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“In the only way possible,” he quivered, the reflection of his lips parted and nipped near my ear, “with my cum leaking between your legs, of course.” His finger slipped down as he groaned, passing my panties and into my wet slit.
“Park…” I gasped, his size plunged into me, causing me to buckle forward with a whimper.
“Stay with me,” he instructed, correcting my posture with a firm grip of my jaw. “I want to see my Butterfly enjoy herself.” I obeyed, staring into the mirror, almost shutting my eyes from ecstasy alone.
“I’m so…”
“Wet?” He moaned. His fingers slithered the lubed noise from my lips, unique like the smack of new bubble gum. His strength alone lifted me up, pulling me to my toes as a second finger slipped inside. “We don't eat dinner till I make you mine,” he directed, “and that starts with you screaming my name.”
“I will.” I promised. My hips moved to the motion of his finger. Impatiently he reached up, his loose hand yanked on my bra, freeing the pink blush of my perked nipple with a pinch.
“I know you will,” he motioned, kissing down my neck, “I’ve said your name too, under my breath anytime I touched myself.”
“Just like me.” I confessed, admitting how I’ve thought of him while masturbating, which I’d done countless times already. If only he knew how many orgasms he’d already given me, simply from the thought of his dick stuffed between my lips. His erection pressed into me further, its head big just like I imagined, round and full.
“No, not like you.” He challenged, “Do you bite your lip? Do you twist your sheets in resistance, fighting the urge to find me, to fuck me? Cause I do for you, and it takes everything I have to stop that.”
“Then don’t,” I pleaded, his fingers slipped out, swiping the slick wetness along my swollen clit. My climax was unbearably close, his words alone building me higher than I was prepared for.
“I won’t,” he moaned. “Just give me permission.”
“To fuck me?” I asked, my voice hoarse, dry from the lack of spit.
“To bend you over,” he inhaled, “to make you hold my cum.” I pinched my thighs around his fingers which were inside me again, pumping slowly, forcing me to drip from the pressure of his size.
“I’d keep it inside.” I whined, his cum a newly given treat I desperately wanted. “I’ll stop it from leaking, I’ll even hold it in for as long as you want.”
“Every ounce,” he instructed. “I’ll knock you up, Butterfly, I’ll take that pretty pussy of yours and make you my wife.” He bit my shoulder, his erection almost painfully pressed against my cheeks, as if at any moment the length of him could slip inside my ass. “But before I do, I’ll make you feel my hot breath. I’ll burn you alive, starting from your neck until I’m between your thighs. It’s the only place I’ll ever kneel, where I’ll fucking worship.”
“Worship?” He spoke as if I were an alter, a position to pray, or possibly give thanks.
“A place to atone, Butterfly, for all the wicked shit I wanted to do but never could. Not anymore though. Now, I’ll lick you like the fucking wet treat that you are, tasting you as deep as I can fucking get.” His description was as arousing as it was vulgar, knowing that at any moment he’d spread me open for a taste.
“Just like that…” I gasped as his fingers rolled the nub of my clit like a gentle dial.
“Shit,” he moaned testing the swelling that he caused, “I got you fucking puffy, so wet that I might just slip out. I bet you were leaking before I even fucked you with my fingers.”
“You on the bed was all I needed.” I admitted, almost in pain from the intense pleasure the tip of his finger provided.
“That’s my Butterfly, getting wet for me, knowing it will be easier to stretch you out. Neither of us will last long, but I promise, you’ll taste my cum from just how hard I’ll shoot inside you.”
“Stop, you’re going to make me come.” I cried at his threat. I could feel it throbbing, something far more intimate than ever before. I wanted it in the closet, bent over and rough, his grip in my hair, his lips on my neck. Yes, Parker Jones, the lawyer, the god, filling me up, breaking me in.
“You ready, Butterfly?” Parker's voice appeared at the door, his cheerful question startled me into focus. I was in a fantasy, lost in the thought of him taking me in the closet. Literally, I was caught, almost reaching down into my own panties, seduced by my imagination.
“Park!” I screeched, pressing my elbows closer to my body. I concealed any true peek, betraying the confidence I just had while fantasizing. “I’m picking out something special,” I assured, suddenly far more shy than I realized. At most in our lifetime he had seen me in my bathing suit, possibly my bra in the heat of a quick change, but this was different, he was not coy like me, he was merely confident in everything that he did.
His broad shoulder leaned in the doorway, while his cool green eyes studied mine, lowering to my chest with an encompassing glance. I allowed the silence to fall between us, tempting my mouth to ask the question,do you want to see me? What did his eyes say, if not silent admiration? I looked at his tie and knew exactly what to wear. I was not yet the hot sexy Gemma, but rather, the shy sweet girl who loved her best friend.
“Help me zip it up?” I asked, turning away to remove the blue Oscar De La Renta off the hanger. He stepped forward, accepting the request, the tanned dimple of his cheek appeared.
“Looks special to me.” He smirked, as I stepped into the dress and pulled it up to my waist. “Wait,” Parker stopped. “Let me.” He hummed, the softness of his hand gently lifted the dress up to my shoulders. The way his thumb brushed against my skin tingled, vibrating from my toes to my neck as the top clasp clicked. “There.” He finished, his voice still low.
I turned to face him, and his eyes assessed the dark blue shine of my silk dress. I adjusted the strap, the skintight fit hugged along my curves and small chest. Parker’s eyes swept over my body then down at his own tie, “You look… really great,” he attempted to cover a groan by clearing his throat. “We match like a couple.”
“Don’t we though?” I asked, hoping to skip dinner and go straight for the kiss. I adjusted his tie, the designer in me ensuring his look was correct, but also an excuse to touch him briefly.
“Now we’re ready.” He confirmed, “Tonight you’ll know this is your home, and you’ll never have to feel weird. I’ll show you what you’ve been waiting to see. I promise.” The conviction of his words were true. When Parker made a promise, he never broke it.
