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About his hands and the way his strong fingers dragged across my skin.

About his mouth an inch from my ear and the gravel in his voice when he spoke.

My fingers move faster, and my free hand grips the sheet when a loud moan escapes me. Then another. And another.

I’m not worried about him hearing because these rooms are probably soundproof.

So I moan loudly because I'm right there, right at the edge.

When I come, my thighs clamp around my hand, and a raw, primal sound tears from me. Because all I can see, hear, and feel is his body claiming mine, and his mouth devouring me alive. “Oh fuck…”

When I come back down, I huff out a breath.

Somewhere down the hall, behind a closed door, is a man who might actually be the devil.

And I came harder thinking about him than I ever have with someone touching me.

I pull the covers up, curl onto my side, and press my face into the pillow.

I'm in so much trouble.

28

DANTE

What. The. Fuck.

Was that a moan?

Or did I imagine it because I’m so fucking hard and I wanted to hear it.

Another sound comes through the wall. It’s faint, but it’s definitely a moan.

I don't move. Don’t breathe.

Then I hear another one.

Then another.

She’s touching herself.

Fuck me.

I sit on the edge of the bed with my elbows on my knees my head in my hands, trying not to think about what she is doing and what she looks like doing it.

It was hard enough to walk away from her in the kitchen. Seeing her eyes close and her lips part, silently begging me to kiss her, took everything I had to step away.

My cock has been hard since, and now it’s begging for relief as I think about her touching herself on the other side of the wall.

There’s silence, then another gasp that breaks apart in the middle and becomes a desperate whimper.

My hand grips the edge of the mattress.

Don't.

Through the wall, I hear another long moan.

Don't do this.