Page 31 of Heart of a Devil
He speeds up, and I can tell he’s close. Right as I think he’s going to come, he pulls out of my mouth and takes his hard, glistening dick in his hands. He pulls it once, twice, and shoots his load all over my breasts. With his head thrown back, he roars his pleasure, more and more of his cum spraying across me as he jerks to completion.
“Fuck me,” he groans. “That was something else. You really are a good girl, aren’t you? And now I get to rub my cum all over these gorgeous tits of yours.” He does exactly that, massaging my tender flesh, spreading his seed around my skin like it’s lotion. He captures my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and rolls them around until I moan. “You like me coming on you, Lauren?”
I sigh and nod. “Yeah. I love it.”
“You want more? You sound like you want more, the noises you’re making.” I nod, barely able to speak. “Right. Well, let’s see what we can do with these nipples, shall we? God, they’re so responsive. It’s like you feel the whole fucking world through them. I’m going to get clamps for these soon, see how far we can push you…” He sucks both of my nipples in turn, hard, all the while squeezing and twisting the other.
I cry out, which only seems to encourage him. “Seb, you’re hurting me.”
He glances up, his eyes dark. “I know, baby, and I think you’re enjoying it as much as I am. You know how to end this, don’t you?”
He puts a knee between my spread-eagled legs and nudges it right up to my pussy. I rub against it greedily, like he knew I would. I want him inside me—fingers, cock, anything, but it looks like he’s sticking to the deal. One hole only. He carries on biting and sucking my nipples, so rough it takes my breath away, all while I slide my wet opening against his knee. It doesn’t take long. Between the sweet nipple torture, the memory of him throat-fucking me, and the feel of him shoved up against my pussy, I come again, throwing my head back and screaming his name. Afterward, I melt into the mattress, exhausted, and he gets off the bed and grins down at me with genuine amusement. Dominant Seb is always there, lurking below the surface, but this is the other side of him—the silver fox with the kind eyes and laugh lines.
“I don’t know why you’re so bloody tired, baby—all you did was lie there. I did all the hard work.”
I smile up at him. “Could you untie me now? I really need to throw a pillow at your smug face.”
“Nah, I don’t think so,” he says, pulling on his clothes. “I’ve got these cameras to install, plus the panic buttons. I brought a few good old-fashioned deadbolts for the door as well. That’lltake me a couple of hours. I reckon. Plus, I might heat up some of that paella you mentioned, grab a beer, watch the footie highlights…”
“Seb! No. We’ve stopped playing now—you can’t leave me tied up like this.”
He smooths a stray curl from my sweat-soaked face. “Oh, sweetheart. It’s adorable how innocent you are. We stop playing when I say so, and not a second earlier. I’m sure you can get out of those restraints if you really want to. Plus, your mouth isn’t busy anymore. Use your safe word if you need it.”
With that, he saunters from the room, leaving me torn between tears and giggles. When it comes to Sebastian Donovan, neither is ever far away. Maybe that’s what makes it work for me. I can embrace the darkness, safe in the knowledge that laughter is right around the corner.
I lie still for a while, simply allowing myself to recover, to regain my composure. Before he arrived, I was sitting alone in the kitchen, crying and afraid when I saw that awful email about Bailey. Then I was pouring my heart out and finally confessing about killing a man. Both of those things should be huge headfucks, but since then, I haven’t given them a second thought. Seb came up with the world’s most effective distraction technique, and I am beyond grateful.
My mind wanders back there now though, until a power tool kicks on in the next room and distracts me once more. I imagine him wearing a tool belt and nothing else. Maybe a hard hat… Damn, I really am becoming obsessed.
I close my eyes, reminding myself that while Seb is a black belt in the sack, he’s still just a man. And men cheat, lie, and threaten. Men are not safe for me, which is why I decided years ago that I’m better off alone in the long-term. A wave of melancholy threatens to take me back to a dark place, so I force myself to relax and try to rest. Sleep will be impossible, but Ican be still and calm and breathe deeply for a while. He’ll be expecting me to freak, and if I wait him out, I will win this round.
I manage my competitive zen mode for longer than I expected, listening to him clatter around and swear outside my room. Every now and then, he goes silent, and I wonder if he’s coming back. He doesn’t.
Eventually, I am overwhelmed with the need to be free, and I tug my wrists, testing my restraints. He twined two pairs of nylons together for each rope, and they’re weirdly strong. I can move my hands a little, but when I pull in an attempt to snap the ties, I end up more tightly trapped. I try biting them and working them against the wood until they fray, but none of it works. It’s as though he knows what he’s doing. I struggle like this for a while, listening to him work outside, becoming more and more annoyed at how he left me.
I’m getting uncomfortable with the nylon cutting into my skin, my limbs are going numb, and I need to pee. Is he enjoying this? Is he out there laughing at me? The bastard.
I wait until there’s a lull in the proceedings and shout, “Seb? I need you.” I put a bit of a sob into my voice, because I know he’ll respond to that, and truthfully, it’s not that hard by this stage. There are real tears in my eyes and real red marks on my wrists, neither of which is fun when there’s no sex involved.
He comes and leans against the doorjamb and raises his eyebrows. “Something you need to say to me, sweetheart?”
I grit my teeth and bite back the tirade of curse words that threaten to pour out of my mouth. “Chainsaw,” I mutter. “Fucking chainsaw.”
He grins. “Good girl. I’ve been listening. Took you a while though—why am I not surprised?” He pulls out his pocketknife again and sits on the edge of the bed so he can slice through the tangled twists of nylon. Once my arms are free, he gently rubs my wrists, helping the circulation return, then drops softkisses on my palms. “Got yourself into a bit of a pickle, did you, sweetheart?” His tone is mild and reassuring—almost paternal.
I don’t want to, but I find myself melting inside. Okay, so he made me use my safe word—but that is what it’s there for. “Yeah. I did. And I’m cold, and I need the loo.”
He laughs and unties my feet. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t intend to be gone for so long. I got distracted. But I was listening out for you the whole time. Here, let me help you.”
He wraps me up in a blanket and cradles me against his chest. I inhale, enjoying all his usual scents with the addition of some well-earned sweat and wood shavings. “Your legs might be a bit wobbly,” he says, explaining as he carries me to the en suite bathroom. He places me down on the toilet and tucks the blanket around my shoulders to keep me warm. “There you go. Give me a shout if you need me.”
“Are you leaving me here?” I am shocked at how needy I sound.
He tilts his head. “Of course. I’m not going to stay and watch you pee—what do you think I am, some kind of pervert?”
By the time I’m done and dressed in my pajamas, Seb has finished his work and is sitting on my couch with his feet up, sipping from a bottle of Bud. The TV is on, and a soccer match is being played out on a rainy field.
I stop dead in the doorway and stare at him. Somehow, seeing him like this is more threatening than seeing him holding a knife to my skin. I haven’t let a man this close to me since my ex-husband. I haven’t had any serious relationships or shared my space with another person or made any connections deeper than fun and friendly hook-ups. Now this big man is sitting here, taking up my whole living room, looking like he thinks he belongs here. I glance around and see the new cameras subtly placed on my walls, the small red push buttons by the doorwayand in the kitchen. And I feel my privacy and freedom and safety being drained away from me.
