Page 100 of Devil's Doom

His voice is guttural, so beastly, it raises the hair on my nape. His claws dig into my hips with a sharp sting, and I should tell him to stop, but I feel him behind my sternum now, and I can’t take enough air to say even a word.

But even if I could, I wouldn’t. This is perfect, the utter distillation of everything we are. He—the master, and me—his toy.Take that, I tell my broken heart.A man who fucks a woman like this can’t love her. Take that once and for all, and stop with those stupid hopes.

“Look at you… Just taking it…”

He grunts like an animal, slamming so deep inside me, I feel him in my throat. I can’t breathe. My vision blacks out at the edges, and another orgasm grips me like a vise, tight and biting. Woland comes, throbbing deep as he floods my insides with his cum, and when I think it’s over, he yanks my head up and buries his teeth in my nape.

His hips flex again. He’s still fucking me.

“And still taking it,” he grunts, letting my head drop onto my shaking arms. “I knew you could. I fucking knew. You’re perfect.”

His magic attacks me, wringing pleasure from every pore of my body. I moan, utterly defeated, conquered for everyone to see, and Woland doesn’t stop. He takes me with complete abandon, ridiculous, impossible words leaving his mouth.

“I fucking love you, pretty thing… Love how you take me… Can’t wait to give you children… All mine… My perfect witch.”

And I don’t understand it. He fucks me like I’m a thing, certainly not a person, and this type of sex was my safe space, my assurance that I knew what was happening between us despite his lies. Yet now he says he loves me while fucking me in the most degrading way possible, and I don’t know what to think.

Even worse, people around us hear him. Someone mutters distinctly, “Did you hear that? He said he loves her,” and I shake my head. I wish I could tell them that no, they heard wrong, except, Woland’s violent thrusts fuck my breath out of me, and I cannot speak.

“Such a perfect home for my cock, forme,” he grunts, driving himself so deep, I wonder if he’ll ever come out again. “So beautiful… So good… My perfect girl…”

When he stills, his orgasm driving him deep inside me, I can’t help the sobs that make me tremble weakly. My face is buried in my arms, hidden from everyone who sees my utter degradation. In my chest, my heart sings.

See? Maybe no man fucks a woman he loves this way, buthedoes. He loves me. He truly loves me.

I lose, a week after he said those cursed words the first time. And when Woland takes me into his arms, his shadows wrapping around us for privacy as I fall apart, I can’t help but be glad of his embrace.

He loves me.

Chapter thirty-four

Blue

“Why are you crying, my sweetest?” he asks, careful fingers coaxing my face away from my arms. “Does it hurt anywhere? What’s wrong, pretty thing?”

I shake my head, knowing I can’t tell him the truth. He’s already so smug, so very proud and pleased every time I tell him yes. Now, his eyes are creased with worry, but he still glows with the triumph of having me in public, of making me come all over his cock for his subjects to see. He is so simple, in a way. All he needs is to have me on my hands and knees.

“Tell me, love. Was that too much? Would you like me to make you forget it ever happened? I can, you know.”

His voice is light, clearly joking, but I still stiffen in fear. Woland laughs and kisses the top of my head.

“We can stop with public displays for a while, hm? I’ll make love to you in private next time. I’ll make sure you feel cherished and pampered. Will it help?”

I shake my head violently. No, it will not help. I need him to tell me he’s using me, to show me how little I am to him, but even if he does, it’s over now. My stupid, needy heart has won.

He loves me.

“Oh, you’re bleeding. Show me your hands.”

He takes my palm into his, ever so gently. With barely a prickle of pain, the splinters slide out from underneath my nails, and I am well again, no blood, not even a nick on my finger.

He lifts one hand to his mouth, kissing each fingertip, then the other. When our eyes meet, his are warm and a bit mischievous.

“I thought I would be bad at this, but look at me,” he says with a secret smile. “I’m good at it, aren’t I? Tell me, love. Tell me how good I am at loving you.”

“Very good,” I mumble, looking away. My cheeks feel hot. “And distracting. Do you remember I have a mission tonight? I should get ready.”

“I know,” he says with an exuberant smile, raising his arms high in a comfortable stretch. “Yes, of course, I’ll stop distracting you. I had no idea it would be so hard to be apart, you know? It’s like I never want to lose sight of you. My perfect girl.”

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