by Katie May
“Where are we?” I question as I swing my leg over the bike and attempt to regain my balance. The grass, surprisingly, is a luscious green that glimmers in the sunlight. Despite all other appearances, I can tell someone tends to the yard frequently.
“My house,” Elias answers curtly, stomping up a small stone staircase and removing a key from his back pocket. No other houses appear in the general vicinity, the property a solitary fixture, much like the Devil in front of me. Only trees and a swampy-looking river rest nearby.
As I follow Elias, my arms wrapped around my stomach both to ward off the chill and as a physical comfort, I can’t help but note the random, rusty car parts filling his garage. The only working vehicle besides his motorcycle is his Jeep.
“My parents aren’t home,” he states as he pushes open the door and allows me entry into his home.
We step into his kitchen, the dark color of the countertops a startling contrast to the otherwise dull room. The floors and ceiling are a strange eggshell color, while the rest of the appliances gleam so white, they appear to shine. A splash of color somewhere might’ve made the room seem softer, almost feminine, but the harsh color scheme doesn’t allow for that.
Elias moves to the counter and tosses down his backpack and keys before placing his hands on the counter and leaning forward. With his head bent, he takes deep, shuddering breaths, muscles taut. Following his lead, I shrug my backpack off as well and place it beside his.
I wait for him to gather his thoughts, choosing instead to glance around the rest of the house. At least, the part of the house I can see.
The exterior revealed it to be two levels, and from where I stand, I can see a staircase climbing upstairs towards a slightly extended hallway guarded by a wooden rail.
Nothing about this house makes sense to me. Why is the inside nice and clean, while the outside looks as if it’s been hit by a tornado? Why does Elias have two expensive vehicles when they can’t afford to fix up the front of the house? Unless they don’t want to, of course, but that’s a question in itself.
And where are his parents?
While my thoughts run rampant, it seems Elias’s do as well. He finds the ability to articulate his questions before I am, however, and I watch as his arm muscles flex as he pushes himself off the table.
“Who were those guys?” he demands at last, and a familiar tendril of fear skates down my spine. To think about how close I came to being taken…
I search Elias’s face, wondering how much he saw, before settling on a half-truth. “I think they were going to kidnap me.”
Horror darkens his face before it shifts into anger. “We need to call the cops.” He reaches for his phone, but I lunge forward, gripping his wrist before he can make that call.
“No!” I plead, somewhat desperately. The human police can’t help me with this. “I mean, let me talk to my…errr…friends first.” The term “step-grandpas” makes me want to vomit in my mouth, but I can’t figure out how else to describe them. “They work for the FBI.”
“Those guys Karsyn told us about?” Elias questions, and I can hear the curiosity burning in his voice. He wants to ask who those guys are, what their relationship is to me, why they were at my house with their shirts off, but fortunately, he remains silent.
“Trust me,” I plead, imploring him with my eyes. His own flicker back and forth between mine before he swallows heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“I do,” he promises. “With my life.”
His confession sends a cold thrill racing through me, a juxtaposition to my overheated cheeks. I feel like a crayon in a box, jumping up and down and screaming for him to “pick me, pick me, pick me!” Even just a few hours ago, I would’ve shied away from these thoughts, but being almost taken—and consequently him saving me—changed something inside of me. Something microscopic. Something I can’t put into words.
“I’ll talk to them in a little bit,” I say, wrenching my gaze away from his. “So…” I run my fingers over the top of the countertop. “Where are your parents?”
“Gone,” he answers stiffly.
“Gone?” I repeat. Something in his tone…
“How are you feeling?” he asks, and I should be startled by his abrupt change in topic, but I’m not. Something tells me that the last thing he wants to talk about are his parents. Tenderly, he cups my jaw, his thumb soothing across the bottom of my cheek. “Did they hurt you?”
“No.” I attempt to shake my head but find it difficult with his hand holding me still. “You got there in time.”
I stare into his face, his features so striking, he’s a statuesque, marble relic. I ache to reach up and run my fingers through the violet highlights in his brown hair. Would they feel as soft and smooth as I imagine them to be?
“Do you want me to take you home?” His brows pinch as he lowers his gaze to my lips for half a second before quickly snapping his eyes back up. But I saw it.
“Elias,” I whisper as his thumb continues to move across my smooth skin, reaching the edge of my lips. “Where are your parents?”
We’re so close that every breath he takes causes his chest to rub against mine. My nipples sharpen into fine points with the menial connection.
“Gone,” he replies hoarsely.
And then…I understand.
“They left you, didn’t they?”
His eyes turn melancholic as his thumb grazes my lower lip and then my upper.
“Before middle school.” He nods sharply, but his gaze does not waver from where it’s fixed intently on my lips. He’s given up on all pretenses, staring at me with hungry, scorching eyes. A trail of heat lingers everywhere he looks. “One day…they just didn’t show up after work. I called them, and they assured me they were fine, but they told me they weren’t coming home. They sent money weekly—up until I turned eighteen—so I could buy groceries. And they always came up with an excuse for the school officials who asked why they couldn’t attend parent-teacher conferences or whatever. No one knew I was living alone, so the social workers were never called. It was just…me. A big house and no way to take care of it. Two vehicles I had to learn to drive by myself.”
“Elias…” My heart breaks in my chest, almost as if someone took a hammer to the organ and whacked at it repeatedly. How can I go from hating Elias with everything inside of me to pitying him? Caring about him? “How old were you?”
“I don’t remember. Ten? Eleven? Twelve?” He removes his fingers from my face, and my body instantly cries at the loss of connection.
“That was when you started bullying me, wasn’t it?”
Shame contorts his face as he squeezes his eyes shut, as if trying to quell those horrible memories before they can erupt. But he can’t escape them anymore than I can. Our pasts and the decisions we made haunt both of us. You can’t possibly exorcise all of your demons or atone for all of your sins.
“As I said before, there’s no excuse.” He leans down until his forehead rests against mine, until there’s barely any space between us. “When I first saw you a few weeks back, I thought I was getting a second chance. Instead of your tormentor, I’d be your protector. Instead of someone you feared, I’d become someone you trusted. I didn’t expect…”
“Didn’t expect what?” I question when it becomes apparent that he doesn’t plan to continue.
“To still be in love with you.”
The remaining ice around my heart melts as I stare into his strong and arresting face. Those beautiful, violet-brown eyes peel back layer after layer until he sees me. The real me.
“I know you don’t believe me,” he whispers, his nose brushing mine. “I wouldn’t believe it myself. I think, at first, I was being an ass to you just for the sake of being an ass. But then things changed, and I saw the fire in you. And that light…it was so fucking brilliant, Peony. It burned away all of my hatred and loneliness until all that existed was you. And for a little boy who’d been abandoned by his parents, that was terrifying. That last we
ek before the dance, I meant every word I said. We were young and stupid and foolish, but fuck, I meant it all. I never wanted to hurt you that night—”
“Then why did you?” If we were to get any closer, we would be kissing. The thought causes my internal temperature to become hotter than the depths of hell itself.
“Because I was a coward and a bully. Because I was weak. That’s no excuse for any of it, I know it, and I’ve hated myself every day since,” he confesses. “I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror. I thought, maybe, that you returning here would be my chance at redemption, but I was wrong.”
“Oh?”
“You, Peony Simone, are going to ruin me.”
His lips slant over mine at the same time I reach for him, finally able to tangle my fingers through his wavy hair. He groans low in his throat, angling our heads to deepen the kiss. I slide my hands from his hair to his shoulders, kneading softly at the skin, before raising them back up to cup his jaw. The scruff on his chin pricks my hands as we break apart, the world around us freezing.
For a moment, we just stare at each other. It’s a heart stopping, hands sweating, lips tingling type of stare, one that sends fireworks shooting through my veins.
Elias reaches for me at the same time I reach for him, and then we’re kissing again. His hands reach for my ass, before lifting me into the air. I wrap my legs around his waist as he pivots us, setting me down on the countertop.
My hands clumsily slide his leather jacket over his shoulders, and he pulls away only once to remove his shirt as well.
“You’re beautiful,” I breathe as I stare at his broad, defined chest. It’s tan, like the rest of his body, with a visible six-pack that causes my lust to ratchet up a billion notches. When I see the piercings through both of his nipples, I almost spontaneously combust, unable to hold back my audible groan.
“Peony…” He whispers my name reverently, almost as if he’s in a chapel. His hands tighten on my waist as I lean forward and lick one of the shiny bars and then the other. He hisses through his teeth, his hip bucking so his cock brushes my thighs through his denim, before tugging my lips back to his. “I want to worship you.”
“What is this, Elias?” I whisper as he pulls at my legs, dragging me forward until I’m once more wrapped around him like a spider monkey.
“This is fate.”
Something inside of me clicks together, almost as if my soul is finally reconnecting after centuries in diminutive pieces. Tenderness I never expected to feel towards any of the Devils bombards me as I stare into his handsome, masculine face. I want to trace his lips with my tongue, feel his hair in my hands, worship his body the way he is mine.
I want to love him, and the sheer intensity of that emotion sends my head in a tailspin and my heart in overdrive.
He begins to move down the halls, his arms firmly beneath my ass to provide a makeshift chair, and into the master bedroom. I only have a moment to glimpse a king-sized bed, open closet, and a desk cluttered with science books, before he drops me onto the bed. I bounce slightly as he stands above me, every inch the infuriatingly perfect Devil.
I sit up and cup his cheek, begging him with my eyes to kiss me. Something changed between us, something irresistible and irreversible. I can feel it in the depths of my very soul. This discovery is both terrifying and exhilarating. I don’t know a lot, but I know that I’m tied to him now. That maybe I always have been.
Like an apex predator in the jungle, he begins to crawl towards me on the bed, moving forward until I’m forced to lie on my back and stare up at him. Violet-brown eyes peer back at me, emanating so much love and warmth and guilt that my breath catches.
“I’m going to spend the rest of my days proving to you how sorry I am. For everything,” he vows as he presses a tender kiss to the corner of my lips. “For the laughs.” Another kiss, this one to the hollow of my throat. “For the cruel words.” This one to my nipple through my shirt and bra. He slowly slides down my body until he reaches my belly, pulling my shirt up slightly so he can kiss bare skin. “For everything.”
He creates a blazing pathway up my body, pulling my shirt up with each stroke of his tongue on my abs. I help him take it completely off, and he pulls himself onto his elbows to stare down at me.
“Fuck, you’re more beautiful than I imagined,” he whispers as he kisses the top of my breasts, directly at the edge of my lacy white bra.
“You imagine this often?” I tease breathlessly.
His voice is serious when he responds. “Every damn day since you came back. And more times than I can count before that.”
I arch my back slightly to reach behind me and unclasp my bra, allowing it to fall down my arms before I toss it to the ground.
Elias’s breath hitches as he sees me, sees all of me, for the first time. The tip of his finger traces one nipple, watching as it hardens.
“A part of me still thinks this is some horrible prank.” My throat closes up, and I fucking hate that my emotions are quite literally choking me. “That you’ll just laugh in my face tomorrow.”
“I fucking hate myself for putting those doubts in your head.” Elias pulls away from my breasts to kiss underneath first one eye and then the next. It takes me a long moment to realize he’s kissing away my tears. “I’m so sorry, Peony. I’ll tell you that every day for the rest of my life, but I am. I’m sorry.”
He glides his hand up my body to tweak one of my nipples as his other hand moves to the waistband of my jeans. His finger, feather soft, brushes the top of my panty line as I writhe and moan, demanding more.
“You want to prove to me that you’re sorry?” I pant, and he freezes, tilting his head so it lies in the valley between my tits.
“Of course.” His eyes burn with dark promises and wicked intent.
“Then make me come.”
He doesn’t wait to be told twice. He stands from the bed and pulls down his pants and boxer briefs, his cock springing free. It’s thick and long, with pre-cum already glistening on the tip. And is that…? Is that a cock piercing? Two of the Devils have fucking piercings?!? Did they all get them at the same goddamn time in an attempt to torture me? Fuck, that’s hot.
His dick bobs as he walks forward, and I suddenly wonder if this is how the three little piggies felt when faced with the big, bad wolf, knowing you’re about to become prey to a beast far more domineering and dominant than you could ever imagine.
He wastes no time, yanking down my jeans and panties until I’m bare before him. Instinctively, I move to squeeze my legs together, but he tsks, giving me a saucy, devious look.
“Naughty girl. I can’t make you come if I can’t see you. And you want to come, don’t you, baby girl? Don’t you want to be filled with this massive cock?”
I nearly cry out as I spread my legs for him. Normally, I’m not a fan of dirty talk. I tried it once with Uriel, and we both agreed that it wasn’t our kink. But with Elias, I could happily listen to him speaking to me like that every day for the rest of my damn life. I might just come from his voice alone.
He kneels at the foot of the bed, grabs my ankles, and drags me forward, his eyes intent on my bouncing breasts. He swings one leg over each of his shoulders and then lowers his mouth to my throbbing core.
My hips jerk when he languidly licks a line up my wet slit.
“You taste fucking divine. You’re so wet for me, baby girl. So fucking wet.”
“Better than you imagined?” I whisper as he begins to lazily circle my clit with the tip of his finger. It’s utter fucking madness, and I swear I’m about to lose my mind.
“Nothing could compare to this.” He licks another pathway before pressing a kiss to one inner thigh and then the other. “Touch your pretty tits while I eat you out, okay, my love?”
I don’t know what it is, his dirty words or the fact that he called me his love, but I swear I come right then and there.
Gasping his name, I place my hands on my breasts and begin to knead them, running my
thumbs across my painfully hard nipples.
Elias watches the show, eyes half-mast, before he dives between my legs and begins to devour me. His tongue laps at my pussy like it’s the nectar of the gods.
“Elias!” I gasp when he begins to suckle on my clit. I pinch down on my nipple, just as he inserts a finger into my aching cunt. Combined with his assault on my clit, I’m a goner, and I come with a scream capable of being heard from miles away.
Elias doesn’t relent as he tongue-fucks me through my orgasm, a low moan emitting from his huge body.
“Fucking hell,” he murmurs as he pulls himself away. He reaches around me, towards his night stand, and grabs a condom, sliding it over his throbbing length. “Fuck, Peony.”
“That’s the idea.” I tug at his hair until he crawls up my body and thrusts his tongue into my mouth. I can taste myself on him, taste how badly I want him.
The tip of his cock lines up with my entrance as we break our kiss.
“Is this okay?” he asks, sounding hesitant for the first time in his life. At my nod, he slowly inches himself inside of me, giving me time to adjust. I gasp as his piercing brushes my inner walls, my pussy automatically clenching around his girth. “Fuck, baby girl, I need to move.”
As he slides in and out of me, our eyes remain connected as if we’re the only two people in the world. I forget about the Bloods attacking me on the street. The other Devils and Mariabella. My decision to go home to California. I forget everything except for this man before me—a man shrouded in darkness and anger but somehow clawing his way into the light.
What we’re doing can’t be described as just fucking.
It’s making love.
His hands move to my back as we tumble on the bed, switching positions, his cock still inside of me. I place my hands on his chest to balance myself as I begin to ride him. This new position allows his piercing to rub against me with every upwards thrust of his hips.
“Yes, Peony, yes,” he moans as I bounce on his cock, my breasts dangling enticingly over his face. He arches his neck to take one in his mouth, dragging his teeth over my sensitive peak and releasing it as I gasp.