Her voice is so genuine that it makes me swallow before I answer. “You’re very welcome, Frankie.”
Her face softens. “Good night, Dante.” She steps into the bathroom and closes the door, and my heart stutters at the use of my first name.
From Doctor Devil to Dante…
I retreat into the dining room as I finish up some work. My whole body feels pulled tight with tension, and I’m extremely distracted. Francesca’s door clicks closed at one point, but I don’t hear the lock. She’s been posting on social media pretty regularly after getting in bed, so I pull up one of her profiles, and her most recent post is from three minutes ago. It’s not a picture—instead, it’s just one of those aesthetic quote graphics.
The devil doesn’t sleep but seeks our ruin in a thousand ways.
-St. Angela Merici
I stare down at my phone for several minutes, wondering if she intentionally posted it for me to see, or just for herself. If it’s the former, she must know that I keep up with her social media profiles. And if it’s the latter, does it have something to do with me?
How could it not?
I work for another hour as I make a decision, and by the time I close my laptop and walk over to her bedroom, I know exactlywhat I’m going to do. My hand quietly presses the handle of the bedroom door, and it soundlessly clicks open.
She didn’t lock it.
The question is, how many boundaries am I willing to push tonight?
The devil doesn’t sleep but seeks our ruin in a thousand ways.
Pushing the door open, I inhale sharply when I see Francesca curled up on her side and sleeping soundly.
Oh, how the tables have turned, baby girl.
I quickly and silently begin to undo the buckle of my belt. My cock is already hard—it has been for hours. Though I have no memory of being inside of her, Iknowit’s going to blow my mind. Especially since I know there’s a chance I could give her everything she ever wanted tonight.
I palm my erection as I step out of my shoes, gathering my belt and placing it next to them. Currents of desire work through me as I smell her, as I imagine being cognizant of pushing inside of her. My heart is pounding, and when my hand brushes against the placket of my pants, I can feel how much my cock is leaking in anticipation.
Taking another step closer, I grab the duvet and ever so gently begin to pull it down the bed, exposing?—
Fuck.
She’s completely naked on top.
The duvet slips down past her round, velvety tits, exposing her brown nipples and soft curves. For a second, I consider leaving her just how she is as I stroke myself to a climax. I imagine the thick ropes of cum landing on those dusty peaks and her waking up to a dried mess in the morning. But then I realize there’s no way I’m going to give up a chance to drain myself inside of her—multiple times, if I could.
My cock thickens and twitches as I pull the duvet lower, past her soft stomach and round hips. Once it comes away from her pelvis, I pull it off the bed completely.
She’s completely naked.
I want to speak filthy things to her—I want to tell her what a good girl she is for leaving her door unlocked, for sleeping without clothes, for making herself accessible. I want to brush the hair off her face, praise her beautiful eyes, and tell her to suck my cock all in one breath. I want to spread her legs and let my tongue flick against her cunt, as if I’m speaking in prayers.
Most of all, I want to tell her that I’ll always take care of her.
That even after I fill her with my cum, she’ll never have to worry about anything ever again.
Unbuttoning my pants, I use my precum as lube, curling my hand around my shaft and running it slowly over the leaking tip.
I thought I was crossing the line before, but with my medical records showing my condition, I could very likely win in a court of law if she ever pursued legal action. It’s a gray area, and it’s sickening but true. But this? Me being here, fully conscious? Monsters are born, and monsters can be made. I’m going to hell no matter what, and I’ve resigned myself to that fact for years. It’s fucked up, but I’m past the point of no return now.
Will she wake up? Do I want her to?
A part of me wants to claim this part of her, just like she claimed me. I think about how she must’ve looked up into my eyes as I ruthlessly fucked her—how her mouth must’ve dropped open as I sank in deeply and without any limits. I’d like to think she came, but I’ll never know for sure. No, tonight is my turn to take her. If she wakes up, she’ll be so far gone that she’ll forget what her life was like beforeme.
She hasn’t moved, and for a second I wonder if she actually wants this. As her steady breathing and relaxed face comefurther into view as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I wonder if I’mactuallystepping over the line instead of just playing with it.
