Chapter 2

Aria’s POV

I rose on my tiptoes, placing my hands on his chest for balance. The fabric of his shirt was crisp under my palms, his heartbeat steady and strong compared to my own erratic pulse. I pressed my lips against his, the contact sending shivers down my spine.

He remained completely still. No response, no movement of his lips against mine. Panic fluttered in my chest. I pulled back slightly, one strap of my dress sliding down my shoulder, exposing more of my breast. I searched his face for any reaction, any sign that he wasn't completely indifferent to me.

Just as I was about to step away, humiliation burning through me, Devon's hand caught my waist. His eyes had transformed from cool indifference to smoldering intensity. In one swift motion, he pulled me against him, his other hand tangling in my hair as his mouth claimed mine with an urgency that stole my breath.

This kiss was nothing like the hesitant, calculated one I'd initiated. It was demanding, consuming, expertly breaking through my defenses. When he finally pulled away, we were both breathing heavily, his grip on my waist tight enough to leave marks.

"Once you cross this threshold," he said, his voice low and rough, "there's no going back."

Despite the intimidating power of his presence, I found myself smirking up at him. "What, does Mr. Kane need me to sign a liability waiver?"

Something flashed in his eyes—anger, desire, or both—and his grip on my waist tightened. "You're asking for trouble."

"Maybe I am."

Devon's control seemed to snap. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me toward the bedroom as my legs wrapped around his waist. The thin material of my slip dress rode up, leaving me exposed against him. His mouth found my neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin as he lowered me onto the king-sized bed.

His hands were everywhere—sliding up my thighs, pushing the lace dress higher, cupping my breasts through the delicate fabric. Each touch was precise, deliberate, the movements of a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

My own touches were hesitant in comparison, uncertain where to place my hands or how firmly to press against his skin. When I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, my inexperience painfully obvious, Devon took over, removing it himself before returning his attention to me.

"You can touch me," he said, his voice a low rumble against my ear as he guided my palm down his chest. "Don't be afraid."

I nodded, my breath catching as his fingers slipped beneath my dress, finding me wet and ready despite my nervousness. When he slipped one finger inside me, I gasped at the unfamiliar sensation, my body tensing automatically.

"Relax," Devon whispered, his free hand stroking my hair. "Breathe through it."

I tried to follow his instruction, but when he added a second finger, stretching me gently, I couldn't help the small whimper that escaped my lips. He watched my face intently, gauging my reactions, his pupils dilated with desire.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said, though the strain in his voice suggested it would take considerable willpower.

"Don't stop," I managed, my hips instinctively moving against his hand.

When he finally positioned himself between my legs, the head of his erection pressing against my entrance, I felt a moment of panic. He was considerably larger than I'd expected, and the brief pain from his fingers had already been intense.

"Look at me," Devon commanded softly, waiting until my eyes met his. "Stay with me."

He pushed forward slowly, giving me time to adjust to the unfamiliar fullness. The initial pain made me dig my nails into his shoulders, my body rigid beneath him.

"Breathe, Aria," he reminded me, remaining perfectly still despite the tension in his muscles.

After several moments, the sharp discomfort began to fade, replaced by a strange pressure that wasn't entirely unpleasant. I nodded slightly, and Devon began to move with careful, shallow thrusts. His self-control was evident in the tight set of his jaw and the concentrated look in his eyes.

Gradually, my body adjusted to his presence, and the discomfort gave way to something else—a building warmth that spread through my lower abdomen. Devon seemed to sense the change, his movements becoming more confident as he established a rhythm that had me gasping.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice rough with restraint. "You feel incredible."

His hand slipped between us, his thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at my center. The dual sensation overwhelmed me, drawing a surprised moan from my throat. I felt my internal muscles clenching around him involuntarily, which pulled a deep groan from his chest.

"Devon," I breathed, surprised by the neediness in my own voice.

"I've got you," he promised, maintaining the steady rhythm of his hips while his thumb circled with expert precision.

The pressure built inside me like nothing I'd experienced before, my body approaching some unknown threshold. When it finally broke, the intensity of the sensation caught me completely off guard. I cried out, my back arching as waves of pleasure washed over me, my body pulsing around him in rhythmic contractions.

Devon's pace quickened, his careful control slipping as he chased his own release. His breathing grew ragged, his fingers pressing into my hips as he pulled me against him with each thrust. When he finally reached his peak, he buried his face against my neck, a deep groan rumbling through his chest as his body tensed above mine.

I thought we were finished, but I was wrong. After only a brief pause to catch his breath, Devon rolled us over so I was straddling him. His hands guided my hips, teaching me the rhythm as we began again. The new angle sent shockwaves of sensation through my body, more intense than before.

"Devon," I gasped, overwhelmed by the feeling.

"Again," he commanded, his thumb finding that sensitive spot that made my vision blur.

I lost track of time as we moved together. The city lights blurred through the windows as pleasure built and crested repeatedly. My inexperienced body wasn't prepared for such sustained intensity. After the third—or was it the fourth?—wave of pleasure crashed through me, my limbs began to tremble uncontrollably.

"I can't..." I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying out.

Devon's arms tightened around me as he flipped us over once more. "One more," he insisted, his pace relentless despite my exhaustion.

The final climax hit with such force that my consciousness began to slip away at its edges. I was vaguely aware of Devon calling my name, his voice sounding strangely concerned, but darkness was already claiming me. My last coherent thought was that I'd severely underestimated what I was getting myself into with Devon Kane.

I faded into unconsciousness, completely spent in the arms of a man I barely knew.