The Devil is a Gentleman – Merci Raines
Spotify → geni.us/no-devil-spotify
Apple Music → geni.us/no-devil-apple
The beat flows into the room, mysterious and sultry, with a hint of playfulness. As soon as she hears it, she closes her eyes and starts swaying, shoulders first, then hips. She knows how to move. In fact, she has to move. She can’t hear music without it taking over her body.
I liked music well enough, but I never understood its full power until I met Mara. She unerringly selects songs with an irresistible beat and an overpowering mood. She finds the songs that tickle your brain, that fire up the neurons until you can almost see the notes sparking in the air around you.
Mara throws open the heavy drapes covering the windows, letting in the last of the late afternoon sunshine, revealing the view of the Hollywood Hills.
She stands directly in front of the window, framed by the glass, her body a shadowed silhouette, gold around the edges. She’s still dancing, running her hands through her hair and down her curves.
Slowly, she unzips the front of her hoodie. She shimmies out of it, languorously sliding the sleeves down her arms, then flinging it away from her so it sails across the room and lands on top of the lampshade. Underneath, she wears only a thin undershirt, through which I can clearly see the outline of her nipples, the shape of the silver rings, and the indent of her navel.
Next, her jeans: she unzips the front, her fingers light and teasing, taking her time. Turning away from me, she slides the jeans down over the round globes of her ass, bisected by her thong.
I want to unzip my own pants because my cock is raging against the fly, but I wait, eyes fixed on Mara, cheeks throbbing from how hard I’m biting them. She’s stoking my fire. The impulse to jump up from this bed and seize her is torturous. It takes everything I have to stay still.
She hops up on the windowsill, lifting up her legs and resting her bare feet on the opposite side of the frame so she can slide off the jeans. She tosses her pants aside, getting up on her knees now, then on her feet, standing in the frame with her back to me.
Resting her hands on the upper frame, she makes slow circles with her hips, swaying that peachy little ass, teasing me, tempting me …
Silhouetted against the setting sun, her figure glows like a caryatid, like she’s holding up the whole building.
I could never sculpt anything so perfect.
She pulls off her undershirt and tosses it behind her. It lands on my lap. I pick up the crumpled cotton, still warm from her body and I press it to my face, inhaling her intoxicating scent.
The idea that someone else might be standing below that window, that they might look up and see the view that I haven’t even yet seen myself, makes me wild with jealousy.
I like that feeling. I’m always in competition for Mara, for her attention and for her body.
I like competing.
I like winning even more.
Mara doesn’t give a fuck that we’re seven stories up, with only a thin pane of glass between her and a hundred-foot drop. She’s still dancing, her body as lithe and sinuous as a snake, rolling and swaying, hypnotizing me.
Now she turns and hops down, taking slow, sensual steps toward me, her hands covering her breasts. She caresses those breasts, squeezes them, then reveals their perfection to me, like opening the doors into heaven.
I’m salivating.
My cock throbs with every beat of my heart.
The chorus of the song begins to play:
Oh don’t you know, don’t you know
‘Bout the devil … he’s a gentleman
Mara gives me a naughty little glance, letting me know that she selected this song on purpose.
I was already well aware that she modeled her painting of the devil after me. After Shaw too—when she painted it, she wasn’t entirely sure which of us had abducted her off the street.
She thinks I’m tempting her along the path of evil.
I disagree.
I want to help her find her true self, as she’s helping me find mine.
I don’t know if I’m becoming a better man. All I know for certain is that I’m finding new abilities inside myself. Powers I couldn’t tap until Mara showed me the way.
Turning her body to the side, Mara pretends to slide her thong down her hip, then pulls it back up again.
I let out a groan.
Grinning wickedly, she turns the other way and repeats her tease on the other side.
“Get over here before I rip you to pieces,” I growl.
Mara lets out a peal of delighted laughter and pulls down her underwear, kicking it away.
The shape of her soft little pussy makes me die to rub my fingers over it, to taste it with my tongue. I want to push my face into it like I did with her shirt. I want to eat her alive.
Starting at the foot of the bed, she crawls up to me on hands and knees, her eyes locked on mine, her body moving with sinuous grace.
She reaches my belt buckle and stops, her slim fingers deftly working to release me from my clothes.
She unfastens the belt and my trousers, pulling them down, underwear too. My cock is raging, so congested with blood that the veins bulge and the pale flesh flushes with angry color.
When Mara closes her mouth around it, I groan like an animal, like a starving beast.
“Not that way,” I snarl. “Turn around and feed me that pussy.”
Mara flips around so her mouth is still encircling my cock, but her ass is up in my face. The shell-like shape of her pussy and the tight little bud above are so fucking erotic that for a moment I can only stare, hands clenching the meat of her firm, round ass.
She’s wet everywhere, glistening with it.
Dancing for me turned her on as badly as it did me.
I dive in, licking and sucking and thrusting my tongue inside every place I can reach. I’m ravenous, my mouth watering, fucking dying for her. Craving the taste of her, lapping it up with my tongue.
Meanwhile, her hot wet mouth slides up and down my cock.
The deeper I push my tongue inside her, the deeper she takes my cock. When I lap her clit with my tongue, she sucks on the head, keeping pace with me, making me feel what I’m making her feel, together at the same time.
I can feel her mouth getting warmer and wetter, her lips swollen, her throat relaxing around my cock. The Ambien is kicking in.
I lick all the way up her slit, and then I press my tongue against the tight bud of her ass.
Mara shrieks and tries to squirm away, but I have her locked in place, hands gripping her hips.
I know this embarrasses her, that she doesn’t want to let me do it. That’s exactly what makes it so fucking hot. I’m gripping her, pulling her into me, forcing her to take it.
I lick her ass in steady strokes until she relaxes, and then I push my tongue inside her again.
The area grows warm and swollen, flushed with blood.
Soaked from her pussy, her ass tastes just as good.
The more I lick her, the more she relaxes, and the deeper I can push my tongue inside her. She can’t help the sounds that come out of her: whimpers at first, and then helpless sighs of pleasure, followed by gasps and groans.
There are a thousand nerve endings here, just like the clit. Licking her ass brings the erogenous tissue alive. It awakens an entirely new source of pleasure.
Because it’s new and untested, she’s helpless before it. She’s trapped in place, by pleasure as much as by my hands locked around her.