The Devil's Contract

by Claire Contreras

  One of her hands cupped his balls as the other slid at a slow pace over his cock. With the tilt of her head, she gave him better access to her neck. His mouth left a moist trail down to her breasts and to her already pert nipples. He began to explore them through her lace bra before tugging it down. He placed kisses on her nipples and circled them with his tongue before continuing south as he pushed her on her back. Nolan discarded her panties, shivering at the feel of his hot breath over her clit. Nothing happened for long moments, and Amara wondered if he was having second thoughts, but then his tongue lapped at her, slowly, teasingly. His mouth moved on her with the curiosity of a monk and the expertise of a porn star. Only gasps escaped her as she rode the blazing waves of the ecstasy he provided.

  She wished she could see him. Just for a moment. The only thing she could see when she tried to open her eyes under the tight, silk blindfold were bubbles of lights. The strobe lights Courtney had warned her about. Amara knew that her curiosity about him was a bad idea. If she could see him —if she locked eyes with him—it would go from sex to something more. For her, it would. His mouth worked its way back up her thighs, nipping his way to her stomach, where he licked her belly button and trailed his tongue back up to her breasts. He took each of them in his mouth again and grabbed the hands she had buried in his hair. They were quickly pinned to the top of the bed, where a set of handcuffs waited, unused. Nolan pushed her hands on the bed in a gesture meant to leave them up there. Amara nodded, still not saying a word.

  Settling himself in between her thighs, he teased her with his erection, circling the tip along her wet folds until she threw her head back with a groan.

  “Please,” she whispered. It was the first word she’d said.

  He bit her neck in response, his breath labored and heavy over her ear. The teenage scent was driving her crazy; it was such a contrast from the man that covered her body. She tried not to focus on it, clutching the sheets above her head as he pushed himself inside of her slowly, inch by inch, savoring her as he let her get accustomed to his size. When he began to move, it was in slow thrusts—full and deep. Nolan began to suck on the corners of her mouth, still not truly kissing her. It was just enough tongue for her to taste herself on him, and the sensuality of it made her insides coil as his thrusts increased in pace until he was mercilessly defiling her. Amara could only gasp, and when she came around him, squeezing him with her inner walls, she screamed out his name.

  Nolan eased out of her once he was finished and kissed the top of her head and the back of her ear.

  “You are...” he whispered in a rasp. She wasn’t sure if he hadn’t finished the sentence, or if it was just drowned out by the music. Either way, his absence made her feel bereft. She wanted to scream for him to come back, but she knew not to. He was a client, not her lover. She brewed over their session until she finally fell asleep, naked and blindfolded, just as he’d left her.

  AMARA STOOD OUTSIDE and looked at the bank, holding on to her hair to keep the wind from whisking it around her face. Naveen arrived at eleven in the morning, as punctual as ever, to pick her up and take her to the airport. She was finally going to see her mom, who was awake but still disoriented, according to her uncle Vlady.

  “What the hell?” Amara asked as she slid in the backseat and found Samuel waiting for her.

  “Did you say anything to Courtney?” he asked.

  “Just that I’m going to see my mom. What are you doing here?”

  “You never gave me an answer.”

  “You haven’t even given me enough time to think!”

  “I’ll give you a little incentive.”

  She raised an expectant eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

  “When you get to New York, I want you to see someone. I’ll give you his information. He may be able to get you out of the bind with Philip.”

  “Philip said you were the only one that could get me out of Méchant, and you said you cant.”

  Sam shook his head. “If he said that, he’s lying to you.

  Amara looked around the car, waiting. She didn’t want to tell him Philip had actually told her there were two people, Samuel and somebody else. She wanted to hear it from him.

  “And why would he want to get me out of Méchant? This mystery guy?”

  Samuel chuckled. “Who said it was a man?”

  She frowned, leaning back in her seat. “I assumed...”

  “You know what they say about assumptions.”

  She nodded. “So who is this mystery woman?”

  He smiled. “Who said it was a woman?”

  Amara’s shoulders dropped. Her jaw clenched as she narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “What the fuck is it? A program? An alien? Iron Man?”

  Samuel frowned and she rolled her eyes. If Samuel didn’t know who Iron Man was, she was really in for it. “Oh, the cartoon. Anyway, you’re assuming again.”

  She let out a laugh. “Whatever. So who is it?”

  “It is a man. I’ll give you all of the information, you just have to follow it and meet him.”

  “Who is he?”

  Samuel spent the rest of the trip to the airport explaining who the man was and what she had to do. Amara checked her phone for emails a couple of times, but was disappointed to find nothing from Nolan. Maybe he hadn’t been ready, after all. Her flight to New York was a blur; she spent most of it sleeping. When she finally got there, she practically ran out of baggage claim to look for a cab, but stopped short when she saw a man holding up a sign with her name on it. Well, Jasmine’s name. She wanted to run the other way and pretend she never saw it, but his eyes found hers before she could and he walked toward her, signaling for her bag. Philip had obviously given him a picture of her to go on.

  On the ride over to the hospital, she sent Courtney an email letting her know she had arrived safely, and checked her Méchant account one more time. Still nothing from Nolan. She really wished she wasn’t disappointed, but her head and heart seemed to be playing a game of tug of war over it. When they reached the hospital, she checked in and walked to her mother’s room quickly, greeting the nurses with small nods as she passed them. Amara stood at the door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open. The room was plain, save for the purple orchids and balloons beside her mother’s small, white bed. She tried to bottle up her tears as she strode over to the bed, but couldn’t fight her eyes long enough.

  A surge of relief, hope, guilt, and sadness rushed over her, and small gasps of sobs bubbled up uncontrollably as every what if entered her mind. She could have lost her mom, and she would have been on the other side of the world when it happened. She wouldn’t have been surrounding her bed, holding her hand through it. Her mother would have been alone, only holding the hand of the housekeeper. Amara knew she wouldn’t deny her dad the right to be there, but wasn’t sure he actually would go. He was so deep into his debts, his gambling, and the web of lies he’d created that he couldn’t see straight. At least that was what her uncle Vlady had told her.

  “You came,” her mother said as she peeled her eyes open slowly. Her voice was dry and small.

  “Always, Mom,” Amara replied, squeezing her hand in hers.

  “I’m so glad,” she said.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “It’s just a bad cold, Mara. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I don’t know why everybody is making such an ordeal.”

  “You were in a coma, Mom.”

  “I heard... two days.”

  Amara nodded as new tears welled in her eyes. “That’s scary.”

  “Your father told me he called you.”

  “He did.”

  “And you came.”

  “I already told you. For you, Mom, anything.”

  “How long will you be here?”

  “A while, I think,” Amara said, smiling.

  She was rewarded with a smile. “I feel better already.”

  Amara laughed lightly. “Me too. I’ll let you get some rest.
I’ll be back later tonight.”

  “Of course. Go, go, get settled. Where are you staying?”

  “I’m not sure I can go back to my old place. I haven’t sorted that out yet.”

  “Of course you can. It’s yours.”

  Her parents had bought the apartment she’d been living in, years ago as an investment, and when Amara decided to go to school in the city, they let her have it. She figured when she moved to Paris, her father would have taken it and rented it, or moved in after her mom finally kicked him out, so that he could sort out his life.

  “It’s still vacant?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Of course. It’s yours.”

  She wanted to press on how it could be vacant and the maintenance be up to date on payments, but it wasn’t the time. Still, she had to wonder.

  “What is it?”

  “I just...” she let out a breath. “Where is Dad staying?”

  Her mom’s eyes snapped to hers. “Sometimes he stays at home. Other times, I don’t know.”

  “You still let him stay at home?”

  “In a separate room, but yes. We have enough room, Amara. I don’t have to see him if I don’t want to. You can always stay there, you know? That’s your house.”

  Amara shook her head. “I don’t want to see him.”

  Her mom’s eyes filled with tears. “I wish you didn’t feel that way about your father.”

  “Sometimes a girl only needs her mother,” she whispered.

  “A girl needs her father too. He wasn’t always like this,” her mother said as tears dripped down her cheeks. Amara caught them with her hands and wiped them.

  “I know.”

  “It’s a disease.”

  “I know.”

  “I almost think it’s worse than cancer,” her mom whispered, looking at her with sad eyes.

  Amara shrugged and let out a breath, looking away. “Cancer isn’t a choice. Gambling is.”

  “Sometimes it’s not a choice.”

  She looked at her mom sharply. “When you have a family, extracurricular activities become a choice. We’re not going to agree on this, Mom. You’re not going to convince me that he’s a good man, so let’s just drop it. The good thing is, you’re okay. I’m going to let you rest, though. I’ll be back later.”

  “Have you heard from... you know...”

  Amara bit down on her tongue and nodded, looking away again and focusing on the loose threads on the blanket over her mom’s legs.

  “I heard he’s engaged,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  Her chest was beginning to hurt again. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  Her mom squeezed her hand. “Go get some rest, beautiful girl. Come back soon.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” Amara promised. “Do you need anything?”

  Her mom’s eyes lit up. “Donuts.”

  Amara laughed. “Mom! Sugar feeds cancer!”

  “Oh, fuck cancer. Bring me the donuts,” her mom grumbled.

  She was laughing as Amara rained kisses over her face. “I love you.”

  When she got down to the lobby, the driver, David, was waiting to take her to her next destination.

  “Mr. Batiste asked me to take you to his place,” David said, looking at her through the rearview.

  She rolled her eyes. “Mr. Batiste can go fuck himself. I have my own place. And you can tell him I said that if you need to.”

  She was sick of him, sick of all of it. As she sat there, stuck in traffic, brewing, she decided that she would meet this “incentive,” Samuel spoke to her about and decide then whether or not she wanted to work with him. Everything seemed to be pointing in that direction, though. Everything told her to go with Samuel, and to trust him. Courtney trusted him, so she probably should too.

  Amara sat back and stretched her legs out in the roomy back seat of the car as they drove. It was only six o’clock in New York, but her body was telling her it was midnight. She was also exhausted from the flight and a little hungry. Still, she couldn’t keep her eyes closed. She was back in Manhattan! Back home! As soon as they pulled up to the front of her building, her phone started ringing. She looked at it and saw Philip’s name. She almost didn’t answer, but her finger slid over the screen and she picked up.

  “Hell—“

  “Why are you going to your building?” Philip asked, interrupting her.

  She looked around frantically, trying to spot him. “Are you following me?”

  “You’re in the car I provided, Amara. I keep tabs.”

  “Oh. Well, I wanted to go home. I have a place to stay, I don’t need yours.”

  “Very well. Just a warning, your father stays there on Tuesdays and Thursdays. His lover stays there those days as well.”

  Her hands began to shake as she held the phone to her ear. He was such a bastard, her father. Such a bastard. “Where is your place?” she asked, her voice betraying the rage bubbling deep inside of her.

  “David will take you.”

  “Do you stay there?”

  “As much as I know you would enjoy staying under the same roof as me, no I do not. I have my own place outside of the city that I enjoy very much.”

  She let out a long breath. “So I’ll be alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine.”

  She slid back in the car, trying not to cry as she was driven away from her apartment building. Trying to keep her emotions in check as she thought about stabbing her father in the heart repeatedly. She hated him, so, so much. Philip’s building wasn’t far from hers, but it was much closer to Colin’s place. She wondered if he still lived there, with Molly. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Walking through the large lobby, she felt her breath coming back to her as she waited for the girl at the front desk to check her in, so that she could use the amenities. By the time she made it upstairs to the penthouse floor, Amara had slipped off her shoes and began to unbutton her blouse. She looked around, admiring the view of the city from all of the rooms, and put her bags down in the master bedroom. After a long bath, she heard the doorbell ring, which meant her Chinese take out had arrived. Amara draped herself in a soft white robe and paid for her meal. She ate it right out of the carton, not wanting or needing to dish out a plate.

  On a full stomach, she went back to the room and lay down. She was just going to close her eyes for a few minutes, but minutes turned into hours of restless sleep. A sleep filled with vivid nightmare over what her life had become because, once you make a deal with the devil, there’s no going back. He’s always watching and waiting... waiting for the right moment to strike and claim you as his own. When the doorbell rang a second time, Amara jumped quickly and threw on some clothes, not even bothering to care if she matched.

  She walked to the door, stopping in front of the mirror beside it to finger comb her hair and wipe the residue of leftover mascara under her eyes. When she swung the door open, her smile faltered at the man’s serious face. He was young and on the phone, so he signaled her to wait one minute. She crossed her arms over her chest as she waited, and gave him an annoyed look. If he was going to have her wait, he should have waited to ring the doorbell.

  “Sorry,” he said when he ended the call, pushing the phone into the pocket of his slacks.

  “You must be Jasmine,” he said, extending his hand out. “Seth.”

  She frowned, but shook his hand. “Did Philip send you?”

  His mouth opened to respond, but he shook his head. “No, Samuel did, actually.” He had a slight accent. Italian, like Samuel.

  “Okay?” She didn’t know what else to say, and she didn’t want to let him in the apartment.

  “I’m supposed to take you somewhere.”

  She gaped at him. “Now?”

  Seth shrugged. “That’s what he said.”

  Amara threw her head back and let out a long, frustrated breath. She took Seth’s hand in hers and looked at his watch. “It’s almost nine o’clock.”

 
“Just following orders, ma’am.”

  She frowned. Ma’am?

  “Well, I need to get ready. I look like a mess.”

  He gave her a once-over and nodded in agreement. Amara blinked at him. She couldn’t believe this.

  “I’m not letting you come in,” she said, finally, when he didn’t move.

  Seth cleared his throat. “No, of course. I’ll wait in the lobby.”

  “Thank you.”

  She shut the door and went back to her room, sorting through clothes until she found something she was comfortable with: a gray pencil skirt and a white blouse. She slipped into her favorite black pumps, and put on her make-up quickly, adding red color to her lips. She rarely wore red on her lips, but knew made her look striking. Then she was in the elevator headed downstairs. Her fingers wouldn’t stop moving, so she clasped her hands together instead. When she reached the lobby, Seth snapped his head up, and his eyes widened as she walked over to him. Amara would have been flattered under different circumstances, but her mind was too busy with information overload to care.

  She called Samuel and left a message letting him know she was on her way to meet the famous “incentive” he’d promised her. He gave her enough information to keep her interested, and not enough to disregard the meeting. She’d decided to take everything one day at a time while she was in New York. Philip had a new job for her as well, while she was there, and she hoped she could stay at least until her mom was out of the hospital. She couldn’t deny that she missed Courtney, though, even though she was the only thing about Paris that she missed. Not that being in New York was proving to be easy—every time she looked out the window, she was reminded of her memories with Colin. She’d have to work on that