Page 24 of Devour

I pull up her contact in my phone and type out a text, then click send.

Me: You still aren’t allowed to touch my pussy without my permission. I need my girl constantly begging to get off.

Little Heathen: You’re such a fucking asshole.

Me: But you’re wet for me, aren’t you?

Little Heathen: No.

You can fight me all you want, baby. Your cunt already knows who it belongs to.

Me: Spread your pretty legs and send me a picture of my cunt. We’ll see if you’re telling the truth.

Nothing for a full minute, and I almost wonder if she’s going to ignore me. She’d better not push me. I’m so fucking desperate for her that I’ll show up at her house and spank her fucking ass, and then jack off on the handprints I left there. Just when I’m thinking that sounds like a damn good idea, my phone buzzes.

Little Heathen: Fuck you, Axl.

I chuckle to myself. I know my girl—better than she thinks I do. She fights me and then does exactly what I tell her to do. Every. Fucking. Time. Saylor wants to be my little whore and my perfect good girl, even if she hasn’t realized it yet.

I stop walking and lean against the wall in the hallway. My cock is already pressing against my zipper from thinking about what it’s going to be like when I can finally fuck her.

Me: What did I fucking tell you about playing the brat games, Saylor? Spread that pussy wide so I can see just how wet my girl is.

She better do what she’s fucking told before she sees just how serious I am. I kick off the wall and continue to my suite at the mansion. We each get our own suite with a private bathroom. So once she’s here, my girl will never need to leave my room if I don’t want her to. I might even put her on a long chain, attached to a collar at her neck, so no one but me ever gets to see her.

Once I reach my door, I punch in the code and enter, closing the door behind me. I set the folder on my dresser just as my phone buzzes again.

She sent a photo. I hover my thumb over the image and open it. She has two fingers spreading her pussy open, and I immediately see that she’s fucking soaked. My gaze moves up the picture to her full tits with her shirt pulled up over them and then to her gorgeous face.

My fucking lungs stop working.

That’s my little heathen. That’s the woman I’ve been obsessing about every night for three years. That’s who I’m going to taste and fuck and own in two days. If I don’t get her, they better kill me, because I will burn this entire mansion to the ground and take her.

My cock is so hard it hurts. The piercings are making the ache even more intense since my jeans don’t give my dick any room to move.

Me: Good girl.

I unzip my jeans and pull my hard dick out of my boxer briefs, stroking it slowly while I use my other hand to video call her.

There is a series of beeps, and then she finally answers. “I did what you commanded. What do you want, Axl?”

Good. My girl is fired up.

“I’m feeling generous, little heathen. I’ll let you play with yourself if you do exactly as I say.”

She’s quiet for a second, her lips curled in that sexy look she gets when she’s trying to act mad at me. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are parted. She’s breathing harder than she wants me to know. I already know she wants to play.

I speak again before she can say something bratty to piss me off. We’ll have plenty of time for me to give her the rope to hang herself with so I can punish her. Right now I want to fucking come while I watch my girl show me what’s going to be mine. “Good girls get rewarded, baby.”

She stares at me through the screen. I can see her jaw working. She wants to tell me to go fuck myself. But she won’t. Because my heathen likes being dominated and told what to do. She just doesn’t want to like it. That’s what makes her my good girl.

“Fine.” She says it through her teeth.

“Prop the phone up so I can see all of you.”

There’s movement on the screen. She leans the phone against something on her nightstand and settles back on her bed. Now I can see her. She’s in an oversized t-shirt and nothing else. Her legs are pulled up with her knees bent.

“Lose that fucking shirt,” I tell her.