Devlin has a visitor

Devlin slumped into his narrow bunk, the room spinning slightly from exhaustion and adrenaline. He barely remembered locking the door, the heavy clunk of the manual bolt sliding into place. His pistol rested within arm’s reach on the nightstand, but even with the weight of danger humming through the ship, sleep clawed at him with greedy fingers.

Just as he drifted to the edge of unconsciousness, the door hissed open.

He bolted upright, heart slamming against his ribs — but before he could reach for the weapon, he froze.

A woman stood in the doorway.

No — not just any woman. She was ethereal, impossible, wrong in a way that made his blood ice and fire all at once.

She wore nothing but black lace lingerie, delicate straps framing curves so perfect they seemed sculpted for sin. Her dark hair cascaded in wild waves over bare shoulders, and her lips curled into a slow, predatory smile that made his skin crawl and burn in equal measure.

Devlin opened his mouth to speak — demand answers, scream, something — but she was on him in a blink, straddling his hips, pinning him down with the crushing weight of her gaze.

"Shh," she cooed against his mouth, fingers threading into his hair, yanking his head back hard enough to make him gasp. "Good boys don’t talk unless they’re told."

Her voice was velvet and venom, and he obeyed without thinking, heat blooming shamefully low in his gut.

She kissed him — brutal, biting — and then slid lower, grinding herself against his stiffening cock through his pants, her lace barely a barrier between their heat.

Devlin moaned, humiliated by how fast he reacted, how easily he hardened for her.

"Mmm, look at you," she purred against his throat, nipping at the skin. "Already so ****. Pathetic."

He shuddered, his hands twitching with the urge to grab her, flip her over — do something — but her next move stole the fight from him.

Without warning, she reached between them, undoing his pants with ruthless efficiency. His cock sprang free, flushed and leaking. She wrapped her hand around him, slow and possessive, as if she owned him already.

But it wasn’t enough.

With her other hand, she slid down, fingers slipping behind him — lower, lower — teasing the sensitive flesh of his entrance.

Devlin’s whole body jolted, panic sparking — fuck, no, no one’s ever—

But she pressed a finger against him, firm and insistent, her eyes never leaving his.

"Good boys let themselves be used," she whispered, voice dripping with mockery. "And you are such a good boy for me, aren't you?"

He gasped, a strangled, broken sound, as her finger breached him, sliding deep, slow, relentless. His cock twitched helplessly in her hand, betraying him completely.

"There it is," she crooned, driving her finger deeper, curling it just right. "God, you’re filthy. A **** little toy. I could do anything to you, couldn't I?"

Devlin whimpered, back arching involuntarily, the brutal pleasure overwhelming every scrap of shame and resistance.

"Say it," she demanded, her voice sharpening. "Tell me what you are."

"I’m—" His voice cracked, wrecked. "I’m yours."

"That's right," she hissed, thrusting her finger deeper, faster, sending white-hot spikes of pleasure through his trembling body. "My needy little slut. So empty without me."

He sobbed out a moan, cock jerking against her grip, every nerve screaming for release.

She shifted her hips, pulling aside her panties to reveal her glistening, dripping heat. She hovered over him, close enough he could feel the humid, aching pulse of her arousal, but she didn’t let him enter her. She just hovered there, taunting.

"You want to cum inside me, don't you?" she whispered, the tip of his cock brushing maddeningly against her folds. "You want to fill me up like the worthless little fucktoy you are."

"Please," Devlin gasped, voice breaking apart completely. "Please let me... please let me cum in you—"

She laughed — a wicked, decadent sound — and finally, finally, she sank down onto him, taking him in one brutal, claiming thrust.

Devlin cried out, his entire body seizing under the crushing weight of pleasure. She rode him mercilessly, grinding down, forcing him deeper, tighter, until he was nothing but broken sounds and frantic, **** thrusts.

"Cum for me," she snarled against his mouth, her teeth grazing his jaw. "Now."

And Devlin obeyed.

His orgasm tore through him like a wildfire, blinding, violent. He emptied himself inside her with a helpless cry, every nerve short-circuiting with overwhelming release. She milked every spasm from him, grinding and clenching around him until he was reduced to a panting, boneless wreck beneath her.

She stayed astride him for a long moment, her hips still moving in slow, taunting rolls, savoring his ruin.

Then, as if bored, she pulled off of him, leaving him empty, aching.

She stood, smoothing her lingerie back into place, and smirked down at him — at the mess she’d made of him.

"My good little toy," she purred, before slipping silently out the door.

The lock clicked back into place.

And Devlin, gasping, trembling, hollowed out in every way, realized he had no idea if she had ever really been there at all.