Page 9 of The Devil and I
“You have a tattoo,” she states quietly, and I nod in response. “Can I see it?”
I answer her by shifting my body so that I am laying on my stomach, propped up on my forearms. Only a handful of people have seen my ink, it's not really something I show off to the world. It seems far too personal.
“Wow,” she utters, her hand lifting to my back so she can trace the massive tattoo. I shiver slightly as her delicate fingers move along the dark lines covering my entire back. Years ago, I walked into a tattoo shop and asked an experienced, talented artist if he could bring my idea to life. After countless hours of laying in his chair, he created something he told me was his greatest accomplishment as a tattoo artist to date.
I am surprised when Rayna doesn't shy away from it, but instead continues to run her fingertips along the artwork. My tattoo is the grim reaper. His skull, half hidden by a tattered black cloak, is grotesque and terrifying. His scythe is massive and lethal looking, curved around his sinister form. It's an ominous piece of realism designed to make anyone that looks at it uncomfortable, as though it is a cursed image living on my skin. It's meant to reflect what is hidden inside of me.
“It's scary,” she confesses, her hand settling over the center of my back, those delicate fingers splaying wide against my skin. Such a brave girl, I muse with a slight grin, not shying away from the monster sprawled out underneath her curious hand. “It suits you.”
“You have no idea.”
“I think I do,” she tells me confidently, allowing her hand to once again roam across my back. This is the first chance she has had to really explore my body, and she doesn't hesitate to touch me wherever her hand wanders.
“I thought death was coming for me. You know, back at the forest,” she says quietly, which causes me to stiffen involuntarily. Tension winds itself through my body at the reminder of how I found her. “But it was you.”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep myself from saying something that may frighten her, shifting my body so that I can face her again. Her eyes look so incredibly sad, and it calls to my inner monster like a siren's song. Everything inside me screams to fix whatever wrong was done to her. I want to tear the entire god damn world apart until everyone that has ever hurt this sweet girl is dead. The darkness weaves itself beneath my skin, just waiting to be let loose so that it can exact vengeance in her name. “Rayna. We need to talk about what happened to you. I need to know,” I tell her, desperately trying to manage my own voice and control how much of the devil hidden inside of me exposes itself to her as I speak.
“It doesn't matter,” she whispered, shifting herself so that she is laying on her back and staring up towards the ceiling. Idly, her hand roams to her bandaged arm and feels along the seam of my handiwork. A single tear falls as redness blooms through the whites of her eyes in the wake of her sadness. I watch the droplet trail down the side of her face and disappear into her hairline.
“It matters to me,” I growl, the darkness slipping past my defenses and pressing to the forefront of my psyche. If she notices, she doesn't hint at her awareness of it.
“Why? Why am I even here with you?” she asks, her voice suddenly a little stronger. She turns her head to look at me, her warm brown eyes narrowed slightly with her inquiry. “I don't understand.”
“I'm a cop, Rayna, but I'm not a good man,” I say with a sigh, not entirely sure how to answer her question in a way that won't make her afraid of me. “I found you, and something... woke up inside of me. I feel connected to you now, and I just want to fix whatever went wrong that drove you to try to kill yourself.”
“You can't fix me, Lucas. You can't undo the past, or stop him from coming back for me like he warned me he would.”
“You have no idea what I am capable of,” I tell her, my voice lowering as I grab her hand and place it over my heart. Her face flushes in response, and her teeth catch her bottom lip as she looks up at me. “You don't know what I'm willing to do for you.”
“I'm nobody. I'm not worth the effort,” she whimpers softly, clearly fighting against the flood of tears threatening to fall. Those words tear at my carefully maintained self control, and it hits me hard that this sweet girl has so little self worth. Whoever broke her deserves to suffer in turn.
I drag my hand through her hair to grip the back of her head, pulling her mouth to mine. My lips descend on hers, teasing the seam of her pretty little mouth with unrestrained passion. She sighs, relaxing as I pull her body closer to me and let my tentative kiss evolve into something deeper. Letting go, I devour her mouth like a starving man. My tongue forcing itself between her shy lips, leaving her breathless against me.
Like an angel of mercy, she opens up for me. She lets my darkness in. I crush her to me, desperate to feel every soft inch of her curvy body against every hard inch of mine. Her silky tongue slides along the tip of mine, and a growl erupts from deep in my chest. She is so small and fragile in my arms, and the stark contrast between us drives me crazy.
With her ample breasts pinned against my chest, the feel of her hourglass figure pressed tight to my much bigger body is enough to make me a certifiable mad man. It takes everything in me to stay in control of the wicked animal I've become, and not tear this bedroom apart while I fight to force my cock inside of her.
I pull back from her, just enough so that the hand I've wrapped in her hair can keep her face angled towards me. I hold her eyes with mine, allowing her to feel the intensity of the words I present to her like an unbreakable promise. “I'll be your fucking monster, baby.” I let the truth of my vow coat every single syllable, leaning in so that my lips can brush lightly against hers. Her answering moan is music to my ears, so soft and delicate in the face of the brutality I represent. “People obviously failed you, but I fucking won't,” I swear, groaning slightly as a powerful shudder courses through her body. There's a darkness inside of her, buried deep down where she cannot really see it, and it is answering the call of my own. In that moment, I realize she is well equipped to handle me. She'll survive becoming mine. All I need to do is nurture that sickness she probably doesn't realize is inside of her, too.
Her skin is flushed, her eyes half mast as lust takes complete hold of her. All she can do is offer me a stiff nod, thick strands of dark brown hair falling away from the pale, smooth line of her throat. She was fucking made for me, this girl. So weak and helpless in my brutal hands. I offer her an ominous smirk as need pulses through me, demanding that I bury my dick as deep as I can get it and fill her so full of cum that it drips from her pretty little pussy for days.
“You belong to me now, Rayna,” I tell her, using my hands and body to manipulate hers until she is lying flat on her back again. “And very fucking soon, I am going to fully claim that pussy of yours.” As I pull away from her, she begins to softly pant. “But if you're going to survive what I do to your body, I need to get some food and water into you.”
I want to laugh at the indignation plastered all over her face once she realizes I am not going to fuck her after all that. “Are you kidding me, Lucas?” she groaned, closing her eyes and tossing her good arm across her forehead. “That isn't fair,” she whines, and the sound is incredibly endearing.
Sliding out of bed and walking over to my closet, I pull out a pair of black sweatpants and pull them on. I turn back towards her with an arrogant grin. “Don't worry, you'll get this big cock,” I tease. “You'll be begging me to take mercy on you before you know it.” I don't bother with a shirt, feeling like I'm too damn hot for one. Part of me also likes the shy way Rayna looks at my body, like she really fucking likes what she sees. Under her heated gaze, I can't help but run my hand diagonally across my chest, before walking over to her side of the bed and offering her the same hand.
She looks up at me through thick, dark lashes and the sight makes everything low in my body tense up. God, she is such a beautiful girl. “It should be illegal to look that perfect,” she says breathlessly, a sigh slipping from her adorable mouth.
I laugh, low and deep, unable to stop the arrogant smile from returning to my face. It pleases me that she appreciates my body. I put myself through physical hell regularly to look like I can take down an entire army with my bare hands. “Look who's talking. Maybe I should bring you in after all. It's gotta be a crime to make a man as hard as I am every time I'm near you,” I tease, crossing my arms over my chest.
I watch her face shift, catching the negative emotion briefly, but unable to fully identify it before her arm lowers slightly to better shield herself from me. “Yeah, right,” she huffs. “I'm sure men just trip over themselves to check out chubby, average-looking girls like me.”
I narrow my eyes, because the feelings that suddenly course through me make me want to break something. What world did I live in that made girls like Rayna feel ugly? Every beautiful rounded curve of her body is mouthwatering. She is soft and delicate, and she makes me want to beat the shit out of anyone that looks at her. I want her for myself. I can't handle the idea of another man laying his hands on her.
I move fast, stepping forward and leaning down to scoop her up in my arms. When I straighten, I make a point of gently tossing her up in my arms and easily settling her against my chest. She squeals, and the blush that spreads across her face eases the anger bubbling beneath the surface at the injustice of how she sees herself.
“Every single flaw you think you have is exactly what makes you so beautiful,” I tell her firmly, “And I wouldn't change a goddamn thing about you. You make me so fucking hard it hurts.”
