I walk up to her, crowding her against the wall. Her chin comes up, her green eyes flashing.
"Careful, princess," I growl. "I remember a time when you would have gladly given it to me for free."
She raises her hand fast, but I'm faster. I catch her wrist, pin it above her head, and press her flat against the wall. She gasps, furious—but her thighs part instinctively.
I step between them. Goddamn. The heat rolling off her is electric.
"You're an asshole," she spits, but she can't hide how breathless she sounds, not from me.
I cover her mouth with mine before she can say more, biting her lower lip until she squeals. She fights me—God, she fights me, nails raking down my jaw, pointy shoes kicking at my shins—until I slip my hand up the inside of her thigh and find the heat at her cunt, slick and bare, no panties to be found.
Her hips buck into my palm when I drift lower, my fingers finding the base of the butt plug lodged between her cheeks. Itug it out an inch and then thrust it back in, my other hand against her clit.
Her arms go slack, so I do it again, fucking her ass with it.
For a second, she kisses me back, hard enough that I think she wants to cut me open and climb inside. Sometimes I wonder if she knows it's the fight that makes me so goddamn hard or if it's just instinct for her, something she reaches for because she loves it as much as I do.
I break the kiss, grinding my thumb in tight circles against her clit. Her head thumps against the wall.
"Your pretty little body betrays you, Brielle," I murmur, my voice thick with something I can't name. "You pretend to fight me, but your cunt says you'd still give it to me for free."
She sinks her teeth into my throat, drawing blood. The pain is sweet, but I let go of her wrist and step back, watching her straighten the front of her dress with shaking hands.
"Go to hell," she says, her lips quivering.
"Already there, princess." I wipe the blood from my neck with the pad of my thumb and lick it away, tasting her beneath it. The way my cock jerks in my pants is proof she can still make me feel something. Sometimes, I think she's the only one who can.
The world lost meaning a long time ago. When you can have anything, eventually, nothing satisfies you. It's all gray and lifeless, uninspiring.
She's a line of poetry right through the heart of it.
And I've been in hell since the day I met her when she was sixteen. I wanted her before I even knew how old she was, and I wanted to burn the fucking world when I found out that she was untouchable.
She decided I was the devil right away. She did everything she could to rattle me, to piss me off, and to test me. I never let her see how well it worked, but goddamn, did it ever.
The night she kissed me, I would have ruined kingdoms for her. Instead, I ruined her. I taught her to hate me. I've been teaching her to hate me every day since.
That's the thing about devils. We take. We consume. We destroy. It's all we know how to do.
She's more like me than she wants to admit.
She turns away, trembling, trying to collect herself in the mirror over her credenza. I almost want to apologize, but that's not what this is. We tear each other apart and torment each other. We don't apologize. I'm not sure I even know how.
I watch her for a moment, then turn for the door. "Don't take the plug out until I say you can."
I don't bother to check if she's following.
She always does, even when I'm leading her straight to hell.
Brielle
By the time I reach the lobby, my expression is blank, but my legs are shaking. Walking downstairs with the plug in my ass is a new kind of interesting. Actually, wearing it at all is a new kind of interesting. I wanted to murder him when I saw it in the box.
I'll die before I admit to the sick curiosity that came alongside the fury. But I'm honest enough with myself to admit it. I wanted to know what it felt like to walk around with it in.
The plug doesn't hurt, not really. I just feel…full. And turned on.
God, I hate him for knowing it.
