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The mirrors allow me a full view of all the others covering his body—down both arms and his entire back. All beautiful and expertly done.

"You didn't tattoo over any of your scars," I observe quietly, brushing my finger over the dragon's face. In fact, it looks like the tattoos deliberately evade the raised flesh.

"I don't hide from my failures."

His failures aren't the only thing that make his body beautiful. He's packed to the brim with muscle but not too bulky. His physique makes it very clear he can kill you with his pinky without looking like he takes steroids for breakfast.

And as if that doesn’t turn my knees to jelly, the thick veins roping from his neck, down to his thick corded arms, and to his massive hands are my undoing.

He’s… fucking phenomenal.

Carefully, he watches me, the intensity in his eyes blazing as I study him. He's nearly vibrating beneath my slow perusal, so I move on and resume my torture. It takes a total of zero seconds before he’s bristling with the need to fuck me.

I feel so much power in my fingertips, I can’t imagine how much power I’d have if I loved him.

With every inch of his skin revealed, I grow shakier and wetter. It’s not fair for someone to be so perfect, marred and scarred as he is. If anything, the obvious abuse his body has endured only makes him that much more edible.

I choke on air when I pull down his pants, his hard cock jutting out from the confines of his jeans. It will never get any less intimidating, no matter how many times I see it.

Not unless I suddenly accept death via dick one day.

When he’s entirely naked, I take a big step back from him and look around. I stare at him from every angle the mirrors provide, just like he did with me.

Thick thighs, tight round ass, and a defined back that I want to rub myself all over, and the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen.

I want to run away. Far, far away.

This man is going to ruin me after tonight. I can taste it on my tongue.

“Are you scared?” he asks in another dark whisper. He’s staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Yes,” I answer truthfully.

He smiles, and the sight nearly brings me to my knees.

It’s not right—how beautiful he is. He’s definitely the fucking Devil. I’m sure of it now more than ever.

“You should be,” he says, his voice lilted with danger.

I take another step back, but he doesn’t move to stop me.

“Get on your knees, little mouse,” he orders darkly. I pause, unsure if I should listen or find the common sense I dropped somewhere on the way into the House of Mirrors and run.

“Don’t make me ask twice,” he growls, his face dropping to a severe expression. He tilts his jaw down, glaring down at me.

The danger in his face scares me, and my juices dampen my thighs in response.

“I don’t want you to ask me,” I say slowly. Confusion flits across his eyes for a brief second, and I show him exactly what I mean at that moment.

I turn and start to run.

But he’s too fast. His hand snaps out and wraps around my hair, yanking me backwards.

A sharp gasp escapes as I go weightless. He manages to twist my body so I land painfully on my knees. Just like we both wanted.

“You like it when I force you?” he snarls, yanking my head back until I’m looking up at him. His cock brushes against my cheek, warning me of what’s coming.

“You like being a bad little girl, don’t you? You like to defy me because you love it when I scare you. You’re a silly little girl playing with fire,” he taunts, a cruel snarl on his face.