Page 40 of Ruined By a Devil

I proceed to check three more doors on the ground floor only to find out that every single one is fitted with heavy deadbolts, motion sensors, and security cameras angled to cover every square inch of the glass. The garden is basically a kill box, completely illuminated by hidden floodlights and patrolled by armed men who move like military operators.

There is absolutely no easy way out. Or a blind spot.

I’m not sure how I feel about the realization that if Malachi Kavanagh decides to lock me in this house, I will not be able to break out. And if Nolan Devlin comes for me, this place will either keep me safe or become my tomb.

Milo is standing near the main entrance when I decide to return upstairs. He doesn't say anything as I approach, but his eyes follow my movement, sharp and quiet. He knows I was wandering and he knows exactly what I was looking for.

“He'll be back within the hour, Jade,” Milo says quietly, his voice dry and calm. “You should try to wander less.”

“I was just stretching my legs, Milo,” I reply, keeping my head held high, hating that I have to explain every move I make.

“The house is locked tight,” Milo adds, stepping aside to let me pass into my bedroom corridor. “You're safe here.”

“Safety is a matter of perspective,” I tell him before rushing upstairs. As I step into my bedroom, I close the door behind me and turning the lock.

The room is dark, lit only by the faint glow of the garden lights streaming through the windows. I walk over to the bed, dropping onto the edge of the mattress, resting my elbows on my knees.

My skin still tingles and I hate how much my core still aches with that deep, relentless throb, making the lace of my thong feel entirely too tight against my wet heat.

I lie back against the pillows, staring up at the dark ceiling, listening to the heavy silence of the estate. I have nothing in my favor. All I have is a contract, a five-carat diamond on my left hand, and a fiancé who makes my blood burn hotter than any enemy ever could.

The ache between my legs doesn't fade despite the desperate tries to take my mind off of it and focus on anything else. Instead, it grows heavier.

I bite down hard on my lower lip, trying to force my eyes shut and sleep, but every time I close them, I feel his broad, calloused hand sliding under my shorts. I hear the low, filthy rumble of his voice right against my ear.

I remember the heat coming off his body when he was helping me unzip my dress the other night. And how he touched me in the dressing room. I remember the hunger in his eyes when he was threatening to fuck me on the kitchen counter and how hard I had to fight against beginning him to do it. And I lose the fight.

My hand slips down, hooking into the waistband of my pants and thong, shoving them both down past my hips and kicking them away. The cool air hits my exposed, dripping center, making my knees instantly part.

I don't waste time with slow build-up. My fingers are slick the second they touch my core. I press two fingers firmly into my swollen clit, the motion making a sharp gasp break from my throat in the pitch-black room.

It’s humiliating how wet I am for him. How desperately my pussy twitches around my own touch. I circle my finger over my peak in a fast, punishing rhythm, my hips tilting up off the mattress, chasing the friction.

I picture his green eyes, dark and heavy with that possessive need, watching me from the doorway. I picture his broad palm pressing down on my stomach, his heavy length driving into me, filling the empty, aching void inside of me.

“Look at me, Jade.”

“Fuck,” I moan into the empty room, my back arching violently off the bed.

I can’t take it anymore and I slide two fingers deep inside my dripping wet pussy, dragging them back out in a sharp, ruthless pace that mimics his stance during our training session. My inner walls clench tight around my fingers, hot, and desperate for the release I’ve been denying them. The peak hits me fast, a violent, crashing wave of pleasure that pulls a low, helpless sob from my chest.

The ripple leaves my legs shaking as I struggle for breath. I ride out the orgasm in the dark, my face buried in a pillow to muffle the sounds of my own surrender.

I hate him for making me feel like this. I hate that even when he isn't in the room, he makes me lose my control. It’s a sickness and at this rate I’m going to lose if I don’t learn how to guard myself better.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Malachi

I find Milo waiting in the foyer before I even toss my keys onto the marble console. His face is entirely blank, but the tension in his shoulders tells me everything before he speaks.

“She was wandering around,” Milo says, keeping his voice low. “Checking the reinforced glass in the corridor, testing the keypad on the service door, and questioning the perimeter guards about manual overrides.”

My jaw tightens, but I keep my voice calm as I speak. “Did she manage to find a blind spot?”

“No,” Milo replies. “You know that there aren't any to find. But she's mapping the house. She's looking for a way out.”

“Okay,” I step past him toward the main staircase. “Go home, Milo. I'll handle everything.”