Page 10 of Married to the Devil

“That’s a good girl.”

“Now how about you show me the bed you promised?”

“We can do that.”

“Ah—“ He adjusts, his dick pressing to my ass. “We’re not going to make it, are we?”

“Most likely not.”

“How are you this hard already?”

“When I break, doll, I break all the way. It’s why I don’t do this often. It’s why I don’t take the risk.”

There’s a moment, a beat when he seems distant. What does he mean, the risk?

But he leans down and kisses me again, and all that’s forgotten, as he slowly removes what’s left of my ruined dress, and spends the next several hours getting to know every inch of my body.

Who the hell turned the lights on?

“Hey, Marnie, what are you—“ I squint at the room around me, disoriented for a moment.

Then the night before floods back. The ache between my legs where Rafe left me battered and heavenly. The luxurious bed like a pillow. No other drunken girls to deal with.

“Rafe?”

I look around, but the room’s empty.

I stay in bed for a while. It’s exactly like he promised. The clock says it’s barely past seven, but the monster is gone.

There’s no sign of him in the bathroom. I find clothes in my size draped over the tub. No note, but it’s obvious. I pull on fresh, comfortable underwear, sweats, and a long-sleeve shirt. Simple, but all designer brands.

I keep searching. Nothing in the closet or in the other rooms.

As far as I can tell, nobody else was here last night.

Even the living room was cleaned. My ice bucket and my bottle of Diet Coke are on the kitchen counter like that’s where they always were.

Not spilled on the floor.

I find a note taped to the glass windows right where he fucked me.

The room is paid for through the week. Anything you order goes on my tab. Get what you like. Don’t hold back. Enjoy yourself, doll.

“What the hell?” I murmur to myself. This space has to be thousands per night. But he’s really letting me stay?

This is crazy. I can’t believe last night happened.

But it really, really did.

I have to get back to Marnie and Beth. They’re probably worried sick. I left my phone in the room and have no way of letting them know I’m okay.

I’ll be back though. Why not?

Back in the real world, my life sucks.

Dead-end job, no prospects, a sick grandmother, and debt to my eyelashes.

I’ll go back to taking care of my friends, but when that’s over…