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He moaned, his hips raising to bump him against my clit. Dragging him back through me, I placed him at my entrance and lowered ever so slightly.
The tip of his cock sank inside, the stretch making me burn even with the shallow penetration. Just that little bit of him made panic seize my lungs.
“It’s just you and me, Butterfly,” he murmured softly, the gentleness in his voice letting me push away the fear coming for me.
“Fuck,” I gasped as he slid through the tender tissue at my entrance. The last time he’d been inside me, he’d been in charge. He’d gone too quickly, not giving me enough time to adjust to his intrusion, and lit my pussy on fire with his possession.
With me in control, I felt every inch as I stretched to make room for him and every second of the burn as it slowly spread through me. I raised my hips, dropping back down gradually and taking him inside me only a little more with every slow thrust.
Each stroke was tentative, waiting for that ugly trauma to rear up and take me back to the places better left in my past. But as if my body recognized him, knew the man who owned the cock splitting me in two, it never came.
My pussy drew him inside, always seeking more as I worked my way down until I rested on his hips. He stared up at me, something like wonder in his gaze as I rolled my hips and moved on him. “Fucking Christ,” he muttered.
Leaning forward so that his pubic bone rubbed against my clit, I took him as deep as I could in slow rolls that I felt everywhere.
As if he was not only inside me but part of me, his cock filled me to the hilt, bumping against the end of me with every mind-numbing stroke. “So fucking beautiful,” he grunted, his stare fixed on my face as I moved on him. I leaned forward, touching my mouth to his gently as I reached above his head and frantically freed him from the bed post. He pulled his arms down, placing them between us as the two of us hurried to pull the belt off his wrists.
He flipped me to my back and drove inside more deeply as soon as he was finally free, drawing a squeal from me. “Fuck,” I gasped, wrapping my legs around his waist as he covered me with his weight.
He devoured my mouth, driving in and out of me with hard rolls of his hips that mimicked the movements mine had made. As if he’d watched me, memorized what I did and how it felt, only to turn it around and use it to make me whimper.
With a hand still clenching the flesh of my ass, he held me immobilized, pinned to the bed as he moved inside me and fucked me with the cock that I’d been so certain wouldn’t fit. He pulled away from my mouth, staring down at me intently as his free hand wrapped around the front of my throat.
There should have been panic. There should have been absolute terror.
But there was only Scar, chasing away the demons with his imprint on my skin and his taste in my mouth. “Does my butterfly like my fucking cock?” he asked, shoving it so deeply inside me that I gasped.
I loved it, arching my back into his grip as his fingers tightened around my throat.
“Yes,” I gasped, staring up at him with wide eyes. I didn’t recognize the woman I’d become, the needy, greedy thing he turned me into.
He groaned when I tightened my muscles, clenching down on him in challenge. “Look at you trying to milk my cock with this fucking cunt.” He ran his thumb over the cord of my throat and down between my breasts. His fingers touched my clit, stroking it firmly before sliding down to the space where he filled me. “Is that what you want? Me to fill your pussy with my cum until it drips out of you?”
Holy fucking hell.
He pressed a finger to my entrance, stretching me further as he slid a single digit in alongside his cock. He worked it in and out of me slowly, moving in the opposite direction of his cock.
One went in, one pulled out.
“Oh God,” I whimpered, the shrill sound to my voice irritating me as he grinned down at me. It was too much. Too full.
I wouldn’t survive it.
He leaned forward, curling his long body over mine and grabbing a fistful of one of my breasts. He bit the nipple sharply, pain erupting through it with the sharp pinch and ecstasy of him working between my legs. When he raised his face to my mouth, he bit my bottom lip hard enough I cried out. “Will you miss the taste of me on your tongue?” he asked, pulling that finger out of my pussy. He lifted it, pressing it to my lip and sliding it over my tongue.
I nodded, completely overwhelmed with the man on top of me, surrounding me, filling me with every bit of him he could. It shouldn’t be possible to miss the taste of his cum on my tongue, but somehow I would miss Scar’s eyes gleaming with satisfaction and watching as he painted my mouth with it.
“Don’t worry, Butterfly. You can lick me clean when I’m done with you,” he said, the vulgar words lighting something inside of me on fire.
He was so fucking filthy. He was so fucking wrong.
And somehow, I loved him all the more for it.
He filled all the little voids I hadn’t known existed, answering the most depraved desires I never could have admitted on my own. He took them, claimed them as his, and owned them forever.
He grabbed me behind the knee, lifting my leg high to give him more room to move as he quickened his pace. As he rutted inside me like a man desperate for release.
Desperate to fill me with his cum.
“Fucking come,” he said, dropping his hand to my clit again and circling it until I couldn’t help but follow the command. My pussy clamped down on him, strangling the cock he buried balls-deep inside me.
He roared out his release, warmth flooding me that never seemed to end. It dragged on and on as I came down from my second blinding orgasm, feeling him still thrusting within me slowly.
He rose to his knees, staring down at my pussy where he withdrew from me entirely. A trickle of his release followed, his gaze intent on it as he shoved his cock back inside and pushed through the sloppy aftermath he’d filled me with.
He fucked me again. More. Never stopping until his cock softened inside of me, the feeling of him moving through his own release something so erotic I thought he might never stop. When he finally did, he flipped to his back and took his cock in one hand.
He wrapped the other around the back of my head, using it to guide me gently until I had to rise up onto my hands and knees. “Suck,” he ordered, hissing when I drew him into my mouth. The taste of our combined releases exploded across my tongue, filling me with a twisted sort of satisfaction. He was inside me, part of me, and he was fucking covered in me. His face. His cock.
I sucked him, licking him clean while he murmured to me softly. The words didn’t matter, the gentle reassurance filling me and keeping me from feeling dirty.
He treasured me, appreciated everything I gave him with my body as a gift, and he gave me his love and praise in return. “Good girl,” he said, burying a hand in my hair and pulling me off his softened cock.
He drew me to his mouth, kissing me deeply and not caring about the fact that my tongue had just licked his cum off his shaft.
He laid me back on the bed, devouring my lips and eventually working his way down to give my breasts the attention he thought they’d been denied the first time around.
All of me. Again, and again.
Until I forgot my own fucking name.
