El Diablo

by M. Robinson

  I panted profusely, trying to catch my bearings from what had just occurred between us. Anxiously waiting for his next move. I felt him before I saw him. His face buried in between my legs. Not giving me a chance to recover from my own high. His tongue was relentless, licking from my opening to my clit, working me over with his skilled lips. The lips I’d been dreaming about since the last time I saw him. I let him have his way with me, every last part of me belonged to him.

  “Ah…” I moaned, my back arched off the bed as he slid his fingers into my pussy while sucking hard on my clit.

  His body took on a whole different demeanor. The cold, calloused bastard was gone, and the warm, passionate man from nights ago was back. He was being gentle with me, like he was afraid I would break. His mouth and fingers taking their time making love to me, building me up, and letting me enjoy the sweet torture of his tongue. My body began to tremble, a feeling only he could generate from me. There was something different about him in that second. He was living in the moment, feasting on me as if he needed to prove he owned my body, mind, and soul. He wanted me to feel worshiped, my body burning for him in every way possible.

  My heart rapidly beat in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. My breath became erratic, urgent, and heady. Falling over the edge.

  “Oh, God,” I screamed out in a voice I didn’t recognize, climaxing so fucking hard I saw stars.

  I withered around, coming down from the pleasure, feeling loved and adored. I hadn’t realized he released the hold he had on my thighs, and was on top of me within seconds. His large muscular frame made me feel so tiny, so safe. I couldn’t wait to stare into his serene eyes, to feel as though he was mine, once again. Savoring the feel of his secure arms and his hard cock against me. Breathing in his scent.

  I felt his breath along my lips. “You think I’m yours to tease?” he murmured in a condescending tone.

  My hooded eyes shot open, never imagining I would see the man glaring back at me. Jerking back, confused. “What? No, I—”

  “Did I say you could fucking speak?” he sneered.

  My eyes widened, no longer tranquil and at peace. Immediately wanting off his roller coaster of emotions, starting to walk a thin line between love and hate.

  “Little girl, I’m not the man to do that with. I’m not yours to fuck with, not now… not fucking ever,” he roared, getting closer to my face. “Do you want to be my whore? Is that what you want?”

  He was trying to scare me, push me away, wanting me to think he didn’t care about me. I wasn’t going to let him get away with the bullshit he was trying to portray.

  Mirroring his menacing glare, I stated, “Yes.” Challenging him with my eyes.

  He didn’t falter, sitting up between my legs, sliding the zipper of his slacks down with a devious grin on his face. He roughly tugged my thighs toward him, effortlessly sliding my heated body down the silk sheets. Placing me where he wanted me, a few inches away from his dick.

  “You want me to fuck you like a whore, cariño,” he mocked, pulling out his hard cock, fisting it in the palm of his hand. Jerking himself off.

  My eyes dilated as I took in his length, my chest rising and falling. Watching the tormented man in front of me, making me want him even more. He reached for a condom in his wallet, not even bothering to get undressed. I knew what he was about to do.

  Actions speak louder than words.

  Shutting my eyes immediately, I fisted my hands in the sheets, pressing my fingernails hard into my skin. Bracing myself for the ton of fucking bricks that were about to crumble down on me.

  “You look me in the fucking eyes when I’m talking to you,” he ordered, crudely grabbing hold of my chin, tilting my face toward him.

  With glazed, watery eyes, I opened them. Tears spilling out of the corners as I watched him roll on a condom. His glare hadn’t wavered from mine.

  I replied, “Yes.” Not wanting him to feel the pleasure of my pain.

  I wasn’t going to back down. I knew what I was getting myself into by provoking him. I had witnessed both sides of this beautiful man.

  The good and the bad.

  Heaven and Hell.

  The love…

  Now, he was going to show me his hate.

  The Devil wasn’t sedated anymore. He leaned over, his lips getting close to my face, his cock at my opening.

  In a sick, twisted way I wanted this. His dominance had always been an aphrodisiac for me. I knew if I uttered the words he would stop. There was no trepidation, only a power struggle that I refused to lose.

  He scoffed out, “Wearing my fucking shirt, trying to pretend like you belong to me. Well, I’m about to show you that you don’t.” Gently, thrusting his way through my virtue. Not wanting to hurt me... yet. Letting me adjust to the size of his cock, the harshness of his actions he was about to prove. His words a hurricane of emotions, harsh then soft and mesmerizing all at once. His touch didn’t feel intrusive, didn’t inflict fear, but I didn’t feel loved either.

  Which was what he really wanted.

  I gripped the sheets tighter, biting my lower lip until I tasted blood. Preparing my self for the pain I knew was coming. It wouldn’t be his movements that were causing me pain, that were breaking my heart, that were killing me inside.

  It was the fact that he wouldn’t even look at me. Proving once and for all that he didn’t care about me, that he didn’t want this, didn’t want us. He was just taking the easy way out.

  Fucking me into understanding.

  Knowing, I wouldn’t be able to forgive him after this.

  Knowing, a part of me would always hate him. Taking away the one thing I held so sacred away from me.

  My heart.

  After everything I’d been through, it was always mine. I never let any of the shitty things that happened break me down, make me weak. Ever. I wouldn’t have been able to survive if I did.

  This was our ending, when it should have been our beginning.

  Softly thrusting in and out. Subsiding the discomfort to pleasure instead. He stopped for a few moments when he was deep inside me. As if his actions were killing him, too. A pained look crossed his face, but it was gone as fast as it came. My hands instinctively reached for him for comfort, for support, for something other than what he was giving me. He roughly pinned them over my head, not allowing me to touch him, even for one second, to feel his warmth, his turmoil, or his fucking love. Knowing that’s all it would take for him to stop what he was about to do. His tempo changed, gone was any tenderness he showed thus far. He started to thrust in and out of me, making me feel like I was nothing but his toy.

  His whore.

  Not showing me any connection, any love, anything of the man I knew that still lived inside of him. Making me feel as if I was nothing, as if what we shared was nothing. Tears rolled down my face, and I couldn’t hold back the heave that escaped from my chest. He immediately stopped, hovering above me, his eyes finally staring down into mine. Another sob escaped my lips, shuddering beneath him. Willing him to come back to me.

  He angled his forehead on top of mine for one split second, for a moment in time. I saw what he so desperately tried to hide.

  His love.

  “Alejan—”

  He roughly flipped me over, placing me on my hands and knees. Taking me from behind, unable to control his desire to look into my eyes. To take me how he really wanted, to make me feel like I was his. Thrusting in and out of me with such urgency, such yearning, fighting a battle of right and wrong, for the first time in his life. I caught his tormented reflection in the mirror. Tears slid down my face as my lips quivered from the pain all around me. Not physically, but emotionally. I was grieving for what I lost, for what he was taking away from me. I gave him my body willingly, but all he wanted was to destroy my heart, leaving it shattered on his bed, finally achieving his goal.

  Our eyes locked in the mirror and he showed me everything I so desperately wanted to see. A growl escaped from deep within his c
hest, allowing his demons to prevail. His body collapsed over mine, shoving my head down to the bed. Not allowing me to see the truth beneath the fiction.

  He fucked me harder, more demanding, until finally I heard him groan and felt him shudder, shaking my body from his own orgasm. This was supposed to be his way of freeing me from his Hell, except it was the opposite. He had just dragged me deeper along with him, burning me alive.

  I hissed when he pulled out, feeling the loss of his touch, my body almost collapsing on the silk sheets. He immediately got off the bed, leaving me in a pool of the pieces of my broken heart. Not saying anything as he shuffled around the room and disappeared into the bathroom. I closed my eyes, letting more tears stream down my face and onto his bed where a part of me would always remain. I would remember the sound of him pulling back up his zipper as he hovered over me.

  “I warned you. I told you I don’t know how to love. I ordered you to stay away from me, time and time again. I’m notthe man you think I am.I never was... You wanted a piece of me, a piece of El Diablo. I gave you what you wanted, now get the fuck out of my room.”

  I placed my hand over the hollow space where my heart used to lay, trying to breathe through the pain of his words. Shutting my eyes as tight as I could. Not strong enough to look up into his eyes, too weak to handle what I would see, or what I wouldn’t. I slowly eased my way off his bed as far away from him as possible. My body screaming for me not to move, I was so hurt, so broken, in every way possible.

  Walking toward the door, I stopped. Whispering, “The man behind the expensive fucking suit,” my voice breaking, my body shaking, “is nothing but a fucking coward.”

  And I left.

  I was a bad man, but I never claimed to be anything else. I did what I had to do to save her fucking life, even if it meant destroying mine in the process. It took everything inside me not to reach for my gun and put a bullet in my fucking head, ending my misery.

  My sorry excuse of a fucking life.

  Death would be too easy, though. I didn’t deserve to rest in peace. Living was the price I paid for the lives I’d ended. Playing fucking God when I was really The Devil. I contemplated if I was really going to do this, for days, for nights, the entire time I was away from her. Praying I would find the courage I needed to pull it off.

  I watched her on the security cameras from the other condo I owned in the building. Battling the life I wanted and the one I deserved. My mind was made up as soon as she laid in my bed. Wearing the same white collared shirt that brought back memories of the girl I spent years trying to forget. Realizing very, fucking quickly, what I had to do. My feet moved of their own accord as I made my way to the penthouse, taking the fucking stairs two at a time, not wanting to waste a minute waiting for the elevator. My shoes pounded into the steps, echoing through the stairwell. A fucking rope tugging me to her. Reassuring myself over and over again that I was doing the right thing.

  I needed to be the hero for once.

  Fucking exhausted of being the villain.

  Lexi didn’t deserve a life full of violence, always looking over her shoulder, waiting for her time to come. I wanted her to live a life of happiness, a life I’d never be able to provide her.

  Safe.

  Easing the door open, I walked in on Lexi finger fucking herself in my bed. I stepped further into the room unannounced, and enjoyed the show for a minute. My cock pushed against my slacks from the sight of her perfect, pink pussy, glistening from her own arousal. Soft moans filled the room, making me think twice about my plan. I would never forget the look on her face when she came eye to eye with my reflection.

  Even though I shouldn’t have, I gave her pleasure before giving her pain. I couldn’t fucking help myself, I needed to give her something, knowing I was just about to break her goddamn heart. I couldn’t have possibly hated myself more than I did at that moment. Knowing what I was about to do. Fucking her over, making her think she was just another whore in my bed.

  When she was everything, except that.

  My dark soul screamed at me to make it right, make love to her how I deeply yearned to. Every time my eyes found hers, I thought I would break down and not be able to continue. Deep down I knew she felt and saw each and every moment of weakness. That’s how profound our connection was, which was all the more reason to let her go. To push her away. To make her fucking hate me. I would die before I ever let anything happen to her.

  Every Devil needs an Angel.

  And she was mine.

  I laid in bed for hours after I brutally kicked her the fuck out of my room, thinking about my life. Coming to terms with the fact that Lexi was the first woman I ever truly, wholeheartedly loved. I was a boy trying to be a man in the past, trying to save a relationship with a woman who wasn’t right for me. Who’d never fought for me. Who didn’t believe in us. Who’d left me broken for years.

  Lexi was made for me, and that realization alone nearly brought me to my knees.

  I fucking loved her.

  I loved her with every breath in my body, every piece of my fucked up heart, every last part of me belonged to her.

  “What the fuck did I just do?” I scoffed to myself. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, roughly pulling back the hair away from my face.

  I didn’t think twice about it, I ran. I fucking ran for my life that was in the room next door. Not giving a flying fuck what was right and what was wrong anymore. Ready to get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness if I needed to. Whatever it took to make her look at me again, the way she always did.

  Always seeing the man I no longer thought existed.

  “Lexi!” I called out in pure desperation as I ran down the hall, needing her to know I was finally fucking coming.

  For her.

  “Cariño! I’m so fucking sorry,” I apologized as soon as I rushed into her room. She wasn’t there. “Lexi!” I shouted, making my way into her en suite bathroom. Nothing. Panic started to take hold as I ran to her ballet studio next. “Lexi!” She wasn’t in there either. The room was dark and untouched.

  I ran around the penthouse cursing it was so fucking immense. Searching every corner just to come up empty.

  Memories from when I was fourteen came flooding back, trying to find Amari and Sophia. Fear set in, the room started to spin, my stomach fell to the fucking floor. Crouching down, unable to stand any longer, I buried my head in my hands, heaving for air.

  My whole fucking world was crashing down on me.

  “What the fuck,” I roared, standing abruptly, getting on the phone.

  “Hey, bos—”

  “Where is she?” I spewed, not giving Rick a chance to finish.

  “Lexi’s in the penthouse.”

  “No, motherfucker, she’s not. Now where the fuck is she?”

  “Boss, I… I… don’t… she—”

  “You have five minutes to fucking find her or you won’t live to see another day.” I hung up, quickly dialing another number.

  “Hey, man—”

  “Lexi’s gone, Leo. I can’t find her.”

  “What do you mean you can’t find her?”

  “Exactly what I just fucking said!”

  “Jesus, calm down. I’m on my way over.”

  I hung up, pacing the living room for what felt like years. Waiting for someone to give me something to go on. Calling every last resource in my phone. Leo showed up, and we spent the next forty-eight fucking hours, threatening, harassing, making sure everyone knew we meant fucking business.

  I sat in my office chair, my elbows on my knees, with my head in between my hands. Feeling like a fucking failure. If something happened to her because of me. It would be my demise.

  I’d put that bullet in my fucking head.

  Leo walked back into the office, sighing, throwing his phone on my desk. “I found her.”

  I shot up off the chair. “Where?”

  “She’s in England, man. I just got off the phone with Michelle, the Head Master over at Lexi’s danc
e theatre. She accepted a job at some hoity toity academy or some shit.”

  “What? Since when?” I asked, fuming. Pacing my office again. “How did I not know about this?” I stopped dead in my tracks, the realization hitting me. I’d left her alone for five fucking days. She wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t pushed her away.

  “I guess since she left here. What the fuck happened? What did you do now?” Leo questioned, pulling me back to reality.

  I grabbed my gun, heading toward the door. Immediately making another call. “Make sure my plane’s ready. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” I hung up.

  “Goddamn it, man. Wait up, I’m coming with you,” Leo said, running up behind me.

  The flight to London was seven hours. Seven damn hours of me cursing, punishing myself for letting the one light in my life walk out my door. We couldn’t get there fast enough. I had a driver waiting by the time we landed that morning. I didn’t have to wonder where she would be, she lived and breathed dance, using it as her only escape. We headed straight toward the theatre, finally walking through the doors an hour later, feeling some sort of peace as soon as I felt her presence near me.

  I found her.

  The sweet melody of the song she played to dance for me in my office all those years ago, blared through the speakers. Filling the huge space, shattering my fucking heart a little more. She was dancing on stage by herself, people, which I assumed were other performers and instructors, filled the first few rows.

  I stayed by the door unable to move, hiding in the shadows as I had for years, without her knowing. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, mesmerized by her gracefulness, the way she poured her heart and soul out when she danced. I’d never seen her look so breathtakingly beautiful before, her body so in tune with her flawless movements.

  As if she was dancing just for me.

  Like we were the only two people in the world. I felt every movement she was effortlessly trying to portray. A painting that came to life. I’d seen her dance before, but nothing like this. She was so full of life, so happy in her element, so content in her surroundings. The dark cloud I shadowed over her had been lifted, breaking free from the hold I had on her all these years. I leaned back against the door, needing the support. Defeated, as I watched her dance as if her life depended on it.