Page 6 of Devour (Blood and Roses #1)

Ariel

D id my pussy just make that sound?

If the floor could crack open right now, I’d gladly jump in. He unties the binding around my waist. I hear the zip of his pants closing.

The heat of his body vanishes, and I’m left cold and exposed. He doesn’t even help me off the desk.

I lay there for a moment, wishing I could melt into the surface from sheer humiliation, but I can’t. I have a son who needs me more than my damn pride.

I get up with my clumsy body and am a little disoriented, but I make sure I don’t look towards him for fear I will break down.

I try not to wobble on my heels as I walk towards my discarded cloth, my pussy keeps making a wet sound, but I don’t look back to see the look on his face.

He’s probably smirking. I dress quickly, not bothering to wear my bra, I shove it into my bag.

The elevator dings. I’m glad he already opened the elevator because I don’t trust myself to speak without my voice shaking. I step into the open elevator, and the doors close behind me with a quiet whoosh.

Then I see my reflection in the mirrored wall. I look like a mess. Hair disheveled, lips red and swollen, eyes glassy I look like I am going through a mild life crisis.

I thought my life was already chaotic—but this? This is rock bottom. Can anyone sink lower than this? I fight back tears as I run my fingers through my hair, trying to smooth it down, trying to hold myself together.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I walk past his secretary. She mutters something under her breath, a snide comment I don’t quite catch. It doesn’t matter.

With the way I look, she assumes I just fucked her boss. She’s right. But I don’t want to think about that now.

I just want to make it home in peace without the cum slipping from my pussy and smearing my skirt.

The moment I shut the door to my tiny apartment, I leaned my back against it, closed my eyes and burst into tears.

What the fuck just happened? Did I let Luca take me like that? Worse, I enjoyed it. My body begged for it.

Welcomed it like a long-lost addiction I swore I kicked. I’m soaked in the evidence of it, slick between my thighs, my skin tingling from the bruising grip of his hands, I can still feel the sting of his palm on my ass.

He made me beg. Not with words he didn’t need them. He knew I’d crumble. And I did. I’d been so damn hopeful when that interview offer came in.

I even dipped into next month’s gas money just to buy something decent to wear—well, decent by thrift store standards. And a pair of heels that blistered my feet.

All for a shot at something better. Something stable. But instead, I walked right back into the lion’s den.

Right into Luca Falcone’s trap. Older. Harder. Colder. And still, the only man who’s ever made my body betray my soul. He touched me like I was still his.

Like seven years hadn’t passed. Like I was just a warm hole for him to claim. And I let him. God, what does that make me? A slut? A fool? Or just a broken girl who never really left him behind?

I swipe at the tears with the back of my hand, smearing mascara across my cheek. I can’t let this break me.

My phone chooses that exact moment to buzz. Of course, it does. Because life has a wicked sense of humor.

I fish it out of my bag with hands that still won’t stop trembling. The screen lights up: Mai. Figures.

My only best friend. We met during my first trimester at The Tea Spoon Café, where we both worked as waitresses. I was trying to hide my pregnancy so I wouldn’t lose my job.

She found out when she walked in on me changing in the staff bathroom after I’d puked all over myself.

I thought she was going to rat me out. But instead, she took pity on me, covered my shift that day and from then on, she’s been my bestie.

She’s the only person who knows about the interview. She wants a full play-by-play. I stare at her name for a second too long, debating whether to pick up.

I don’t want to talk. Not about the job. Not about him. But if I don’t answer, she’ll just keep calling until she’s standing outside my door with takeout and tequila. I swipe to answer.

“Hello?” Her voice comes fast, loud, and full of attitude.

“Did you get the job? Is your boss hot? Is he bang worthy?”

I roll my eyes as I hang my bag on the rack and step out of my heels. My feet ache. My head aches.

My lips hurt, my ass still stings from his spanking, Everything about today aches. “He’s hot,” I mutter under my breath. And yes, he is bang able and I got banged.

Hard. Up against a desk like some shame-drunk intern.

But I’m not telling Mai that. Not unless I want a thirty-minute lecture on boundaries and why screwing your future paycheck is a bad idea, even if your future paycheck is a ruthless, sinfully beautiful, emotionally unavailable ex who is bent on revenge and kisses like he wants to ruin your life.

I tug off my blazer and collapse onto the edge of the couch.

“I don’t know if I got the job yet.”

“Ugh. What do you mean you don’t know?

“I mean… I don’t even have the experience for the job,” I murmur, pressing my palm to my forehead. “It was a bad idea going in the first place.”

“Don’t say that”

Mai snaps through the phone.

“You’re one of the fucking strongest, smartest people I know. If they don’t see that, it’s their loss. Not yours.”

A soft, grateful smile tugs at my lips. “Thanks. You always know what to say to make me feel better about myself.”

“Always. Want me to come over?”

“No, I’m good,” I say, glancing toward the clock. “Just need a little rest before heading to my part-time job at The Grind.”

“You working at the club tonight?”

“Nah. Remember, I asked the manager for the night off.”

“Oh, right! You said you wanted to spend time with Noah.”

Her voice softens.

“How’s he doing? Any news on a donor?”

My throat tightens. I hate this part. The not-knowing. The waiting.

“Nothing yet,” I whisper.

There’s a pause. A beat of silence so heavy it might crush me.

“He’ll be fine,” she says eventually, firm like she’s trying to will it into existence.

“Look on the bright side… Dr. Eli is hot.”

“Mai.” I sigh, half-laughing, half-groaning. “He’s my son’s doctor.”

“Oh, please. The man ogles you like he wants to taste you every time you’re not looking.”

“Sto…p,” I warn, but my voice is weaker now—tired.

“Okay, okay,”

she concedes, voice playful.

“Just… let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

I hang up, I want to focus on the rest of my day and forget about what happened. Life doesn’t pause just because your ex fucked you so hard your legs forgot how to walk.