Beauty and the Devil

chapter 15

Samantha’s POV

His mouth was on mine, and this time it wasn’t punishment. It wasn’t control. It was *need*, raw and desperate, like he was starving for me and only me. Clyde kissed me with a hunger that could’ve devoured galaxies, his lips bruising mine, his tongue sliding against my own in a rhythm that made my knees weak.

His hands were everywhere—gripping my back, sliding down to my thighs, pulling me hard against him until there wasn’t a whisper of space between us. His body was a furnace, every hard muscle pressing into me like he wanted to leave an imprint of himself on my skin.

I was beneath him, my back sinking into the mattress as he followed, his weight pinning me down. His mouth left mine only to trail down my neck, kissing and biting, sucking hard enough to leave marks that screamed *mine*. I gasped as his lips found my collarbone, then lower, brushing over the curve of my breast. His teeth grazed my nipple, and I arched into him, a moan spilling from my lips before I could stop it. The sound only drove him wilder—he groaned like it was the best thing he’d ever heard, his cock hardening even more against my hip.

I could feel him through his pants, thick and insistent, the heat of him seeping into my skin. When he ground against me, I couldn’t help but rock back, my body moving on its own, instinct taking over. He paused then, his hand sliding between my thighs, slow and deliberate. His fingers pressed against me, searching, and when he felt the resistance—that tight, untouched heat—he froze.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and burning. “You’re a virgin,” he said, his voice low and strained, like the words were being ripped out of him.

I stared up at him, my cheeks on fire, my heart pounding. “You didn’t want to know,” I whispered. “You never asked.”

He looked at me like I’d just shattered his entire world. For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Then his mouth was on mine again, but this time it wasn’t controlled or careful—it was desperate, wild. He kissed me like he was trying to consume me whole, his body pressing fully against mine, every hard line of him grinding into me. His hand slid back between my thighs, his fingers teasing my entrance, making me whimper.

“You want this?” he growled, his voice rough with restraint. “You say no, I stop.”

“Yes,” I breathed, not hesitating for a second.

He didn’t wait. He shoved his pants down, freeing that thick, throbbing cock I could already feel pressing against me. He wrapped his hand around himself, stroking once, and then he was lining up at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine the entire time.

The first press burned—a sharp, searing stretch that made me gasp. My nails dug into his shoulders as he pushed in deeper, slow and steady, giving me time to adjust. I could feel every inch of him filling me, stretching me open in ways I’d never imagined. He froze when he was fully seated inside me, his body trembling with the effort of holding still.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “You feel... Jesus, Samantha.”

“Keep going,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

He started to move then—slow at first, each thrust deliberate and deep, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. But as I clenched around him, moaning helplessly, he lost control. His pace quickened, his hips slamming into mine with a ferocity that made my entire body light up. My legs wrapped around his waist without thinking, pulling him even deeper, and he groaned against my neck, his breath hot on my skin.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he growled, his voice raw with need. “No fucking idea.”

Oh, I knew. I could feel it—in the way his body shuddered with every thrust, in the way he gripped my hips like he was afraid I’d disappear, in the way his rhythm faltered every time I moaned his name. He buried his face in my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as he fucked me harder, deeper, until I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

It was messy. Raw. Perfect. No games, no control—just him and me and this electric connection that felt like it might burn us both alive.

When I came, it hit me like a tidal wave, tearing out of me with a scream I didn’t recognize. My body clamped down around him, milking every last drop as he lost himself in me, thrusting deep and letting out a sound that was pure desperation—broken and real and so goddamn beautiful.

He collapsed over me, breathing hard, still buried inside me. His arms shook as he held himself up, and for a long moment, neither of us moved. Then his mouth found mine again, soft this time, tender in a way that made my chest ache.

“Mine,” he whispered against my lips.

“Yours,” I whispered back.

We stayed like that, tangled and ruined, for a long time.

Then, finally, he pulled back to look at me. His hand brushed hair from my face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked again, softer now.

Tears welled in my eyes. “Because you weren’t listening. You never were.”

And even as he pulled me close again, as his mouth pressed to my shoulder and his hands wrapped around my body like he was trying to keep me, I couldn’t stop the voice in the back of my mind:

Will he ever really believe me? Or will I always be the girl he built in his head?