."

The waves rip my body apart. When he takes it out, the long, quaking sobbing pours out of me. I feel emotionally and physically empty. The need to be loved stabs all the way to the depths of my soul. Tears trail over the bridge of my nose and cheek, then fall on the bed while my body violently trembles.

It’s a cry from my jumbled emotions, vulnerability, and frustration at missing the days Julian and I watched TV together, the days he would caress me and say nice things about me being pregnant. Why did he lie to me? No one can convince me he didn’t know it was a fake pregnancy. Why do I care if he lied? Why am I missing a man who tortured me until he killed my soul when I'm with the man I've wanted for almost two years now? This is insanity.

There’s no way to deny that I’m currently a sobbing mess. Poor Asher must be scared that he hurt me. I feel bad to break down like this in front of him, but I can’t help it. In silence, he watches me break down and slowly return to sanity, sometimes soothing me by caressing my back and making that sound Julian used to make, “Shhh.”

For a minute, I guess I thought he was Julian or was just like him. Turns out Asher is more like me than I could have ever guessed: unwanted and abused by his mother because of his father. No wonder I felt such a strong connection to him. A boy who had never been told that he is beautiful and good.

I drink up every gentle gesture like a desert does the occasional rain storm.

When I move my wrists, he lies next to me, wrapping me in his arms. “Shh… It’s okay.” The comfort his voice and words give me, makes me want to be his slave. It was rare for Julian to sooth me like that, with those words.

I try to tell him to let me go, but my mouth is stuffed. Asher kisses me on my nape, quieting down my panic, but then his teeth bite into me and I cringe, making the bite hurt more since he’s lifting my skin. “How’s that little hole doing? Can you still feel my fist in there?”

I moan and nod a yes. My clit is throbbing just from that question. He spanks me then pinches my butt cheek. His tongue licks my neck until it finds my ear and curls inside, filling me, sending a shake through my body.

“I can tell you need more. That little hole is hungry for some come.”

Part of me panics because I’m not sure I can take more since he already broke my soul, which I didn’t expect.

Right before he covers my back with his body, I hear him spitting. He pulls my legs so I lie flat on my stomach, separates my trembling legs with his and slams his cock into the deepest depths of my ass. Pure, intense pleasure lies around the entrance, but as it slides and widens me deeper, the pain drowns me. It has been too long. The panties in my mouth are not enough to muffle my screams. His hand holds my shoulder, pushing me back to collide against him. He wants to fuck what he didn’t fist.

I’m panicking, needing him not to push so hard and deep. Instead, he pulls my butt cheeks apart, gaining more ground, then returns to pulling my shoulder. It's as if he can't find the best way to break all of me. The panting from his mouth hits the lining of my ear. “The thing about pretty girls is that they always have greedy assholes, but don’t worry, I’ll fill it again and again and again. We have all night long.”

I don’t know why his words and him watching my face so intently send an unbearable ache and heat through me that numbs the pain. My eyes flutter as he rams into me, groaning, then swinging his pelvis and cock fast. I only exist for his pleasure, no matter how much it hurts me. I scream at the thought, my walls contracting. “I love a pretty girl who likes to come fast and a lot. Here, let me help you.”

I moan no and shake my head, but he laughs, reaches under me and plays with my clit. I slam my hips back and forth, fucking the length of him a few times at his first flicks. I climax right away. That’s when he raises himself, pins me down and fucks me until I’m seeing blotches in the room.

It’s all I needed, to be used, hurt, fucked way beyond my capacity, beyond oblivion.

We're entangled in each other’s arms when I wake. His body is like an oven, warming me with a dry heat. The early morning is creeping through the drawn curtains. I want to leave without waking Asher, so I turn away, wait and listen, making sure he’s still sleeping. When I slip off the bed, I can’t help admiring his face. He looks like an angel God sent to protect me, but I don’t trust God anymore–not since he sent Julian after me. My gaze slips down his perfectly sculpted torso. That’s when the tattoo on his chest catches my eye. It’s the same one as Julian’s: an anatomical heart. My eyes sweep to his belly. There’s a tattoo of a black bird and along its underbelly, in cursive, is written, ‘pretty bird.’ When my eyes sweep back up to his neck I see it. The scar from when I tried to kill him.

No! I must be hallucinating from stopping the pills or something. I shake my head slowly as I back away. This can’t be. I don’t want it to be. The realization that somehow deep inside I knew this yesterday and did what I did is nauseating. Ina desperate attempt to confirm to myself beyond all doubt that what I’m seeing is real, I walk to his pants by the window and grab his wallet, searching for his driver’s license.

Asher Julian Michaelson.My heart drums fast and loudly in my ears.

When I face him again, he's staring at me and a smile spreads on his lips. I shake my head. The hand holding his license trembles. My eyes fill with tears and an icy sensation expands through the rest of my body. This is too much. He nods slowly at my denial and licks his lips.

“Astoria.”It's his voice, Julian's voice.

I bite my lip, rush to pick up my clothes and dress, making sure I don’t go near him. He sits up, consuming my panic.

“There’s no sense in running, pretty bird.” This is not the way his voice sounded last night. It chills me further, making my lips tremble.

My mind doesn't know where to go to run away from this reality.

Asher is Julian.

It sends a mind-shattering quaking through my body but I try to mask it. I don’t want him to enjoy how terrified I am. God, I just fucked my rapist willingly and enjoyed all of it. I seeked him out and begged him to do everything he used to do to me. The conflict in my mind doesn’t let me think straight. I lift the same side of the comforter and blanket several times, searching formy panties, ignoring the fact that his phone is on the bed with pictures and videos of me enjoying him fucking me with his fist and dick.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” My panties hang from his forefinger. “Why don’t you sit down?" He pats the bed area next to him. "And have a calm adult conversation with me? Let’s work this out.”

While shaking my head, I cover my mouth after a whimper escapes me.

“Pretty bird… you knew.”

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