Page 55 of As Devils Love

My mind turns to mush as his cock ravages my pussy. Any thoughts I have left are replaced by him. My man, my monster, truly claiming me as his.

His face starts tensing as I climax around him. His neck and shoulders follow, until every muscle in his body is flexing. Everynew thrust is slower than the last, but they’re harder and deeper as guttural sounds begin erupting out of his mouth.

“Ah, fuck,” he growls against my breast, his breathe tickling the skin his tongue just wet. And with one, final thrust that buries his cock to the hilt, I feel the first trickle of his seed. It’s followed by a typhoon of hot, splashing liquid that coats my inner walls. I slide my hand to his face, taking a page out of his book and slipping my thumb into his mouth.

He licks and sucks on it, while he empties himself inside me. Choked sounds catch in the back of his throat, until he finally crumbles fully, panting for air against my bosom.

I hold his face against my breasts, giggling frantically at the intimacy of this moment, after the savagery he put me through. But mostly, I’m giggling at the realization that everything makes sense. Every single thought. Intrigue spurred on by twisted fascination with the beast hunting me, has made me feel crazy. He’s a stalker, a murderer, and the guy who keeps making me feel special with one hand, while the other dangles a dagger in front of my face.

But as Crue’s layers are peeled away and he exposes his true self, I find he isn’t a monster. He’s a man, made of flesh, and blood, and bone, just like the rest of us.

He might have a roundabout way of showing it, but like the book he left on my side table, Crue does little things to show he cares about me. I feel as if I can finally answer the question he left.

Can we change who we are, to watch the Little Flame grow into a blazing inferno?

Yes. A thousand times, yes. Crue is living proof that we can. From wanting to assassinate me, to nestling against my breast like lovers do, he can’t be the same man who set out on this path of destruction.

He makes me feel special. Whole. Without having to say it, I feel loved and cared for. It’s a sensation I sorely lacked in my younger years, and it hasn’t really changed since.

And where I’m the first to admit itsoundscrazy, I don’t believe it actuallyis. He has given me so much that I’ve missed in such a short time, so it’s no surprise I’ve fallen for him.

If that’s even what this is.

But there are worse things, and worse people it could’ve happened with instead.

“Was it all you imagined it would be?” I ask, running my fingers through Crue’s hair.

“And more.” His lips vibrate against my skin. “So. Much. More.”

Crue gets off the bed and pulls his jeans back on before he tumbles back on top of me, resting his head on my chest once more. A strange action, but one that makes me chuckle, nonetheless. Does he feel self-conscious about being naked? After what we just did, that would be the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.

His shift from deep intimacy to getting dressed prompts a thought that sneaks into my head. My lips stretch into a wide smile that immediately starts hurting my cheeks, as I find the best way to say it.

“You’ve fucked me. So why haven’t you finished me yet?” I’m laughing before I can fully finish the question.

I know it’s a bad idea to poke the bear, but we’ve transcended that dark part of our relationship. He’s shown me way too much kindness, in his own special way, for me to believe he still wants to kill me. It doesn’t matter how many times he says it.

If slitting my throat was really his end goal, he’d have done it right after orgasming, instead of using me as a pillow.

Right?

His lack of an answer makes me second guess myself. Unless he screwed himself into exhaustion and passed out.

I slide a finger under his chin to test the waters. His head lifts when I will it to, and his eyes are heavy with sorrow that doesn’t reach the rest of his features.

“Because I’m going to do it, now.” His dark, husky voice cuts the silence.

I barely get to mouth out the first syllable of my question, before I feel a pin prick against my neck. Within seconds my brain starts shutting down. I force my eyes to stay open, keeping them locked on his.

Stay awake, Fiametta. Don’t… drift…

But it’s too late. Whatever was in Crue’s syringe is too potent to fight.

My heavy eyes fall shut, and I drift off into a bleak, dreamless void.

THE END.

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