Touch Of The Devil

Touch Of The Devil

Philip Aniezue

31.3k Words / Ongoing
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Introduction

It was supposed to be one night with a stranger, with absolutely no chance of ever seeing him again.

Until the next evening, when Aurelia walks into dinner and finds him sitting beside her stepmother… as her fiancé.

Kilian Moretti, her one-night mistake is her stepdad-to-be.

Aurelia has known loss all her life. Her mother died when she was just a child. Years later, her father’s sudden, suspicious death left her in the care of Ivy, his new wife who is a beautiful, polished woman hiding her cruelty behind a perfect smile. Aurelia has always suspected there’s more to Ivy than she lets on… and more to her father’s death than anyone dares to say.

Now, she and Kilian are playing a dangerous game in plain sight—touches under the table, smirks over wine glasses, conversations laced with innuendo only they understand. He’s older, powerful, and tied to a world of crime she’s sworn to avoid.

But when deadly secrets surface and the mafia closes in, the one man she can’t trust becomes the only man who can keep her alive.
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About Author

Philip Aniezue

Chapter 1

Aurelia's POV

Today was special.

Special because it was our two-year anniversary.

I had it all planned out already.

I was going to surprise Carl with an Italian-inspired dinner, put on the LED lights that glowed red and put our toys on the bed — handcuffs and all.

I knew he loved it kinky and today, I was going to give him my body completely in a way that I never had before.

I sucked in a breath as I knocked on his door just to ensure that he was not at home. He had told me that he was going to be at work and he would pick me up for dinner at night.

Well, when he came home tonight, I would be waiting and naughty!

I pinched myself as my imagination had begun running wild.

I tried opening the door and was surprised to see that it was open.

That was unusual. Carl was not the type to be careless with his door.

I pushed the door open and walked inside his cute home.

The second I stepped in, I sensed there was someone at home. Perhaps, Carl was getting some repairs done?

“Hello!” I called out in the middle of the living room.

No one responded. I sighed. Perhaps there was no one at home after all.

It was then I heard it.

At first, I was convinced I had misheard but the sound was persistent.

Ah! Ah! That's it! Oh…oh!

My first guess was that Carl had left porn playing in his room but the sound that reached my ears was not autotuned and the response was certainly that of my boyfriend, Carl.

Yes, baby! You know how I like it. Ride me like a horse!

Hit my ass!

At your service!

Yes… Oh yes… hit me harder!

I was in shock.

But just to be certain that my ears were not playing tricks on me, I walked towards the bedroom door which had been left ajar.

I did not have to get to the bedroom to see evidence of my boyfriend's fidelity.

I stepped on a used condom. Evidently, they had not waited to get to the bedroom before beginning their little affair.

I spotted a piece of lace lingerie not too far from where I stood too.

There was enough evidence. It was glaring that Carl was cheating on me. I could no longer live in my bubble of ignorance anymore.

However, I wanted to catch him red-handed. I wanted him to know that there was no way to lie his way out of this.

The door was open halfway and I got a clear view of the both of them thumping away in bed.

They were so engrossed in their pleasure-making that they paid no attention to me.

Carl was behind her on his knees, while she was on all fours. In his hand, Carl held a whip which he used occasionally to hit her as he pounded her behind.

Their moans and groans of pleasure filled the room. I stood by the door, frozen in shock as I watched the hunger of sexual desire in my boyfriend's eyes. I had never seen him so turned on in all the time that we had spent together.

He turned his head briefly towards the door as though sensing someone was watching him and our eyes locked.

He looked away immediately, clearly not sorry and not willing to stop. Instead, he put in twice the effort, their groans became louder while my heart shattered into fractured pieces that I could never piece together again.

I turned away from the room and walked out of the house.

The warm caress of the sun as I stepped out of the house, coupled with the soft but hot breeze of the late morning felt like a warm hug that broke my resolve.

I broke down on the curb and began sobbing heavily.

I cried and cried, not caring at all about the passersby who looked upon me as though I were mad. I cried until I was exhausted.

I had never had my heart broken before, at least not in this way.

Carl had not just broken my heart, he had broken me.

I picked myself up from the curb and walked to my car. I drove in a haze to my dorm, put a few clothes in a duffel bag and drove to my mother's house.

I did not live too far away from college. It was a four-hour drive from college to my mother's rather large house, stepmother actually.

My biological mother had died when I was only five and so I had almost no memories of her. I had been raised more or less by Ivy, a wealthy young woman my father had married almost immediately after my mother's death. Now that I was much older, I suspected that both of them might have had an affair before my mother's death. My father had died when I was only sixteen and so Ivy had been the only parent I had.

I did not exactly like Ivy but I knew that she could have put me out of the house after my father's death but she had let me live with her. I had fought with her several times and I did not approve of the way she lived, moving from man to man but she had not abandoned me and for that only I was grateful.

It was funny too because I considered her house, home and that had become my place of fortitude even though she drove me mad most times.

It was dusk by the time I got home.

I opened the door, hoping that my stepmother was out with some friends or something. I was in no mood to deal with her.

But the universe was designed against me today and she was in fact standing behind the door as though she had been waiting for me to open it.

“Mi amôr!” she said as she planted a wet kiss on my right cheek.

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