Page 144 of Devour

“What the fuck are you doing, little heathen?”

“Whatever I goddamn want.” I tilt my head and watch him as he stares back at the mask. “You’re fucking mine.”

His eyes move over me, and he gives me a full grin showing off his perfect white teeth. I glance over my shoulder and see his cock is already hard. We always sleep naked, but I’m wearing one of his shirts to hide what I’m not ready for him to see yet.

“I can feel your wet pussy on my chest, baby.” His voice is rough from sleep, but the smirk is there. “All this effort and you’re the one who’s already soaked.”

“Tell me who you belong to.” I uncap the Sharpie.

“You already know the answer to that.” He pulls against the ties and watches me. “Untie my hands, and I’ll fucking show you.”

“Wrong answer.” I press the Sharpie tip against his skin, right over his heart, and start drawing. “Try again.”

His chest rises and falls faster beneath me. He watches my hand move across his chest, and his jaw works. “I belong to you, Saylor. I’ve always fucking belonged to you.”

“Good boy.”

He growls and thrusts his hips, trying to buck me off. “Don’t push it, heathen.”

“Or what?” I lift the Sharpie and look at the first mark. “Your hands are tied, your cock is hard, and I’m going to tell you what I want.”

He watches me draw. His breathing is steady, but his muscles are tight, and I can feel his pulse under the Sharpie tip. He’s letting me do this. Not because he can’t get free, but because he wants to see what I’m going to do.

“It’s only fair that my name is on your body, don’t you think?”

“I want your name on me.” He tugs at the restraints. “I want you to suck my dick like my good girl while I get whatever you want. You can cover my whole body, baby.”

“I want my name right here.” I trace the letters across his chest. My handwriting isn’t perfect, and it doesn’t need to be right now. I’m just making a point. I’ve already drawn what I want for when Crew inks it. I don’t have any idea how to use a tattoo gun and want it to be done right.

I reach my other hand behind me and stroke his hard dick.

He groans. “Anything you want, little heathen.”

“Anything?” I tease. “Well listen closely, because I don’t want to have to tell you twice.” I throw his words back at him, and he growls. “You’re marrying me.”

“Goddamn right I am. You already have my ring on your finger, baby. You already said yes when I asked.”

I release his dick and look at my hand. The ring is huge and over the top—just like Axl. “I know that. But this is me claiming what’s mine.” I lift the shirt over my head, taking the mask with it, so I’m fully naked on top of him. “And I want you to mark my body again.”

His eyes scan my body and then land on my side. On the scar Justin left across my skin with the knife. And to the letters I drew over it in black Sharpie.

Heathen.

His whole body goes still, and his breathing picks up under my thighs.

“Saylor.” His voice is tender, and it makes tears form in the corners of my eyes.

“That’s what I want.” I run my fingers over the letters. “This scar isn’t who I am. I’m your heathen.”

His eyes are locked on my ribs. On the name he gave me at the start of all of this.

I lean down so my face is over his but keep my lips just out of reach of his. “And I want you to be the one to mark me.”

“Untie me.” His voice is raw, and he lifts his head trying to meet mine. “Saylor, untie my fucking hands.”

“Not yet.” I brush my lips across his jaw, and he strains toward me. “I’m not done telling you what I want.”

“I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want. Untie me so I can touch my girl.”