The Visit

Diavolo gently tapped on the keys of his grand piano. He listened quietly to the melodic sound it produced as it filtered through the empty space of his music room. His eyes were closed and his head was laid back as he drowned himself in the soulful music that came as a result of his unwavering talent.

Her face. Her hair. Her tiny figure. Damn, the way she moans. The way she was straddled underneath him, asking him to go on, to not let go, to push further. His brain kept on replaying those scenes from last night and for once, he wasn't irritated. If anything, he basked himself with every thought of her.

It wasn't supposed to end up with him craving her again. It was supposed to be a one night stand. He was supposed to forget about her after that night like he always does but why wasn't he trying to forget? Why does the word 'forget' sound unpleasant and abominable in his ears?

He doesn't have time for this so why was he giving it time? He had been up in this house ever since he got ba