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He pulls out to the tip, then lunges, thrusting back in, ramming me deep, and shaking my whole body. He’s ripped right through me, forcing me to take him, to use muscles I never have.
My pulse spikes. Shudders rip through me. I go over the edge again. A cry escapes my throat as I rattle the chains, my hips lifting to take him deeper. A storm of pure ecstasy unleashes in my blood, aiming like an arrow straight for my heart.
“Bloody Valentine, you’re beautiful when you come undone for me, coming apart like a falling star, splintering into a thousand glinting smithereens.” He touches his thumb to my lower lip. “Scintillas of shattered rose quarts. Honoring the earth with our love story.”
His words ignite my heart.
And then, he’s a breath from my lips, stealing my gasp. I can’t see anything. Not an outline. Not a silhouette. Not a reflection of the abyss. But his dark and intimate energy pulses all around me. All I can do is…feelhim.
No safe words.
If I cannot see him, then I will feel him with every fiber of my being, from the deepest molecule in my blood to the barest crest of my soul.
His hand coils around my throat. I swallow hard.
“I’ll take them now, little Aria.”
I arch my neck, but I can’t reach him. He presses down on my throat, showing me he’s in control.
“Take what?”
“Every beautiful scream and sound you will give me while I debauch you.”
Those words ignite my blood—from poetry to filth as only the God of Love and Fornication could balance.
“Tonight, you will come to know the shape and mold of my cock, Butterfly. You will know who it is ruining you for all other men. When my brothers fill you tonight, you will know who has truly claimed you, who has destroyed you.”
He drives himself into me again, pounding me with a carnal intensity that rocks my heart with seismic waves, nearly snapping its strings.
He changes my body’s position. Upright. The chains suspend me, wrenching my arms together, high and pointed to heaven as Eros prepares me for his fornicatory hell.
I feel him more now. Oh, fucking Cupid, he’s better than I could have imagined! All the sculpted muscle, the heat of his masculinity I swooned over and orgasmed to is now against me. Surrounding me with his powerful musculature. Soft wisps of his sun-soaked golden hair fall against my cheeks. His skin is flawless, soft, and warm as heated velvet—free from imperfections. The work of art that is his body could have only come from the cosmos. His hands are warm and strong as they caress my ass, fingers digging in to get a good grip. Oh, shi—
I get off one cry. One cry before he thrusts back into me, impaling me on his cock like a huge obsidian arrow tearing into me. Something gushes from my pussy, and I know it’s not just my juices. But the pain dissolves into some nameless emotion. My body turns taut and weightless. My nerves electrify with every rocking motion as he uses me.
Stabbing his tongue inside my mouth, he works me back and forth on his cock, lifting me up and down on his massive length until the pressure spirals into me. And snaps!
“Ahh—Eros!” I scream as another orgasm shatters through me.
He growls, pressing harder, devouring my scream as I come apart, seizing around him, gripping him with every muscle in my hot, swollen pussy. My anal muscles clench around that plug, which strengthens my climax. Delirious. Something so dark and euphoric, it should be forbidden to an unworthy mortal.
As I twitch, floating down from the effervescent high, I’m aware he’s still kissing me, as if he’s sucking the life from me, feasting on my energy. With his cock still buried in my sex, he cups my breasts. I whimper…and moan from him kneading my tits, testing their weight, and going so far as to bounce them—knocking my plump mounds together. I love how he treats them. How he treats me.
He forced his way right in like a thief in the night battering that obsidian war hammer of a cock right through my walls. What is love if not war? A battlefield of equals meeting for a conquest of blood and scars and sweat to achieve the ultimate pleasure. Sex with the God of Love and Fornication should take me to the highest high. But first…the lowest low.
He calls me his Butterfly. I get a cunning little smirk when I consider how some butterflies are poisonous. Their tastes run stronger. Their mating needs burn deeper. And some butterfly males will rape a female while she’s still in her chrysalis. They’ll swarm around her as she’s still emerging, battling one another with serrated wings, slashing until one triumphs to finally rip into her chrysalis with sharp claspers…to rape her. Claim her. Mate her. Breed her.
Scientists call it forced copulation. Tonight, I call it consensual non-consent.
Tonight, I’m emerging from my chrysalis. Breaking free.
When he pauses from my lips, he frees my moan, but it turns into a gasp from his tongue curling along the hypersensitive skin where my jawline meets my ear. A tender teething of my lobe, and then he coils his tongue in serpentine strokes along mythroat. My breasts ache beneath his groping palms, the nipples tightening with a painful need.
I jerk, swinging against him in a rebellious little buck.
With his obsidian organ deep inside me, he slams a hand against my ass. I lurch from the plug pressure.
“Oh, fucking Erote!” I curse.
