Bound to the Devil

The moment we reached land, I wasted no time stepping onto solid ground, relishing the cool earth beneath my bare feet. But my relief was short-lived. I had no idea where we were—dense green trees surrounded us, their towering forms casting long shadows over the secluded clearing. The air was crisp, carrying a strange sense of tranquility that felt at odds with my predicament.

A sudden movement caught my attention.

The men in black suits—twelve of them, all tall, broad-shouldered, and exuding an aura of silent danger—shifted in unison. Then, to my utter shock, they bowed their heads.

I blinked. Were they… bowing to me?

My heart pounded as I turned, following their gazes—only to find the real reason for their reverence.

Him.

The devil who thought he owned me.

Sebastian.

“Sir, Molly said the house is ready,” one of the men announced.

What house?

“Good,” Sebastian responded smoothly before striding toward me.

He was tall—infuriatingly so. His presence was overwhelming, his broad frame casting a shadow over me as he came closer. My head barely reached his chest, and the sheer dominance he exuded was enough to make my skin prickle with irritation.

“Let’s go, angel,” he said, extending his tattooed hand toward me.

I stared at it for a second, taking in the inked patterns and the veins that ran beneath his tanned skin. Then, without a word, I turned on my heel and walked past him and his men, refusing to acknowledge his command.

A low, frustrated groan rumbled behind me, but I didn’t look back. I had no idea where I was going, but anywhere was better than standing beside him.

Or so I thought.

A firm hand suddenly clamped around my waist, and before I could react, I was hoisted off the ground.

A startled gasp left my lips as I was thrown over a broad shoulder, my body bouncing slightly from the impact. I kicked wildly, fists pounding against Sebastian’s back, but he moved with infuriating ease—completely unfazed by my struggling.

“Put me down, you brute!” I hissed, my legs flailing in the air.

Nothing. He just kept walking.

Frustration burned through me. In my desperate attempt to free myself, I did the only thing I could think of—I grabbed a fistful of his thick, dark hair and yanked.

That did it.

Sebastian halted, a sharp inhale hissing through his teeth. Then—before I could so much as gloat—I felt it.

A hard smack landed on my ass, the sharp sting making my body jerk in shock.

I froze.

My mouth fell open as the heat spread across my skin.

“You did not just spank me!” I shrieked, my voice echoing through the clearing.

Behind us, his men continued walking with eerie indifference, their faces blank, as if someone farting in their faces wouldn’t even earn a reaction. Meanwhile, I was burning with embarrassment.

“Shut up and stay still,” Sebastian ordered, his deep voice edged with impatience.

I scowled, still dangling over his shoulder, and muttered, “That really hurt, Sebastian!”

Silence.

The moment his name left my lips, he stopped.

His men stopped.

Even the air around us felt like it had stilled.

A beat passed before I felt it—his large, calloused hand rubbing the exact spot he’d spanked. The slow, firm strokes sent an unexpected shiver down my spine, and to my absolute horror… it felt good.

Too good.

My body betrayed me, sinking into the sensation despite my better judgment.

A breath hitched in my throat, and before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out in a whisper.

“T-That… that feels really nice…”

A deep chuckle vibrated from his chest.

I barely had time to process my own humiliation before I was suddenly set down.

The second my feet touched the ground, Sebastian pulled me flush against his chest, his arm wrapping possessively around my waist while his other hand—God help me—gripped my ass.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips.

I tilted my head back, meeting his gaze, and what I saw made my breath hitch.

Gone was the amusement from moments ago.

His expression was dark, unreadable—but his eyes… his eyes burned.

“Se…Sebast…” My voice faltered, barely above a whisper as his presence consumed me whole.

Everything around us faded—the trees, the men, the whisper of the wind.

All that existed in that moment was him.

Slowly, he lowered his head, his lips hovering over the shell of my ear. His warm breath sent a shiver down my spine, and when his lips brushed against my skin, a soft, involuntary moan slipped past my lips—too quiet for anyone else to hear.

His grip on me tightened.

Then, his voice—low, commanding, dripping with authority—sent a fresh wave of heat through me.

“Never call my name unless I ask you to.”

A warning. A demand. A promise.

And instead of fear…

I felt something far more dangerous.

I felt want.