Page 42 of The Devil's Demise

“Oh ... fuck,” I breathe with a tremble, and he growls deep, grabbing my throat like he owns it. His thumb presses into my pulse, deepening as he plunders those fingers inside me with lazy strokes.

“Fuck me. Please…” My teeth clench, my eyes heavy-lidded. “I’ve been insane thinking about you on the way home, remembering this morning. Playing it over and over . . .”

He growls, nearing my mouth, kissing me hard, before he lets his mouth pepper down my chest, my stomach ... He hooks his arms under my thighs, sitting me down on the bench I had just been in and fits his head between my legs.

He meets my gaze, his tongue rolling up from my ass, up to my clit. I buck beneath, the keys singing to a chorus of my cries. His tongue drives deep inside me before his lips lock around my clit, sucking me hard into his mouth.

The desperation of yet another orgasm springs to new life, needing it even more than the last. My clit aches as he licks, nibbles, sucking roughly, his fingers back inside me. I’m not sure how many. I’m too far gone to focus on anything but the desperate desire to get the release I’m chasing. With one more flick of his tongue, I shatter.

“Yes!” My breaths catch in my throat as I scream out, digging my nails into his scalp, pulling his hair as I come. My body shudders as he tastes me, his tongue spearing inside, dragging up to my clit, doing it over and over, working me into a frenzy.

“Mmm,” he groans, practically sucking me dry and the vibrations of his voice beat through my body like fireworks.

He climbs up, taking my mouth in a slower kiss this time, and I taste myself as he rolls his tongue with mine.

His palms are under my ass, lifting me off the piano onto legs that don’t seem to work.

“Hands on the keys, baby girl,” he drawls, and I slowly do as I’m told, bending my ass over for his eager hands. A palm strikes me hard before three fingers pump inside me.

“Yes,” I cry breathlessly, needing that man to finally fuck me.

He lets me go, backing up as I eye him from behind my shoulder. He lifts off his t-shirt and tosses it before his hands are on the waistband of his pants. The outline of his thick cock only makes me want to get on my knees and suck him dry. But I want him inside me too much to move.

I find my hand slipping to my pussy, working my clit as I watch him pull his pants and boxers just enough for his crown to peek out.

He drags both down his muscular thighs until he steps out of them. His palm wraps around his length as he groans, watching me touch myself.

But he doesn’t let me go far. He pushes his body into me, grabbing a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. “Who do you belong to?” Our eyes connect as the head of his cock enters me, giving me a taste. “Say it.” He thrusts just a little deeper.

“Enzo . . .” I stammer, unable to take how badly I need this.

“Say it, baby. I wanna hear it.” His voice seeps with need, for me—his wife. The one he loves. The one he worships. And God, I worship this man. He’s my everything.

“I belong to you…just you. My body, my soul, it’s always been yours. Only yours. Please, just fuck me.” The words fly out in a hurry.

“Good girl,” he hums, and that’s when he slams all the way inside.

“Fuuuuk!” He slaps my ass with his free hand, while my groans and cries tangle into one sound I barely recognize.

He bucks his hips, slipping out, then in again. My body hits the piano hard, my fingernails pressing onto the keys, creating our own music. Those beastly strokes of his, that hand tightening in my hair, the other spanking me harder, has me climbing, tethering.

“That’s it ... take every inch,” he grits, tugging my strands with his fingers, arching my neck for his teeth to wrap around my earlobe. “It’s yours.”

Then it comes, the plundering waves. They take me until I sink into the bliss, until I’m washed ashore, and his arms wrap around me and they hold me tight. Because with him, I never drown. I never will again.

CHAPTER4

JADE

SIXTEEN MONTHS LATER

“Slow down!”I tell him as he whizzes past a car on our left. “Unless you expect me to have this baby in this car, Enzo!”

“Shit, I’m sorry, baby.” He takes a deep sigh, placing his palm on my thigh and gently squeezing, while I try to control my breathing, another contraction landing in my lower stomach.

I take a swallow of another inhale, trying not to panic, but I can feel it coming, my heart speeding rapidly, my pulse slamming hard in my neck.

Because in this moment, my mind, it goes back to that day. To those awful memories of when I had my son and had him ripped away from me. The aching. The bleeding—my body and my heart—I feel it now, like a festering sore filling me with agony. Carrying another child is hard. Harder than I thought it’d be with my past being as it was. I was a mother without a child, and now, I’ll be a mother with a baby ... will I know what to do? Will I fail her? My daughter. An ache slams to the back of my nose, reminding me of my own mother and her love that still carries me in everything I do.

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