He feels like glass under me when I finally straddle his broad waist—unbreakable, bulletproof, thicker-than-steel glass. It’s a fragile, terrifying game to balance myself over hard muscle and twisting sinew. His erection stabs at the air. His eyes set the room on fire. He’s calculating my every move, and it’s a good thing that the camera won’t be able to catch his expression from this angle.
My ruse would be over before it even began.
I try not to tremble when I reach down to place the flat of my hand against his chest while I shift my weight to bring myself closer to his hips. I can feel his heartbeat—it rails against me, fierce and brutal. For a brief, faint moment I consider scrambling away and insisting they find someone else. Anyone else.
Lucifer is too...everything. His cock aims away from me, and I swallow hard while I try to entertain the notion that he could ever fit inside me. It will hurt. Some sick part of me even craves that pain.
Not Vinny. He’s not Vinny, this little voice at the back of my head screams. Vincent Stacatto would never lie back and let me mount him like this. He wouldn’t merely stare while my shaking fingers reached for his cock. He wouldn’t dare me with his eyes, issuing a silent challenge to just do it. Fuck him already.
I press my knees into the bed to find enough leverage to lift myself off him. He’s steel in my grip, and it’s almost a struggle to place the head of him against my entrance. Lube won’t be enough to ease him inside me. I know it, and it’s nearly impossible to swallow the wave of fear that washes up, threatening to pull me under...
But I do. My eyes drift above Lucifer’s head and find the ever-watchful eye of the camera. I stare into it while I lower myself onto him, trying to force him inside me. He grunts. I gasp. There is burning tension already. He’s too big. Too much. He’s...not Vinny.
I let that single thought drive me as I flex my hips and sink down hard. God...it burns. He’s an inferno inside of me, swelling and raging against the confines of my body. I’m consumed by the feeling. I see black; the pain is so much. Grunted sounds tear from Lucifer's throat. He strains, twitching inside of me, begging for more friction.
My vision is a blur when my eyes open again. My head’s thrown back, my gaze on the ceiling. One of my hands is at my lips, trying to smother the sound of pain I’d made—and a sudden, terrifying realization batters me down. Vinny owns me even here. Even with another man inside me, I can’t erase the damage he’s done, the reactions he trained my body to perform instinctively.
I can’t. I can’t...
“Fuck.” The coarse sound yanks at me like a tether. I glance down to find Lucifer staring up at me, his dark eyes hooded. He wants me to move...on him. I can see the need in his eyes even though he tries to counter it by clenching his jaw.
I flex my hips ever so slightly, feeling my body protest at the intrusion of his. The blue fire grows hotter. Searing. Biting my lower lip, I move again, bracing my hand against his stomach for leverage. Again.
His pupils dilate. His hips jerk beneath me. I swivel harder, gasping out when he nudges inner parts of me, as hungry and brutal as a battering ram. With every sick, painful movement Vinny can’t touch me. I move faster, rocking an instinctive rhythm back and forth, forth and back. Up. Down. The faster I move, the better I feel. Oh God, he feels...
The bed shifts. He’s arching up, changing the angle of pressure. I hiss between my teeth, but I don’t resist. I gasp again. Colors spot my vision. My fingers curl, snagging a fistful of his shirt, yanking him closer...and then shoving him right back down. I almost forget Vinny in the dizzying rush. Then my eyes spot the camera, capturing every moment.
It’s like surfacing from an eternity spent under water when I rip the ring off my finger and throw it into the corner of the room. I’m drunk on the feeling. Freedom? It prickles all over my body, gathering between my legs and traveling up my stomach. I feel him everywhere, Lucifer, even though he digs his nails into the bed sheets rather than touch me.
And I need him to. I need Vinny to see. I need to feel. I need, need, need, and for the first time in my life, I just take what I want. My hands grab his wrists, and I place the calloused fingers on my hips, my breasts. Touch me.
He doesn’t want to. I can see the challenge blaring from his eyes. He wants this over. I need this to continue.
“Please.” I don’t recognize the woman who calls out. Her voice is a plaintive little howl, but Lucifer’s nails graze my skin as he starts to grope, punishingly and brutally at my flesh. My hands clutch his wrists, manipulating his touch. Here. There. I want every part of me raked raw by his fingers. I want him to mark every single inch of me.
My eyes drift shut, and my body moves of its own accord, driving him in, deeper, deeper, deeper. Harder. Faster. Harder. More. More.
I’m not prepared for the heat that swelters. Sweat slicks my skin. He roils beneath me, too strong and heavy to fight, but he lets me stay on top. He lets me set the pace. He lets me keep control.
And I’m drowning beneath that power.
We fuck for Vinny. We fuck each other. We fuck, and there are no pretty words to describe it. I’m a base, primal creature hungry for only one thing. He gives it to me, holding me in place for several brutal, hungry thrusts that claw noises out from my chest. His own growls echo mine, tense and strained. They reveal the secret he didn’t want me to know—when he finally throws his head back and groans out his release I feel the truth hit me like a kick to the gut.
He wanted this.
It’s a bitter victory that some part of me gloats over. I let him grip me. Bruise me. Use me. Hold me up while he thrusts out the rest of his release and fills the condom.
I’m laughing when it’s all over, and Lucifer relaxes beneath me if only for a second, his body devoid of that animalistic tension. I laugh when he shoves me away and peels off the bloody, sweaty, filthy used condom. Our desperation marks it, mine and his.
I laugh and laugh until I don’t even notice the tears that fall down my cheeks as I lie limp and used on the mattress. I’ve never felt dirtier than I have now. I’ve never felt cleaner. I’ve never felt better. For the first time in my life, I truly feel free, if only in this moment...
A stranger between my legs had to give me this, driving the sensation into my body like a nail.
The devious thought makes me stop laughing. It makes me hate him—how many women experience this with him?
But for some reason, that thought only makes me hungry for more.
It isn’t fair.