𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 : 𝑨 𝑴𝒂𝒇𝒊𝒂 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

{33}•sᴍᴀᴄᴋ, ᴏᴜᴄʜ•(🌶️)

ANIRUDH

I'm not the kind of guy to be gentle. Never have been. Hell, it's not in my blood. I've always preferred to take what I want, control everything around me, and make sure no one steps out of line. That's the world I've built, a world where I don't show weakness. But the moment she came into my life-fuck-it's like everything shifted. Something about her brings out a side of me I didn't know existed, a side I never thought I'd have to acknowledge.

And right now, as I looked at her, I could feel myself unraveling in ways I couldn't explain. My patience was hanging by a thread, and I could feel it snapping with every breath she took. I almost growled, my voice low and rough as it left my mouth. "Turn, my little angel."

She stared at me, her eyes wide with confusion. I wasn't looking for hesitation. I wasn't looking for confusion. I needed her to obey, to listen. So I didn't give her a chance to think, to process. Without a second thought, I grabbed her waist, my fingers digging into her soft skin, pulling her closer to me.

In one swift motion, I spun her around, slamming her back against the cold, unforgiving wall of the pool. The sound of her gasp was like a shot to my chest, but I couldn't care less. I wasn't asking for permission. I was taking control.

God, she was beautiful. No, scratch that-she was beyond beautiful. But it was that backless dress, the way her skin shone in the dim lighting, that had my blood boiling. I could feel my pulse quicken, my hands aching to touch her, to feel more. I could barely tear my eyes away from her back. That smooth, flawless skin-fuck, I wanted to run my fingers down every inch of it. I moved my hand slowly, almost deliberately, over her back, my fingers grazing the fabric of her dress. I found the dori, the thin string that held it all together, and I couldn't stop myself from playing with it, teasing her, even though I was the one losing control.

"You trust me a little too much, little angel," I muttered under my breath, my voice rough and raw, the edge of irritation and desire mixing together. I didn't know why, but this felt different. It wasn't just the physical attraction-it was something deeper, something that fucked with my mind.

She stiffened, her body tensing under my touch. Her chest was pressed up against the hard edge of the pool, and I took advantage of the position, pressing my own body closer to hers, trapping her between me and the wall. The heat between us was suffocating, and I could feel her breathing quicken. Fuck, she had to know-she had to feel what this was doing to me. She had to sense the storm brewing inside me, a storm I never let anyone see.

But she wasn't just anyone. No, she was different. She made me want to push the limits of everything I'd ever known. The control I'd spent years building was slipping through my fingers, and I didn't give a damn.

Slowly, I untied the knot of her blouse, pulling the fabric loose, the delicate material slipping under my fingers. I felt her tense, her body shaking slightly. And then I saw it-saw the smooth expanse of her skin beneath the blouse, no bra in sight.

I couldn't help it. My gaze sharpened, and my voice came out almost accusatory. "Why aren't you wearing a bra?" I asked, my words cold, but the curiosity and the hunger mixed in.

She almost choked on her words, her breath catching. She twisted her head, trying to look at me, Her eyes widened, and I could see the flush creep up her neck, coloring her cheeks. her expression caught between embarrassment and confusion. "What kind of question is that?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

As I slowly slid the blouse down her shoulders, the fabric grazing her skin with each inch, my eyes were locked on the movement. I could feel the tension between us building, an undercurrent of something raw and unspoken. My voice, low and teasing, cut through the air, carrying a hint of disbelief, "You've been roaming around all day, not wearing a goddamn fucking bra?"