The door clicked shut behind Ashley, swallowing her in darkness.
Not the kind of darkness that came from the absence of light, but one that wrapped around her, thick and heavy like smoke. The study she had just entered seemed to shift before her eyes, the walls growing taller, the ceiling vanishing into shadow. A fireplace flickered to life on its own, casting a crimson glow that danced over the mahogany shelves and velvet chairs.
Raphael stood by the hearth, his back turned to her, the flames outlining the sharp cut of his shoulders through his black shirt.
"Take off the robe," he said, not bothering to turn.
Ashley's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers instinctively curled around the silk belt at her waist. "Why?"
"Because you came dressed for me. Because you signed. And because I said so."
She hesitated. Every part of her screamed to flee—but beneath the fear, something else simmered. An aching curiosity. A hunger that had started the moment she stepped into his world.
The robe slid off her shoulders and puddled at her feet.
She stood in the delicate black lace, her skin prickling from both exposure and anticipation. She felt seen, possessed, even though he hadn't looked yet.
"Turn around," she whispered, her voice a challenge.
He did.
And when his gaze met her body, the heat in the room tripled.
Raphael stalked forward slowly, deliberately, until he stood inches from her. His eyes burned like molten gold, scanning every curve of her exposed body. When he finally met her gaze, his smile was wolfish.
"You're beautiful when you obey," he said.
Ashley tilted her chin defiantly. "I didn't do it for you."
He laughed low. "Liar."
Without warning, his hand gripped the back of her neck and pulled her flush against him. The contact made her gasp—his body was hot, as though he burned from the inside out.
"You should know something," he murmured into her hair. "I don't need to seduce you. The contract made you mine. This... this is a lesson."
She trembled. "Lesson?"
His free hand slid down her side, over her waist, then down to the curve of her ass. He gripped it, hard.
"You'll learn how to serve the devil."
Then he kissed her.
It was violent and consuming, his tongue claiming her mouth, his hand still fisted in her hair. Her knees gave way and he caught her easily, lifting her like she weighed nothing, carrying her to a chaise in the corner of the room.
"You're trembling," he said, laying her down on the plush velvet. "Is it fear or desire?"
She couldn't answer. Her body felt like it was on fire.
His mouth trailed down her throat, then over her collarbone. He bit her gently, then soothed the sting with his tongue.
Ashley moaned. "Raphael…"
He looked up at her, his expression wicked. "Say 'Sir.'"
"Raphael—"
He stopped. "Wrong answer."
Before she could protest, his hand slid between her legs and pressed firmly against her lace-covered center.
She gasped.
"Try again," he said, rubbing slow circles.
"Sir," she moaned.
"Good girl."
He tore the lace aside with ease, baring her completely. She wanted to protest—some part of her still cared about dignity—but the moment his tongue touched her, her thoughts scattered.
He licked her slowly, methodically, as if learning every response.
"You're sweet," he said between strokes. "Didn't expect that from a soul so bold."
Ashley's hands fisted in the velvet. She was unraveling. She could barely breathe.
His fingers joined his mouth, two sliding inside her easily.
She cried out.
"That's it," he murmured. "Let go."
The pressure built, thick and unbearable. Every movement, every flick of his tongue, sent her higher.
When she came, it was with a scream, her body shuddering beneath him.
Raphael pulled back, licking his fingers clean.
"Lesson one," he said, eyes gleaming. "Obedience brings pleasure."
Ashley's chest heaved. Her skin was damp, her legs trembling.
He stood, already unbuttoning his shirt. "Lesson two?"
She stared at the hard line of his abs, the smooth ink-black tattoos that ran across his chest and arms like ancient runes. "What is it?"
He unzipped his pants.
"You don't come without permission."
Later that night, Ashley lay in Raphael's bed—because he hadn't let her leave.
Her body ached in the best way possible. She'd never experienced anything like that before. Not even close.
And yet...
She hated herself a little for wanting more.
Raphael lay beside her, perfectly relaxed, like he hadn't just ruined her perception of sex entirely.
"I'm not your toy," she whispered.
He chuckled. "No. You're my assistant."
"You don't treat assistants like that."
"Then I suppose I'm rewriting the job description."
She rolled over, facing away from him. "What happens now?"
"Tomorrow you'll begin your real duties."
"Which are?"
"Managing the gates. Escorting certain souls. Executing punishment when I'm indisposed."
She blinked. "You're serious?"
Raphael rolled over and pulled her back against his chest. "You thought I only hired you for sex?"
"I didn't think you'd need help running Hell."
"There's more bureaucracy than you'd expect."
Ashley snorted. "You're insane."
"I'm efficient."
He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck.
She closed her eyes. She should hate him. She did hate him.
But she also wanted to see what happened next.
And that terrified her more than anything else.