Page 26 of As Devils Love

“And that’s why I’m here, with your cunt inches from my face, instead of my blade fucking your guts.”

Even his threats are tickling me in ways I can’t explain.

“So, what I’m going to do, Fiametta, is this.” He doesn’t give me time to react before his bare hand moves up to my slit. With expert precision, his index and middle finger lock onto my clit, and start moving in sharp, short circles.

My body immediately starts vibrating at the sensation. I choke back moans, groans and other noises that are fighting to get free. Mrs. Walker is one room over, and there’s no telling who else might be in my boutique by now.

And there’s no explaining what’s happening in here without getting a one-way ticket to the looney-bin.

He’s moving fast, trying to extract my pleasure as if there’s no time to waste. Thinking about it, there isn’t. While his fingers move in their circles, I feel his thumb glide through my folds, before the tip finds itself resting against my entrance.

All the while, his eyes remain fixed on mine. Even when I can’t keep them locked on him, and they roll to the back of my skull, his green orbs refuse to break contact. Refuse to blink. He’s watching his torture and relishing in it. He wants to see me explode and if he carries on like this, he’s going to get his wish.

“Fiametta?” Tomas’s voice bellows from the front of the store. My ever-nearing climax disappears into a bundle of nerves, brought about by fear of his finding me like this. “There’s no one out there,” he continues.

“Fuck,” my monster grumbles, and starts slowing his moving digits. “Looks as if our time’s up.”

He collects his knife and my panties off the floor, with his gloved hand, but even though the other has stopped its wicked movement, he doesn’t pull it away from my pussy. As he stands, taking his position behind me again, he presses my damp, white cotton to his mask and breathes in deeply.

“Sweet as flowers in the springtime,” he mutters to himself, before stashing them in his pocket.

“You shouldn’t stay here,” I say, as a surprising pang of heartache strikes, at the thought of his strong hand moving away from my legs.

“I know.” But instead of retreating as I expect him to, he wraps an arm over the front of my shoulders and pulls me back into his enormous frame. His arm moves up, until the crook of his elbow is around my neck, but he doesn’t squeeze hard enough to stop my flow of oxygen.

And, where I should be afraid that he’s going to choke me to death right here, I’m not. I’m wildly turned on by the strange eroticism that his eyes reveal in the mirror. How they flutter as his touch strays from murderous to sexual. Even his breathing is more audible against the material mask. It’s as if we were lovers on the verge of having crazy, hot sex with a whole lot of bondage, torture and discipline.

“I’m going to kill you, Fiametta,” he says in a low, growling whisper. “I have to.”

But his actions don’t mimic his words. While he speaks, he uses the arm around my neck to tighten my body against his, until my bare ass is in line with his hips. His free hand finally parts from my damp skin, and snakes its way up to my cheek, where he forces two of his soaked fingers into my mouth.

I’d ask him why he’s so adamant about killing me, but I can’t find the words behind the swarming lust that coats my brain.

All I know is this moment.

Here and now.

Tasting myself on him, while he pins me in place and doesn’t give me a choice to say no.

And with another vicious thrust of his hips, matching the one he made earlier, his throbbing cock finds its way against my pussy again. He forces it forward as far as his clothing will allow him to go. So close to parting my lips and slipping inside, yet never allowing me the pleasure of fully experiencing him.

Unzip him and take it.

Intrusive thoughts start running through my head.

Grab his cock. Stroke it. Play with it. Bury it inside you.

Can’t kill you if he’s too busy cumming.

That last thought is the last remnant of my sanity trying to reason the forbidden delight I’m getting from this. And it’s working so well, that I want to indulge this sick fantasy.

“I’ll be seeing you.” He releases my neck and pulls his fingers out of my mouth. He takes a single step back, observing the chaos he’s left strewn across my body. Then, his eyes move from my messed-up dress to my tits reddened from how they were squeezed against the mirror, before settling between my legs where he allowed his hands to play.

There’s nothing stopping me from screaming now... if I want to. Other than the fact that he might stab me, but I’m sure Tomas brought the rest of his cronies into the store with him.

If I call for help, there’s a small chance I will survive. They’ll catch the man who has been terrorizing my family. And we can be done with this nightmare.

So, why don’t I, as I watch him stow his blade?

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