Page 88 of In Love with the Devil

Moving here has been the boldest, craziest thing I’ve ever done. It didn’t take long to find a hotel that needed an accountant who spoke both languages and had enough experience to run things on her own. I’ve never been this… calm. Thank heavens Mindy’s parents helped me get all the paperwork so that I could stay and work here. For a week, I’ve been living in my house, which is two miles away from the beach, and every time I buy a new piece of furniture, I squeal on a call with Mindy.

The therapist I’ve been seeing says to keep a tight schedule, and that has translated into me running four miles every weekday after work so I’m too tired to think or remember, plus being theslave of two black and one orange cat. One and Two are the black cats, and Three is the orange one, of course.

Even with all the work and running, Julian still invades my mind every night. Tonight is no exception. After showering, I roll into bed and there he is, making my pussy and ass throb for him. It’s extra fucked up that he taught me how to masturbate because it means I can't think of anyone else but him while doing it. The ritual belongs to him. I sigh, then toss and turn in bed for hours, trying to resist touching myself. I wish he didn't still have this power over me because maybe then I'd hate myself a little less but it's the memories with Julian that make me wet. I close my eyes and let the craving and thoughts run through me.

Although the memory makes me sick, I'm addicted. The way Julian’s dick stretched me, filled me, swept in and out of me. My self control melts away. I think of that night in the hotel.

I moan as my fingers satisfy the urge, but only for a second before it returns, both holes screaming for him. He showed me the heaven and hell of being fucked in every orifice, and I can't stop needing to feel it again.

I don't want to do it, but I know there's only one thing that will take enough of the edge off so that I can sleep. I open the video he sent me when we last met, grab the dildo from my nightstand’s drawer, stick it to the wooden floor, and pour lube all over.

This is the last time. I promise.

I sink myself onto it. It’s too big, just like him. It hurts so much it draws my tears, takes my breath, stretching and hurting me, but I need it. I scroll on the video to where I'm a screaming, sobbing mess and Asher says through his teeth,“This is what you wanted. Take it." My screams bounce off the walls of the hotel room.The only way I can climax is if it tears me. I watch him fist me without mercy while bouncing on it, screaming his name and flicking at my already wet clit.

I nod at his accusation and command. "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.”

"Yes." I come so hard that it hurts my belly. But instead of stopping, I hurry the video again to where he's about to come, listening to the groans and moans roll through him while I scream. My walls spasm and quake around the rubber while I sob, hating myself for doing this yet again. It had been three weeks. Now I have to start all over again.

The self-disgust takes over, just like it did with him, but I no longer have him forcing me as an excuse for these repulsive proclivities. I muffle my cry with the side of the mattress. Loneliness crashes back into me. I can't get myself to delete the video because I miss both versions of him. The shame drowns me. God knows I want to move on but I can't.

“Shhh,"Asher tries to sooth me in the video.

There are no warm arms to hold me, no lips to kiss me and tell me it’s okay that I’m this sick, that I’m craving him andeverything he did to me. I can’t believe there’s any part of me that feels like this for him.

"What's wrong with me, Asher? What did you do to me?"

“Shhh…"

My mind is a dumpster fire.

In the morning, as I drive my VW Bug to work, I’m still surprised he hasn’t shown up, dragged me back to his dungeon, and punished me. Would he use the same punishment? He said he’d always find me.

I can’t wait for him. No! That’s not true. He made my life a living hell. What the fuck is the matter with me?

I shake my head and tremble at the thoughts. Unbelievable, the things that run through my mind. It’s easy to fantasize and even climax at the romanticized memory of the man who destroyed my life and body. But if he appeared before me I'd have a heart attack. Time tends to soften everything.

I walk past the front desk and Cristian greets, “Hola, preciosa.” (Hi precious.) And it always pulls a smile out of me. Cristian and I always go to lunch together, so when my stomach rumbles, I come out of my tiny office with a sea view to the front desk.

“Cristian, me voy a morir de hambre.” (Cristian, I’m going to die of hunger.)

“No puedo Astoria, mira la fila.” (I can’t Astoria, look at the line.) Jesus, there are twelve families in line waiting for their keys.

“Quieres que te ayude?” (Do you want me to help you?)

“No linda. Ve tu sola.” (No, beautiful. You go alone.)

“Okay. Te voy a traer ensalada.” (Okay, I’ll bring you a salad.)

“Te amo!”

Although I’m tired of eating at the hotel’s restaurant, I don’t want to go too far outside, especially alone. I order our salads and water and sit at the bar. A man in a suit sits next to me, but I don’t turn my attention to him. When he greets me, saying hi, I roll my eyes.

“No.”

“No, what?”

“I’m not interested. It’s not gonna happen. Go away,” I say with a scowl on my face.

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