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“Well, butterfly? Don’t keep us both waiting…” he rumbles while rising, and I almost lurch when I feel more proof jerking against my upper back, given how enormous he is. “Or do you intend to besmirch my generosity?”
Well, when he puts it that way…
Hands shaking, pulse quaking, I trace my fingers along my throat. My breasts ache something fierce as I sweep my hands down to cup them.
“Mmm…yes, your breasts are quite lovely. Let me see you palm them. Knead them for me, little Aria.”
It’s not just a bunch of butterflies. It’s one giant butterfly—made of a bunch of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Judging by his smirk, he’s fully aware of his effect.
Somehow, I force myself to maintain a line of sight, but I’m flushing. It’s not like I’m some virginal sapling who’s never touched herself. But this brings a deep weight of vulnerability. Especially with his insistence on the mirror and staring at him. I can’t deny how the thought of obeying him and winning his approval has my womb tightening and my nerve endings dancing.
He’s all warm obsidian muscles, slabbed stone behind me, intimidating and predatory. This is to prove he can dominate me without even touching me. His eyes alone ignite my hunger and desire and root me here. Nothing in me could conceive of running.
My breasts feel plumper as I fondle them.
“Very nice. Brush your hard little nipples with your thumbs, then squeeze them.”
When I hesitate, he brandishes the darkness of his eyes like a black sword. I feel an itch as more wetness trickles from my slit. My nipples feel scratchy and achy until I play with them. I drag in a sharp inhale, and it takes all my strength not to close my eyes from the maddening fever rolling through me. My nipples have always been these sensitive little buttons with a sensor that goes straight to my clit, triggering more nerves to riot.
As I flick the nipples, pluck at them, and roll them between my fingers, my pussy muscles start to flutter. I’m so close. When he cocks his head to the side, his jaw hardening, I almost come from that alone until he glares and growls. I freeze.
“You will not come until I tell you, Butterfly.”
Holy cannoli ghost, that’s not fair!
“I’d wipe that frown right off your face before I give you something to truly frown about,” he warns me, his hot and heavy breath like a vaporous fume.
Nodding, I soften my features and lower my hands, relieved he lets me take some attention off my breasts. I take a reprieve with my belly, but I never noticed how sensual the skin of my stomach feels until now.
“Lower, Aria. Open your lips and show me your sex.”
My fingers tremble as I lower them to my pubic lips, careful not to touch my clit. If I do, I’m certain I’ll come. He narrows his eyes upon mine as if reminding me of his warning. His chest muscles flex, mirroring his wings.
With cheeks burning as much as my ass, I shudder as I work hard to focus on him, his eyes—the abyss boring holes into my spirit—are going to make me explode. To my astonishment, I feel the wet slippery lips and open them.
“More,” he commands with a voice that defies the timbre of the deepest bass.
Oh, gods, cool air sweeps across my folds.
“More,” he snarls.
I wrench my lips open, stretching the little nether mouth, and touching my other fingers into my inner folds. I part them. When his eyes sink, mine almost do, too. But I’m too swept up in his expression, in the parting of his lips, how his breath grows labored. His cock, larger now—inconceivably larger—throbs against my shoulder, and my disturbed imaginings have me wondering if it’s made of that obsidian-like gargoyle stone.
He’s probably staring at angles of my cunt that I never have.
“Your endowments are exquisite.”
Oh, gods! I clench my eyes, gasping and opening them right away, but mercifully, he’s still eyeing my vagina. His statement is so antiquated, but it sends a little spasm through me.
“A soft pink like the petals of a fertile orchid glowing with the sheen of your erotic nectar, my Aria.”
He pauses, and I part my lips as a new wave of rolling heat. It’s deeper. Something that will last longer beyond my impending orgasm.
My Aria.He saidmy.
His eyes flick to mine in a heated collision. “You are young, healthy, and alive. Your responsiveness. Your libido. Your arousal slicks your center and intensifies your beguiling aroma. They are all a fantasy of warm flesh, a heated fantasy any god would seek to plunder just to feel the grip of your soaked heat.”
The stretch of my folds furthers the ache and the smoldering inferno inside me. But his words soften my whole body.
