"Don't use it for stupid things," Damian said, his voice cold and sharp, the kind that always sent a chill down my spine—like he could see right through my thoughts. I slipped my phone into my pocket, nodding silently, but inside I was trembling. Damian was seated at his office desk, papers spread in front of him, engrossed in work, while I stood before him, my mind elsewhere. The day at the company was long—meetings, clients, endless responsibilities that felt like my life now. But my thoughts were with Devil.
My phone had vibrated earlier. I glanced at it secretly. A message from Devil: *"Come home before Dad today. I'm alone."* My heart thudded painfully. Devil… The very thought of him sent a warm rush through me mixed with fear. How could I tell Damian? He never let me go out alone.
I took a deep breath and said softly, "Damian, I need to leave early today. I have a headache and I'm tired." He stood and approached me, his fingers brushing my face, warm but sending a strange chill. "What's wrong, wife? The meeting's not over. We'll leave together in 20-30 minutes," he said, eyes searching mine like he could read my lies. But I pressed harder. "Please, Damian. I'll take a taxi home and rest there. It won't be a problem if you're late." I placed a soft hand on his arm, trying to sound convincing, the way I knew he liked.
He hesitated, then smiled a cold, unreadable smile. "Okay, but the driver will drop you off. And message me when you get home." Relief washed over me, but fear lingered—was he suspicious? I quickly left, took the elevator down, and got into the car. The driver dropped me at the penthouse. It was around 7 p.m., the sun setting low and New York's lights flickering on.
Inside, silence reigned. I took off my shoes and went to my room. Changed into loose T-shirt and shorts, something comfortable. Hair loose, I moved toward the living room. There, on the modern wooden table, was a bowl of fruit—strawberries, apples, grapes. Devil was sitting there, a strawberry in his mouth, watching TV. When he saw me, he stood, smiling that smile that melted me. "Nova… you're here!" I ran and hugged him, feeling the heat of his body. He held me tightly, his lips close to my ear. "Good thing you came early. Otherwise, Dad would've taken you to his room, and we wouldn't have a chance to make love," he whispered playfully, but truthfully.
I nodded, "Yes, Devil. I was thinking exactly that." We stood there for a while, his hands gently roaming my waist. Then he pulled back and looked at me, hungry eyes locked on mine. "Come on, Nova. Don't waste time."
I nodded again. We started undressing. First his shirt—exposing a chiseled chest, muscles highlighted by the soft light. I took off my T-shirt, left my bra on. He smiled, "You're so hot." Then I removed my pants; he was undressing too. I turned to the table, placed both hands on it, standing with my back to Devil. My ass up, legs spread. He approached from behind, hands massaging my hips gently. "Ready, star?" he asked. I said yes.
His cock rubbed hard, hot against my ass. Slowly, he entered me. The feeling struck—pain mixed with pleasure. I gasped, "Ah… Devil." He paused briefly, then pushed deep inside. The pain was sharp but pleasure outweighed it. He began slow thrusts, deep and controlled. I moaned, "Oh yes... please." He sped up, hands pinching my breasts. "You're so tight, Nova," he groaned, thrusting harder, shaking my body, the table rattling beneath us.
Pleasure peaked sharply. I screamed, "Oh yeah… please, please… faster, Devil! Faster!" He growled, "Yes, baby, just like that! Take it fast!" His thrusts became rough and rapid like a machine. I closed my eyes, drowned in sensation. We both drowned in sweat and moans echoed in the room.
Suddenly, a door creaked open. I froze, but Devil quickly pushed me under the table. I dropped to my knees, still with him inside me, hidden beneath the tablecloth. My breath caught. Panic hit. What now? I silently prayed, *Please, Damian don't see us.*
Damian's footsteps sounded near. He stopped in the living room and spotted Devil. Devil had a shirt on, hidden below the table, still moving slowly in small thrusts to keep me feeling pleasure but silent.
"What are you doing, son?" Damian asked, voice calm yet sharp. I covered my face, fighting back whimpers. Devil answered steadily, "Nothing, Dad. Just exercising." His voice stable, but I knew the fear in it. Damian laughed, "Exercising? Here, on the table? And why are you moving?" Devil continued pushing slowly. "Just stretching, Dad." Damian asked, "Where's your mother?" "Maybe freshening up," Devil replied. I tightened my legs to stop him, but he kept going—small movements driving me crazy.
Damian sat on the sofa nearby. My breath hitched. Why was he still here? I moved my hips to try and control the rising pleasure. I clenched my mouth, biting my lips to keep quiet. But a small moan slipped out—"Ah…" Damian heard it.
He jumped up, "What was that?" I panicked; Devil was startled too. "Did you hear something, son? I think your mother's foot slipped. Go check." Damian thought then went toward the door. As soon as he left, Devil pulled me up and pushed harder, fast and rough.
"Come on, Nova…" he whispered before falling on me. I opened my mouth instinctively. He shoved deep inside, hot and salty, and I swallowed every drop without wasting. He moaned, "Oh... star." I hurried to put on my clothes again—T-shirt, shorts—all still damp. My thighs were still wet, but no time. It was 9 p.m., and now I had to please Damian.
I ran to his room. He was on the bed, watching. "Where were you?" he asked. I said, "Bathroom." He stood and kissed me roughly as if claiming me. I responded because I needed to keep him happy. He pushed me on the bed, and our night began again—my body there, but my mind elsewhere.