Hospital Debauchery

Devon's eyes flicked to the door, then back to Marianne, whose face had gone as pale as the hospital's walls, her lips trembling as the reality of Serena's imminent arrival sank in. Her eyes once blazing with unbridled fury, now shimmered with a desperate, raw panic, her hands clutching the edge of his polished desk so tightly her knuckles turned white, as if it were the only thing keeping her from collapsing.

He leaned forward, his voice low and teasing, laced with a hint of menace that sent a chill racing down her spine, the air between them thick with tension.

"Well, Marianne, shall we see what Serena has to say about all this?"

Marianne's breath hitched sharply, her body jerking forward as if pulled by an invisible string, her voice a raw, urgent whisper that barely rose above the distant hum of the hospital corridor beyond the office walls. "Please, Devon, I'll do anything," she pleaded, her hands trembling visibly, her hair falling across her forehead in disarray, strands sticking to her sweat-dampened skin.

"Don't let her know I'm here. I'll do whatever you want, anything, just turn her away. Please, let her go, let her walk out of here." Her voice broke on the last words, a crack in her usually unshakeable facade, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she leaned closer over the desk, desperation etched into every line of her face, her tailored blazer rumpling at the shoulders from the tension in her posture.

Devon's smile widened, a predatory glint flashing in his eyes as he tilted his head slightly, savoring her vulnerability. He leaned back in his leather chair, the faint creak of it echoing in the quiet office, his fingers drumming lightly on the desk in a slow, deliberate rhythm that seemed to mock her urgency. "Anything, huh?" he said, his tone dripping with mock curiosity, a teasing edge that made her flinch, her cheeks flushing with a mix of humiliation and fear. "That's a bold offer, Marianne. I hope you won't back out when I finally tell you what I want. Because once you make a deal with me, there's no walking away." His voice was smooth, almost playful, but carried a heavy undercurrent of warning, making her heart pound harder, her mind racing with the unknown cost of her plea.

What twisted demand would he make, what price would she pay to shield Serena from this confrontation?

The question hung in the air, unanswered, as his gaze raked over her body, unapologetically bold, lingering on the way her blazer strained against her curves.

Marianne's face flushed deeper, her lips parting in shock at the audacity of his words, but she didn't hesitate, the fear of Serena walking in outweighing her pride. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the floor, the sound jarring in the tense silence, and hurried toward the room adjacent to his office.

As she moved, her tailored blazer strained against her full breasts, the buttons pulling tight, her pencil skirt hugging her hips and thighs, the fabric swaying with each hurried, unsteady step. Her breasts bounced slightly with the motion, her ass swaying in a way that was impossible to ignore, the curves shifting under the skirt like a hypnotic rhythm.

Devon's eyes followed every movement, a slow, appreciative smirk spreading across his face, his hazel gaze darkening with raw desire. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, raw murmur, dripping with explicit intent. "Damn, Marianne, that skirt's doing you no favors hiding what's underneath. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're trying to tempt me yourself, look at that ass, plump and jiggling like it's begging for a hard slap." His words were crude, unfiltered, a deliberate provocation that hung in the air like a charged spark, his tone laced with shameless lust, making her freeze for a split second.

Marianne froze mid-step, her hand on the door, her cheeks burning a deep crimson as her thoughts spiraled in disbelief and outrage. How can he speak to me like that, so brazenly, after everything with Serena? Her mind reeled, the vulgarity of his compliment slicing through her like a hot knife, stirring a mix of humiliation and an unwelcome flicker of heat she quickly suppressed.

First he sleeps with my daughter, and now he's leering at me, tossing out crude remarks like it's nothing? The nerve, the shamelessness, it's beyond comprehension, a slap to my dignity after he's already shattered my family.

She wanted to snap back, to unleash the torrent of rage building inside her, but the urgency of Serena's arrival kept her silent, her priority shielding her daughter from this mess. With a sharp intake of breath, she pushed open the door and slipped inside, her thoughts a storm of humiliation, fear, and simmering resentment.

Devon chuckled softly, the sound low and wicked, a rumble that filled the office as he pressed the intercom button with a casual flick of his finger.

"Sophie, let her in," he said, his voice calm and professional.

The office door creaked open slowly, and Serena Voss stepped inside, her presence like a sudden burst of electricity in the room, her hair slightly disheveled and pulled into a messy bun that framed her flushed face, strands escaping like wild thoughts. Her outfit, a hurried mismatch of a silk blouse half-untucked, yoga pants clinging to her legs, and mismatched slippers, one blue and one gray, from the rush she'd been in to get here, her cheeks pink from the sprint across the hospital parking lot, her breath coming in quick, uneven gasps that made her chest rise and fall noticeably.

But as her eyes landed on Devon, her face lit up with a mix of relief and nervous anticipation, sparkling like emeralds caught in sunlight, her steps quickening as she crossed the room.

She glanced around the office, her gaze darting to the corners, the empty chairs, the door, as if expecting to spot her mother lurking in the shadows. After a moment, her voice rang out, sharp and demanding. "Where is she?"

Devon leaned back in his chair, his smile casual but his eyes sharp, assessing her every move, the way her blouse clung slightly to her skin from the haste. "Where's who?" he asked, his tone deliberately obtuse, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth, his fingers steepled under his chin as he watched her frustration build.

Serena's eyes narrowed, her hands planting firmly on her hips as she glared at him, her voice rising with a mix of frustration and suspicion, her mismatched slippers shifting on the hardwood floor. "My mother, Devon. Don't play games with me, I know she came here. Where is she? What did she say?"

He shrugged, his expression infuriatingly nonchalant, his voice straightforward but edged with a cool detachment that made her flinch. "She left. You just missed her." His words were clipped, almost dismissive, as if the entire encounter was beneath his notice, his eyes holding hers without a flicker of warmth.

Serena's brows furrowed deeper, her lips parting in disbelief at his tone, which carried a sharp rudeness she hadn't expected, like a slap from someone she trusted. "Left? Just like that?" she asked, stepping closer, her mismatched slippers scuffing softly against the floor, her silk blouse shifting with the movement.

"What did she say? Did you tell her anything about… what happened between us that night?" Her voice trembled slightly, her eyes searching his face for any hint of betrayal, her fingers twisting the hem of her blouse nervously, the fabric bunching under her grip.

Devon's gaze met hers, unflinching, his voice still carrying that rude edge, sharp enough to cut through her hope. "I didn't tell her a damn thing, Serena. Not a word about what happened." His words were blunt, his tone almost accusatory, as if she were the one complicating things, his smile fading into something harder, less playful, his posture shifting slightly in his chair, leaning back with arms crossed.

Her face tightened, hurt flashing across her features like a shadow, as she took another step closer, her voice rising with a mix of confusion and indignation, her eyes glistening. "Why are you being like this, Devon? So cold, so… rude? What's wrong with you?"

She paused, her eyes narrowing as she searched his face, her voice dropping to a softer, more vulnerable tone, cracking at the edges. "We just slept together, didn't we? Or was that nothing to you? Am I just someone you use and dump, like some fling you can toss aside when you're done? Was I just a quick fuck to scratch an itch?"

As she spoke, she moved closer, her emotions spilling over like a dam breaking, her eyes glistening with unshed tears that threatened to fall. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, her fingers trembling as she clutched the fabric, pulling him slightly forward, her voice breaking with raw pain.

"Tell me, Devon, was I just a game to you? Another conquest to boost your ego, something to brag about?"

Devon's expression softened for a fleeting moment, his eyes locking onto hers as he gently but firmly took her hands, prying them from his shirt with a careful grip that belied the tension in his jaw. He held her gaze, his voice steady but still carrying a hint of that cold edge, his thumbs brushing her wrists almost absentmindedly.

"Serena, you've got nothing to worry about. Your mother came by to talk work stuff, board nonsense, nothing more. She's gone now. That's it." His words were measured, but there was a hollowness to them, a lie so subtle it was almost imperceptible, hidden behind his stare, his face a mask of calm that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Serena's instincts screamed that he was hiding something, the way his eyes shifted just a fraction at the end, the slight tension in his jaw like a crack in armor. She opened her mouth to press further, her voice trembling with doubt and hurt, "Devon, I know you're not telling me everything, what did she really—" but Devon cut her off, his tone sharpening like a blade, ruthless now, as he stood abruptly, towering over her with an imposing presence that made her step back.

"Look, Serena, you need to leave," he said, his voice cold and unyielding, each word a deliberate cut. "I don't want people getting the wrong idea about us, thinking I'm using Marianne Voss's daughter to climb the ladder or score a position. I've got enough gossip swirling around me without you adding fuel to the fire." He gestured toward the door, his expression hard,and cold.

The words hit her like a physical blow, her eyes widening in shock, tears welling up as her hands dropped to her sides, her face crumpling with deep hurt. "What?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, her lower lip quivering as the sting of his rejection sank in. "You think I'm some kind of… liability? After everything we shared, after that night? You're just going to push me away like I'm nothing?"

Devon's voice cut through hers again, colder now, each word a deliberate, crushing blow. "You have a fiance, Serena. Go back to him. Focus on your wedding, your perfect life, and leave me the hell alone. I don't need this drama dragging me down, and neither do you. We had our fun, let's keep it that way." His eyes were hard, unyielding, his posture rigid as he pointed toward the door, his voice leaving no room for argument, no space for negotiation.

Serena's tears spilled over, streaming down her cheeks in hot trails as her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her voice rising in a raw, anguished cry that echoed off the office walls. "I hate you, Devon! I wish you'd drop dead!" She spun on her heel, her mismatched slippers slapping against the floor with frantic slaps as she ran toward the door, tears sliding down her face in unchecked streams, her sobs echoing in the quiet office as she yanked it open with a violent pull and fled into the corridor, the door swinging wildly in her wake, slamming shut with a resounding bang that rattled the frames on the walls.

Devon stood motionless for a moment, his expression unreadable, his eyes fixed on the empty doorway where Serena had vanished, the sound of her retreating footsteps fading into the hospital's distant hum.