Page 31 of As Devils Love

My entire body starts to shake as he starts to move his finger down, then up, and back again. His gentle caress isn’t what I was expecting. No, something told me he’d force himself on top of me. Tear away my clothes and bury his cock down to the balls inside me.

This unexpected twist only turns me on more.

What is wrong with me?

I should be scared. Trying to fight him off. Calling for Tomas and any other of Father’s men who are stationed around my building.

But no. I’m letting this freak touch me. Please me. Soak his finger in my wetness and still, I want more.

As if he can read my thoughts, he slides his hand up my panties and hooks them by the waistband.

“Lift your ass,” he commands, and I give in against the last screech of good reason echoing in my head.

He pulls my panties down to my calves and leaves them there. Is he trying to trip me if I run? Probably not, but somehow thinking I’m bound here makes this feel so much hotter.

My stalker stands as his hand returns to my center. He isn’t on his feet long, before the same heavy weight that roused me from slumber, drops beside me. He’s on his knees now, peering down at my body as his already soaked finger finds its place again.

“Lift your shirt,” another order that my mind refuses to obey, but my body gives in to willingly.

Between my muffled cries against his palm, and my body rattling at the overwhelming sensations his hand delivers with only a graze, it’s a harder task to complete than simply hoisting my ass in the air.

But when my tits are finally exposed, a deep rumble rolls out from the back of his throat.

“Christ,” he utters in a husky whisper, and drives the finger he’s been teasing me with inside my tight hole.

My eyes roll to the back of my head while my pussy aches at the thrill of being filled. He teases my hole with a single finger, until he’s satisfied with the result of my rattling body. During his fast-thrusting motions, a second finger slips inside, and his thumb finds its way to the hood of my clit.

In the back of my mind, all I can do is wonder, if his fingers are filling me to the brim, how the hell would his cock feel inside me? I can see its outline in the darkness, pressing tightly against his pants. It’s the only other shape I can make out against the black, other than his frame.

Any time I try to move, or join in the fun of his hand’s pleasure, he reminds me that he’s in control by squeezing my body back in position with the hand that’s still covering my mouth.

When my muffled groans and fierce jerking become too much for a single hand to keep pinned, my stalker presses his knee against my chest to hold me down. This new leverage gives him a free range of motion, until he’s slamming his fingers inside of me to the knuckle with fast, intense strokes that seem to hit the perfect spot.

I can’t hold back my squeal of delight, and to his growling annoyance, his covering hand barely catches the sound. Somewhere in the mix of this swelling pleasure, reason managesto find its way back into my mind. It isn’t the fun I’m deluding myself to believe, he’s violating me.

But it’s too late to fight him off. He has me pinned in place, and even if I begged him to stop, those fingers would continue to fuck me as hard as he wants them to.

“Oh my God,” I roar the words against his palm as he tears a climax from me.

He continues to thrust his fingers inside me while my body coils like a spring, and releases with a wave of pleasure that leaves my thighs dripping wet.

Did I really just cum at the thought of this guy violating me? While heWASviolating me?

A pit forms in my belly as he pulls his fingers out. I watch his hand move to his face, and he yanks his mask up from the bottom. Squinting in the darkness I try and get a look at his face, but all I see is two fingers slip between his lips, and I hear the lustful, hungry growls that come from his mouth.

It’s the closest I’ve come to seeing what my stalker actually looks like, and instead I’m left with another wave of desire at his actions.

“My feelings will no longer be repressed.” He finishes another section of the quote and hoists himself to his feet. Foolishly, I almost expect him to say the rest, too:You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. But the words never come, and as he takes a few steps back, eventually becoming indiscernible from the shadows.

I crumble back into my bed and feel the warm threat of tears in my eyelids as I stare at my ceiling. I want them to be because of what my stalker just did to me, but I’d be lying if I told myself that was the reason.

Because, as violated as I feel, I’m just as satisfied by his touch.

And I want it again.

Chapter Eleven

FIAMETTA

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