The devil

“Suck my cock just like that,” I growl into his mouth. “You fucking pussy.”

I should have learned my lesson about daring Damien from earlier because his finger brushes the hot spot between my balls and ass and I shudder.

“Let me hear you beg.”

Swear on everything, I hate Damien King with the fire of ten thousand suns.

Swallowing my pride, I murmur, “Please, suck the cum out of my dick.” I drag my teeth along the shell of his ear. “If you don’t…I’ll walk over to your precious Mrs. Miller and stuff it down her throat until she suffocates.”

Panic lashes through me the second the words leave my mouth—I’ve never let anyone see the volcano of evil I keep deep down inside—but it quickly turns to pain when he elbows me in the stomach…and then satisfaction when his hand grips my throat and he lowers his mouth to my cock.

My heart beats out of my chest as he sucks me hard and fast, the pain giving way to pleasure.

My balls lift and my hips spasm as he draws every ounce of cum from my cock and swallows it.

I watch him with cautious eyes as he rises above me, his hand pumping his own dick wildly.

My stomach drops when a slow, malicious grin spreads across his face, and I feel something wet hit my thighs.

Horrified, I look down as another rope of cum lands on my now flaccid dick. His wicked grin grows as he rubs it into my pubic hair, leaving his mark.

“Bye, boys. Be good,” Mrs. Miller says before she blows us a kiss and closes the door behind her.

An awkward silence fills the room in her absence. Grabbing my clothes, I start getting dressed.

“Wonder if she realizes her panties are missing,” Damien drawls, lighting a cigarette.

I laugh, grateful for the diversion. “Hopefully her husband doesn’t realize.”

He lights another cigarette and hands it to me. “I’ll shoot her a text in a few.”

I can feel his eyes on me as I take a long drag. “Look, I didn’t mean what I said before, okay?”

There. I acknowledged the first elephant in the room. Maybe we can put this past us.

He doesn’t say a word.

Mortified, I reach for my keys and wallet. “Fuck you, Damien.”

I’m halfway to the door when he finally speaks. “Why? Because you liked it?”

My hands clench into fists at my sides. “If that shit ever happens again this fucked up friendship of ours is over.”

It’s been three days since the incident. Damien goes about his business, acting like it never happened.

But me? It’s all I can think about.

Why did I let him do it? Why didn’t I stop him?

Does Mrs. Miller know what happened? Sure, she was tied up and blindfolded, but she’s not deaf.

If something like this ever got out, it would ruin me for good. My father and brother would disown me…my dreams would be tarnished, and my life as I knew it would be over.

And yet, I can’t seem to make myself stop hanging around Damien.

He gets me in a way other people don’t. Almost like he has the same sickness I do buried inside him. Only, he shows everyone who he is. He’s not ashamed of the things he likes…the things he does.

He’s free. Because he doesn’t give a shit about anything.

Then again, it’s easy not to care when you have nothing to lose.

Damien’s going nowhere in life. But me? I’ve got plans.

“Fuck me harder,” Mrs. Miller screams.

“Shut the fuck up, Kristy.” I yank her hair so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t tear right off her scalp. I’m getting tired of her demands.  Tired of not hearing from Harvard. Tired of my father’s punches and my brother’s snickering.

So fucking tired.

Every day that goes by, I’m closer to snapping.

Mrs. Miller flinches and a sharp bite to my thigh makes me hiss.

Most of Damien’s face is covered because Mrs. Miller’s riding it while I fuck her asshole, but his eyes are visible.

And right now, they’re flashing me a warning. Be easy.

He’s such a goddamn hypocrite. He’s pulled her hair and told her to shut up plenty of times. Only when he does it, she doesn’t flinch like a little prissy baby who can’t take a dick.

There’s a certain level of trust between them that doesn’t exist between us. Which is fine by me, it’s not like I give a fuck about her.

It just pisses me off when he comes to her defense and has the nerve to give me shit for doing the same stuff he does.

I’m getting tired of being the third wheel in this little shitshow.

So fucking tired.

And if she’s going to cry like a little bitch, maybe I should give her something to cry about.

I yank her hair again, but she yells, “My phone is ringing.” She freezes. “That’s my husband’s ringtone.”

“Not my problem.” If she’s quiet, I’ll be through with her in five minutes. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“He’s supposed to be at practice. Something must have come up. I have to find out what’s going on.”

“Not.” Thrust. “My.” Thrust. “Problem.”

“Cain this is serious. I have to answer that.”

Ignoring her, I thrust harder.

“Please.”

“Say please one more fucking—”

A sharp punch to my thigh has me stumbling back. “What the fuck?”

Damien lurches up from the bed. “Let her answer her phone.”

“I wasn’t done yet.”

“None of us were.”

Venom rushes through my veins. A vision of me standing on the sidelines while he’s screwing my girlfriend until he comes flashes through my head. As usual, Damien’s a fucking hypocrite.

“She’s the whore who cheats on her husband, not me.” I point to my chest. “Why should I be punished?” I narrow my eyes. “And you’re one to fucking talk—”

The sound of a door slamming cuts me off mid-sentence.

“Did that cunt really just leave?” I charge for the door, but Damien pulls me back.

“Chill.”

“No.” When I try to punch him, he wrestles me to the floor. “I’m go

Seething, I bolt up, but he slams me back down and sits on my legs. “She’s already gone.”

The sound of a car starting in the distance makes me grit my teeth. I hate when he’s right, but I hate being revved up with nowhere to go even more. I need an outlet. I need somewhere to cha

I look down. Damien’s hand is hovering above my throat, ready to strike at any moment. Like he knows I’m a second away from losing my shit entirely.

I hate the way Damien tries to control me. He’s starting to remind me of my father.

My ears ring with fury and I lunge for him. I want to scratch his creepy eyeballs out and feed them to his goddamn piranha. Hell, I just might.

As usual, I underestimated Damien’s strength, because he shifts his weight and pins my arms to the floor.

“Calm the fuck down.”  

“Make me.”

My stomach sours when his eyes flash with heat, mistaking my exasperation as an invitation, but my cock thickens when his hips rub against mine.

Releasing one of my arms, he reaches between us, grazing my erection. “That for me?”

“Didn’t think you were the type to ask for permission. What’s next? You go

Grunting, he licks a line from my Adam’s apple to my jaw. “I’ll ask you one more time, asshole.” The hand on my dick squeezes. “Is this for me?”