I didn’t want to think about her. Didn’t want to spend a single minute worrying about getting her back, because I knew I would, eventually.

But the girl had a way of sneaking up on me when I was least expecting it. My thoughts were all of her, my mouth alive with her lingering flavor. It had only been a few hours, but I wanted her back. Back in my apartment, back in my life. Legs spread, mouth open, begging for more. I knew my resolve was weakening, and I knew the clock was ticking.

I made some calls to find out more about her. They said her name was Veronica, which definitely sounded more mundane than the name she had given me. I made sure she got her job back, knowing I’d fucked up back there. And then I went about my day. Work shit took up hours at a time, and when my driver took me back home that night, I was fucking exhausted.

My phone rang as I walked through the door, and my heart lurched when I saw unknown number flashing across the screen. I picked up on the second ring.

“Yeah?” I barked into the phone.

“Is this… Mr. King?”

The voice wasn’t hers, but it was a woman. A sugary-sweet woman who was already annoying the shit out of me without doing much of anything.

“Yes,” I said. “Who am I speaking to?”

“My name is Veronica Campbell,” she purred. “I think there’s been a bit of a confusion at my workplace.”

I raised my eyebrows as I poured myself a drink. “What makes you say that, Miss Campbell?”

“Well…” She sighed dramatically. “I trusted a friend of mine to work my shift last night, and it appears she took advantage of that in the worst possible way. I just wanted to call and thank you for getting me my job back.”

I waited for more, sensing her getting more and more uncomfortable on the other end of the line. Finally, she spoke up again.

“I was hoping I could thank you in person?” she asked sweetly.

I could practically smell her desperation through my phone.

“And why would I want that, Miss Campbell?” I asked her and she giggled nervously.

“Well, I’m sure I could think of plenty of reasons…” Her voice was flirty.

“Where is she?” I interrupted her.

“Where’s who?”

“Sapphire.” It felt weird saying her name. “Is she with you right now?”

“No,” she replied in a clipped tone. “I made her leave. I can’t have people like that around me.”

“You made her leave?” I slammed my glass on the bar. “Where did she go?”

“How should I know?” she said, now obviously irritated I wasn’t giving her the attention she so badly wanted. “I told her to leave. She left all her shit here, too.”

“You need to tell me where you think she went,” I told her.

“What’s in it for me?”

Stupid calculating bitch.

“Miss Campbell,” I replied as nicely as I could. “Tell me where you think your friend has gone, or I will make certain you’re unemployable in this entire state.”

She went quiet, but finally spoke up, her voice trembling.

“She might be in her favorite coffee place, Beans. But I don’t know.”

“Any other places you can think of?”

“Maybe the library… I… I don’t know.”

“Thanks for your help, Miss Campbell.”

“Wait!”

“What?” She was really getting on my nerves now.

“You’re not going to get me in trouble at work, are you?”

“Let’s wait and see,” I said, and ended the call.

I poured myself another drink and downed it in a single gulp. The blazer went back on and I found the directions to Beans on my phone. Closed. The library too, probably. So where the hell could she be?

I drove my own car that night, and instinctively ended up at the gallery where I’d met her. Something told me she’d be waiting, and she was.

A small, vulnerable little shape was curled up on the sidewalk. She was wearing a hoodie and cut-off denim shorts, curled up so tight it was like she was trying to disappear. Her blonde hair was spilling out from her hood.

I pulled over and left the car running as I got out of it. Three steps and I’d reached her. Two heartbeats and she looked up.

“No,” she said, her voice shaky and sweet.

“Yes,” I said, and offered her my hand.

She stared at me with contempt, and then picked herself up without taking my hand. She wasn’t wearing makeup and her too-pretty-for-her-own-good face looked even younger this way. Her lashes were light, thick and long. Her lips looked better with no lipstick. Her skin was perfect.

“I hate you,” she said.

“So?” I asked. “That doesn’t change a fucking thing. You’re still coming with me, aren’t you?”

“Do I have a choice?” she asked bitterly.

I moved closer and stroked her hair. She turned her head to the side when I did it and I hated myself for hurting her so many times already.

“You always have a choice, Pet,” I told her simply.

The rain came down then, heavy and cleansing at the same time. She looked up at me as I tugged on her strands of her hair. It was naturally a little wavy. I stared at her and she blushed, looking away.

“You really don’t think you’re beautiful, do you?” I asked her.

She didn’t answer.

“Confidence is the best thing a girl can wear, Pet,” I told her.

“Good thing you have enough for both of us,” she said.

I laughed. “Don’t be snarky.”

“Don’t be patronizing.”

“Don’t be a brat.”

“Fuck off.”

She tried to get away, but I pulled her back by her hair. She mewled when I did it, but didn’t make a move to get away. I held her tightly against my chest, and she let me, giving me piece by piece by piece. I was greedy. I wanted all of her, and I wanted it then and there. She was like a fucking puzzle I was trying to put together, but I kept missing the most important pieces.

“Will you let me take you home?” I asked her, and she nodded against my chest. “Good girl,” I said.

I took her hand and guided her to my car. I opened the door for her, made sure she put her seatbelt on and we took off into the night. Moments after we started driving, she pressed a hand to her mouth.

“Okay?” I asked.

“Feel sick,” she gasped. “You drive like a fucking crazy person.”

I laughed and slowed down. “Motion sickness. Cute.”

“Don’t ever call me cute again,” she bit out. So feisty.

“Why not?”

“It’s the worst adjective in the English language,” she said. “I want to be sexy or hot instead.”

“Fishing for compliments?” I teased.

She didn’t say a word, sulking in her seat instead.

I drove back home in silence, careful with every turn we took. She placed her hand on her thigh after a few blocks and it made me feel better. This weird fucking need to protect her, to make sure she was okay, rose inside me, and I didn’t know what the hell to do with it. She wasn’t my responsibility. She wasn’t even supposed to be my pet.

After what happened, I’d promised myself I wouldn’t have another one.

And yet, here we were.

I parked in the garage below my apartment building and opened the door for her. The whole night felt like a dream, buzzing with tension and wet with the rain, making for a fucking terrible, combustible combination. She stalked out of the car without so much as looking at me, but when I led her to the elevator, her small hand pressed against mine.

I gave her a sideways glance as we rode up. She was looking at the floor, her fingers holding onto my hand desperately.

She was a fucking girl. She wasn’t even a woman yet.

And I was going to make her into one, whatever the hell it took.

We got off on my floor and she still wouldn’t look at me. I led her into my apartment, and she followed closely, her fingers intertwined with mine. I had a feeling she wanted to let go, but fucking couldn’t. Her fingernails were digging into my palm desperately.

“Do you have any of your stuff?” I asked her, and she shook her head. “Do you need anything?”

She gave me a blank stare.

“Like a toothbrush… some pajamas? Do you take any medications, do you need contact solution, anything?”

She kept staring.

“Pet,” I said. “You need to work with me here.”

“What am I doing here?” she asked me. “Why would you come get me? Haven’t you fucked me up enough?”

“You’re here because you want to be here,” I said.

“I don’t!” she screeched.

“Did I drag you here?” I asked her. “Did I fucking do something to you that you didn’t beg for?”

“Fuck you,” she spat out. Her favorite phrase, apparently.

“I don’t do non-consent, Pet,” I said. “And I’ll never take something from you that you wouldn’t want me to have. Okay?”

“You fucked another girl,” she accused me in the softest of voices. “You just fucked her to… punish me.”

“That’s not why I did it,” I said.

“Then why?” She was tearing up. “Are you fucking blind? I like you so much…”

I kneeled in front of her and took her shaky hands in mine.

“You need to trust me,” I told her.

“No. Why would I?” She was seething with anger, but she wouldn’t pull those hands away.

“Because you want to,” I reminded her. “Because you need this as fucking badly as I do.”

“You don’t need me,” she sobbed. “You just want a pussy to fuck. A mouth to push your cock inside. An ass to rip apart.”

She.

Just.

Didn’t.

Get it.

And there was nothing I could have done.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “You can be angry.”

“Okay,” she said defeatedly, her shoulders falling. “Okay.”

“I’ll make you feel better, though.”

“Why?” She gave me a sad look. “Just so you can fuck with my head some more?”

“That too,” I smiled.

I resisted the urge to rip her clothes off. I wasn’t a sadist. But she made me want to hurt her so badly, because she loved it so much.

“Do you have another place to go?” I asked, and she shook her head no.

“Not really.”

“Do you want me to call your parents? Maybe a friend?”

“No,” she replied.

“Do you want to stay here with me, Pet?” My heart pounded. I wanted her to say yes as badly as I wanted her to storm out the door.

She looked up at me, those pretty blue eyes as picture-perfect as her beautiful face. “Can I?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. It was bound to happen eventually. “For as long as you want, okay?”

“Why?”

Because I can’t.

Fucking.

Let.

Go.

“Because you don’t have a place to stay,” I said. “And I want to take care of you for some weird reason.”

“You’re an old pervert,” she said and a nervous giggle escaped her.

“Probably. You’re a fucked-up teenager.”

“Probably.”

We stared at each other.

“Take your clothes off,” I said.

Her hand finally left mine. She stared at me as she pulled off that hoodie. She wasn’t wearing anything under it, and her little tits bounced when she tossed it aside. Her shorts followed next, and she slipped them off over her long, toned legs. I was mesmerized, unable to look away for a single second. She was a beautiful fucking sight.

She stood there in a tiny black thong and I took her in as if she was my last fucking meal. How fitting.

“I can’t just stay with you,” she told me, and I grinned at her.

“But you’re going to.”

“I don’t know you,” she objected.

“You like it better this way.”

“Will you tell me your first name?”

“Will it make a difference?” She was amusing me.

“To me it will,” she said in a small voice.

“Okay,” I replied. “My name is Hayden.”

She giggled. “And your middle name, please.”

“Pushing it,” I warned her. “My initials are HSK.”

“And what does the S stand for?”

She came closer to me, her hand sliding down my chest. She was even more beautiful up close and my heart panged painfully with the thought of losing her forever.

“Seth,” I murmured, and she smiled at me.

“Thanks for telling me,” she said softly. “Master.”

My cock swelled so much it felt like it doubled in size. I had to physically restrain myself from reaching out for her. But she was doing my job for me, touching me here and there, her dainty fingers wrapping around my hand. She toyed with the ring on my finger.

“You weren’t wearing this last time,” she said.

I glanced down at my hand where a heavy signet ring was resting.

“My mother got it for me,” I told her.

She inspected it closely, raising my hand up to see.

“Your initials,” she said.

“In our family crest,” I said.

“It’s beautiful.”

Her fingertips stroked across the initials, and it felt like she was memorizing every single line on that ring of mine.

“Almost looks like a brand.”

Her voice was soft, but my cock jerked at her words.

A brand.

And just like that, the seed was planted.

“Are you going to fuck me tonight?” she asked.

“No,” I told her. “I don’t think so.”

I expected her to pout and fight me, but she nodded instead.

“I think we need some rules if you’re going to stay with me,” I said. “Nothing terrible, don’t worry. But as long as you’re staying here, I want you to follow my rules. Is that clear, Pet?”

I could see the internal battle inside her. She wanted to say no, but she couldn’t. She wanted to submit so badly, even though her mind was telling her not to break.

“What rules?” she wanted to know.

“Do you have a job?” I asked her, and she shook her head, looking embarrassed. “Good. I don’t want you to have one. I want you to be here as much as possible, okay?”

She nodded.

“Make sure you’re home before 9 p.m. if you go somewhere. And I always need to know where you are. You’ll give me your phone number, and I want to make sure you keep your phone on. I’ll need to know who you’re with, too.”

“You sound like a parent,” she smirked.

“No,” I corrected her. “I sound like someone who gives a shit about your safety, Pet.”

She toyed with my tie and I fought the urge to slap the firm globes of her ass.

“Do you want to stay in my room or have your own?”

The question slipped out without me meaning to let it. But I wanted to know.

She looked up at me, big, beautiful eyes with huge dilated pupils.

“With you,” she told me. “Don’t make me sleep by myself.”

“I won’t,” I told her gently. “You can sleep in my room.”

She grinned and I wondered if she noticed I didn’t tell her she could sleep in my bed. My room, sure, but she’d have to earn the privilege of sleeping beside me. Not the first night, though. The first night was about making her feel safe, and good.

“Do you want me to send someone to your old place to pick up your stuff?” I asked her, and she gave me a shy nod. I made a mental note to arrange that the next day. But I also wanted to take her shopping. I wanted to see her in the clothes I picked out for her, not these teenager-y leftovers she probably had from high school.

“Is that it?” she asked me, and I grinned at her.

“No, that’s not it. But I guess it’s enough for one night. Would you like to go to bed?”

“Yeah,” she said, and yawned the next second. “I’d like that, please, sir.”

She was switching between names so fast it was confusing me. It felt like each one was there for one of her personalities. King when she was bratty. Sir when she was horny. Master when she really fucking wanted to please me.

I was going to have a really hard time that night, keeping my hands off her.

She solidified this thought when she turned to walk towards my bedroom, her ass sashaying out of the room without a care in the world, because she knew how good she looked. Or maybe she didn’t, she was just too young and too stupid to care.

I had the feeling that this pet was going to be really good for me.