Chapter Ten
Wyck
The second I see her, hips swaying, head tilted back in that reckless, sinful way she does, I know I’m fucked.
Athens.
Dancing like she’s the only one who matters.
Dancing like the world doesn’t deserve to watch her, and yet she gives them a show anyway.
She doesn't know it yet, but every sway of her hips, every smile she throws over her shoulder, every teasing graze of her fingers up her body… it’s for me.
Even when she’s with Karter, she’s still mine.
That’s the thing about my Little Fox. She thinks she can slip into the dark and not be hunted.
But I was born in it.
Karter fades into the crowd like a good fucking soldier, leaving her to burn for me under the strobe lights and slow music.
And burn, she does. Her body moves like temptation incarnate, hands on her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, like she’s remembering how good it feels to be wanted. To be watched. Owned.
And I do watch.
With obsession. With hunger. With the twisted reverence of a sinner praying to a God he wants to destroy.
She doesn’t see me move through the crowd. But the people part like they feel it, that chill crawling up their spine, the dark promise in my gait.
“He’s one of the Devils of Cliffside,” some girl whispers.
No shit.
I pass them without a glance, eyes locked on the only thing that matters. My girl. My future. My fucking obsession.
Her lips move, singing along to the song, and I swear she’s singing to me. The second her gaze snaps up and catches mine, my blood runs lava-hot. My feet stop.
And then she moves again.
Fuck. She’s a weapon and doesn’t even know it.
Her hands trace her curves, her eyes half-lidded and lost in the rhythm, but the ache in her movements tells me everything. She’s not just dancing. She’s crying out without a sound. She’s begging, begging to be touched, claimed, wrecked.
And I will.
Eventually.
But first… I just want to see how far she’ll go thinking I’m not already devouring her.
Then she spots me.
And everything changes.
“Dance with me?” she asks, like it’s not already written in blood that I belong to her.
I step into her space, one hand cupping her jaw, the other sinking into her waist like I’m anchoring myself to something holy.
“I came to burn the fucking world down with you, Little Fox,” I whisper. “So yeah, I’ll dance.”
We move like we were made to, her body curling into mine, hips brushing, breaths mingling. She leans into me, head resting on my chest like she’s finally found her safe place.
If only she knew the things I’ve done.
If only she knew the things I’d do again, without a second thought, just to keep her in this moment a little longer.
Then she says it. Soft. Shy. But deadly.
“I’m falling in love with you, Wyck.”
And just like that, I’m undone.
She doesn’t know what she’s done, baring her soul like that, stripping me of every wall I’ve ever built. And I want to kneel. I want to worship. I want to fucking ruin.
“I love you, too, Athens,” I murmur, dragging her tighter into me. “More than I’ve ever loved anything. More than I’ll ever love again.”
Because once you belong to a Devil, you don’t get a second chance.
You don’t need one.
She lifts her head and stares up at me with those stormy gray eyes, and I see it, fear, hope, surrender.
“Yes, Little Fox. I love you,” I say again, branding it into her bones.
We stay on the floor for what feels like hours, time bending to our will. The crowd vanishes, the noise fades, and all I hear is the thrum of her heart syncing to mine.
Then she leans in, lips to my ear, and whispers, “Can we get out of here?”
Fuck yes.
But I stall, brushing a thumb over her bottom lip. “You eat yet?”
She shakes her head.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand, needing her close. Always close. We cut through the chaos and find the booth I staked out earlier, dark, private, dangerous. Just like us.
She slides in first, smirking at my theatrics when I say, “After you, milady.”
Her laugh is a melody I’d kill to keep.
“I’m starving,” she admits. “Burger. Extra onions. Cheese sticks. Onion rings. And beer.”
Fuck, I love her.
The waitress, Moe, scribbles it down without flinching. Good girl. Knows better than to linger.
When we’re alone, I study her. Not just look at her, study her like scripture. She has no idea the madness she wakes in me.
“How do you feel about tattoos?” I ask, testing the waters.
She perks up. “Love them.”
My lips twitch. “Would you wear my name over your heart?”
“No,” she says. It cuts, until she adds, “I want people to see I belong to you. I’d wear it across my throat if that’s where it’d show the most.”
Holy fuck.
My hand finds the back of her neck, and I kiss her like I’m dying. Because in a way, I am. Every second I’m not inside her, I’m dying.
She moans against me, soft and needy.
“Wyck…”
“Don’t fight it, Little Fox,” I rasp, sliding my hand up her thigh, under her dress, past her heat. “Let me have you.”
“I won’t,” she breathes. “Take whatever you want.”
And just like that, the Devil in me rises.
“Good girl,” I growl. “Now slide down, open those legs, and show me what’s mine.”
She obeys without question, and fuck, that obedience?
It’s a drug.
She rests her head on my shoulder, trusting me to take care of her. But she should know by now… I’ll never just take care of her.
I’ll destroy kingdoms for her.
I’ll carve out the hearts of men who dare look too long.
Because she’s mine.
Forever.
And after tonight, the whole goddamn world will know it.
I shove the table out of the way with my boot. “Stand.” My voice is iron, no room for doubt.
She rises, and I guide her back between my spread thighs, settling her where I want her: on display, caged by my body.
“Wyck, what are you doing?” A whisper, equal parts fear and hunger. Exactly where I want her.
“Do you trust me?”
Her weight melts into my chest. That’s all the consent I need.
“Good. Lean back, open, and keep your pretty little mouth shut.”
She gasps; I laugh. The heat rolling off her is almost painful. I drag her top upward, a slow reveal, and her bra, transparent, useless, shows me everything. One flick of the clasp and those perfect breasts spill into my hands like they were molded for my palms alone.
“Fuck, they’re sore,” she rasps. “Use your mouth, Devil.”
One order, gladly obeyed. I pinch, roll, pull, gentle is a word that does not exist here. Every twitch of her body feeds me. Every ragged breath is a hymn in my name.
She squirms, grinding her ass against my cock, testing my restraint. Her cheeks are flushed; breathing ragged; nipples pearled and aching. She’s close, so close, from my fingers alone.
I press the heel of my hand against her cunt through the skirt, feel the heat, the damp. “My Little Fox… did you just come for me?”
“Feel for yourself,” she hisses, then drags my fingers to her lips and sucks them deep, staring into my eyes like a challenge.
I nearly explode.
“Greedy.” I shove my hand beneath the skirt, past the heat-soaked fabric, slide one finger inside, silk and wet sin. She moans. I add another. Then two more. She arches, chokes on a cry.
“Wyck!”
“Shut up and take what I give.”
The wet sounds of her cunt grow louder, filthy music in the booth’s shadows. She rocks, chasing release, walls clenching my fingers like a fist.
I bend, lick the curve of her throat, bite hard enough to brand. “You’re not going back to Josie,” I growl against her skin. “You live with us now. With me.”
“Wyck!”
“Not a request. Obey.” I bite again, harder, drawing a muffled scream.
“I-I understand, please.”
“That’s my girl.” My thumb finds her clit, brutal circles. “Now tumble for me. Over the cliff we rule.”
I nip her ear, voice a razor. “Come on my fucking fingers, you dirty little slut.”
Her body breaks, hips jerking, heat flooding my hand. A strangled cry rips from her throat.
“Oh God, Wyck!”
I keep working her until every tremor is wrung out and she collapses against me, spent, marked, and utterly mine.
The Devils of Cliffside just claimed another piece of the night, and I’m still starving.
“You’ve never looked more fucking beautiful than you do now,” I growl into the crook of her neck, “with my fingers buried deep in that tight, perfect cunt.”
She shudders, pulsing around me as the orgasm rides out slow and sticky. I savor every twitch, every helpless sound she gives me. When her body starts to come down, I drag my fingers out, glistening with her.
Without needing to ask, my filthy girl opens wide, lips parted like a prayer, and sucks her own release off my fingers with slow, hungry pulls.
“Greedy little thing,” I murmur, tapping her lips. “Save some for me.”
She lets go. I don’t waste a second before sliding my fingers into my mouth, tasting her on my tongue. Pure fucking sin.
As much as I’d rather stay buried in this moment, watching her dazed, breasts exposed, soul cracked wide open, I force myself to fix her top. I reclasp her bra, drag the fabric back into place, even though I want to rip it off all over again.
Then a cough breaks the spell.
She goes rigid, eyes wide. “I don’t mean to interrupt…” Moe’s voice cracks as she slides our food onto the table and scurries off, biting back a grin. Cute.
Athens sits up, flushed and ruined in the best way, trying to compose herself. “She knows what we were doing, doesn’t she?”
I tilt my head, eyes sharp. “Anyone with a working brain knows what I was doing to you.”
Her little scowl returns, and fuck, I almost smile. Then she says something that cuts deeper than a knife. “How many other girls have you brought to this very spot… and done the same thing to?”
The words don’t sting, they detonate.
I glare at her, heart thudding in my ears. “None.” It hits her. I watch it land, how her expression falls, how she realizes she’s fucked up. “You think I do this with just anyone?” I hiss. “You think I’d waste this booth, this night , on anyone that wasn’t you?”
A muscle ticks in my jaw. I’m fighting back something feral, something possessive. Then the devil in me surfaces.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Little Fox… but you’re the only one who’ll ever sit here with me.”
She softens. Snuggles back into me like she’s always belonged there. “I’m glad. Do you mind if I eat now?”
I should make her beg, punish her for doubting me, but I let it go. “Dig in.”
I swipe a cheese stick from her tray before she can react. “We enjoy this now, because it won’t last. Nights like this never do.”
“I don’t wanna think about anything else,” she mumbles, mouth full. “I don’t wanna go back to school. I just want to disappear.”
I chuckle, low and dark. “Sorry, Little Fox… Devils don’t run. We hunt. We end threats. And if something’s a problem?” I shrug. “We kill it.”
She goes still, processing that. Then a sly smile tugs at her lips. Maybe she is one of us.
While she eats, I just… watch her. Like I’m trying to memorize everything before it’s ripped from me. Her laugh. Her defiance. Her softness.
Mine.
The rest of the night drips by in a blur of noise and heat and blurred vision. Somehow we end up in bed, her curled up against me, safe in the crook of my arm, when the door creaks open and Karter steps in.
I don’t have to speak. I just nod, and he knows.
He slides into bed on her other side.
“A girl could get used to this,” she hums, letting herself sink between us like she was meant to be there all along.
“Good,” I mutter. “Because you’re not going anywhere.”
“Yeah,” Karter adds, brushing her hair off her face. “Now shut up and sleep… Brat.”
Her laughter slips through the dark like smoke, and then we’re all sinking into silence, her body warm between ours.
My Little Fox. Ours now. And the world will burn before anyone takes her away.