Page 115 of The Owner's Temptation

Right there at his feet.

Back straight. Knees parted. Hands resting on my thighs.

Exactly the way Lucian trained me.

Exactly the way the Devil seems to like.

I don’t dare look away. And he doesn’t blink.

The room falls away, leaving only this—the heat of his gaze and the thrum in my core that says I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.

I came here to be claimed.

And I know the Devil wants to be the one to do it.

He doesn’t speak right away.

He watches me.

That mask—dark, smooth, dangerous—gives nothing away. But I feel his eyes. The weight of them. Curious. Amused. And something else entirely. Something that makes my pulse flutter like wings in my chest.

“The little bunny returns,” he says at last, his voice the sound of leather sliding over steel—smooth and slow with an edge that cuts right through me.

I stay perfectly still, spine straight, gaze steady behind my mask. I won’t let him see how hard I’m breathing.

“Have you figured out what you’re looking for, little one?”

I nod.

A single, precise motion.

He lets the silence stretch, testing me with the absence of sound, with the weight of anticipation. Then:

“And what is that?”

My voice is soft but clear. “Someone to tell a secret to.”

His lips twitch in a faint, dark smirk.

But it’s gone just as quickly as it came.

He doesn’t ask what the secret is. Instead, he reaches out, and with effortless strength, pulls me into his lap.

His hands wrap around my hips, guiding me easily until I’m straddling one of his thick, muscled thighs. The sheer fabric of my dress catches on his pants as I move, riding up until the lace of my panties meets the hard, unforgiving leather of his leg.

I inhale sharply because it’s not just leather I’m straddling.

He’s got a silicon grinder fixed around his thigh. Deep red covered in black. It’s like a cluster of tentacles.

His hands settle beneath the hem of my dress. Warm. Possessive. Palming the bare curve of my ass like he owns it.

“Tell me your secret, little rabbit,” he whispers, his mouth close to my ear now, the sound like a dark promise.

I roll my hips slowly, dragging the heat of my pussy along the ribbing of the grinder.

My breath stutters, and I feel his fingers grip tighter. He holds me still, forcing me to feel every groove. Every shift of muscle. Every deliberate flex beneath me.

I turn my head into him. My lips grazing his ear. My voice a whisper.

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