by K. I. Lynn
The Devil In Me
by K.I. Lynn
The Devil In Me
Copyright © K.I. Lynn
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the author.
Cover image licensed by shutterstock.com/ ©pudi studio
Cover design by L.J. Anderson
Editors
Marti Lynch
N Isabelle Blanco
Copyright © 2014 K.I. Lynn
All rights reserved
Chapter 1
Lying on the bed of my childhood room should have been a nostalgic experience. Instead, I stared up at the ceiling, boxes in my periphery and the alarm blaring next to me.
What the fuck happened?
I rubbed my face, then swung my legs over the edge of the bed, slamming my hand down on the alarm as I stood. There was very little room to maneuver around the already small room, but I’d already filled up the basement and half the garage with all the shit I’d accumulated in my life. I cursed when I slammed my toe into the wheel of the suitcase on the floor, giving it a swift kick before grabbing some clothes out of it.
The house remained quiet as I made my way to the bathroom. I sighed as I looked down at the boner curving my cock up. Pissing with one annoyed the crap out of me, but had become a daily thing since sex for me was non-existent lately.
Once I threw on the random jeans and shirt I’d grabbed, forgoing styling my hair for now and doing the basic morning routine, I headed downstairs. The smell of coffee perked me up a little, and I grabbed a cup as I made a quick bowl of oatmeal before finding my mom sitting in the living room.
“Morning.” I kissed her forehead and sat down on the couch, placing the oatmeal in front of her.
She smiled at me, and the sight depressed me, but I tried not to show it. Her face had become a shade of sickly yellow, there were dark circles under her eyes, and every bit of her hair was gone. I hardly recognized her as the woman I’d known my entire life.
“Good morning, sweetie.”
“How are you feeling?” I reached forward and grabbed the multiple pill bottles sitting on the coffee table.
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
I dished out the four pills for her morning dosage and handed them to her along with some water. Her face scrunched up.
“Jared, I don’t think…”
“Mom, don’t fight me on this. Not again.”
“I’m nauseous.”
“And one of these will help with that, but you have to get it and that oatmeal in you.” I handed her the bowl and stared at her as she took a tentative bite.
She’d lost her appetite with all the treatments and drugs. The biggest fear I had was of her giving up. I wasn’t about to let that happen, especially not with my sister pregnant.
“I have some clients at one, but I’ll be home by five. Cassie’s off today. She has a doctor’s appointment this morning, and then she’ll be by.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m fine by myself, you know. I’m not an invalid.”
I stood up and grabbed the phone, setting it on the table next to her. “No, you’re not, but this is always the rough day. I’ll be back soon.”
Her expression dropped—a contrast to her words. She didn’t really want to be alone, no matter what she said. “Where are you going? I thought you didn’t have to work until this afternoon.”
“Just running an errand. I’ll be back soon.” I picked up her Kindle from across the room and set it next to the phone. “Read something today. TV will rot your brain.” I winked at her.
She rolled her eyes and swatted at me. “Get out of here, stinker.”
I beamed at her and headed out the door and onto the street. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and a warm breeze blew—
About fucking time. It’d been the longest winter in my thirty-one years.
It was a great day for a walk down to St. Joan of Arc, a Catholic church a few blocks from the 1920s cottage, in a historic neighborhood of Indianapolis, my parents purchased over thirty years ago. My parents were raised in two different religions, so we didn’t go to church that often—about once a month—but Joan of Arc was one of the more steady locations. I believed in God. Period. So, what did it matter what church I visited to talk to Him?
Stepping into the church felt a little odd—it’d been years since I’d been within its walls. The cumbersome weight of my head and heart slowed my walk down the aisle. I slipped into a pew about halfway down and folded my hands together. The place was empty.
“Hey, big man.” I sighed and fidgeted with my hands. “I know I’m not good at visiting, and I should come more often. People stare when I do, always assuming, but you know the truth.” I leaned forward, resting my arms on the back of the pew in front of me. “I have to ask—are you testing me? Because if you are, did you have to throw so much at me at once?”
I stared up at the altar, lit up by the sun shining through the stained glass windows all over the stone structure. No response to my question came—not that I expected one.
“I can deal with all of it, but Mom…” I took a deep breath, trying not to let her condition get to me. “Cassie was a wreck when she found out about the cancer. You took Dad three years ago, and I’m not sure Mom has the strength to fight this. She’s still heartbroken.”
I leaned back, my gaze tracing over Jesus on the cross, and got lost in my own head. In the time I sat there, still as a statue, a few people came and went. I didn’t look at them, but I felt their eyes on me as they passed. Most thought I worshiped the Devil or some shit like that because of the way I looked. Tattoos covered a lot of my skin, and my jet black hair, often in a short mohawk, gave off a taboo vibe to most of the church-going folk.
I could admit it—I had a nice body. Being a personal trainer meant I had to be able to do everything I put my clients through.
The nerves on my neck lit up, tingling down my side. It woke me from my trance, and I turned to find innocent eyes looking at me from one row up on the other side of the aisle. When our gazes connected, she didn’t flinch, her eyes didn’t widen, but a slight blush did appear on her cheeks.
The strange current continued to move through me.
I was caught, roped in, staring at her.
She seemed young—early twenties maybe. I went from studying Jesus to studying the woman who called to me. That was the only way I could explain the firing off of every nerve ending in my body.
She had large, blue doe eyes that bored into my soul. Dark brown, wavy hair curled around her smooth, pale skin and full cheeks. She nabbed her full bottom lip with her teeth before looking away, hiding from me.
It didn’t stop me from staring at her. I tilted my head to the side, forehead scrunched as I tried to figure out what the hell had just happened—and why my cock was so hard. It was just a look, but at the same time, it felt like so much more. A connection, and not that love-at-first-sight bullshit.
Base level between a man and a woman—a need that populated the earth.
Our strange interaction caused images of fucking her on the altar to course through my mind. Was she as untouched as her innocent face suggested? She looked soft, inviting, and corruptible. How would her full hips feel beneath my hands as I thrust my cock into her?
I turned back to the front and began to ask for f
orgiveness for the sinful things I was thinking about doing to her. My dick, however, continued to dream. A small groan slipped from my lips, and her head snapped up. I cupped my cock through my jeans, adjusting it so it didn’t press so hard against the seam. It twitched against my palm as she squirmed in her seat.
Fuck.
I sat still, staring at her profile. Her lips parted, skin pink, and she moved her ass again. I blew out a breath to calm myself. It was ridiculous. I was just horny because I hadn’t had sex since Monica gave me a break-up fuck three months prior.
After a few minutes, she stood and headed to the confessional. I couldn’t help but turn to look at her delectable ass as she walked. Soft curves called to me, begging me to touch them, own them.
As soon as she stepped out of sight, I ran down the steps to the restroom and locked myself in. I splashed some water on my face, staring at the image in front of me. Someone else stared back. My brown eyes were almost black, lids heavy with a force of lust I’d never experienced.
My teeth clenched, muscles coiled tight as my hips rocked, searching for her. I grabbed hold of the sink, my breath heavy and hard.
What is wrong with me?
It was overpowering. An internal battle for control waged as consuming need pumped through my veins. I popped open my jeans and pulled out my cock. It didn’t matter that I stood in the bathroom of a church—I had to get off before I went insane.
I shuddered as I wrapped my hand around my hard dick, the force almost sending me to the ground. It throbbed, overly sensitive, and I had a hard time keeping my focus on the task with each intense stroke. My imagination went wild with thoughts of touching her, of pulling her out of the confessional and bending her over a pew.
I wanted her with a primal intensity that consumed me. Fuck her raw. Make her need me as much as I was suddenly dying for her. I wanted to hear her screams bouncing off the stone walls, mark her with my come. Taint her innocence, then fuck her all over again.
A roar ripped through me, every muscle strained to the limit. My balls were tight, and with a few hard tugs, I exploded all over the mirror and sink. I couldn’t stop coming, my body jerking hard with each spurt.
My legs gave out, and I sprawled out onto the floor, trying to breathe again. Come continued to drip out of my dick.
Once again, I found myself staring at a ceiling, wondering what the fuck happened.
Chapter 2
A few hours later, I was in the gym, working out one of my clients and trying not to think of what happened earlier.
“Come on, Teri.” I held the sparring mitts up. “One, two, one, elbow, knee, roundhouse.”
She took a moment to catch her breath, then swung forward. The combination was repetitious, ten each side, her hits hitting in tandem with the blood pulsing through me.
My mind wandered back to this morning. I’d stayed on the bathroom floor of the church for a few minutes before sneaking out and back home. Mom was asleep, and I rushed upstairs, still confused as to what came over me. The feeling followed me home, and I busted another nut before heading to work.
I pushed my client more than normal, taking my confusion out on her with a wicked tough session. She wasn’t the most coordinated, but she enjoyed the boxing.
“Good workout.” I gave her a high five after pulling the gloves off her.
“You were mean today!” She lightly punched my shoulder and laughed.
I shrugged and smirked. “No pain, no gain.”
A little while later, I stopped in the break room for a drink, my last client gone for the day, and took a moment to decide if I wanted to work out on my own. Maybe that would calm my ass down. I scanned the room, head tilted back as I drank, and my eyes landed on a poster showcasing a woman’s before and after fitness program pictures. She had brown hair similar to the girl I’d seen, and soft curves. My dick twitched.
“Dude, you need to stop moping. You’re scaring the girls away with your brooding.” Dex reached into the fridge, pulling out a water before coming to stand by me and elbowing me in the arm.
“Sorry, man, it’s just…” I blew out a sigh. My eye caught a flyer for a boxing class on Thursday nights, one I knew nothing about, and it wasn’t me teaching it. “Fucking bitch!” I slammed my hand into the corkboard, knocking it off the wall and onto the floor.
Dex stepped back. “Yo, you need to cool it.”
“Did you know about this?”
“About what?”
I picked up the flyer and shoved it at him. His eyes widened. “Holy shit! She’s lost her fucking mind. I bet it’s that shithead Shone. I saw them getting cozy the other day.” He shook his head. “Sorry.”
I began pacing the wall. “I don’t fucking care if that slut is banging that prissy asshole. I’m the resident boxing trainer. I teach all the classes.”
“Who’s the prissy one?” Monica called from the doorway.
I froze and slowly spun toward her. My stomach turned, and I questioned why I’d ever been attracted to her—fake blonde hair, fake nails, fake tan, overdone makeup, and a fake personality. Even her once-womanly body was gone, replaced with too many muscles. No softness in her at all. The transformation had occurred over the last two years. She no longer resembled the girl of six years prior.
“I see there’s a new class.” My jaw clenched. It wasn’t the first time in recent weeks she’d done something that set me off.
One of her drawn-on brows quirked up. “Yes, there is.”
“And some shithole who’s been here for less than six months is teaching it?”
“New blood.”
“New blood?” I stepped forward, looming over her. “I fucking started the program. I teach every class.”
“And now there’s someone to take some of the stress off you, especially with your mom’s condition.”
My eyes grew wide. “Don’t you fucking bring her up. This is about you being a raging bitch, for bitch’s sake. Which I don’t get, because you were the one who cheated on me and flaunted that shit in my face.”
She put her hand on my chest and ran it across my shoulder. I wanted to throw up.
“Ooh, I like this side of you, Jared. Are you jealous I’m sucking someone else’s cock now?”
“Go fuck yourself.” I snarled and pushed past her, heading to the locker room to get my crap. I needed to get the fuck out of what once had been my second home but now felt like my prison.
I slammed my fist against the metal door of my locker, cursing, not even noticing that Dex followed me.
“What the fuck is up with you?” He sat down on the bench behind me. “We’ve been friends for years, but I’ve never seen you blow up like that. I mean, I know you’re pissed at her, and she’s doing everything she can to push you out of here and sign over your part of the business, but still.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I really fucking don’t.”
“I think you do, and it’s not about her or your mom, so spill.”
“Those two have caused a lot of stress.” I looked around the room, making sure none of Monica’s snoops were within listening distance. “I can’t stop thinking about this girl I saw this morning.”
He stared at me for a moment before leaning over and laughing. “That’s not what I expected you to say!” He wiped away a tear from laughing so hard, which pissed me off more. “Dude, you need to get your dick wet. Take out some of your stress on a pussy.”
My eyes widened, and I stared at him. Something inside me rumbled, those scenes I’d imagined flying through my mind. Fuck, I wanted some girl I didn’t even know and would probably never see again. It was so strong that I didn’t want to just get in and get off. I wanted to decimate her to where nothing else mattered but her pussy wrapped around me.
“Shit, man, put the snake away!”
I looked down and sighed, adjusting my new hard-on. “Told you.” I pulled my bag out and grabbed my keys. “Is it a bad sign that a cardinal sin has taken control of me?”
Dex sighed. “I think you’re just going through a lot of crap and need a release. Let’s go out tomorrow night, get a few drinks and relax.”
“It’s Mom’s rough days.”
“Then see if Cass can help.”
I nodded. “I’ll call you later.”
--oOo--
The next day, I was no closer to figuring out the lust I had for her, my mysterious torturer. I didn’t even have a name to call out when I came. What I did have was a constantly hard dick and a grumpy attitude. All because a girl looked at me.
I’d lost my fucking mind.
Was it really that I hadn’t had sex in a while? Or was it the stress of my mom’s illness coupled with Monica screwing me over?
Six fucking years I wasted with her. I should’ve ended it, seen the writing on the wall long before finding out she’d been cheating on me. Instead, I was too busy looking at expanding our company and taking care of my mom.
“Oh, J, your lawyer called for you earlier.”
I stopped in my tracks to stare back at my little sister. “And you’re just telling me now as I’m walking out the door?”
She shrugged and ran a hand over her baby bump. “I’ll say it was pregnant brain.”
That got me to smile and shake my head. “What time did he call?”
“Right before you got home.” She pulled on her ponytail of jet-black hair that matched mine and tilted her head in that curious way she’d done her whole life. “What’s going on?”
“Exploring options to get away from Monica.”
She nodded. “Good. That bitch needs to go down.”
“I thought you liked her.” I peeked over to look at Mom’s snoozing silhouette.
“I did, but then she fucked with my brother. Honestly, she turned into someone else over the last few years. I couldn’t relate to her anymore.”
“You and me both.”
It was true. Cassie and Monica had been close in the beginning. Back then, they were a lot alike. When Cassie opened up her gourmet pet store, I thought she was crazy. Three years later, she had a booming business, married one of her customers, and happier than I’d ever seen her.