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“That’s fucking right you will.” He slid his hand down my belly and between my thighs, cupping my pussy with so much pressure I reached out to grip his shoulders and steady myself. I couldn’t breathe and I felt lightheaded, like I might pass out.
“Spread wider for me.” His mouth was by my throat, his breath warm and humid. I did what he said and felt him slip his fingers through my folds, rubbing up and down, making me even wetter. “You’re so ready for me.”
One of his fingers found its way to my pussy opening, teasing the hole with one thick, long digit. He pulled back to look at my face at the same time he pushed that finger inside.
“I want to be buried deep in here, Poppy. So fucking deep.”
My breathing increased as he started fucking me with that digit, slow and easy, driving me higher to an orgasm.
“Beg me for my cock.” He pulled back and looked me in the eyes, leaving me grasping for sanity, sucking in air. His mouth was on me once more, his hand sliding down the length of my spine.
He made a strangled noise, the heat of his body leaving me begging, clutching at him, hoping for more.
He turned me around then and pressed my chest to the wall, the coldness chilling my overheated body. His chest was against my back a second later, and he pushed the hair off my neck, kissing the skin that was exposed. His hand squeezed one cheek of my ass, and I popped my bottom out, grinding it against him.
“You have no idea how hot it is seeing you spread like this, ready for me, so fucking soaked I can’t even think straight.”
With his hands on my hips now, he pulled my lower half out and I felt the tip of his cock at my entrance. But he didn’t push into me.
“You ready for me to fuck this virginity right out of you?” He spun me around and I cried out. “Are you, Poppy? Are you ready, baby girl?”
I licked my lips and nodded.
And then I was flat on my back in the middle of the bed, staring up at Butcher, seeing the primal desire on his face.
“Come here, Butcher,” I whispered, and he was on me in the next second, spreading my legs with his body, his cockhead right at my opening once more.
“Mine,” he said almost to himself, and then he started to push in. He did this several times, shallowly thrusting into me, breaking my hymen as easily as he was claiming me as his right now.
A low pleasure-filled moan mixed with my pained gasp. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling that thickness stretching me, opening me up.
He started to slide into my body. There was resistance as he pushed through the tight virginal muscle, and then he was fully in me, his balls pressed right to my bottom. He didn’t wait to give me time to adjust to his massive size. No, Butcher just started pulling out and pushing back in, over and over again. Everything around me faded, the world leaving me, the past and future vanishing.
There was only here and now.
“Christ.”
The way he moved in and out of me demolished my sanity.
And when I moaned, he started fucking me harder and faster, making me take all his dick until I felt my eyes water and my orgasm crash through me.
“Give it to me. Yes.” He hissed out that one word.
He was crazed in his movements, pounding into my body like he owned it.
He does own it. He does own me.
He snaked his hand behind my back and grabbed my hair, gently tugging at the strands, tipping my head back.
The look on his face was feral as he pumped into me, filled me up. His gaze was heavy-lidded as he looked down between our bodies, right where he was buried in me. He watched as his cock disappeared into me. Sweat glistened on his body, and I wanted to lick it all off, to see how salty it was. He lifted his gaze to my face and started really pounding into me, his mouth open as he silently showed me his pleasure.
“I’m coming, Poppy girl. I’m fucking coming.”
The roar of completion that filled the room sounded like a feral animal. He tightened his hand in my hair and I opened my mouth, a silent moan leaving me.
“Christ.” That word spilled from him in a rush. He braced himself on his hands on either side of my head and stayed there, buried in me and breathing hard. “You’re mine, Poppy.” The way he said that, so low, so deep—so completely possessive—I knew it was the absolute truth.
He pulled out of me and we both made a disappointed sound.
