Novel The Devil Touch Novels & Stories

I had been under the impression that he was the one who had to endure my torture; but, his icy and emotionless glare put an end to that delusion. He did not utter a single word, yet his actions conveyed a great deal of meaning. The contrast between the kindness of his touch and the savagery I had been subjected to was striking, and I couldn't help but feel it as he pulled me effortlessly from the floor. I had been through a lot.

She felt Olivia before she heard her. Olivia made her way downstairs. She'd heard the car drive up over an hour ago and wondered what kept Cassandra away. Then she'd thought about it, and she'd known. Olivia's judgment. Olivia's sense of right and wrong. Olivia's naive thinking was that the world was simply black or white. She couldn't change the fact that she hated what Cassandra did, or what she stood for. And she couldn't start thinking that even though everyone around her thought they were the good guys, they weren't. But she could offer Cassandra the comfort of a friend. She'd grown up in this world, she'd seen the worst kind of people in it. Emma, Vance, Pedro, and Cassandra weren't li

I won’t say I met my match, no, I met the devil and if I wanted to be free from him I had to be like him. I felt his tongue on my chest, his licked me down to my nipples and he sucked them. I gripped the sheets, biting back a throaty moan. I hated him. I hated the feeling of his hands on my waist. His hated the touch on my skin. I felt disgusted but my body betrayed me. It reacted to the sensations in his touch and it trembled in a way that made him even more excited. Just like he promised. He devoured me that night and I felt less than a pig by the time he was done.

The car door was opened, and Yara was dragged back inside. "Let go of me! What do you want from me?" yelled Yara, trying to rebel. Inside the mansion, a man was sitting on a black leather sofa. His eyes were cold. He was Damian Devatra, the man Yara had heard about on the news and through rumors—the ruler of a ruthless and unforgiving underground organization. You could say he was the King of the Mafia. "Sit down," Damian ordered simply. Yara gulped, feeling she had no choice. Hesitantly, she sat on the sofa in front of him.

The guy kept sobbing, and when he faced her, it was clear that he was stunned for a moment before he got over it and told her what happened. "I never thought I'd meet a devil in person. How much more working for him?" He said that in between his sobs as he glared at the highest floor of the building. "I don't have a job now," his shoulders hung low. In order to comfort the man, she patted him. "Don't worry, you'll find another one," she said, sounding reassuring, even though she herself didn't have a job at that moment. "By the way, what happened? Who's that devil you're talking about?"

She splayed her fingers across his stomach, feeling it tense when her nails skimmed lightly upward. Lucian’s breath grew heavier. He rolled slightly, half over her, so that the weight of him pinned her into the mattress. His thigh slid between hers, pressing just enough to draw an involuntary gasp from her lips. He caught it with his mouth, not in a kiss but in a slow, savoring touch, his breath warm against her cheek. She tilted her hips instinctively, the contact sparking heat that spread like wildfire through her veins. His hand traveled lower, along the outside of her thigh, squeezing gently before dragging back up—this time on the inside. The movement was deliberate, teasing, and she fo

He asked. “He didn't do anything to me. He only touched me, nothing more. I was only dizzy.” He then pulled his head closer as he leaned forward, his fingers holding my jaw. I felt his touch ignite a spark throughout my skin and the hair at the back of my neck stood up, erecting immediately as Goosebumps crawled on my skin. I fought the argue to place his other hand on me, there was just something about his touch that sparked butterflies in my belly. I gulped, my eyes diving into his. My lips caved in, my tongue moisturizing them, but somehow, my incisor refused to let go of my lower lips, allowing me to bite my lip like a prostitute.

He refuses to answer me, which tells me everything I need to know. There’s one thing I’ve learned about demons during the time I’ve had to creep around this godforsaken hell-hole. They’re fucking dumb. Childish, even. Unable to estimate the ripple effect of their actions. “You’ve reneged on your end of the bargain. You touched Layla. You hurt her, you sick fuck. We’re done.” “You’ll never be free of me.” “You’ll never be strong enough to break me.” Like I said, I’ve lasted way longer than any of the men who’ve come before me.

The touch is familiar… Or maybe I’m too obsessed with him. When the tip of his finger strokes my pussy and slides into my cunt, the heat warms me up. The rough yet tender strokes arouse me. Soaks through my thighs. My groan dies in my throat, slowly replaced by shameless moans. “Scar…” He muffles, his breath tickling my bare skin, spreading chills down my spine. The Devil himself! As if he owns me, he flips me so I’m facing him. “You?” Rippppp…