Chapter 26
L et him watch.
Let Lucian sit in his cold, perfect office with his whiskey glass and his walls of control, watching me through every hidden camera he placed in my apartment. Let him trace my path across the city, the chip beneath my nail pulsing with every step. I wanted it there.
Let him track every move I make—because tonight, I’m making one he won’t forget.
He’s the one who pushed me to this.
And I hope he’s watching.
I step into The Masquerade without hesitation. The air inside hums with energy—dark, decadent, alive with whispered promises and unsaid things. The lights are low, the music deeper here. Everything pulses like a living, breathing body that thrives on sin.
Tonight, I’m not wandering. I know exactly what I came for.
I only want two men.
Lucian.
Or the Devil.
Lucian won’t touch me—won’t break his own rules, no matter how desperately I want him to.
But the Devil? The Devil watches me like I’m something he’s already claimed. And maybe that’s the difference. Lucian trains me. The Devil wants to ruin me.
So if Lucian won’t give me what I need, maybe he will.
Inside the locker room reserved for Companions, I find what I need: the black rabbit mask that’s become second skin at this place.
I pull it over my face, then strip off the simple black mini dress I wore here, revealing what I chose to wear underneath.
A sheer black gown clings to every inch of my skin like water. There’s no lining, no bra—just black lace panties. My breasts are fully visible through the fabric, nipples already tight from the cool air and what I know I’m about to do. I step out of my heels and hand them off to the attendant.
I want to be barefoot.
Grounded.
Ready.
And then I ascend.
Floor after floor slips past me like levels of some sinful video game. I don’t stop on Lust . I don’t pause for Gluttony . I don’t even breathe when I pass Wrath .
Because I’m not here for them.
I’m going to the top.
The Devil’s Playground.
When the doors open, the world slows.
It’s quieter up here. Still. Like the air itself knows to behave.
The lighting is dim but warm, flickering from sconces mounted against black stone walls. There’s no music. No moans. No chaos like on the lower levels. This floor isn’t about indulgence. It’s about power. And every inch of it leads to the man who commands it.
The Devil.
He sits on a throne of black leather and brushed steel at the far end of the room, backlit by shadows and firelight. He wears only black pants, his broad chest bare, every tattoo more sin than ink.
His mask—smooth, angular, cut like horns—is the only thing hiding him. Like the sheer magnitude of his presence could ever be hidden beneath anything.
My pulse stutters.
And then accelerates.
He sees me instantly.
And he doesn’t move.
Just raises a hand.
One simple flick of his fingers.
Come.
And I do.
My body moves without hesitation, hips swaying, nerves electric, but my steps sure. When I reach the edge of the throne platform, I don’t speak.
I kneel.
Right there at his feet.
Back straight. Knees parted. Hands resting on my thighs.
Exactly the way Lucian trained me.
Exactly the way the Devil seems to like.
I don’t dare look away. And he doesn’t blink.
The room falls away, leaving only this—the heat of his gaze and the thrum in my core that says I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.
I came here to be claimed.
And I know the Devil wants to be the one to do it.
He doesn’t speak right away.
He watches me.
That mask—dark, smooth, dangerous—gives nothing away. But I feel his eyes. The weight of them. Curious. Amused. And something else entirely. Something that makes my pulse flutter like wings in my chest.
“The little bunny returns,” he says at last, his voice the sound of leather sliding over steel—smooth and slow with an edge that cuts right through me.
I stay perfectly still, spine straight, gaze steady behind my mask. I won’t let him see how hard I’m breathing.
“Have you figured out what you’re looking for, little one?”
I nod.
A single, precise motion.
He lets the silence stretch, testing me with the absence of sound, with the weight of anticipation. Then:
“And what is that?”
My voice is soft but clear. “Someone to tell a secret to.”
His lips twitch in a faint, dark smirk.
But it’s gone just as quickly as it came.
He doesn’t ask what the secret is. Instead, he reaches out, and with effortless strength, pulls me into his lap.
His hands wrap around my hips, guiding me easily until I’m straddling one of his thick, muscled thighs. The sheer fabric of my dress catches on his pants as I move, riding up until the lace of my panties meets the hard, unforgiving leather of his leg.
I inhale sharply because it’s not just leather I’m straddling.
He’s got a silicon grinder fixed around his thigh. Deep red covered in black. It’s like a cluster of tentacles.
His hands settle beneath the hem of my dress. Warm. Possessive. Palming the bare curve of my ass like he owns it.
“Tell me your secret, little rabbit,” he whispers, his mouth close to my ear now, the sound like a dark promise.
I roll my hips slowly, dragging the heat of my pussy along the ribbing of the grinder.
My breath stutters, and I feel his fingers grip tighter. He holds me still, forcing me to feel every groove. Every shift of muscle. Every deliberate flex beneath me.
I turn my head into him. My lips grazing his ear. My voice a whisper.
“No one has ever licked my cunt before.”
Everything about him tightens.
His jaw. His thigh. His grip on my skin.
The air around us shifts—heavier now. Hungrier.
He doesn’t say a word, but I feel it in the way he breathes. In the dangerous stillness of his body. Like a predator deciding whether to devour his prey here and now, or let the hunger stretch longer.
I roll my hips again, slowly—an invitation, a dare.
The friction is exquisite, the rough grain of the grinder dragging perfectly against the thin lace between my legs. My clit throbs, and I can’t help the way my back arches, my head falling back slightly as I ride the thick muscled thigh beneath me.
The Devil’s fingers slide higher. Not rough, not rushed.
Reverent.
Possessive.
“Mmm, little rabbit…” His voice is low, dark silk wrapping around my ears. “That’s a dangerous secret to tell.”
One of his hands slips away from my hip, trailing down—slow and unhurried. His fingers dip between my thighs, brushing the soaked lace clinging to my heat.
Then, rough knuckles drag across my bare clit as he pushes the fabric aside.
A gasp tears from my lips.
He growls low in his throat, primal and pleased. “You’re drenched,” he murmurs, voice like smoke and sin. “My little rabbit, sitting all pretty on the Devil’s lap… soaking through your panties like this.”
I tremble when his fingers glide lower, slipping between the slick folds of my pussy—just once—before retreating. He pulls my panties to the side completely, then guides my hips back down. My bare cunt presses flush against the ribbing of the grinder.
“Fuck,” I whisper, breath catching.
Both his hands return to my hips, heavy and demanding. He grips me, guiding my motion. Forward. Back. Slow. Deliberate. Every movement a study in patience and torment.
He’s feasting on my reactions.
“Have you come to make a deal with the Devil?” he asks, his voice a decadent purr in my ear.
“Yes,” I pant, keeping the rhythm, grinding harder against the thick muscle of his thigh. My clit is throbbing, dragging over the rough texture of the silicon strapped. To him. I’m already climbing fast. Too fast.
“You want my tongue on your needy little pussy, rabbit?”
A whimper escapes me as he leans in, sniffing slowly up the curve of my neck. His breath is hot, his teeth grazing skin, not quite biting.
“Yes.” It’s a moan. A confession. A prayer.
“What do you have to give the devil in return?”
I hesitate—only a fraction of a second—but he feels it. Sees it in the twitch of my breath, the flutter of my lashes. I try to play it cool, to mask the sharp flicker of panic.
“What do you want?” I ask, grinding harder. Faster. Desperate for the friction. For the release Lucian has denied me again and again.
His answer is a lash wrapped in velvet. “Your trust.”
I falter—just slightly—but he doesn’t let me slow. His hands return to my hips, urging me forward and back. Thrusting me against him with a rhythm that’s turning me inside out.
“Trust is the only thing that matters in my domain,” he says, and I can barely hear him through the rush of blood in my ears. “It’s more valuable than diamonds. More coveted than power. The ones who give it carelessly?” His hands tighten. “They never survive this place.”
My hands clutch his shoulders as my body trembles with the force of pleasure building inside me. I’m going to come. I can feel it—burning and bright, curling up my spine.
He wraps one strong arm around my waist, the other bracing across my shoulders. His grip is unyielding, his control complete. Every roll of my hips is now at his pace—harder, deeper, rougher.
My eyes lock on his.
I don’t look away. Not once.
Even as I unravel.
Even as I lose myself.
And just before I tip over the edge, his voice drips like molten gold into my ear. “Give me your trust, little rabbit… and I’ll feast on your greedy cunt until you beg me to stop.”
The deal.
The final offer.
“Yes!” I cry out, the word ripped from my throat—desperate and raw—just as my orgasm slams through me.
White-hot and blinding.
My whole body clenches. My legs quake. My voice breaks as I shatter, trembling in his grasp while he holds me together through the storm.
And when the wave finally crashes and I slump against him, chest heaving, I know…
I’ve just given the Devil more than I meant to.
And he’s going to collect.