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“I drag you the fuck over there to get the bottle like a good little boy, and then you whimper at my feet all night because you might hate orders and authority, but you fucking crave that shit in your sex life like the little slut you are,” he says, a timbre to his tone but not a single increase in his volume of voice. “If you want the next method, I can find a way to add in the rest of the pet names. Your choice, baby.”
“Are you slut shaming? Because being a cumslut is so much more than a personality.”
He’s slender without being delicate, firm without being overly toned, and graceful while being rambunctious. He’s the bull and the china shop.
“Do you wanna fuck me?” he asks with no shame. “You make my cock hard, but I haven’t decided if your personality turns me off yet.
And you get hard because my personality turns you off. Don’t act like my attitude isn’t an aphrodisiac to you. You’re itching to put me in my place.”
“I won’t fuck you unless you’re begging for it, and we both know your pride won’t let you beg.
A door slams. I feel it but can’t find it. I’m unworthy. I’m nobody. I’m unwanted. I’m scared. Nobody sees me.
“Tell me what kind of help you need.” All the help. Or don’t help me. Let me die. Let me go. My mind is running, running, running, unable to latch onto a command. I’m telling it to stop, but it won’t listen. I have no authority over my own brain, and now I’m spinning out to space with no tether.
My body is telling me we fought a war, but I can’t remember if I won.
Remind me I’m nobody but look at me while you do it. Show me what caring looks like and let me decide if it’s real. See me.
“Tell me what you need, little demon. What’s going to feel better?” When my thighs squeeze again, he notices. “You need to come, baby?” “Yes.” “Such a little slut, aren’t you?”
think he’s just trying to survive without losing himself.
“Do you need something in your mouth to shut up?” His whole attitude shifts, ready for a new game. The rambling boy is gone and out comes the demon. “I need a cock in my mouth,” he says with the voice of a skilled phone sex worker. “Please, Blake.”
Internally, I’m slamming my cock down his throat to choke off all his taunts, making him weep pretty tears for me while I kill every man in this club who has looked at him.
When we get home, he strips out of his club clothes and puts on baggy sweats and a hoodie that looks a lot like one of mine. It is mine. Fucking thief. Kind of like how it looks on him, though. Big and enveloping and touching him everywhere my hands want to be.
Don’t forget me. Don’t ignore me. See me for who I am and notice me because I’m worthy. Look through the bullshit and accept all my broken. Someone. Please. See me.
“When I’m not acting out, no one notices me,” he says, scaring the shit out of me. He doesn’t look at me, and his foot keeps bouncing. “Which means I notice a lot of things because no one remembers I’m around.”
He’s just a boy who wants to be seen.
“You’ve never been allowed to want anything, have you?” “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Blake Carter.” “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to you, Mercer Bentley Palmerston.”
“Then I want to show you how fucking powerful you can be when you aren’t hated and neglected. I know you don’t need my help, but you need to fucking respect yourself. I can help with that part.”
“Better start begging soon, Mercer.” I lick his lips, and just as he leans in to take more, I shove the lolly back in his mouth and stand up. I set him on the bed and make a point of adjusting my dick right in front of his face. “Night, baby.”
A tiny whimper escapes me, and Blake pulls me up. Staring straight into my eyes with a look I’ve not yet seen on his face, he checks in on me. I’m crying, drooling, probably snotting, begging him with my eyes to let me go back down to suck him. “You going to come, baby?” he whispers so quietly I barely hear it.
“Cover my cock in cum, baby. Then suck it all off.”
wait on my knees for him to tell me I did good.
He’s slow and calculated, not at all in a rush, conveying how good of a slut I am with gentle caresses and shared tastes.
I time it perfectly, and just as the door jars shut, my knife lands between it and the doorframe, preventing it from latching. Okay, I’m impressed with myself. When did I get this cool?
Goddamn. Feisty little hoodlum on the streets, lingerie wearing badass in the sheets. Literal perfection. I really hope he begs for sex soon.
now that I’m noticing more about him, he’s also scared of being invisible.
“You are the most persistent person I’ve ever met. You do not give up, and that’s not an insult. Your attitude is bigger than this world. Use it. Your smarts are right here.” I tap his head. “Stop being afraid of them just because he made you hate yourself for them. And while your body might be small, it’s fucking deadly with some knives. You have assets and skills. Stop pretending you don’t.” I grip his chin again. “And this one doesn’t matter at all because you’re strong either way, but you have me. I know you’ve been alone in this forever, but you aren’t anymore. For whatever that’s worth.”
“Get in the shower. Right now.” “Alone?” He finds his voice. “What do you need?” I spin him. “Don’t leave.” “I won’t.” I steer him into the shower and back away. “Stay close.”
“Tell me what to do.” Get off that dildo and fuck my cock.
“Fuck, Mercer.” I want to grab his hair, but I force myself not to. “That’s it, baby. Your mouth is so fucking perfect.”
“I don’t cuddle,” I say, backing up towards him. Backing up so far that my ass hits his groin and my back hits his chest. “I hate cuddling.” “Okay,” he says, half asleep. I back up a little more because… “I’ll be your wall, Mercer.”
He rolls over, mostly on his front, still cupping his junk. “You should come with a warning label. Little Demon: All. The. Hazards. All of them. I’m sewing it in all your clothes.”
he loves nothing more than to prove himself to someone who might actually see his worth.
Everything about him is a pleasure to admire, right down to the way he looks back at me.
“It’s a surprise,” he whispers, licking his fuckable lips. “I’m trying to make you happy. Aren’t I a good boy?”
“Do you want to be a good boy?” “Yes.” He leans against the cupboard, making sure I can see all of him in this two-piece purple ensemble. “I want to be so good for you.”
A warmth spreads through me, and I can’t decide if it’s a feeling of absolute pleasure, like this is exactly what I’ve been craving my entire life, or if it’s a sense of rightness, like Mercer is mine and he was always meant to be mine.
He’s offering himself up as mine—mine to have, to use, to worship, to punish, to praise. Just mine.
I want to dominate the fuck out of him and treat him like the brat he is, but it’s our first time and I want to treasure him like the good little boy he so badly wants to be.
He might be playing a game still, but I’m not. There will be time for rough fucks and punishment later, but right now, I want him to know he’s fucking cherished.
Fuck me like I’m invincible and treat me like the mouthy brat I am.
“I got you, baby,” he says.
The way he gives me power by seeing me, knowing what I need even though I don’t know it, and the way he rasps noises against my lips that sound like a lot more than just moans. They’re wordless words that convey a feeling I want to accept but don’t want to hear, and that more than anything, is heating me up so much I’m on the brink of too many things.
I’m teetering on the tip of the dagger, and one wrong move will send my heart slipping down the blade.
With his eyes, Blake is daring me, no, warning me, to be exactly who I am so he can have me as myself.
If I’m always full of him, he can never abandon me.
He starts to climb off the bed, and I think I get scared. “Blake…” Don’t leave me. Don’t ignore me. Don’t walk away from me.
“I’m right here,” he says, taking my hand and hoisting me into his arms like I’m special. “I’m not going anywhere.”
