Little Demon in the Details

by Nordika Night

“Going to follow me up to my room to make sure I pack that lacy little number you eye-fucked me in the other night?”

My heart is pumping, but I can’t tell if it’s from frustration, rage, or fatigue. Also, not sure why my dick’s a bit stiff.

“Mercer,” he says, making my head whip in his direction. “Think I’ll just call you Mercer. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“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.”

“Five foot eight?” he guesses, voice whispering against my ear. “Five foot nine, thank you.” I spin so we’re face to face, hoping it’ll trip him up. It doesn’t. Like, at all. “Seven? Seven and a half?” I ask him. He presses his hips against me, letting me feel all seven and a half inches he’s packing. “Eight, thank you.”

I wavered back and forth about putting cameras in his room, but in the end, I decided not to. Not because I respect his privacy, but because he wants attention so badly, he’ll use the cameras as a chance to put on a show.

“I’m usually the one on the bed, not thrusting into it,” he says, all sultry-like. “It shows. You have zero strength.”

“Aren’t you going to help me?” Another pout. Puppy dog eyes. Batting lashes. So fucking cute. “Did you ask for help?” “No,” he scoffs and gets back to pushing. After moving the massive bed less than three inches and gaining another sheen of sweat on his lower back, he mutters a very quiet, “Help.”

“But it’s straight out of One Flew Over.” “The Cuckoo’s Nest?”

What else?

“A quick learner, good memory, analytical mind, pretty eidetic memory when it comes to numbers and sequences, patterns, things like that. 46125047560925.” He glances at me, smirking. No fucking way. “Is… is that my credit card number?” “Yes, I’m using it to buy my new things.”

I'm obsessed with him

“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.

“I won’t fuck you unless you’re begging for it, and we both know your pride won’t let you beg. Guess we’re at an impasse.”

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.

I take back all the nice things I thought about her. She’s a bitch and so is he. Both of them are just bitchy bitches and I will not stand for it.

Story of my life. Ben doesn’t exist. Ben wasn’t there. Ben isn’t coming. Go hide Ben. Make sure Ben isn’t in the shoot. Turn off Ben’s mic. Ignore Ben. He’s just acting out; ignore him.

“Yes, Daddy.” He tightens his fingers around my throat, cutting off air and blood flow in one calculated grip. “I am not your daddy. You have a daddy, and he’s the majority of the reason you are the way you are, so if you want me to treat you like he treats you, by all means, keep calling me that. It won’t be fun. It won’t be sexy, and you’ll end up more hurt than you already are. If you want my attention, find something else to call me. Understood?”

My dick gets even harder because that’s just fucking insane, and maybe I’m into insane.

Me

“Why do you care?” “Because I saw your ass in lacy lingerie, and it fucked up all my brain wires.” I smirk at him. “I knew you eye-fucked me.”

“You are the worst and most obvious manipulator I’ve ever met.”

I steal a dagger right from his fingertips, flip it around a bunch of times to be fancy, and then hold it to his neck. “These, on the other hand, are my favourite.” He swallows, the roll of his throat pressing into the blade. “I’ll take that blowjob now.”

“You know what?” He’s storming my way again, as predicted.

Meeee

He huffs. Or scoffs. Or laughs condescendingly. I can’t always tell the difference.

“You fucking the Palmerston boy?” Brandt straight up asks me. “Nope.” “You wanna be?” Bronson asks. I grin into my brandy glass and lock eyes with Will Palmerston. “If he breaks down and begs me for it.”

I wonder what kind of panties he’s got on under there.

When his bratty attitude isn’t aimed at me, I’m rather fond of it. I think I’m fond of it regardless of where it’s aimed, to be honest.

I open my pants, pull out my semi-hard cock, and push his head down. When he releases his fingers and wraps his wet mouth around my dick, his shaking stops. “You don’t have to suck it, baby. Just stay there and relax until we get home.”

I understand it, to an extent. I’m still going to talk to someone about it to learn how not to harm him while he’s in this state, but I don’t want to dismiss his needs.

I can’t fucking help the groan when he bends down to pick it up and…oh, no! He falls forward. Face right into my dick. “So fucking predictable, Mercer.”

If I deny him my dick, he’ll fuck that one. If I give him my dick, he wins because he’s the brattiest little shit that ever fucking lived.

“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.”

“You should come with a warning label. Little Demon: All. The. Hazards. All of them. I’m sewing it in all your clothes.”

I squint my eyes at Blake like he’s cheating on me even though I don’t do boyfriends and totally do not want him to be mine. I’m so good at lying to myself.

Blake pulls out a second phone, and here I am, thinking one phone to snoop on is going to be a handful, but this guy has two.

He does point to his dick and make an X with his fingers so I know not to kick there again. Don’t Xs mark the spot?

He’s making me impulsive and volatile, two things I’ve been trained not to be. I’m calculated and calm, able and skilled at reading people and situations, and patient about the way I handle things. The more time I spend near Mercer, the more my training goes down the drain.

“Mr. Blake Carter’s line, his little demon speaking. How may I help you?”

Obsessed.

“What’d he say?” Mercer’s expression is unsettling. I don’t trust it even a little, but goddamn my dick for getting harder. “Fuck me and find out.” “You know I can just call him back, right?” Mercer shoves my phone down his pants. “They’re purple tonight,” he says.

He scoffs. Or huffs. Or laughs condescendingly.

He’s never had to prove himself to anyone before, and now that he’s been given the chance, he’s going to win at it because he’s learning to value himself. But he’s going to be a little demon about it. Naturally.

“Flour’s in the pantry.” I nip his other ass cheek. To be honest, I don’t think I own flour.

“Bullshit. You want to be a bad boy. Don’t you, little demon?” I pull back to look at him. The wideness of his eyes narrows. The switch from good boy to bad boy happens instantly. His act goes out the window and familiar defiance joins the party. But his next move actually does surprise me. From somewhere beneath the purple, he pulls a dagger and holds it to my throat, shifting it until it presses snuggly to my pulse point.

Hot

“Fuck. Fine.” He looks at me. “Fuck me,” he begs. “Say please.” He damn near cries. “Please. Please. Please. Please, fuck me, Blake. Fuck me!”

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’ve never seen a person more worthy of all my attention.

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.

Mercer, satisfied, pliant, calm, and docile, looking like a wet dream and a beautiful man, touching me everywhere he can because he trusts me.

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. I kiss the side of his neck and lick the salt from his skin.

I’m on the brink of too many things. Coming. Falling for him. Needing him for more than his body.

If I’m always full of him, he can never abandon me.

I think I get scared. “Blake…” Don’t leave me. Don’t ignore me. Don’t walk away from me.