Page 37 of Blind Devotion (Letters of Ruin #1)

“With pleasure.”

His mouth crashed against mine. There was nothing sweet and tender about it this time. It was commanding and soul-changing, and it demanded all my focus. There was nothing but us. He lifted me and plopped me down on the cold lid of the piano.

“But first I’m going to taste you.”

He shoved my shirt up and over my head, then he was touching me.

Caressing me. Owning me. It was nothing like my nightmares, and I loved every second of it.

He cupped one breast, his thumb fondling circles over it while his other hand pinched my other nipple.

It was harsh yet sweet, exactly what I didn’t know I needed. I whimpered, arching my back for more.

“So beautiful,” he whispered against my skin as he cupped my breast. “So responsive. So mine.”

His mouth smoothed kisses down my collarbone to my chest. His teeth nipped the skin at the side of my lace-covered breasts, then he went lower and lower. Nibbling. Kissing.

“I’m going to give you everything you deserve. Everything you always should have received.”

His hand pushed me down, and I didn’t resist. This was my man. I knew it in my bones. I knew it in my heart, and with every moment together, every reminder of our past, those feelings flared brighter.

The piano chilled my back, making me even more aware of the warmth of his touch. His fingers were on my panties, his lips feathering over my hip bone, as if waiting for my acceptance. I lifted my hips, and instantly, he slipped my panties down my thighs and off.

“Good girl.”

Before I could process those words, he spread my thighs, brushing a finger through my folds. A throaty moan escaped me as my body reached for more than that little touch.

“So greedy. So wet. You need this, papillon , don’t you?”

“More, Adrien.” More of him. His fingers. His words. I wanted there to only be him. “Please.”

“God, my name on your lips. It makes me want to do bad, bad things to this body.”

Then more of his fingers were on me, spreading me wide.

Petting, stroking my clit. I whimpered, needing everything, every part of him.

I knew he was going slow because he thought I needed that.

I didn’t. I reached for him. My fingers threaded through his hair and gripped the strands before pushing his face directly into my pussy.

The moment his mouth fell on me, I cried out with hunger, my head arched back against the unforgiving instrument.

“Yes!”

That one word seemed to break his restraint.

His tongue dived in, circling my clit, teasing its sides, before sucking on it until I was bucking off the piano.

Only then did he drive his tongue inside me.

I saw shooting stars. I bucked myself on him over and over, chasing them.

And when his tongue licked its way back up to my clit and his fingers slammed inside me, a supernova exploded. I was floating, surfing a wave.

“Adrien, you in here? We have a problem.”

Whoever it was barely knocked before the door clacked open against the wall.

“What the fuck is this shit?”

I yelped, scrambling to cover myself, my high gone. Oh my god, the idea that someone could see me—all of me—when I couldn’t see them…Bile rose up my throat, and I felt so dizzy.

A shirt was plastered over my chest before the heat from Adrien’s arms and bare torso encased me, effectively shielding me. He tucked me against him, and I squeezed my legs tighter around him.

“Get out,” Adrien growled, head turned over his shoulder. “Erel, so help me. Our history won’t matter if you don’t shut that door and leave right now.”

“You call this…this bullshit handling it?” Erel yelled. “Handling it, my ass.”

“Leave.”

The door slammed shut. Erel raged down the hallway, cursing up a storm in French, his tight voice growing fainter.

“You’re okay.” Adrien’s hands were on my back, squeezing me against him. I hadn’t realized how badly I was shaking. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

This exchange was so typically us. I gave a breathy chortle as tension seeped out of me.

“You don’t think he saw anything, do you?”

“You think I’d let him?”

My heart warmed, and I smiled against him. My lips pressed to his pec, then to his collarbone. Another to his neck, jaw, his chin, until I was drawing his head down to my lips.

He pulled back. “Hold that thought, sweetheart.”

Maybe it was my shock at his refusal that allowed him the time to slip the shirt over my head and down to my knees.

He let go of me. I heard clothing rustle. Then he was tugging the sweat shorts back up my legs. My high from two seconds ago plummeted.

“What are you doing? I…I don’t want us to stop.”

“You’re mine, Tessa…Persy, whatever the fuck I call you now.”

“Tessa. I’ve grown out of Persy.” It sounded so childish to hear him say it now.

“Tessa,” he asserted, caressing my face. “We’re not stopping until your body knows nothing and no one else but me. But it won’t be here. Not today, at least.” He swept my hair back from my forehead. “Our first time will be in a bed so I can worship you for hours like you always deserved.”

Our first time? We’d never been together before? How was that possible when we should have been officially engaged once I turned eighteen?

I didn’t get to think on it very long before his mouth was back on mine.

He stole my air, then fed it right back to me.

His arms slipped under me and swept me up bridal-style.

I rocked into him with every rushed stride, bouncing with every jaunt up the stairs.

All the while, I held him tighter. My hands in his hair.

My lips on his, on his chin, on his neck. I doubted I’d ever get enough of him.