Disclaimer: I own nothing of these characters. SM owns.
AN: So, this is a little thing I'm working on. It's most fun, indeed. I needed a little break from the emotional intensity of A Priori. But don't worry, that shit's still going strong.
Warning: Violence, blood, lots of swearing and sex. All of our favorite things.
Let me know what you think. I can't decide if I want to roll with this one or not.
AH, AU, OOC. In case you were wondering.
xo
"I don't know why you hyperventilate when he's here. He's not that hot," chided Rosalie, "Not tall enough, too many tattoos." She cringed.
Rosalie was mopping the floor behind the counter, I was counting the drawer money, hoping to balance tonight. The new girl fucked things up so often tonight, I was sure to be amending the shortage with my tips. I should tell her that during her first 90 days, if the money came up short, it came out of her tips. Not the managers. I should call her in early tomorrow, take her in the office, freak her out a little.
"He's plenty tall. Jesus, Rose, he's huge and I don't know what it is, but I want him," I groaned.
"How much?" I heard her solicit over my shoulder, as I tallied the shortage.
"Thirty-two. Damn it! So much for the bar."
"What? What are you talking about? Oh. Fuck that, call her now! Tell her just because she can't add and subtract doesn't mean you should be robbed. She probably pocketed it all anyway. Shifty cunt."
I laughed out loud, stuffing the money, receipts and credit card slips into the bank bag.
"Jesus, Rose. Seriously? Cunt? You don't even know the girl and she's already a shifty cunt? She's what, seventeen? You're a cunt."
"I know," she replied happily.
"I'll have Mike take it out of her check. I'm done saving your asses."
"Meh meh meh," she mocked.
"Come on, let's finish this," I prodded, "I want to get some whiskey in me."
"Mmm. I want a little bit o' that Irish behind the bar in me before the night is over." Rosalie whooped loudly and started riding the mop handle like it was a stallion into the stock room.
"You are sick and twisted and deserve a venereal disease!" I screamed. Although I wouldn't mind a little bit of that Irish either.
That was one of many differences between Rosalie and I. Rose was not afraid to hunt, track, or pounce on her prey. She didn't care if they saw her coming or not. She wasn't afraid of anything. Of this, she was quite vocal. She would probably walk into that bar, go straight up to "the Irish" and tell him he was going home with her tonight. More than half that knew her would put money on it, myself included.
I, on the other hand, am not so brazen a hussy as to just assume that all men are subject to my will. At least not until the second date. The discreet hussy, I prefer that. I've never been shy, never let anything I wanted get away without a fight. Though I'm not fond of caustic come-ons. If there was one thing my mother ever taught me, it was that your looks may get you far, but without a strong heart and sharp mind, you'll never get what you want out of it, and you'll certainly not hang on to it very long.
How many times have my head and heart not hung on tight enough? I've always lost more than I've held on to. Whether I've sabotaged myself or not isn't always so clear. Maybe I stopped wanting the things; took them for granted. Once or twice, the course of my future has hung by one decision. If I'd have said yes, I wouldn't be waiting tables and doing hair at twenty-eight; living on tips and Guinness, alone in a tiny third floor apartment.
It's not an awful apartment. The slanted roof above the living room and kitchen can be a hazard if I entertain any one over five and a half feet tall, but I fit just right. The bedroom is skinny and long, maybe a foot on each side of my queen mattress, which sits on the floor. I had no room for a frame. Not that it matters, it doesn't get much use anymore.
When I first moved to town, I was quite the popular girl, but when you're friends with a girl like Rose, you tend to be the wing woman. You end up sitting next to the one that drools, who doesn't know that your eyes are on your face, not in your bra.
As I locked the door to the shop, Rose was already getting into her car, evidently ready to start her evening.
"OK," I said hesitantly as I sank deep into her passenger seat.
This '73 Camaro was more than appropriate for her. Lucky girl had a father, one that knew cars. He could fix anything under the sun, including the monster I had just willingly climbed into. He helped me out a lot, Rose's dad, considering I was nearly a stranger. He alone moved me into my apartment. I only managed a few boxes and an end table before Mr. H had emptied my truck.
Rose turned the ignition and the beast growled to life. Wish I had a shiny fast car that scared my passengers silly.
"Hmm?"
"OK," I continued, "the bartender is yours, but dibs on the rest of the bar. Deal?"
"Deal, but if you don't jump on someone tonight, I'm going to start sending over any guy I see. I'm sure that smelly old one from this morning would be more than willing to slide in and out of you for a while. I could drop him off tomorrow afternoon."
"Ugh, God. Shut up. Thanks, that really makes me want to puke."
"Hey, I'm just here to help," Rose reminded me sarcastically.
She peeled out of the lot, I heard a dog bark as we flew out onto the street. We were only six blocks from the bar, it took maybe fifteen seconds to get there.
:::::::
Anticipation and a little motion sickness had Bella's stomach fluttering as she and Rose entered the bar. One of their favorite haunts, The East End, was slightly retro fifties on the outside, and entirely Euro trash on the inside. The doorman didn't ask them for identification, or cover. He was happy to have them there, to look at.
Loudly, around the corner out of the entrance, came an old rock song Bella couldn't quite recognize. The thin carpet (was it carpet?) was caked and grimy with God knows what. Smoke hung, as anticipated, thickly through the entire room. It smelled revoltingly like bathroom deodorizer and sewer, the smoke could barely compete. Bella hoped she might run into him tonight.
Rose had (naturally) beaten her to the bar. When Bella approached, the preparatory shots were already poured and Rose was perched suggestively across, whispering in the Irish's ear. He was smiling. That was a good sign Bella would need to find alternate transportation home.
"Hem hem," Bella coughed and elbowed Rose on her hip. She took a seat next to her. Three shots were waiting.
"So, what's the poison tonight, Emmett?" Rose inquired.
"The ladies favorite, Gentleman Jack. Guid forder!" he cheered and raised his drink, his accent thick and enthusiastic. "Tha' means 'good luck'."
They simultaneously pounded the shots.
Emmett made and extremely satisfied growl and slammed his glass down on the bar. "Two more?" He asked.
"PBR's please, or we'll have to be carried out," Bella replied. Rose pouted.
Emmett winked and turned away to tend to a large group of young men. Perhaps unintentionally, they were all dressed very similarly in dark wash denim and whitish polo shirts. Two were eyeballing the girls with intensity.
"Ugh, cover your drink. Shadies, three o'clock," Bella whispered to Rose.
"Seriously, what about us screams 'insecure easy targets'?"
"Absolutely fucking nothing," Bella rued, "Sometimes prison doesn't seem so bad when I fantasize about how truly satisfying it would be to put them out of their misery."
"You mean our misery. Where are all the big burly men when we could actually use them?" Rose said as she chanced a look over to the frat boys, "Oh, fuck off. Here we go."
The two men had now sidled up behind Rose and Bella. Their thick fingers gripped the backs of the girls' bar stools.
"Ladies," the blonde one slurred, "Come here often?"
"Oh. My. God." Rose said under her breath. Bella choked back a giggle. Neither girl turned around.
Bella was in no mood for this shit. As pleasant as simply ignoring them would be, she was sure they wouldn't give up easily.
She knew where her ammunition was. "Emmett, sugar?" she cooed, "Two Jameson's, please?"
"Comin' ri'' up."
"Hey. Sugar," The dark haired one barked near Bella's ear, "How about I suck that Jameson off your tits?"
Bella rolled her eyes. Something about the atmosphere in the nearly empty bar, the early hour and the obvious drunkenness despite that, of the two men, told Bella that this would not be pretty.
Taking their time, Rose and Bella drank their shots without a glance at the two men.
The dark one leaned in again. "Did you not hear me, sugar? I said…"
"Oh, I heard you," Bella replied as she spun her chair around, smirking, to face him, "I heard you loud and fucking clear."
"That's what I thought."
Smug bastard.
The blonde was leering at Rose from behind. Licking his lips as he appraised her up and down, then up again. Obviously aware of him, Rose smiled to herself, smiled at the poor mans unfortunate position. She was also amused at Bella, who was now unleashed by two shots of whiskey and two months of celibacy.
This is the part that Bella loved. She even saw Emmett watching from the other end of the bar, trying to look innocent, waiting for his cue.
Bella stood slowly from her seat, sizing up the dark one malevolently, and stepped forward. He finally seemed to understand the situation for what it really was; not the easy pick up he thought it would be, and he automatically stepped back.
Bella was encouraged by the lack of audience they had gained, thankfully, otherwise their plan might be problematic. She stepped closer, and this time he didn't retreat. Perfect, she thought.
"You have no idea how good Jameson tastes, dripping off of these tits," Bella said, inching closer to his body, leaning her face close to his.
"Fuck. I want to know. So bad," he replied his lips inches from her ear.
Then there was screaming. Screaming so loud, so bloodcurdling that it cut through the music, through every head in that bar. Bella wailed as if being attacked. Right into the dark ones ear. Rose jumped up, pushed a bar stool over and pushed the light haired one hard in the chest.
"HE GRABBED ME! HE GRABBED MY TITS!" Bella screamed, jumping back. She pointed at the dark one, clutching her chest, protecting herself.
Before Rose or Bella could burst out laughing, blowing their cover, or the frat boys could figure out what had (or had not) happened, Emmett and the doorman had the two men by their collars and were violently throwing them out of the bar. Emmett pointed at their group of friends, shouting, "All you, OUT!"
They all but ran screaming.
"Shit, I love doing that," Bella exhaled, then laughed loud and high pitched. Rose was grinning from ear to ear.
"You would think that word would have spread around campus by now, about the screamy-psycho-bitch and her wolf bait. But it seems that the cocks overrule the brains around here."
"It's sad that that doesn't turn out in our favor more often, though. If they could just keep a few neurons firing during introductions, maybe we would let them put parts of us in their mouths. And vice-versa," Bella lamented.
"Heh. The dark one did have big hands."
"His breath smelled like Massengill."
"Oh, man," Rose chuckled. "That's rough. A douche bag eating out a douche bag. Match made in heaven."
Emmett raised an eyebrow at her comment. She raised her beer to him and threw it back.
An hour or so later, Bella had found herself disappointed with the evening. She blearily eyed a few gouges in the counter top, running her thumbnail down the center of the biggest one.
Usually that little stunt cheered her up. Not tonight. It seemed to take her down a few notches. The statistics were uneven, as of late; more freak outs, less freaking. This was a very disappointing fact for Bella.
"Oh, shiiit," Rose interrupted her bar dreaming, nudging her in the ribs a little too hard, "your number just came up, baby girl. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Wha-?"
But Rose was already halfway across the room. Bella had no idea what she was talking about. She turned back to her beer and unlit cigarette. With it in her mouth, she started digging through her purse for a lighter.
She heard a click, then a small flame came at her from the left. She turned to accept it, cupping the strangers hand; just a small gesture of thanks, no matter who it was. A little skin on skin was always nice, right?
"Thanks," she said as she exhaled. Only then looking at the chivalrous stranger.
Her brain practically downloaded him. 6 foot 5, muscular. Pale skin, striking green eyes. Square face, strong jaw. Lips made for sucking on. Short messy reddish bronze pompadour, one lock hanging in his eyes. Tight black t-shirt, black jeans. Tattoos. Tattoos on his hands, on his fingers, on his neck, below his ears, covering his arms. Fuck, his arms.
She inhaled slowly. Her body exploded into a tingle of goose-flesh and sextricity. Trying not to let her immediate, melting, irrational attraction to him seem obvious, she swallowed a mouthful of beer and looked at her reflection in the mirror across from her. She cursed herself, her lack of eyeliner; the fact that she was sitting, most likely slouching.
Put it away girl, she thought to herself. Give him the smile. Neurons firing, remember? You fucking rookie.
"You're welcome. May I sit?" a beautiful soothing voice, deep and low, sexy and scary, emanated from those pouty lips.
"Please. I'm Bella," she straightened, sending out big bad Bella vibes.
"Hello, Bella. I'm The Devil. It's nice to meet you." He extended his hand to her, his eyes locked on her face.
"You sure are," Bella smiled her reply. She was on fire. Everywhere, her skin was hot. Maybe he wasn't kidding about the Devil thing. She could feel him burning her from the inside out. She took his hand, tepid compared to hers, "Now, I have a question," she stated.
"What's that, darlin'?"
"What's a devil like you doing in a place like this?"
Clearly amused by her line, he leaned a bit closer. "I know a den of sin when I see one, and your mama bear just left you alone and unattended."
Bella was retreating into her mind, trying desperately not to let her body take over. She was two seconds from jumping on his face. Any restraint she may have possessed was failing her miserably. In a clear minds eye she could see their skin; rounded, their bodies hooked together, trying to extract from each other every ounce of desire that they could, wanting to inject it at the same time. No matter how she tried, she couldn't shake it off.
Fucking finally?! She thought. Are you kidding me? Where has this guy been all my life? And where did he learn the voodoo shit?
His hands were fisted, side by side, knuckles just barely touching. Pale tattooed fingers rested lightly against the dark counter top. He smelled like mint. Maybe. Mint and incense? Mint and old books? It was sweet, like honey, but thick with milk and dust and sweat.
"I would have gotten away from her eventually. I'm a resourceful girl."
"That's good to know, Bella. Can I buy you another round?"
"Mmm, I am getting a little thirsty."
The Devil ordered two beers and an additional shot for himself.
Bella was almost hovering in her seat. She felt kind of drugged, as impossible as it would have been for anyone to slip her anything. She just needed to actually breathe. Oxygen helps neurons find other neurons, motherfucker, thus creating the brain function necessary to keep cool, calm and collected while The Devil seduces you in fifty words or less.
She was, as Rose would so eloquently say, totally fucking fucked. This guy could have handed her a torch and a machete, told her to filet everyone in sight, then burn the place to the ground, and she wouldn't have hesitated one second.
She lifted her full beer from the bar and raised it to his. Hitting the necks together with confidence she toasted, "Well, here's to burning in hell."
They drank to it.
"That's eternity, you know?"
"I only hope the punishment befits the crime. Evidently, my number was up when you walked in that door."
"I don't doubt that. The numbers don't lie."
By this point, Bella had subconsciously scooted her chair closer to his. She was hoping he wasn't a figure of her imagination. Conversation hadn't ever made her wet before, but her puddle was deep for this guy. Each time he lifted his arm to drink, it would brush hers. Her skirt had ridden up a little bit. Her bare thigh rested against his denim covered knee under the bar. She was not wary of this contact at all. She wanted more. She wanted to rub her leg on the rough denim until she bled. She wanted hands and torsos. She felt her mouth water and her eyes rolled back involuntarily.
"Tell me, Devil, what are you guilty of?" Bella asked, biting her lower lip.
"Heh, that's not so easily answered. I am guilty of many things, Bella."
"OK, you confess one, I'll confess one."
He paused, contemplating his answer. He turned to face Bella, her rosy, juicy lips just inches from his, screaming to be taken in somewhere warm and soft and wet. "Of the seven deadly," he began, "the one that I am most often guilty of is greed. I am a selfish man."
"Hmm. It'll have to be wrath for me. I'm a little quick with the ire, but I've only ever been in one real fight. You know, where both people are contributing, not just me." The Devil chuckled at this. It irked Bella and she tensed.
"What? Can't picture little me pounding some face in?"
"Oh, no. I absolutely can," he said, still laughing, though surrendering with his hands.
"That's right you can. See how quick that shit happened?"
"Yes, indeed. May I picture you committing other sins as well?"
"If you'd like. It's very polite of you to ask. I apologize that I neglected to."
"Really? And what would you have me do, for your entertainment?"
"Only one of the seven really interests me at all. Your other acts aren't exactly sins. Merely extensions of that one."
"Interesting. Care to share?"
"Show and tell is more my thing."
Unable to restrain himself any longer from this woman, The Devil rose from his chair. He put a twenty on the counter, stubbed out his cigarette and motioned toward the door. "Lead the way, darlin'. I'm ready to see it, if you're ready to show it."
Bella's belly flipped. She glanced at herself in the mirror behind the bar, gave herself a stern gaze of determination. She pulled her stomach taut, and remembered to breathe.
"Emmett! Tell Rose I'm out!" Bella shouted, descending her perch, eager for tonight's entertainment. She wondered how many rounds The Devil could go. Considering it was only 11, she was betting on three. At least.
"Aye, G'night." The Irish called as Bella and The Devil hurried their exit.
The Devil was bewildered. This was too good to be true. She was The Most Dreadful Lure, a deeply buried treasure, a bit of shine on the horizon. He wasn't drunk, but she kept coming in and out of focus, as if she'd disappear if he looked away. He guided her to his car, opened the door for her, helped her and then shut her in. He was dizzy with his craving for her. He wanted her badly, all to himself. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything.
When he sealed them in the car, he could smell her. A little like food and girl, covered up by a sweet musky perfume. Cigarettes and alcohol. Somehow this woman smelled like all of The Devil's favorite things.
Driving towards his apartment, he mused, if she tasted anywhere near as good as she smelled, it would end him. He would crawl inside her and stay forever. That way he could caress her from the inside as well. She would keep him warm and safe in her soft skin, hold him up with her bones. He would fill her up and melt completely with her.
"My place is on the north side of town," she said, tonguing the roof of her mouth. Their thickness was multiplying in the air around them. Every exhale, every movement, sent it swirling in their mouths, nostrils, eyes. Bella was dizzy and trying not to breathe heavily. She didn't care where they went, as long as they arrived with haste. She barely noticed that they were headed west.
The Devil wanted her in his home. He wanted the smell of her, of them, to taint his pillows, the air he lived in. It was closer anyway. "I'm only a few blocks this way."
Bella was breathing shallow, panting, barely able to control her actions. She reached for the handle above the door, raising herself off the seat and looked at him intently. He wanted her eyes on him always. "I feel like I'm going to explode," she said.
"You will. I'm going to make you come a thousand times." His voice trembled, lower than it was before. They both shivered at his words.
"Fuck." Bella could not restrain herself. She was breathless. She could taste herself, her perspiring skin, her liquid body, in the air around her. She was ready for him, and that she knew it, only made her want him more.
She rolled her window down, releasing them from their heady coffin. It broke through somewhat and the cool air helped her focus.
"No," The Devil growled and rolled the window back up. Bella whimpered. They had reached a house. Large, white, dark. Only basic observations were available to her at this point. He whipped into the drive, and around to the back. "Stay," he commanded.
He wanted to pull her out of his car. He wanted to carry her into his house, wanted to taste her with his tongue, undress her with his hands, make her scream with his body.
Bella was shaking in the bucket seat. Half in fear, of what she didn't know, and half in anticipation, of that she did know. She might die from this tonight, but by itself, the last hour and a half with The Devil would make the ride worth this beautiful death.
In a split second, she was out and pressed against the side of the car. His face was beautiful and terrible. His eyes were lasers, etching her soul with his name. She was sure hers were the same. His body was pressed to her, shoulder to toe.
"What the fuck are you doing to me?" he pleaded. His fingers dug into the flesh at her waist; his eyes wild.
"I don't..." There was no air left in Bella's lungs. "It's not…" she inhaled deeply and let her eyelids fall, "Please…"
Instantly, his lips were on hers, hard and desperate. This brought Bella out of her stupor. She pushed back at him with her own lips. Her hands clutched his arms. She kissed him deeply, needing to taste everything her tongue could reach.
The Devil was in need too. He knew he'd take her against the car if they didn't get inside soon. He broke away, afraid of drowning in her. Bella was confused, but she didn't hesitate as he pulled her behind him toward the door.
In the dark, little was visible. He turned on no light, just a hallway, stairs to the basement; past a kitchen, a living room. They ran up stairs, blindingly fast, then to the left, through a door.
It slammed behind Bella, and she was pressed against it. Moonlight coated the room, and his lips once more found hers, then they smacked against her neck. His tongue tickled and probed. He roughly fondled and tugged her hips, her hair, her breasts, her ass. She mirrored his ministrations. Her hands slid under his shirt, coaxing it off.
With feral eyes and their mouths agape, the stared at each other. "You don't want this," The Devil insisted.
"It's too late. I already burn," Bella hissed back. She stepped forward, tore her own shirt off and lost it in the darkness. The Devil took a step back.
"…and she was the most wicked angel I had ever seen, sent to hell to tame the beast," he recited to her, to himself.
The Devil slowly wrapped his arms around her back and unhooked her bra. He ghosted his fingers up and around her ribs, to her shoulders, then slid the straps down her arms, around her elbows, wrists. Her breasts freed, proud and heavy on her heaving chest. He ran his palm up the center and cupped her neck. He pressed his thumb to her parted lips, dragging it along her jaw.
Her breath was warm and moist, laced with alcohol; he could feel it on his face as he tilted her head back to taste her flesh. It was salty and hot at the center of her throat. The Devil could feel the soft purr she let out vibrate on his lips. His fingers wandered over her breasts, stopping only to pinch and pull her nipples. He sucked hard on her skin, wanting to devour her one mouthful at a time, hoping she would stop him, push him away, forbid him from consuming her completely.
Fire was building inside the Devil's chest. He was terrified. This woman, this Bella, she was making it impossible for him to not surrender completely, to detach. As he assaulted her face and neck and breasts with his mouth, his brain was telling him to stop, don't let this woman trick you out of your soul. If she runs her fingers through your hair one more time, tugging it just enough to make your cock ache a little harder, you're going to lose everything you've ever worked to hide. Make her yours, but on your terms.
Bella gasped as the Devil clamped his hands around her wrists and pinned her arms above her head. "Stop," he gritted out.
She pushed back with all the strength her sinewy arms could manage, but he slammed them back up against the door. Bella's bones ached from the force. He attacked her mouth, sucking her lips into his. Her tongue darted out to taste his. His stubble was like needles on her lips and cheeks and she wanted it to shred her.
Bella ground her hips into his, feeling how badly he wanted this. She let out a low growl and tried to free herself from his iron grip, she wanted to feel him again, but that only encouraged him to hold tighter. She wanted to hit him, then kiss him; bite him, then suck him. Somehow this stranger had turned her world so upside down, that Bella was trembling with the fear that neither one of them would come out of this in one piece. She was intoxicated with rage and lust, something altogether new to her.
The Devil had buried his face into her hair and neck, kissing and biting her arms, trying to smell her and taste her and crush her. He couldn't decide now if he wanted to love her or hate her; if he wanted to make love, or fuck the life right out of her. He decided, that if he ravaged her beyond repair, he would as soon join her in death. There was no stopping this now. The aftermath would be dealt with, when it arrived.
What the Devil saw in her eyes told him that she was warring with the same emotions. He kissed her again, hot and deep and a little slower than before. Her teeth clamped onto his bottom lip and he yanked his head away, but not before he felt his flesh tear, not before the trickle of blood ran down his chin, down hers. He licked at his lip, tasting his blood, tangy, hot and metallic. He sucked it into his mouth. Bella licked the blood off her own mouth and watched, mesmerized, as The Devil swallowed a mouthful of claret and smirked.
He shifted both her wrists into his one hand and with the other massaged her right breast. Her eyes fluttered closed. He leaned into her ear and whispered, "That wasn't very nice, Bella." He pinched her nipple hard, digging his thumbnail into the top. She cried out. He silenced her with his mouth, and let her wrists free.
Bella flung her arms around the Devils neck, digging her nails into his back. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. With their mouths locked, the Devil carried her to the bed and slowly laid them down.
Their breathing was now slow and full, and with each inhalation, the Devil could smell how much the girl wanted him. Wasting no time he slowly, and with too much force, manipulated her body with his hands from shoulder to waist. He parted her legs with his, lowering himself between them. He grabbed and lifted and licked his way to her belly.
He stopped and lifted his head. He held her hips in his hands, massaging and pushing his thumbs into her skin. He raked his eyes over her body. His now. Her creamy skin was marred red from his blood and too much touch. Her tiny nipples were hard as diamonds. Her hair was all over, fanned out in a way that only this particular situation could induce.
She was a sight, a salvation and damnation whimpering underneath him; a mess of beautiful curves and spheres. It was time to see it all. Round one was over. They were both back in the ring, and round two was going to go to the Devil.
He tucked his fingers into the waistband of her skirt and tore it in two. Bella's breathing picked up, her heart beating wildly at his actions. Tiny black panties were all she had left. Her shoes disappeared ages ago. With a hand on each leg, the Devil lightly caressed his way from her knees, up her thighs, to the thin strip of fabric riding low on her hips. He slipped his thumbs underneath, pausing to rub small circles on her flesh, and slowly drew the last barrier down her legs and off. He tossed them away.
She bent her legs and planted her feet on either side of him. He knelt there, with his hands on her knees, licking his lips, trying not to just bash his face into her cunt. He wanted to. He wanted to fall head first into that shiny pool. He took a deep breath, mildly calming the monster. He drifted his hands up the insides of her thighs, stopping inches from her slit. She hissed at the cool air on her hot wet skin as he pushed her legs down to the bed, spreading her open.
He placed hot open mouth kisses where each leg met her figure. He left a half lip print on each side in blood. She whispered his name, and it made him smile. In one flat tongued motion, he licked slowly from her opening to her clit. He stopped there, flicking his tongue lightly and rapidly over the hardening nub.
She was so wet and salty and sweet. She tasted like the most delicious and most poisonous fruit the Earth had ever produced. He couldn't get enough.
Bella moaned and tensed, wanting it all, but it all being too much. The Devil repeated this movement again and again, finally stopping and closing his mouth over her. He sucked her clit lightly at first, then moved in circles, alternating the pressure.
Bella was panting, one of her hands fisting his hair, one fondling her own breast. The sight of this man eating her, holding her down to the bed, was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. She was going to come. Hard. She just needed more pressure, a few fingers. She lifted her hips to meet his face, grinding them together. He broke away, choking for air.
Just as she was about to mewl in protest, two fingers slowly entered her.
And Bella was ablaze. Warm seeping everywhere, his long fingers were sliding in and out. Curling up at just the right angle, The Devil pressed her spot hard and withdrew again. His mouth once again latched to her clit and he slid slowly out. His fingers danced at her entrance, spreading her wetness over her skin, he entered her again, this time harder. Her body ached for more.
"Harder," Bella pled, arching herself at him.
The Devil obliged, punching into her with his hand; drawing hard circles on her nub with his mouth. Bella screamed and writhed beneath him, her orgasm pounded through her. Her fingers twisted into the sheets pulling them to her breasts. She rose to sitting and the Devil snaked his free arm around her waist, still buried, to hold her still. She crushed her pussy to him, tightening her thighs around his head, trying to make his fingers break through her.
His open mouth consumed all of her that it could, tongue and teeth and nose inside. She jerked her hips into him and screamed as his teeth tore into her flesh. He continued to flick his tongue and suck on her nub. She growled his name as she came a second time on his face. He slowed his treatment as she rode it out. The sensation became too much and she pushed his head away, collapsing back on to herself like a lifeless puppet.
"You're not putting up much of a fight anymore, darlin'," The Devil panted, licking his lips. The taste of her sex and their blood, made his cock painfully hard. Her frailty was obvious to him now. Whatever hate he may have built toward her had just turned into a shield. A shield for her.
Seconds ago she was inches from snapping his neck with her legs, her hand on the back of his head, suffocating him with her body. Now she was limp and trembling. He could hear her teeth tapping together, breath hitching. He caressed and touched her body randomly from her toes to her head as he laid his body down behind her. He felt an urge to cover her, to control what she felt, what she saw, so that nothing else ever could.
He clumsily removed the hair covering her face. "You know, this hasn't even started yet," he whispered in her ear as he pressed his now naked body against her.
Bella reached between them and closed her hand around his cock, stroking it up and down.
"It's just too bad it has to end eventually," she sighed.
"Fuck!" The Devil gasped, "It doesn't ever have to end. I wont let it." Her hand was soaking wet. She caught The Devil by surprise. She pumped him freely, firmly, twirling her fist as she stroked upward. To The Devil, it almost felt like he was inside her.
"Promise?" she asked as she turned her body toward him.
"I don't make promises, Bella," he returned breathlessly, as he locked his hand on her hip. He palmed down to the back of her knee and pulled her over him.
As she lifted her body to straddle him, she grinned, "And here, I thought I had you."
"Not yet. Almost, but not yet."
How this woman was simultaneously all the things the Devil ever wanted, and everything he'd been trying to avoid, was disconcerting. The sexiest thing about her is that she just was. Was. No apologies, no embarrassed blushing, no shame. He'd met his match. Of all the souls the Devil had ever had, hers was the one he now had a vested interest in keeping.
He looked at her, her body slightly bent over his, her hair hanging around them, he could swear there was fire around her edges. Like she was a burner on low, she trembled on his hips, sliding lightly over his cock. Each breath she took ignited her more.
This was Lilith. She was here in this madness. Furious, she had claimed him, finally, as she positioned him to enter her. She was excruciatingly slow, extraordinarily wet, and deliciously tight. He gasped as she took all of him without struggle.
She bent her head down next to his and whispered in his ear, "We were never supposed to be here tonight, my Devil."
She bore down on him, her hot cunt expanding, her garden drew further up into her body to accommodate. The Devil's eyes rolled back into his head as the cool air stung his dripping rod when she withdrew him. Shocked at her scorching heat, he gasped and choked and his eyes shot open as she impaled herself again.
"I wouldn't be so…" he panted, seized her hips, slammed her down onto him, "hasty to presume…" he pushed her off him and rose up to meet her again, "that this wasn't…" slam, "already," pant, "fucking," slam, "written."
Bella screamed, from deep in her belly, her body shaking and wild, riding The Devil. Her muscles clenched as she heaved herself onto him over and over. The Devil spat and growled as he sent her higher with each thrust. Bella wound tight and liquefied, pulsing out and down. She ground her clit into his body as she tried to get more of him inside her.
The Devil, nearly dying from the pleasure of this woman, bolted up and flipped them over. He pushed into her, raving mad, sending them to the edge of the bed. He devoured her lips, her tongue, her chin. She wrapped her legs around him, and coaxed him further. Each advancement drove Bella further off the side of the bed until she was off, her hands on the floor behind her, holding herself up. She looked into The Devils wild eyes and she fought back each of his assaults with her own body.
Her breasts bounced vulgarly in his face, and The Devil was sure he had never seen such a divine sight. He wrapped his arms around her hips, pulling her body to him, pushing his into hers.
The Devil was seconds from his release. He heaved Bella's body upward toward him. Her chest collided with his and she dug her nails into his shoulders to brace herself. He held her ass in his hands and with three more powerful stabs he shot off into her, eyes squeezed tight, muscles strained to their limit.
Both collapsed into fetal positions, heads resting above the others bent knees. Their gazes never breaking, they stared at one another, their steamy, sticky bodies longing for more, yet broken and bloody, too battered to even move.
"It might be one of the oldest tales ever told," Bella whispered.
"I was never much a fan of fiction," The Devil said, cupping Bella's face in his palm.
"There is always truth underneath it somewhere."