Page 11 of There is No Devil

I have to lean against the glass counter, cheeks burning and hands sweating.

“Stop,” I beg him.

He turns it off, giving me a moment of blessed relief to recover myself.

The perfume lady returns with a small bottle of water.

“Feeling better?” she says, handing it to me.

“Yes, thank you,” I pant. “I think the perfume was making me dizzy.”

“Try this,” she says, passing me an open canister of coffee beans. “It can help clear your head.”

I lean over to inhale their scent.

Right as I do, Cole activates the vibrator again.

“Oh my god!” I gasp, clutching at the countertop with both hands.

I’m helpless as the sensation thrums up and down my legs, churning in my lower stomach.

Cole has discovered a fatal weakness, one I didn’t even know I possessed. Vibration is my kryptonite, and Cole is employing it with Lex Luther levels of evil genius.

How the fuck did he even find one this small? He probably made it himself, that crafty bastard.

He’s ramping it up again, while I desperately try not to moan in front of the confused blonde.

“Do you need a doctor?” she says.

“She’ll be fine,” Cole assures her. “This happens all the time.”

That makes no goddamned sense, but Cole is so convincing that the blonde simply smiles and says, “We have a powder room if you need to sit down.”

Cole puts his arm around my shoulders, leading me away from the perfume counter, but not shutting off the vibrator.

I turn into his chest, holding him for support, hiding my face against his body as I start to cum. My legs shake like an earthquake, my arms wrapped tight around his waist. I’m making a muffled groaning sound.

When it finally passes, I gasp, “Turn that damn thing off!”

Cole complies, though I can feel him shaking too—from laughter.

I look up at him.

Cole is illuminated with the purest, brightest amusement I’ve ever seen. It lights up his whole face, making him beautiful on a level that awes me.

I can only stare.

Then I start to giggle as well.

Maybe it’s the rush of dopamine, or maybe it’s the fact that for the first time, Cole and I are laughing together, at a secret that only we share.

“Why are you so awful?” I snort.

“I don’t know,” he says, with real wonder. “I only want what I’m not supposed to have.”

Me too.

Nobody wanted me to be an artist.

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