CHAPTER 32: HEAT OF LIE (R18)

The kiss caught him off guard, his body stiffening for a split second, his breath hitching in surprise. Sophie’s stomach churned, the contact a bitter echo of that day , his arrogance, the weight of his power crushing her. But she leaned into it, her lips moving with feigned conviction, every second a battle to keep him distracted.

Devon recovered quickly, his hands finding her shoulders, pulling her closer with a possessiveness that made her skin crawl. She fought the urge to recoil, her moan a forced sound, masking the revulsion that clawed at her insides.

She knew him too well,give Devon an opening, and he’d seize it, his ego a black hole that devoured restraint. Their breaths mingled, ragged and uneven, the air thick with unspoken power plays. Sophie’s mind raced, balancing on a knife’s edge, keep him engaged, keep him blind to the wardrobe, to Helena, to the truth. Her hands pressed against his chest, not to push away but to steady herself, to maintain the illusion of compliance.

The kiss broke when Devon’s hand slid upward, grazing her collarbone, his touch too familiar, too entitled. Sophie stiffened, memories of what transpired between them flooding back, his whispered threats, her powerlessness. She bit her lip hard, the pain anchoring her, and dropped her gaze to hide the fire of her hatred.

Devon’s breath was hot against her neck, his lips trailing lower, grazing the sensitive skin just above her collarbone. "You’re playing a dangerous game, Sophie," he murmured, his voice a low, hungry rumble that sent a shiver down her spine, not of desire, but of dread laced with memories of his past violation. His fingers pressed into her hips, pulling her closer until there was no space between them, his body a wall of arrogance and control. "But I like it. I like you like this."

Her heart pounded, a frantic drumbeat echoing in her ears, but she forced herself to stay in character, to let him believe she was yielding. She tilted her head back slightly, exposing more of her neck to his lips, a calculated move to keep his focus on her. "Devon," she whispered, her voice a fragile thread, trembling with feigned hesitation. "This.... Someone could walk in." The lie tasted bitter, but it was all she had to keep him distracted.

He chuckled, a dark, possessive sound, his hands sliding to her waist, fingers splaying with a familiarity that made her stomach churn. "Let them," he said, his lips brushing her ear, his tone dripping with entitlement. "We will turn it into a threesome or even foursome." His words were a blade, slicing through her composure, but she clung to her purpose, Helena, the evidence, the truth.

Inside the wardrobe, Helena’s breath hitched, her body pressed so tightly against the wooden panels she could feel the grain digging into her back.

The muffled sounds of Devon’s voice, low and predatory, mingled with Sophie’s strained replies, each word a needle in Helena’s chest. She gripped the bag, the stolen pages crinkling faintly under her fingers, a lifeline to justice if they could just escape this moment. Her muscles ached from the cramped space, her pulse a wild rhythm, but she forced herself to stay silent, praying Sophie’s sacrifice would buy her the seconds needed to slip away.

Sophie’s mind raced, her body screaming to recoil, but she leaned into Devon’s touch just enough to sell the act. She let out a soft, deliberate sigh, her fingers brushing his chest as if to steady herself, though every contact burned like acid. "We can’t," she murmured, her voice low, almost sultry, though the effort made her want to retch. "Not here, not now." She needed him to believe her, to hesitate, to give her an opening to steer him away from the wardrobe.

Devon’s eyes gleamed with a mix of lust and suspicion, his hand pausing on her waist as he studied her face, searching for cracks in her facade. "You’re holding back," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, his fingers tightening briefly. "Don’t think you can play me, Sophie. I always get what I want."

Before she could respond, a faint creak came from the wardrobe, a shift of weight, a brush of fabric against wood. Devon’s head snapped toward the sound, his body tensing like a predator catching a scent. "What was that?" he growled, pulling away from Sophie, his eyes narrowing as he stepped toward the wardrobe.

Panic surged through Sophie, her breath catching as she lunged forward, grabbing his arm with both hands. "Wait!" she blurted, her voice sharper than intended, her mind scrambling for a distraction. "It’s nothing, just the building settling. You know how this place is." Her words sounded hollow even to her, but she pressed herself closer, her hand sliding up his arm, forcing his attention back to her. "Please, Devon, just... stay with me."

His gaze flickered between her and the wardrobe, suspicion warring with desire. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought he’d ignore her, rip open the door, and find Helena. But then his lips curled into a slow, predatory smile, and he turned back to her, his hand finding her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. "You’re full of surprises tonight," he said, his voice thick with implication. "Let’s see how much more you’ve got."

Without warning, he spun her around, her back pressed against his chest, his hands moving to the zipper of her gown with a deliberate, taunting slowness. The metallic rasp of the zipper was deafening in the tense silence, each pull exposing more of her skin to the cool air and his ravenous stare.

Sophie bit her lip hard, the sharp sting of blood grounding her as the gown loosened, sliding down her shoulders, her hips, until it crumpled to the floor in a silken heap, leaving her naked except for her thin panties.

Her body trembled, exposed and vulnerable, but she forced herself to stay still, to play the part, her hatred a searing flame in her chest. Devon’s hands roamed her bare skin, rough and possessive, tracing the curve of her spine, his fingers digging into her hips with a bruising grip. "Fuck, look at this body," he murmured, his breath hot against her neck as he pressed himself closer, his erection straining through his trousers against her ass. Sophie’s stomach churned, memories of his past escapade flooding her mind yet again, but she leaned back slightly, feigning compliance to keep his focus on her, away from the wardrobe where Helena hid, clutching the stolen evidence.

He guided her toward the bed, his hands firm, unyielding, the mattress creaking as he pushed her down onto her back. Sophie’s eyes darted to the wardrobe, catching the faint outline of the door, knowing Helena was inches away, ready to burst out and stop this nightmare. Sophie shook her head subtly, a desperate plea, for her not to ruin everything they’ve worked for, before forcing her gaze back to Devon, her lips parted in a forced, sultry moan to sell the act. Her heart pounded, a frantic drumbeat, but she arched her back, offering herself to keep him distracted, to protect their mission.

Devon’s hands were everywhere, tearing at her panties, ripping the flimsy fabric away with a savage tug. "You’re so fucking ready for me," he growled, his fingers grazing her exposed pussy, finding her slick despite her revulsion, her body betraying her under his touch. Sophie bit her lip harder, the pain anchoring her as she forced a gasp, "Devon, please..."—the words a lie, dripping with feigned need to keep him engrossed. He shed his clothes in seconds, his cock springing free, thick and throbbing, precum glistening at the tip as he loomed over her.

Devon spread her thighs wide, exposing her glistening core. Sophie’s breath hitched, her nails digging into the sheets as he lined himself up, the head of his cock brushing her entrance, teasing her with its heat. "Tell me what you want me to do to you, Sophie" he demanded, his eyes locked on hers, searching for defiance.

Sophie forced a trembling, "Fuck me, Devon, please," her voice raw, the lie burning her throat but keeping his suspicion at bay.

With a brutal thrust, he buried himself inside her, his cock stretching her painfully, filling her to the hilt with a force that made her cry out. "Fuck, so tight," he groaned, his hips slamming into her, each thrust a punishing claim, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the room.

Sophie’s body jolted, her cries loud and raw, "ahnnnnnn fuck!"—each word a mix of genuine pleasure and calculated performance to keep Devon lost in his arrogance. Her pussy throbbed with heat, slick and eager despite the memories of his past violation, her body betraying her mind’s disgust with a primal, uncontrollable need. Her eyes flicked to the wardrobe, ensuring Helena stayed hidden, her sacrifice buying time for their mission, even as her body surrendered to the overwhelming sensation.

How could it feel this fucking good?