I forced my stubborn eyes to lift, even though every part of me screamed to look away.

The Devil stood there, leaning lazily against his desk, watching me like I was his favorite sin. He was... breathtaking. Too beautiful to be real. The heavens had crafted him to be an angel, but he spit in their face. He chose chaos over purity. Destruction over peace.

That all-black suit molded perfectly to his tall, muscular body, hugging every hard line of him like a second skin. The crisp fabric whispered with every small movement, looking soft but sharp enough to cut. His silver-blue eyes stared through me, cold and empty like frozen oceans, dragging me under with no escape.

And yet... something dangerous flickered in those depths. That cruel glint I had seen so many times before... right before punishment... right before pain. It made my throat tighten, made heat flood between my thighs even as fear crawled up my spine. I hated it. I hated how my body responded to him while my mind screamed to run.

His lips-God, his lips-stayed set in a straight, unkind line. Those lips had only kissed with cruelty, only whispered punishments... yet I still wondered how they'd feel pressed against my throat, against my chest, against places I shouldn't even imagine. My cheeks burned, but my thighs pressed tighter.

His dark hair fell to his shoulders in soft, thick waves. Clean and silky, yet heavy with the weight of every sin he committed. Every inch of him screamed power, danger, possession. He stood tall-six foot seven of muscle and lethal grace. The kind of man who made other men shrink into the background. The kind of man who made women forget their common sense.

He didn't need to speak often. His stare told me everything. My skin prickled under it, my nipples hardening beneath my thin dress, my thighs clenching tighter. My body remembered the lessons before... the rough grip of his hands, the heat of his mouth, the burn of his punishment mixed with forbidden pleasure.

His voice finally came, soft and smooth, but it slid over me like silk wrapping around my neck. "I heard you had a little chat today..." he said, swirling his whiskey, his stare never leaving me. "With a boy."

My stomach twisted. I knew the bodyguards betrayed me. I knew Varto would sell me out the second Lucifer gave him a look. My cheeks burned hotter, my head lowering as I whispered, "Yes... daddy..."

His fingers kept circling the rim of his glass, slow and lazy, but I caught the flex in his jaw... the warning.

His eyes sharpened, his voice dropped, dark and heavy. "I heard something else, too." His grin pulled at the corner of his mouth, wicked and hungry. "That you smiled... that you giggled like a needy little girl... like you enjoyed it... like you wanted him. Is that true, princess?"

I gripped my dress tighter, trying to ground myself. I couldn't lie. Lying only made it worse... and sometimes, he liked it when I confessed my sins. My chest rose fast, my voice coming out shaky, soft. "Yes... daddy... it's true."

Silence fell like a heavy blanket.

Then... the soft scrape of his chair. My spine straightened on instinct, heart slamming in my chest. My nipples ached, my thighs shook, heat pooled dangerously low in my belly. His footsteps circled me, slow and purposeful, like a lion circling his prey.

"Liloco knows..." his whisper brushed my ear, sending a shiver down my back, "she's not allowed to play with boys."

I gasped when his fingers traced my bare shoulder, dragging softly down my arm before dipping beneath the thin strap of my dress. His breath brushed my neck, hot, thick, making goosebumps rise on my skin while my core throbbed with aching need.

"She knows what happens when she breaks daddy's rules," he murmured, his tone dark, full of promise.

I whimpered. My legs pressed together, desperate to hide the wetness slicking my thighs. My breath quickened, my body burning under his touch.

"I... I'm sorry... please," my voice trembled as my back arched helplessly toward him. "I... I didn't mean to upset you... I swear... I won't do it again... please, daddy... don't be mad."

His hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to make me gasp. His lips brushed my ear, his voice thick with heat.

"Oh, baby girl," he purred, "I'm not mad... I'm hungry."

My voice sounded weak and pathetic. My heart dropped lower as I waited for his next action.

He let go of me "Did you enjoy his company?" His voice stayed low and calm, each word smooth and steady like a blade against my skin. His tone betrayed nothing, but I could feel the storm hidden beneath his perfect mask. My heart pounded, sharp and painful, making it hard to breathe. This was a test-a dangerous trap I could not afford to fail.

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to obey. "No..." I whispered, my throat tight.

It was a lie.

I did like Jon. I liked him more than I should have. But it didn't matter. I had no right to like anyone else.

I belonged to someone else. I belonged to him.

Lucifer owned me.

"Good girl," he breathed against my ear, his words sending a shiver racing down my spine. His thick fingers slipped through my hair, slow and lazy, massaging my scalp like I was nothing more than a pet beneath him. "Because I'll crush anyone foolish enough to take what belongs to me," his voice rumbled, deeper now, laced with heat and warning. "Next time... I won't be so forgiving, understood, little angel?"

"Yes... yes, daddy... I understand," I gasped, my voice trembling as I gave him what he wanted.

For a brief second, I felt relief when he leaned back in his seat, his grip loosening in my hair. But it didn't last.

His cold eyes sharpened, pinning me in place, and his palm tapped his thick thigh. My stomach dropped.

"Come here, princess," he ordered, rolling up his sleeves, his tone smooth but carrying the sharp edge of danger. "Bend over daddy's lap for your punishment."

My whole body tensed, but I stood, swallowing my fear. I walked straight to him, each step making my legs weaker. Like a lamb walking into the lion's jaws.

His eyes devoured every part of me. I dropped to my knees, bowing my head, letting my hair fall forward to hide the heat rushing to my cheeks. His large hands circled my waist and dragged me over his lap like I weighed nothing. My chest pressed into his firm thigh, the heat of his body making my skin burn with anticipation.

I knew what was coming.

So did he.

His hand slid up my bare thighs, strong fingers parting them slightly as he dragged my nightdress up higher, bunching it around my hips. My breath caught as the cool air kissed my now exposed flesh. My core clenched, body betraying me, pulsing with need. I felt too bare, too vulnerable, but the heat pooling between my legs only worsened.

I glanced up, locking eyes with him. His stare was sharp and hungry, like a predator about to devour his prey. I whimpered when his hand left me for a second, only to hear the drawer beside him open.

A soft gasp escaped my lips when I saw it... the black paddle. Thick, smooth, heavy in his grasp.

I thought it was gone.

I turned my head, pressing my cheek against his thigh, gripping his leg tightly as my pulse raced. My thighs quivered, my core throbbing with a dangerous mix of fear and forbidden excitement.

"This is your only warning," his voice dropped, thick with promise and punishment. His palm rested on the curve of my ass, squeezing softly before sliding lower, teasing the sensitive skin between my thighs. "Next time... I'll make it ten times worse."

His fingers dipped between my legs, finding my slickness with ease. His chuckle rumbled through his chest, dark and pleased.

"Naughty little angel... already so wet for daddy's punishment."

I pressed my palms against the cold floor, trying to keep still.

I kept my mouth shut, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying something stupid.

My bare backside sat exposed over his lap, waiting for the first blow. I forced myself not to flinch even though my heart beat fast in my chest.

Normally, the Devil wasted no time. He always struck fast, always let the punishment rain down without mercy.

Yet this time, nothing happened. No sharp pain, no angry words. Just silence.

I peeked up from the corner of my eye, confused. His hand rested on my lower back, heavy and warm. I dared not move, but my mind spun fast.

My father loved control. Every punishment was his way of reminding me who had power, who made the rules in this cursed mansion. But now, it felt different. This silence dragged on, stretching the tension until it knotted up inside my belly.

Then I felt it-his hand moved, slow and steady, stroking my skin like he owned every inch of it.

Smack!

His palm dragged across my exposed flesh, smooth and warm, pressing down gently on every curve as if he wanted to memorize me through touch alone.

It shocked me more than any slap ever could. My whole body tensed. I froze, too stunned to react, too confused to speak. His touch carried no rage, no sharp discipline. It was soft... careful... almost teasing.

My breath caught in my throat when his fingers glided along the edge of my hips, tracing slow circles that made my stomach tighten.

He moved up my body, his fingers trailing over my skin like I was his personal possession.

He touched every rib, slow and greedy, dragging his hands down until every inch of me tingled and burned. I hated how much my body begged for him. Every stroke lit up my nerves. Every squeeze made my thighs clench, aching for something more.

He yanked my nightdress up, bunching it at my waist like it got in his way. My chest rose and fell too fast. His knuckles brushed under my ribs and I bit my lip, fighting the needy moan threatening to slip.

Then his fingers went lower, hooking under my lace panties and tugging them up sharply.

The soft fabric pressed right against my swollen clit, teasing the soaked flesh underneath. I stayed still, jaw locked tight, but the heat between my legs grew worse. My pussy throbbed, wet and wanting, ready to be touched, used, ruined.

This wasn't punishment. There were no cruel words, no harsh grip. Only quiet, sinful touches that made my body burn hotter. My breath came out shaky. My legs felt weak. I tried to fight it, but my body wanted more.

His palm cupped my lower back before moving to my bare thighs, fingers gripping my flesh before spreading me apart. The cold air kissed my wet, needy core.

My whole body shivered. He could smell me, feel how ready I was for him, how my pussy dripped just for him.

I should have pulled away. I should have screamed. But all I felt was hunger. A wild, raw need that made my stomach tighten, my heart race, and my pussy throb.

My panties sat halfway down my legs, forgotten. My nipples ached, sensitive as they rubbed against the fabric of my dress. My whole body squirmed under his greedy hands.

Then I heard it.

A low, deep groan rumbling from his chest. My body tensed, soaking in the sound of pure, male hunger.

His strong hands grabbed my waist and pulled me down onto his hard, thick thigh. I gasped as my wet core pressed against his muscles. I felt everything-his power, his desire, his thick cock pressed tight inside his pants.

A moan broke free from my throat, soft and desperate. "Ahh..."

My hips moved on their own, grinding against his thigh, chasing every bit of friction I could steal.

His grip tightened, holding me down, making me feel small, weak, and helpless under him. I could feel how much he wanted me, how hard he was, how much his cock pulsed for me.

His hand slid lower again, fingers exploring my wet pussy, brushing over my swollen clit before slipping through my folds.

My body jerked, needy and eager. My hips rolled shamelessly, rubbing myself all over his thigh, moaning louder, drowning in the pleasure.

I didn't care what this made me. I didn't care if it ruined me. I just wanted more.

Just when I thought I would completely fall apart, a sharp knock cut through the air.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

'Oh shit.'

My body jerked, startled, but the heavy ache between my legs only worsened.

I stumbled to my feet, dragging my nightdress down, but my thighs were sticky, my panties ruined, and I couldn't hide the way my body reacted.

Then I made the mistake of looking down.

My breath caught painfully.

His arousal strained against his pants, thick and hard, resting boldly along his thigh. There was no denying it. He was hard because of me-because of my gasps, my squirming, my exposed body.

And he wanted me to see it.

He moved his hand, deliberately giving me an unobstructed view. My lips trembled, parted in shock, but the fire between my legs only grew worse, my walls clenching around nothing.

When I forced my gaze up to his face, I met eyes darkened with desire, glinting with hunger and raw dominance. His smirk was slow and filthy, dripping with satisfaction.

Then he turned away, leaving me throbbing, breathless, and aching.

I ran to the door, my body still hot, my thighs pressed tight, and my core soaked in a way I didn't understand. I almost bumped into Macheno, but I didn't stop. I couldn't look at anyone. My skin still felt like it burned from his touch, and my body wanted something dirty I could never say out loud.

Almost an hour passed, but my body stayed restless. My skin stayed hot, my thighs stayed squeezed together, and my stomach felt tight with a need that scared me. I laid there in the dark, holding my sheets tight while my mind refused to calm down. My heart raced, my chest moved in quick gasps, and my thoughts kept dragging me back to that office... back to him.

I had never been kissed, never had a boyfriend, never been hugged by a boy. But now, my whole body felt like it had been claimed by something sinful. No man ever dared to come close to me. Everyone saw me as the Devil's daughter. Pure. Untouched. Innocent.

But after tonight, could I still call myself innocent?

I bit my lip, trying to make the heat between my legs go away. I had read dirty books and seen sinful videos. I knew what desire looked like. I had seen it with my own eyes. I had stared straight at his thick, hard cock pressing through his expensive pants, shameless and bold.

I shivered just thinking about it. Out of all the cruel things my stepfather had done, this one stayed in my head the most. He didn't need to say anything. His silence messed me up more than any punishment ever could.

The Devil didn't need to yell. He made you weak by making you think, by making you imagine, by making you want. His cold, silver-blue eyes twisted me up inside, filling my head with dirty, forbidden thoughts. He had always scared me, but tonight... he made me feel something else.

His blood daughters always stayed away from him, always quiet, always hidden in this house. But me? He always looked at me like I belonged to him. I didn't know if I wanted to run away or crawl into his lap and beg him to keep going.

I needed a distraction. I needed someone to talk to before I went crazy.

I grabbed my phone and called the only person who ever made me feel normal-Mayia.

Her beautiful face lit up my screen. "Sevo," I whispered, my voice shaky, but my lips curved into a grin.

"Nessa, you look so cute even this late," Mayia teased, pouting adorably. "Look at me, I look like I fought a tornado."

We had been friends for years, soulmates even, though we had never met. She lived hours away, but she knew me better than anyone else. She was my safe place.

"I... I need to tell you something, and it's bad," I said quickly before fear could hold me back.

Mayia's pretty green eyes widened. "Oh my God... wait, don't tell me... a boy kissed you?"

I shook my head.

"Someone confessed?" she guessed again, but I shook my head harder.

She gasped playfully. "That creepy math teacher finally made a move?"

That one earned a laugh from me, but I knew it wasn't that simple.

"May... I..." My fingers curled around the edge of my nightgown, my voice dropping. "My stepdad... the Devil... he called me to his office tonight because I got caught flirting with a boy and..." My throat went dry, and I almost didn't continue.

May leaned in closer, her grin widening, her brows dancing. "Don't stop now."

I swallowed. "He didn't spank me, May. He-he started rubbing my ass... touching me... like... slow... soft touches, and... he almost pulled my panties off. If someone hadn't knocked, I don't know what would have happened."

May's jaw dropped. Her hand flew to her chest. "Girl... that sounds exactly like that scene from Specific Taste... Domino and Isobel... remember?"

A shiver ran down my spine at the comparison. Specific Taste was one of our filthiest reads-Domino, the dominant older man who introduced young, untouched Isobel to the world of raw, dangerous lust.

My core pulsed just thinking about it.

But this wasn't fiction.

This was real. And it was wrong.

"The Devil and I aren't lovers," I said weakly, my thighs clenching together as my core throbbed with traitorous need. "I would never think of him that way... "

"That's not even the worst part," I admitted, feeling my throat tighten as the memory replayed in my head. "When I heard the knock, I stood up, fixed my nightdress, and looked at him... just to see if he was mad or something... but what I saw-May, you won't believe it."

May leaned forward, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Girl, spit it out already! You're killing me with suspense."

I took a deep breath, heat flooding my cheeks as I whispered, "I... I saw a bulge. Like, full on... thick and impossible to miss. It was right there, pressing against his pants, bold as ever... like it wanted me to notice. And it wasn't just my imagination... I swear, he was at least half hard. It was... big, May... so big."

May's jaw dropped, but then her expression twisted into a grimace. "Ewwweee!"

That... wasn't the reaction I expected. My brows scrunched together. "Wait... ewweee? Why ewweee?"

May shrugged, waving her hand. "Well... he's your stepdad, so I just pictured an old, balding man with a huge beer belly. You know, the typical gross old creep."

My mouth fell open. I almost laughed in disbelief. She could not have been more wrong.

I shook my head quickly. "No... not even close," I muttered, probably sounding more defensive than I meant to.

May raised a brow, grinning slyly. "Okay... now I need to see this so-called Devil of yours. Send me a picture. I need to know what this scandal looks like."

"Fine... hold on," I said, already pulling out my browser. I didn't have personal pictures of him, but it wasn't hard to find. His photos were plastered all over the internet. I picked a few-one where he wore his signature tailored black suit, another in his crisp grey three-piece, and the last... his old military uniform, looking every bit the brutal, feared General. He didn't serve anymore, but his name still carried weight.

I sent the pictures, and within seconds, May's high-pitched squeals echoed through the phone speaker.

"Oh. My. God... no... no... no! Nessa, are you kidding me?! This man cannot be your stepfather. This... this is the literal definition of sin on legs! This is the man I imagine when I read about Nellie in Tarlia's series!"

My jaw clenched. Nellie... my Nellie. My fictional obsession. My filthy fantasy man.

And now she compared him... to my stepfather.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head in pure denial.

May didn't stop there. She adjusted her posture, pretending to be some CEO giving a corporate verdict. "Alright, here's my conclusion," she said, lips pursed. "Your Devil daddy is one-hundred percent attracted to you. I mean-he got hard while touching your ass, Nessa. That's not even a question."

My heart jumped to my throat. My hands tightened into fists.

"No! That's insane, May!" I cried. "He's my stepfather-he's married to my mother! He's just... always watching... but it's not... it can't be like that."

May just smirked, far too calm for my liking. "You keep telling yourself that, baby girl... but your body saw the truth first."

I shook my head harder, voice cracking, "What do I do, May? What the hell am I supposed to do with this?!"