Page 38 of Heart of a Devil

I type, stabbing the screen like it’s the enemy.

End the date right now.

I hit send and lean back to see her reaction. Her eyes widen when she sees the message, but she stays calm and doesn’t look back at me. Her fingers fly, and her reply lands.

The fuck I will.

She puts the phone down again and carries on chatting to the guy as though nothing happened. As though I don’t bloody exist. He leans forward, whispers something to her, and wraps a strand of her curly hair around one of his fingers. Fuck me! It takes every scrap of control I have in me not to march over there and break his damn wrist. I glance at Samantha and Gabriel, reminding myself why I can’t do that, why I need to resist the urge to grab the cheeky cunt and slam his head down on the table until every bone in his stupid face is smashed to pieces. I take a deep breath and go back to my phone.

End the date now, or I end him. I’m not joking here Lauren. Get rid of him or I’ll do it for you.

She looks shocked when she reads it and looks over at me. I guess whatever she sees convinces her that I’m not playing. She looks back at the arsehole who is ogling her like she’s dessert. I’m too far away to hear anything, but she stands up suddenly and gestures to her phone. She’s probably making up a story about an emergency or whatever. I don’t actually care, as long as she does what she’s told. She looks furious. There will be hell to pay for this little stunt, but I don’t give a fuck. Better she gets mad and yells at me than I get mad and kill someone just because he dared touch her.

He argues a bit but eventually shrugs and gets the message. I consider following him out the door and still beating the crap out of him simply for looking at her ass, but I don’t get the chance because Hurricane Lauren is striding toward me, hair flying and eyes sparking. Fuck. She’s hot when she’s angry.

“Don’t cause a scene,” I say quietly as soon as she’s by my side. “Gabriel and Sam don’t get out together often—let’s not spoil it.”

“I had no intention of spoiling anything until you started acting like a possessive asshole. What gives you the right to say who I can see? I thought we agreed we were both free agents.”

“I didn’t agree to anything, and I certainly didn’t agree to you acting like a bitch and flaunting your latest fuck buddy in front of me and everyone I care about.”

Her eyes flash and her nostrils flare, and for a moment, I genuinely think she might be about to take a swing at me. Annoyingly, all that temper and passion goes straight to my dick. “Don’t you dare call me a bitch, you hypocritical jackass. One rule for you and another for me, is it?”

I glare back at her, feeding off her energy. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

She turns to look at the corner booth where Sasha is sitting with his lady friends, a predictably empty bottle of vodka in front of him. “Her,” she announces, pointing in Carla’s direction. “She’s your new squeeze, isn’t she? And before you bother to deny it, Seb, I saw you together. I saw you outside your house. Couldn’t wait to carry her to bed, could you?”

I blink in confusion, then feel like someone has punched me in the gut. “What? You were at my house that night? Why?”

“What does it matter why? I was there. You were busy. I left. End of story. And now here she is again, presumably waiting until you’ve finished up being a dick to me so you can get back to manhandling her again. Well, feel free. I don’t give a shit anymore.”

Angry tears shining in her eyes, she spins around and tries to storm off, but I grab her arm. She slaps at my hand, swearing and struggling, and I remember how much fight she had in her the night we played our hunting game. “Behave yourself, sweetheart. Sam’s watching, and you’re coming with me.”

She calms slightly at the mention of Samantha, fakes a smile, and replies, “I’m going nowhere with you. Go screw yourself, douchebag.”

I’ve had enough of talking. I grip her hand in mine and tug her toward me. “You’ll do as you’re fucking told. If I have to pick you up and carry you over my shoulder, I will. Might be tough for your colleagues to take you seriously once they’ve seen your arse dancing in the wind though. We need to talk, and we need to talk now.”

For a split second, I think she’s going to go for option B, and part of me hopes she does. But she obviously knows me well enough to realize I mean every word—she nods once, a sharp, staccato jolt of her head. I keep a firm grip on her arm in case she tries to bolt and drag her behind me through the crowd, toward the corridor at the back of the room. We’re doing up the rooms at the back, renovating the staff rooms and what used to be the ladies’ toilets. For now, the door has a “no entry” sign on it. I shove her roughly through it, and she staggers on her high heels, almost falling.

God, she’s gorgeous. All spit and fire, sky-high heels, and sparkling dress, fury in her eyes that seems to dare me to touch her. I growl and close the distance between us, loving the flash of fear that crosses her face as she backs away. She lands hard against the tiled wall, her eyelids fluttering and her breath coming in panicked little gusts. She’s trapped and she’s mine, and she knows it. “Seb! You said we needed to talk.”

“Yeah, well. I changed my mind.” I lock the door behind us and walk very deliberately toward her. She tries to shimmy past me, but I catch her and spin her around so she’s facing the mirror above the sink. I yank her head back with a rope made of her own hair and run my other hand down her throat, squeezing it in that way she loves. Our eyes meet in the glass, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on. My big hand on her delicateskin, the trembling of her full lips, the single tear that is flowing down her cheek. I need to be inside her, now. I need to fuck this pain away and remind her who she’s dealing with.

I let go of her throat and use my free hand to shove her tiny dress up over her ass. Fuck. I want to choke her and slap her and roll her nipples. I want to stroke her and caress her and run my fingers over her hot, wet pussy. I want to touch her everywhere, all at once. I just don’t have enough goddamn hands for everything I want to do to this woman. She groans as I tear off her flimsy panties and shove the soaking wet fabric beneath her nose. “You want this as much as I do, sweetheart. Don’t lie to me or to yourself.”

That’s as far as it goes for foreplay. This isn’t a foreplay situation, and she’s wet enough already. I take my cock out, huge and hard for her, and slam it straight inside her tight, soaking pussy. She yells at the sudden invasion, and I press her neck down so she’s bent over the sink, her fingers grabbing onto the porcelain as I slam into her. Keeping one hand on her hip, I put the other in her hair and tug her head up so she can see her own face in the mirror. So she can see herself getting well and truly fucked. Her eyes don’t leave mine, not for a second.

Neither of us looks away as I grunt like a rutting animal, her body shuddering with the force of each ferocious thrust. It doesn’t take long for me to feel the delicious rippling of her internal walls, the telltale squeeze around my shaft that lets me know she’s about to orgasm. I’m desperate to shoot my load inside her but make myself hold on until she finds her release. She screams my name, her perfect pussy clenching and vibrating all around my cock, her cum rushing out to coat us both as she trembles and shakes beneath me.

“Fuck,” I yell, my own climax ripping through me so bloody hard I forget to breathe. So. Damn. Good.

I collapse on top of her, and she yelps at the extra weight. “Seb, I’m done. I can’t hold us both up.”

I laugh into her neck and inhale her familiar jasmine-scented shampoo and the sweat of freshly fucked Lauren. When I stand, I drag her with me and stagger toward the big chair in the corner of the room. She lands in my arms, and I clutch her tightly. We’re always good during the sex. We’re good in the immediate aftermath too. Beyond that, we tend to screw things up, and I don’t want her running before I’ve had the chance to explain a few things.

“This is super romantic,” she says, glancing around. “Very sexy.”

There are bags of building supplies, a stack of cleaning products, and one random green rubber boot standing next to a tin of paint. “You’re sitting in here, sweetheart, therefore it’s the sexiest place on earth. Now we’ve both got that out of our systems, we need to talk.”

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