Page 47 of As Devils Love

“Because I don’t want to.” Dread creeps into my chest, replacing the amiability he helped foster in it.

I knew it was too good to be true. Once a scumbag, always a scumbag.

“I’ve put up with enough of your bullshit, Fiametta. It’s the least you can do,” he says through gritted teeth. His reddening face is my cue to run, but my legs don’t want to listen to my brain’s commands.

“What happened to “I know how hard it’s been?”” I gulp down a dry swallow, feeling my breathing become shallower with every passing second.

“What happened to showing thanks to the man who has kept you alive all this time?” He takes a step closer to me.

With this question, it dawns on me, that Tomas didn’t follow me into the living room to further our heart-to-heart chat. Hedid it to corner me. There’s still enough space between us that I might make it, if I start running, but every moment I waste is another he uses to inch closer to me.

Crue isn’t here to save me this time, either. It’s me and Tomas, squaring off in a dangerous game I don’t have experience in.

“Stay away from me.” I start walking back, until I hit the sliding door to my balcony.

“Now, why would I go and do something stupid like that?” A crooked, yellow-toothed smirk stretches over his face. “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

Those words are my starting gun, and I begin sprinting in the opposite direction to Tomas. I barely make it three steps before his hand latches onto my shirt and pulls back. My speed mixed with his sudden force, nearly cause me to fall to the floor, but I manage to catch my balance.

Tomas puts one hand on my shoulder, making sure he has a firm grip before he releases my shirt. He pulls me forcefully, and I spin around against my will to face him.

“This has been a long time coming, Fiametta.” Still holding me with one hand, his other makes its way up my side until it grazes the curve of my breast. A delighted yelp passes his lips, while his menacing eyes drink in my twisting facial features. “And it was going to happen, whether you wanted it to or not. Stop trying to fight it. Let me have my fun.”

His palm cups around my boob as he says it, and he squeezes hard. Tears flood my eyes as the pain accumulates into a disgusted pit inside me.

“Father will kill you for this.” My voice is weak and pathetic as I make a last-ditch effort to get away.

“Will he?” Tomas cocks his head to the ceiling, as if thinking deeply on what I said. “I guess I’ll take my chances then, won’t I?”

Both his hands snake lazily across my body and meet at the V of my shirt’s neckline. He stares deeply into my eyes while he wrings the fabric in both hands, before tearing the material apart like tissue paper.

“Jesus Christ, your tits are fucking huge,” Tomas says, as they free from the torn material. He is closer to them than I’d like, but at least I still have my bra as a barrier. “I wonder how they’re going to feel around my dick.”

His hands travel again, squeezing my tits as they pass, before stopping on my legging’s waistband. I’m sure he’s going to try the same thing with my thin-material pants as he did with my shirt.

Tears start rolling down my cheeks as his hands slide behind my back and grope my ass. He grabs my cheeks firmly, squeezing as he utters god-awful noises.

“Better still, how would it feel inside your cunt?” He groans like he’s already penetrating me. And in some way, with his pencil dick jabbing against my bellybutton through his pants, I guess he has.

But it’s also those words that spark a new fight inside me.

Absolutely not. The only person who’s going to fuck me, is my jewel-eyed stalker. He said it himself, I’m his, and I’m not going to let Tomas take that away from me. Mustering up enough courage to lift my arms, I slide them over Tomas’s shoulders.

“There we go,” he says, giving my ass another squeeze. “That’s the spirit.”

I hook my hands around his neck, grabbing on firmly until I feel as if I’m standing firmly. Then, I drive my knee into his groin as hard as I can. Tomas howls and recoils from me, while both hands immediately cup his damaged goods. As he stumbles back, his knees connect with my coffee table, and he topples over giving me a chance to run.

I do. I sprint into my bedroom, lock the door with the key and latch the deadbolt in place. Thank God I had the foresight to install a sturdier door with much stronger locks.

It doesn’t take long for him to arrive outside it, however. And like the last time, he bangs away and screams obscenities that chill my blood. But no matter how hard he tries, Tomas can’t get through this time.

Twenty minutes of trying comes to an end with Tomas’s moving to the kitchen, howling at the top of his lungs. It’s a combination of animalistic noises that have no real meaning and threats of what he’s going to do when I finally leave my room. They pale in comparison to the feeling of his gnarled fingers against my skin.

When silence finally falls over my apartment, and Tomas has disappeared into his bedroom to tend to his loins and get shit-faced drunk, my weeping begins.

Scared is an understatement. I know this isn’t the last I’ll see of Tomas, and the way he speaks about my father leaves me wondering if I’ve read things all wrong.

What if Father knows about this? Or gave Tomas the go-ahead.

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