Page 64 of Forgotten Deeds

He smirks. “Look at my greedy little whore, so desperate to squirt all over Diávolos’ dick.”

“Yes,” I pant.

That now familiar tug deep in my pelvis causes me to become sloppy with my movement. He takes control, grunting as he moves my hips faster with his hands. “My little slut’s good for one thing, isn’t that right?”

His cruel, dirty words send a thrill down my spine. “No,” I argue.

“No?” He runs his hand underneath where we’re connected, the damning evidence glistening on his fingertips.

Before he can command me, I grab his hand and lick his fingers clean—one-by-one.

His nostrils flare. “Such a filthy whore. Diávolos’ little fucktoy.”

“I’m not,” I lie, moving my hips faster as my pleasure builds and builds.

He reaches behind me, and before I know what’s happening, he shoves my discarded panties from last night into my mouth. “Diávolos has heard enough lies from the little slut. Mouth stuffed with your panties; pussy’s about to be stuffed full of my cum,” he threatens. “You’re nothing but the devil’s pretty little plaything.”

His eyes wild and dangerous, he thrusts up into me hard—over and over. “Yes, fuck me harder,” I moan, the word sounding like nonsense with the panties still wadded in my mouth.

“Who owns this pussy?” He bounces me on his dick while rubbing my clit back and forth with the palm of his hand.

Wave after wave of pleasure courses through my body as I barrel over the edge. “Diávolos!” I try to scream. My orgasm’s so intense, the only reason I’m upright is because he’s holding me there.

“Fuck, Lily!” Darius’ hands squeeze my hips hard as he grinds out his release; that warm feeling of his cum spurting inside me causes me nearly to orgasm again.

He pulls me off him and into his arms, a big dreamy smile plastered on my face as he removes the panties from my mouth.

“Such a good girl.” He hums his approval, petting my hair with his bear paw of a hand, and I snuggle in closer to the delicious warmth of his body.

“Σ’ αγαπ?,” I try to pronounce as best I can the Greek phrase: I love you.

“Λατρε?α μου.” His eyes soften. “Ε?σαι στην καρδι? μου.” I don’t know what that means, but it sounds lovely.

There’s a pitter-pattering of little feet in the hall, and Iris calls through the door, “Mom! Darius! Can I get up now and play with Lucky?”

“You’re already up,” I call through the door with a little laugh. “So yes.”

“Yay!” she says excitedly before taking off down the hall.

I sigh. What I’ve put off for tomorrow has turned into today’s problem.

“Let’s shower, and you can break the news to Iris about her dad,” Darius tells me, reading my mind.

“That would require me to move,” I point out.

Standing, Darius scoops me up in his arms and tosses me over his shoulder.

I squeal in surprise. “You shouldn’t be carrying me with your injured arm.”

He answers by playfully nipping at my ass.

We shower, and I help him wash and rinse—trying my best to keep his wound and new tattoo as dry as possible. “If anyone asks where I was these past few days, what should I tell them?” I wonder.

“The truth. You were on your honeymoon,” Darius says, kissing the tip of my nose.

“Won’t it look suspicious I just got married?” I worry.

“Anybody hassles you—about this, or anything else—you tell them to fucking come talk to me,” he tells me in a very Diávolos tone.

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