Page 14 of In Love with the Devil

Julian

You know when your feet fall asleep and those painful, annoying pins and needles distract you from everything you’re doing? That’s how I’ve been feeling all over for the last three weeks, since I first tasted my little bird. I need her so incessantly, she might as well be oxygen. My temper is almost out of control; a few times I’ve almost raised my voice at Kristin for minor mistakes, but thank heavens, because of Molly, this isn’t my first rodeo, and I can rein it in. I keep it all right under my skin, as horrible as that is. It doesn’t help that there’s been an increase in the number of patients because two out of the eight other clinics in town have shut down.

After a long Friday, I go for a five-mile run before showering and settling to stalk my little bird through the cameras. She arrives home safely but tired from work. She takes her daily verbal beating from her mother, showers, and falls asleep. I already hate her mother. My little bird's face is very expressive and although she doesn't cry, I can see how her mother drains her.Usually on Fridays, she goes clubbing with her friend, Mindy but not today. When I search the texts for the reason, it turns out Mindy is spending the night with her new boyfriend. Good. I hope that happens a lot more often.

By midnight, I can no longer stay away. Wearing all black, I drive to her house, sneak to the back, put on the ghost mask I bought after meeting her, and pick the lock. As soon as I open the door, her smell lures me deeper into the house.

Honey, I’m home.The joke makes me chuckle.

The only noise is that of the air conditioner. I grab the biggest butcher knife from the kitchen and walk up to the side of the bed where she lies on her side, facing away from me. Slowly, I pull the sheets, but she pulls them up again; this little protest, a sign of defiance, makes me smile.

You have bigger fish to fry, little bird. Don’t fight me on this.

“Astoria...” I whisper into her ear.

Her eyes flash open. I can see the terror fill her when she realizes that an intruder is waking her. She jumps like a cat, crawls to the window and starts sliding it open but stops as soon as I push the pointy end of the serrated knife into the back of her neck. Nothing alarming, just a speck of blood that draws a gasp out of her. “Get back on the bed, or you’ll find the tip of this knife coming out of your throat.” Using my real voice feels like a weight has been lifted from me, there's no need to put in so much effort.

Slowly, she turns to me. I see her studying the mask. Her reaction is delightful. As her face contorts to scream, I place the tip of the knife to her neck; the reminder ensures she shuts up.

“Nah-ah-ah. Shhh.” I place my forefinger over the lips of the mask to indicate I want silence. She swallows and breathes fast through her slightly open mouth. “If you’re a good girl, nothing bad will happen. Now, do as you’re told.”

Astoria walks the three steps, climbs back on the bed, and she hugs both her legs while her back leans against the headboard. My heart is pounding, and my dick, throbbing. This is it. This is when my little bird meets me–her keeper. This is when we set our boundaries and the rules of our relationship. The loss of her rebellion, her failed attempt to escape, establishes my dominance. She probably doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve won.

Her breathing rushes and becomes heavy. While avoiding eye contact, she tries to slide away from me. “Wh-what do you want?” she asks.

“I just want to watch you–”

“Why? I have no money. I’m basically a servant here. Please, just go away.”

“Astoria. I know you’re a smart girl. So, I’m only going to repeat this one time. I just want to see you. You understand?” I explain, almost whispering. She gawks at me. “Answer me, Astoria. Do you understand?” She flinches at my yelling, looking gorgeous.

“No. I don’t.”

I can’t help but smile. Most girls would agree in order to try to calm an intruder. Astoria is not as tame as I expected. Is the stereotype correct about Latinas? So far, it’s delicious. I slide the end of the knife from her neck to her breast and back again. She's heavily breathing with her eyebrows shaking and her chin angled up. A whimper leaves her as the knife draws a small drop of blood on her neck.

“Shh… it’s okay. I brought you a gift.”

Her eyes follow me as I walk around the bed then hold the gift bag in the air, offering it to her. She stares at it, then at me.“Open it.”Inside, she finds the short, white cotton babydoll nightgown I bought her. “Put it on.”

“What?”

“Stop making me repeat myself and put it on.” Sterner this time.

“Why?”

I stare at her without a word, tilt my head to the right, and wait for her to get the message. There’s only so much patience a man can have. I want to see her in something as pretty and pure as her. Gripping the knife tight, I offer her my other hand and help her get out of bed. “Do you need help taking off your clothes?”

“I–”

“Don’t have a choice, that’s right. So just put it on.”

She takes off her stupid t-shirt, allowing me the view of her ample, round breasts that I sucked on too many weeks ago. It takes the strength of a million gods to resist taking what’s mine. But I want to be different with Astoria than I was with Molly. I was young when I was with Molly, therefore more selfish, impatient, and impulsive. Now, I’m not only interested in the fucking of her body but even more in the fucking up of her naïve, young mind.I bring my lips to her ear so she can feel my breath and hear my whisper. “You have no idea what it’s taking me to be a nice man to you, Astoria.”

She pulls the gown over her head and her tits look spectacular with the low neckline providing minimal support, and the tight high waist, making it look as if it were carrying them. Gathered like that, they look bigger, forming a deep cleavage.

“Take off your sweats and underwear, and let down your hair.”

She hesitates but obeys. Her hair carries big waves all the way below her waist. When I reach towards her, she pulls back and I stop my hand mid-air. She closes her eyes, wincing as her breath trembles. I gather her hair so it falls to the front over her right shoulder. When I step back to admire my her, she is a masterpiece. “You have beautiful hair, Astoria. Never cut it.”Her eyes hold mine in an intense gaze. “Tell me the truth. Are you wet?”

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