Page 53 of The Devil's Den

“It’s not your fault.” I place my hand over his.

“But it is.” His expression turns into one of anguish, guilt, and self-hatred as though branded there. He grabs me to him, hugging me tight, inhaling sharply as though trying to steady his emotions.

I draw away a fragment, my eyes boring into his. The way he gazes at me, his eyes full of turmoil and tenderness, all I need in this very moment is to feel his lips, to capture them in mine. As I slowly lean into him, I do just that.

He cups my nape, his fingers sinking into my hair, tightening, grasping roughly, turning my face so the kisses are deeper. His tongue charges into my mouth, swirling, tasting. And all I want is more—of him, of this, of us.

His groans flirt with my own as the passion spills from the wounds ingrained upon our souls. I could kiss him until the sun no longer rises and the moon withers and dies.

But there’s something else I desperately need. Something he’s never given me, and I’m afraid to ask for it. But after what those men did at the club, I need him to be the one to give me something that they’ll never give me.

With a palm against his chest, I push him onto the mattress, my body weaved around his, like a puzzle that fits just right.

“Aida,” he grunts, his cock thick and heavy, straining against my core. “What are you doing?”

My lips are on his neck, dotting him with kisses, the bravery spilling like blood from my veins.

“Fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, arching his hips, the pads of his fingers rubbing my scalp. “Your mouth feels damn good.”

I peer up at him, loving him aroused, wanting him so badly. “Touch me?” I ask in a breathy sigh.

“What?” He immediately props himself on his elbows, his brows tugged.

“I want you to touch me,” I say with a heavy pant.

When he looks confused, I grab his wrist and lead his hand between my thighs.

“Aida…” His eyes drift shut for a moment before he stares at me again, like he’s not sure what to do. I know him well enough to see it. “I can’t. I—I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” I press his fingers into me, stroking them against the throbbing there. “Please, Matteo. I need this. I need you to give me that. With them, I never—you know…” My cheeks grow hot. “I want you to be the first to do it. I want that to be my first with you.”

He nods like he understands. “If you’re sure…” He grips the back of my neck, his full lips hovering over my mouth, his gaze fastened to mine.

“I don’t care who knows or who hears. I want this,” I tell him. “I’ve never been surer of anything more, except that I love you. Please, Matteo…” My teeth tug at my bottom lip, that pulsing in my core growing needier. “Make me feel good.”

“Shit,” he groans, his lips lining my jaw, nipping, before he kisses me again, rolling his cock around my achy center.

What I wouldn’t do to feel him inside me. To know what it’s supposed to be like. But that’s been tainted by the men who ruined my life, by a father who never gave a damn.

But this, him giving me an orgasm that I never had before, not even with those men, it’ll be something that’s mine, something they can’t take from me.

Every day I worry that I’ll go back there, and they’ll force it out of me. So I need Matteo to give me this. So I can hold on to it when things get bad, when the nightmares come.

With his hands falling to my hips, he flips me over until I’m underneath, all the muscles of his body pinning me to the bed. I grow deliciously aware of our proximity, the way his large frame overpowers my smaller one.

As he gazes, those heavenly eyes searching my face, it takes everything in me not to cry.

I’m safe. I’m wanted. I’m loved. No one can take that away from me. No one can tear away our bond.

There’s this weight in my heart, this mountainous level of devotion seeping into my soul and all I want is to get lost in it. Lost in him.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he promises as he looks at me with awe, his voice hoarse and full of aching emotion, like he could barely contain the way he feels.

My mouth parts in a pant as he braces himself on his elbow, his other hand sliding down my arm, my skin tingling from the wake of it. He cradles my knee, his fingers circling there until he nudges it outward, his hand continuing to journey higher, climbing into my inner thigh.

Our eyes can’t seem to part, clinging to one another as his fingers meet my waistband, stilling there. “If something doesn’t feel right, you tell me, okay?”

I nod, nervous butterflies springing to life, mingled with deep desire. His hand slips under my leggings, cupping me there, as a moan flies out of me, arching into him, my nipples suddenly hardening beneath my tank top.

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