Submitting To The Devil - The Devil's Snare - Book Two

Chapter Six

Bianca

I'm breathless, hot and f*****g breathless as I cling to reality in the midst of pretend.

I hadn't expected to eat dinner and exit the kitchen to find Niko had arrived home with another woman. But the moment I saw her, I wanted to beg every God that this world worships that this was make belief. That my eyes deceived me.

Red hot jealously raged like an inferno inside of me.

I was angry. So angry I could have murdered that girl—Andrea, with my bare f*****g hands and not blinked twice.

She was everything I was not. She's blonde like Emma, tall and well built, and explicitly beautiful. It's obvious she spends hours working out that I don't. Her bottom is as round as a peach, and her legs and arms are toned and defined.

My gaze flicked between them, and realisation dawned on me like an elephant.

I'm not his type; I couldn't be. Not if she was anything to go by.

And yet, we are to be married in less than a few weeks. He accepted, and I thought perhaps I would have him in my corner. Maybe I was naive to think he would be that person.

But he kissed me. More than kissed me.

My lips are still tingling, and my breasts still ache with a heavy need I've never felt before. It was there this morning, also, just less pronounced.

He pushed me up against the wall, claiming my lips with his own. His tongue swiped my teeth before he pushed it between the parting between them. We shared saliva as his hands roamed my body, acquainting with places only one other man had touched.

And then he pulled back, demanding I go. And I did—stupidly.

Storming away after he all but dismisses me, I slam into his bedroom like a sulking child. He doesn't follow, which makes me angrier, and that's when I do that thing, the thing my father hated.

I black out and destroy Niko's room, only blinking back into reality when the damage is already done and there's nothing I can do to reverse it.

Gouged holes in the drywall. A broken chest of drawers is lying along the floor before the bed. The TV was also smashed and half hanging off the bracket.

I back up to look at my path of destruction, and I fall, sliding down the wall to land on my butt as I realise I'm no more in control of myself than I was a year ago when this all started.

What the f**k is happening to me?

What can I do to get rid of this side of me?

———

I wake up in bed, my eyes shying away from the tiny slither of light from the bedroom door in the otherwise pitch darkness. I hear Niko talking on the phone. He's swearing blue murder, tasking someone to do something promptly.

I can't help myself. I rise from the bed silently and move through the darkness as quietly as I can. By the door, I sit on the floor, peeking through the small crack that allows me only a chance to gaze at him sitting in his desk chair, feet up on the desk as he swings his chair back and forth.

He has a cigarette or something similar hanging from his fingers. He also has a blade he's twirling in his other hand.

"I don't care if you need to break any rules. We need those weapons, pronto, as you agreed last Thursday. It's now Monday; if they're not here by f*****g Friday, then the deals are off, and you can go f**k yourselves, and we won't be paying a f*****g penny."

He's angry, and as he inhales the cigarette, I can tell from the smell that it's more, that it's cannabis.

I stay there for a while, listening to his many conversations about his work; it feels as if I'm getting to know a side of him that he keeps hidden. I shouldn't be here hiding and eavesdropping, yet I can't bring myself to climb back into bed. Nor can I find the confidence to stand up and open the office door.

I don't need to because he's already spotted me.

"Are you going to sit there forever?" he asks aloud. I know he isn't talking into the phone, which has been lying on the desk for a good while now.

I'm not moving or saying anything. I remain in the spot I'm sitting, hoping to God it's Luca or Emma that he's talking to in the office.

"Bee?" He calls as I remain silent. Closing my eyes and praying that he would leave me alone and not make me come out of hiding. It's obvious he's seen his room, and I have no doubt he's pissed, but yet he put me to bed despite that. "Little Bee?"

"I'm asleep," I frown into the darkness, lying my f*****g ass off in an attempt to stay in control.

"And I'm the Pope. Come here?" he requests, though his voice is calm—not as calm as I expected it to be.

I stand, trembling for fear of what might happen. Will he hurt me for destroying his room?

Will he refuse this matrimony and ruin any chance I would have had at leaving this godforsaken country when I figure out my quickest escape route?

"I'm not a patient man, Bee," he calls to me.

I follow his voice into his office, closing my eyes for a long moment as I breathe erratically.

"Ah, there's my little destroyer," he chuckles, taking that cannabis to his mouth and relighting it. I watch it burn and imagine the flame engulfing me.

"I shouldn't have done that," I admit, a half-apology.

"You shouldn't," he agrees.

I stand in the doorway, twiddling my thumbs, assessing his every move as he holds my gaze like a prison officer. My heart races as his boots fall from the desk, his legs spreading wide as he grounds his body with his feet on the floor.

"Come here?" He summons me.

I'm not sure why I do it, but I act on impulse. I walk to him without thought. As soon as I'm near, he grabs my wrist, pulling me to stand between his legs and desk.

"So you were pretty angry?" he asks, though I treat the question as rhetorical. The evidence in his room was enough to prove that I was angry. "Let me teach you an outlet for that?" He drools at me with a sure smirk that triggers me.

My buttocks hit the desk as he pushed me back, his hands holding onto my waist. His name falls from my mouth, a breathy mixture of wanton need and fear of what he might do and take.

"Niko," I whisper in warning, though I'm not sure if it comes off that way.

"It's okay, little bee. I know what you need," he croons.

I'm pushed back onto the desk, my legs spread so either foot sits on his thighs. I'm vulnerable; I'm open to him. My heart races even more, my mind swamped with the unknown. He can't touch me, god he can't see the thing I keep hidden.

I'm about to protest, to ask to get up. I need to run. Get as far away from him as possible, but it's like I'm under a spell, his eyes holding me in place as his hands roam my bare thighs.

I'm in nothing but a T-shirt: his and my knickers are the only barrier between us.

He wheels the chair forward; my legs spread as my feet find purchase on the arms of his chair.

"You deserve a punishment," he grins, showing the slightest dimple I've never seen before. It's breathtaking, making his face all the more handsome.

I'm distracted by his fingers; they trail up my calves and under my knees. He inches them up the inside of my thigh, getting dangerously close to my forbidden area. My breath hitches, and I gasp. I think he takes that as permission to touch me—there, but I don't want that. We can't.

His thumb strokes over my c**t, opening a gaping hole of depravity inside of me. It feels good, yet it's sordid.

Addictive.

"You owe me, after all," Niko continues, making me look up from his muscular forearm to find he's staring at me unwaveringly. Is he referring to me c**k-blocking him with that skank?

"I'm...s.s.sorry," I stammer, but I'm not.

"I'm glad, but you still owe me, little bee," he grins, his fingers playing with the lace at the edges of the skimpy material covering my labia. It's soaked already, something that heats my cheeks and makes me feel unsure.

I gasp, reaching out to find purchase on the cool wood below me. I find nothing.

Niko tortures me, his calloused fingertips skating over the warm moisture pooling in a place I thought lay dormant and dead. Yet this isn't the first time he's made me feel this strange way.

And then he slips a finger inside me; a torrent of emotion and memories threaten to drown me. He disappears, along with the desk and the office we reside in—I'm back in that room. It's a different man touching me. A harsh man. A man I cannot say the name of for fear I fall into the depression that engulfed me after the event.

"You're soaked," Niko's voice floats into my mind.

A rough hand spreads my legs wider, and I whimper.

"You like that?" Niko's voice filters through my mind.

"Please—" I beg. But it isn't him I'm begging to stop.

Fingers slide past my opening, a feeling of fullness shocking me. My hand grabs his wrist as he moves forward and backwards, stretching me and spreading my moisture.

"I want you," Niko stands. Leaning over me to kiss me. His arm awkwardly lies down between us.

I blink, stupefied, as I watch him, trying to hold onto him to stay in the present. But my mind slips, his face morphing. And then he talks again.

"Let me have you?" He begs, kissing the side of my face with tender, wet lips.

"No," I breathe quietly, finding this rather unusual. I've never ridden a memory in the present before.

"You're soaked," he reaffirms his earlier observation.

"Please, Niko—. Stop."

"You like it, your p***y's sucking my fingers in so deep, Bee."

His hand rushes, those two fingers stroking inside of me, hitting a strange place that sends electrical waves through my body. My legs shake, and I lean back, needing space. This entices Niko to double his efforts; he's not fingering me anymore. He's f*****g me with his fingers.

Just when I thought the pleasure building deep inside me couldn't multiply. He adds another finger, stretching me with a burn. The heel of his hand pressed light pressure to my c**t with every movement.

"Niko—. Please, oh god," I stammer, barely holding on to my rapidly depleting control. Laying back my back arches, my breasts pressed against him.

"Come, bee," he growls lowly. His voice is so deep that it sounds like a command.

Not sure what was happening, my body rising enough for my buttocks to move back and my head to hang over the edge of his desk. A fire unfurled deep inside me.

I feel almost as if I'm combusting from the inside out. And my kneejerk reaction is to close my legs and scramble back from Niko.

He doesn't allow it, pinning me down to double his efforts once again, leaving me no choice but to ride the painfully beautiful explosion that's exploding inside and outside of me.

I soak myself, the desk, him. Whatever that liquid is, and I think it's pee, travelling down the small of my back, soaking every part of my t-shirt it touches.

"f**k, you needed that, didn't you?" Niko whispers beside my ear. "You wanted to be dirty."

"Please, stop?" I beg with depletion, my voice feeble and barely audible.

"Why would I stop when your body's all but begging for me to f**k it?" He asks.

"Niko—," I fret, scared he might follow through on his threatened words. He pulls back, cupping my jaw, our eyes holding each other's gaze for a suspended moment of silence. He's about to say something and ask a question. I fear he'll ask why I look so stunned. But I'm not prepared to tell him that was my first orgasm, nor am I willing to reveal my only other s****l encounter was the result of the promise ceremony with Don Densel.

Three precise knocks come at the door, saving me from embarrassment.

"f**k," Niko swears under his breath. "Clean up," he instructs. "We'll finish this later."

Shaking my head in an attempt to refute his statement, I managed to look like a fish out of water. He leans forward, kissing me chastely. Then he grosses me out by bringing his fingers to his mouth. Watching me, he places all three in slowly before sucking on them.

I am mesmerised as he closes his eyes and laps at them.

Surely that can't taste nice?

"Go," he demands, so I scramble back into his room to do as he's asked.