2. Izzy
TWO
Izzy
M y head tells me this is all part of the fantasy, and it’s just a regular guy on the other end of this conversation. But my racing heart isn’t listening.
There’s something so literal about his demand…
So daring and seductive.
“This is ridiculous.” I shake my hands in front of me, trying to get rid of the icy dread clinging to my skin. “You were just complaining about getting shot down over wanting to try something new, and here’s a guy roleplaying the Devil. Just go with it. Stop being so… Izzy .”
It’s that last part that has my fingers back on the keyboard.
My soul is a steep price.
Within a few seconds, his response appears, as if he had it ready and waiting.
My time is valuable, love. If you accept, I’ll deliver pleasure beyond your wildest imagination. I’ll corrupt and ruin you. When I’m done, the thought of my tongue in your pussy will be your only source of release.
“Holy shit…” My heart slams against my ribcage, the filthy words on the screen dampening my panties. No one has ever talked to me like this. I don’t know whether I’m enthralled or appalled.
Maybe both.
You don’t mince words.
I prefer a direct approach. Does vulgarity bother you, Izzy?
Yes. No. Crap, I don’t know. This is all so new and different.
No. I’m just not used to it. My ex was more of a mainstream type of guy.
I take it vanilla was his favorite flavor.
I snort. Even vanilla might be too spicy for him. I can’t think of a time I didn’t have to bring myself to completion in the bathroom after he fell asleep.
Yeah, something like that.
I bite my non-existent nails while waiting for a response, my knees bouncing.
I detest vanilla. It’s the most basic of flavors. My palate craves the rich and decadent. It’s the complex flavors that keep you coming back for more.
I grin at the screen while shaking my head. I’ll hand it to him. He’s going all in with the whole “dark overlord” schtick.
My soul is a lot to bargain on a promise no one has yet to deliver.
I draw my fingers back like they touched fire, my pulse racing at the direct challenge.
What am I doing?
Shrewd counter. Too many are quick to sink their teeth into that apple without asking what’s inside. How about I give you a taste of what lies in store for you? No strings attached. Then, you can decide if more is worth giving me what I want.
I swallow hard, my heart pounding.
Say no. Just say no.
Okay.
I bite my lip, nearly coming out of my skin with anticipation as the dots appear.
Take off your panties.
My heavy eyes spring open. What the fuck? I sit up and crane my head over each shoulder, finding nothing but silence and empty space. Leaving the laptop sitting there, I tiptoe to the kitchen, sticking close to the wall as I quietly peer around the door frame. No one’s there. Lennox Carver either took his twenty-thousand-dollar bourbon upstairs or vacated the estate all-together.
Please let it be option number two.
Still, I’m not taking chances, so hugging my laptop against my chest, I take the stairs two at a time until I reach the spare bedroom Maeve assigned to me for the night. Closing the door behind me, I crawl onto the huge king-sized bed and set the laptop in front of me, another message already on the screen.
I’m waiting.
Gritting my teeth, I hook my thumbs into the string resting on each hip and drag my panties down my thighs. I can’t believe I’m obeying the commands of a total stranger on the internet. I reach between my splayed knees and type.
They’re off.
Again, his response appears as if he’d been waiting.
Do everything I say. If you don’t, I’ll know, and our deal will be off. Are we clear?
My head wobbles my affirmation as I type it.
Yes.
Good girl. Now spread your legs.
I obey, my teeth sinking so deeply into my lip I wince.
Sink two fingers deep inside your cunt.
My face heats, but I do it, so slick from all this dirty talk, my index and middle finger slide easily inside.
I said deep, Izzy. You think the Devil will be gentle with you? Fuck yourself like I’m watching.
His shift in tone is like a hot skewer driving right through me. I don’t stop to wonder how he knew I was being timid. I thrust my fingers inside and pump. At first, it’s awkward, but then my mind wanders, and it’s no longer my hand. It’s him . Lucifer’s fingers are inside me, giving me a taste of the decadent darkness that awaits.
A muted ding has my eyes opening and focusing on the screen.
Do you feel that hint of pain, love? That belongs to me, and it turns into pleasure, but only if you let it.
“I want it,” I moan, the lines between reality and fantasy blurring.
Rub your clit so hard you forget where you are.
The combined effort nearly has my eyes rolling back in my head. It’s not just the action that has me close to falling apart. It’s the fantasy. It’s the taboo feeling of this dark, otherworldly being controlling me, using me, and dominating me.
Just when I think he’s pushed to the limit—that there’s nothing else he could type to send me hurdling over the edge—a new message pops up, and I lose all rational thought.
Have you realized you’re just a vessel, love? I’m the one fucking you. That’s my cock and my tongue, and they’re both destroying you without a sliver of mercy.
That does it.
A burst of light explodes behind my eyes, and I scream, convulsing as my orgasm slams into me, hurling me off a cliff onto a jagged, rocky shore. It’s never-ending, the aftershocks waging war for what seems like hours. Finally, my body collapses against the pillows, drenched, weak, and breathless.
I pull my fingers out, cringing at the evidence of my debauchery. Just as I go to slide off the bed to go to the bathroom, another message ignites the screen.
Don’t even think about it. The Devil doesn’t waste his hard-earned reward.
My jaw drops. “He can’t be serious.”
But another message pops up, detailing how wrong I am.
Taste the power I have over you.
I tentatively bring my hand to my mouth and dart the tip of my tongue against my finger. It’s sweet. I lick again. And empowering. Another lick. And dirty. Flattening my tongue, I drag it up my palm, more warmth spreading between my legs. Then, my inhibitions shatter, and I’m licking my whole hand clean.
I don’t care about what’s right or wrong or who’d think it’s disgusting or immoral. All I can think about is pleasing him and quelling this growing ache. My other hand dives back between my legs until another sharp orgasm collapses me onto the keyboard.
What the hell has he done to me?
As I sit there in a daze, those three dots reappear.
Bad girl, Izzy.
I reach for the keys, my heart in my throat.
What do you mean?
His response is immediate.
While I do love a good hedonistic thrill, I have rules. Accept my offer, and you won’t come without my permission again, and certainly, not before begging for it.
Those words feel like a fist punching through my chest. I stare at the screen, unsure how I let this go so far that I’m sitting bare-assed in my best friend’s house, having cyber-sex so darkly addictive I’m contemplating selling my soul to the Devil.
Tick-tock, love. What’s the verdict?
My conscience is waving handfuls of red flags, trying to get my attention. But all I can focus on is how Fletcher Stanley hasn’t entered my mind since Lucifer took command of it. It’s freeing… It’s liberating…
It’s a no-brainer.
I type my response and hit send before I can back out.
Where do I sign?