The Devil’s Treat (Obsession #4)

Chapter One

Capri

Dr. Naomi: You didn’t come in for your session today. I hope everything is okay. Please, text me back when you can. I won’t stop texting until you do.

I stare blankly at my screen, feeling a rush of nothing but irritation.

Life would feel pretty easy if everyone stopped trying to save me and just left me alone.

I had told her, to her face, the first and last time I was in her office, that the only reason I was there was because my mother thought there was still something redeemable about me. I visited her to get my mom off my back.

The idea of divulging all my problems to a stranger makes my skin crawl. It feels like an invasion of my privacy. Besides, I am not about to spend hours confiding in someone who would pretend to understand what I’m going through. She probably has a rehearsed response that she gives all her clients.

I shove my cell into the back pocket of my jeans, tossing a carton of milk into my cart. Then I proceeded to scan the list in my hand to be sure I had ticked off every item.

The queue at the cashier’s desk had gone down, giving me the chance to wrap up with my payment on time and head out of the grocery store.

The scenery of Cobble Hill is aesthetically pleasing at night, with its streetlights casting a warm glow on the cobblestone sidewalks and residential buildings in uniform colors. It makes me a little pleased that I decided to ditch my car.

Not like I had driven since the incident.

I consider taking a shortcut, so I round a building that leads me down to the alley.

The narrow pathway is cloaked in darkness, tinged with little light from the crescent moon that hangs low in the sky.

The edge of my senses turns dull, void of any form of nervousness, not just because I have taken this alley more times than I can count, but because I can’t bring myself to feel anything, even if I wanted to.

My steps come to a screeching halt when I notice silhouettes of some people clustered in the middle of the alley. I want to shake it off and dismiss it as muggers, but something about them is off. Suddenly, one of them whips out a gun that makes the other back up against the wall.

My eyes widen as my hands threaten to give away the bags in my grip.

“Fancy running into you here, Leonardo.” The cold, crisp voice, thick with an Italian accent, wraps around me like death.

My body is knocked into overdrive, and my heart pounds against my chest. My brain screams at me to move, to run, but my legs seem to have a mind of their own.

“Please...”

“You have proven to be a sneaky little thing.” The sadism curled around the voice makes sweat break out on my skin.

The emotion that barrels through me feels foreign because I haven’t felt anything remotely close in weeks since the incident. It’s as though my body has shut down until this moment.

“I didn’t have a choice!” the masculine voice quivers.

“There’s always a choice, and yours was to snitch on the Cosa Nostra. You know the rules, fratello, and you broke them. The punishment for any form of betrayal is death.”

Oh God...

“Please ... just let me go.”

The assailant pauses for a second. “Run.”

He pushes his frame off the wall like a flash of lightning and bolts, but he doesn’t get far because multiple shots ring out, and he drops to the ground with a thud.

A low shriek leaves my lips, and I’m almost certain he heard me. I duck and press myself against the closest wall with a trembling breath. My eyes burn with unshed tears.

I just witnessed a murder, and I don’t know what to make of it.

My body racks with nerves, my chest heaving harshly. Crunching footsteps, sounds of boots hitting the tarred ground make my eyes go wide. I don’t think twice before running in the opposite direction, leaving behind the bag of groceries that drops with a loud thud.

I don’t know how long I run for, until I’m home, back pressed against my door.

My luxurious living room spreads out before me, dim in the absence of lighting effects and overlooking the neighborhood. It currently looks like a mess with clothes all over the place, boxes of takeout, and my laptop whipped open. All I have done these past few days is binge-watch and eat.

My heart clenches when I notice the blank canvas in a corner, and a palette of fresh paints. It makes me feel like a lost cause. I’m so useless, I can’t even do what I used to love the most.

I unwrap my dark goddess braids from their tight bun, running my fingers through them. Tears gather at the back of my eyes, but I push them back because I’m not ready to break down just yet.

I trudge to the bathroom, unbuttoning my blouse and stripping out of my jeans until I’m stark naked under the shower.

My breath hitches and hardens when my brain replays the earlier incident. It goes on like a loop, crashing with suppressed memories as my eyes drift shut. The cold water runs down my body in rivulets, and I almost feel like I’m drowning all over again.

Her face, her vibrant smile—and then, the dead, haunting look in her eyes haunts me thereafter.

I’m gasping for breath when my eyes snap open.

“Beautiful.”

I whirl around sharply.

I stop breathing for a second.

A man is standing in the shower with me. Not just any man. The man from the alley. I had only seen his silhouette, but I know deep in my guts that he’s the one.

His eyes, an icy shade of olive green, dig into me like a knife stabbing into my skin. It makes me feel—in ways I haven’t felt since the accident. His gaze is both heated and provoking, scoring every inch of my naked body with intent to devour.

The shower lighting lets me make out the dirty-blond shade of his hair, tamed in a clean buzz cut. His face is clean-shaven, drawn into a rigid mask of intimidating cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and thick brows.

His aura is not just cold. It’s wicked. He’s wrapped in fire alarms that should send warning signals to my brain, but I have never been fascinated by someone in equal measure.

“How did you get in?” My voice is low, controlled, even, contrasting with my raging heartbeat.

“You are not that much of a fast runner. I snuffed you out immediately. You left your door unlocked, too,” he states shrewdly.

His steps are measured and panther-like as he closes the distance between us. I try not to flinch.

“You were following me.” I suck in a breath.

He stops before me, towering over me. I barely reach his shoulders. My toes feel stimulated enough to push me up a little as my nipples harden because of the warmth coursing between us.

“Why did you run?” His voice, dark and gravelly, kisses my skin, and I’m tempted to screw my eyes shut.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him it was because I was scared, but for some odd, twisted reason, I don’t want to give him that satisfaction.

“Are you going to kill me?” I whisper.

“I could.” He cups the back of my head, sinking his fingers into my braids.

“Then do it,” I spit out. “You’ll be doing me a favor.” For a fleeting second, the other time, when I saw him shoot that man, a part of me wanted to stay still so he would find me and shoot me too.

Death is far better than being constantly tormented by survivor’s guilt.

“Unfazed. Impressive,” he murmurs. “Get on your knees.”

I sink to my knees before him at his command, like he’s some sort of god. Maybe he is. The god of cruel, dark vengeance that’ll finally descend upon me with what I deserve for the pain I’ve caused.

He snatches my wet blouse from the floor and crouches before me. My buds peak to life. It’s strange how my body comes alive before a man who took someone’s life in front of me.

Then he leans forward and wraps my hands in a grip before tying them up.

“What are you going to do?” I swallow thickly.

His eyes meet mine. “Your eyes are dead. It’s like you don’t see anything or care about anything anymore. It’s so fucking attractive. I want to see how beautiful they’ll look while you choke on my cock.”

I must have choked on my spit for a moment. However, my pussy throbs at his dirty words. Anticipation surges through me and takes me in a chokehold.

He stands before me, his green eyes on me as he slowly undoes his fly. His slacks and briefs come down at once, revealing his thick, veiny cock leaking with pre-cum. My throat dries up as my stomach clenches with hunger. He’s so big.

“Spread those pretty lips,” he orders, stroking himself.

I didn’t think a man stroking himself could be so attractive until now. My lips part softly, and I could have sworn that a drop of drool leaked from my mouth.

His cock teases the skin of my face, leaving trails of pre-cum everywhere it touches and causing me to moan softly. The veins around it remind me of how wicked his aura is. And when he pushes himself into my mouth, I thrust my chest forward, wanting to have more of him.

He fills up my mouth so much that I can’t think of anything else. It’s my mouth he’s claiming, yet it feels like he’s invading my body. It’s the most unsettling and consuming thing ever.

“So beautiful,” he cups my face, stroking it.

He pulls out of my mouth and slams back in without warning. I moan, clenching my thighs together. I want to reach for his legs and hold on to them, but being subdued and made to take his cock down my throat only stimulates me more.

I try to suck him off, to gain control over the situation, but he brutally thrusts in and out of me, wordlessly reminding me that he’s in control.

He wants to use me, so that’s what he does.

He uses me so mercilessly that I’m whimpering, struggling for breath, and dripping all over my thighs.

He grips my hair harshly as he begins to fuck my mouth roughly.

“You look so fucking beautiful from up here, taking my cock just like the little slut you are.” He degrades me with his words, and all I want is to please him even more.

I don’t understand that twisted dynamic.

Every time he pulls out of me, I think I’ll get the chance to breathe until he slams back in, consumes me, and ruins me all over again. It’s both electric and maddening.

He begins to trigger my gag reflex when his pace toughens up. My eyes blur with tears, drool leaking from each side of my mouth. My moans thicken in pitch, echoing through the shower. They reach my ears and almost make me shrink because of how foreign, used up, and desperate I sound.

“There’s a good girl—take it all in.” My scalp burns from his ruthless grip, but the pain only bleeds into the pleasure and blurs the lines.

My eyes almost drift shut as tears stream down my face.

“You look so alive with your mouth wrapped around my cock. It’s maddening.” He grunts, tossing his head backward.

I should feel dirty, submitting to being claimed by a man who has blood on his hands. But it’s the closest thing to being alive I have felt since I lost her. It crushes my grief and replaces it with pleasure as I have never known before.

I want to reach between my legs to stroke myself, but my hands are bound behind me. My tits bounce softly as he slams in and out of my mouth, reaching for his climax with every thrust.

He thickens up inside my mouth as a low sob exits my lips. His eyes, now thoroughly darkened and predatory, are fixed on me as his body tenses up, and he hits his release.

Warm, sticky cum spills into my mouth.

“If a drop comes back up, I’ll pin you against this cubicle, fuck you until you are sore, then do it all over again,” he threatens.

I swallow every drop of his cum with pride.

His thumb darts around the corner of my lips, gathering some stains, only to push them into my mouth and make me suck on his finger.

“I should kill you, but I won’t.” He tucks himself back into his pants.

“Why?”

“Because today isn’t the day you die.”

I cock my brow lazily. Wasn’t he hearing me? I honestly wouldn’t mind dying. I won’t even hold a grudge.

“This is where you thank me for sparing your life,” he grunts, zipping up his pants. My gaze flicks to a wet patch. Was it his cum or my spit? Or perhaps a mixture.

I swallow. My mouth is a little sore, but I don’t mind. The only injustice I feel is not coming too. I raise my gaze, settling it on his. He just violated me, and can choose to snuff out my life, yet all I’m disappointed about is...

“You really want to die that badly?”

I nod sheepishly. He drops to one knee—eyes burning into mine. I shiver.

“I have a better idea. You now belong to me. If you still want to die after two months, I’ll kill you myself.”

I should be scared and run for safety. Call my mom or the police. Instead, my body tingles in anticipation.