Chapter 11 #4
I arch my back, bracing myself against the wall as he drags his tongue over the tight rim again, a slow, filthy glide.
Every nerve in my body is firing, every part of me screaming for more and less all at once.
There’s nothing gentle about the way he eats me—he’s ravenous, some starving beast uncaged and set loose, and I’m his only meal.
The rough stubble on his jaw rasping over the backs of my thighs, the slick, obscene noises he makes, the heat of his hands digging into my hips as if he’s holding on so I don’t melt right off the wall—it’s all too much and nowhere near enough.
“God, you like that, don’t you?” he says, low and raspy, voice vibrating against my bare skin. “You want me to make you fall apart? Bet no one’s ever made you feel this fucking good.”
He punctuates the words with a hard suck, teeth scraping lightly at my clit, and I swear I see stars.
My knees buckle, but he’s there, arms thick and solid, holding me up, keeping me spread and open and exposed for him.
It’s not just the way he devours my pussy or how he spits and laps and circles my ass with his tongue.
It’s the way he worships every inch of me like I’m made of gold and sin.
I whimper, high and wild, as his tongue moves back down, spearing inside me, fucking me open, then back up to swirl and press just behind.
He alternates, not letting me catch my breath, making each second a new kind of torture.
Wet heat and pressure and that rough, scratchy chin burning new constellations across my skin.
I don’t know if I want him to stop or if I want to freeze this moment and live in it forever.
He grunts, like he’s pissed at me for not cumming already, then flattens his tongue and runs it up, slow as a death sentence, from my slicked pussy all the way to my ass and back. I’m shaking so bad my teeth buzz.
“Dax,” I gasp, trying to focus on anything except the wicked, sharp edge of pleasure. “I can’t—”
He cuts me off with a hard, open-mouthed kiss right on my clit, sucking it between his lips and grinding the stubble of his chin against the swollen, sensitive skin.
“Oh my god,” I breathe, palm slapping against the wall. I’m crying a little, I think, but I don’t care. “Please, please, I—”
He chuckles, wicked and dark. “That’s it, baby.”
He doesn’t let up, not even for a second.
Even when I try to twist away, the thick bands of his arms keep me in place, force me to take every last filthy, devastating stroke of his tongue.
He keeps me on the edge, hovering right there, never letting me fall.
Every time I get close, he backs off just enough to keep me desperate, then starts again, building it higher, sharper, hotter.
“Mine,” he says, voice like gravel.
And then he rises, his muscled body unfolding before me like a dark promise.
His six-foot-three frame blocks the light, casting me in his shadow. I can see the slick shine of my arousal on his stubbled jaw, his chest rising and falling like he's just run miles. Those blue eyes—usually ice—now burn midnight dark, pupils blown wide with hunger.
"I'm going to fuck you now, butterfly," he growls, voice rough from what he's been doing between my thighs. "And you'll never look at another man again."
My cunt clenches at his words, empty and desperate to be filled. He doesn't wait for me to recover from his tongue. Doesn't offer gentleness.
Men like Dax don't make love. They claim. They mark. They ruin.
"Face me," he commands.
I turn toward him, legs still trembling, my naked body bared to his gaze. His eyes track a droplet of sweat sliding between my breasts, and he licks his lips like he can still taste me.
"Look at you," he breathes, stepping closer until the heat of him scorches my skin. "Fucking perfect."
He tears his shirt off in one violent motion, revealing that tattooed chest, those brutal scars. The belt comes next—leather sliding through loops with a hiss that makes my thighs clench involuntarily.
When his fingers brush my hip, I whimper. Just that small touch feels like being branded.
His cock springs free—massive and vein-ridged, the thick shaft adorned with two steel barbells that catch the light. The heavy head flushes purple-dark with need, a bead of precum already glistening at the tip. It juts upward, impossibly hard, twitching with each beat of his heart.
I moan, my mouth watering at the sight of those metal studs that promise to drag against every sensitive spot inside me.
"Dax..." His name falls from my lips like a prayer.
He grabs my face, thumbs pressing into my jaw, and claims my mouth with such devastating possession my knees nearly buckle.
His tongue slides against mine, hot and demanding, tasting like sin and everything I've ever craved.
A deep, primal sound vibrates from his chest into mine, and when he bites my lower lip, tugging it between his teeth, a shock of heat pulses between my legs so intensely I whimper against his mouth.
He walks me backward, fingers digging into my hips, his erection a hard ridge against my stomach. The backs of my knees hit the couch.
"Lie down," he commands, voice shattered with need.
I collapse onto the cushions, already spreading my thighs for him, my body clenching with anticipation.
Heart fucking feral.
He watches me for a breathless second, eyes flicking between my thighs and my lips, like he doesn't know which part he wants to ruin first.
And then he climbs on top of me, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, the metal of his piercing cool against my burning heat.
"Tell me how bad you want it," he growls, voice rough with need.
"I'm so empty," I whimper, arching up. "Please, Dax, I need to feel you stretch me open."
When he finally pushes in—one brutal, endless thrust—the ridged barbell beneath the crown of his cock drags against every nerve ending I have.
"Oh god," I sob, nails breaking skin as they claw down his back. "You're so fucking deep, I can feel you in my belly.”
His piercing hits something inside me that makes my vision blur, and I hear myself begging, shameless and raw. "Right there, don't stop, please don't ever stop."
He sets a punishing rhythm, his pierced cock dragging against my swollen walls with each savage thrust. Every ridge and vein scrapes nerves I didn't know existed.
"You feel that?" he growls, his breath hot in my ear. "Feel how your pussy grips me when I hit right—" he shifts his angle, striking something that makes me scream so loud my throat burns "—there."
My vision whites out. "Oh god, DAX!"
"You were made for me, butterfly. This cunt was carved for my cock alone."
His hand slides under my knee, yanking my leg up. The new position lets him bottom out, the piercing grinding against my g-spot with brutal precision.
"FUCK!" I shriek, convulsing around him as the first orgasm tears through me without warning.
He doesn't slow. "You think I didn't see him looking at you?" Each syllable punctuated by a thrust that makes my breasts bounce violently. "Every man wanted this—" he circles his hips, stretching me impossibly wider "—but only I get to feel you coming apart."
My second orgasm builds instantly, walls fluttering desperately around his thickness.
"Mine," he snarls, the sound animal.
I'm sobbing now, overwhelmed by the relentless pressure and fullness. "I'm yours—oh god I'm coming again!"
He pins my wrists above my head, our sweat-slicked foreheads pressed together, and pounds into me like he's trying to reach my soul through my cervix.
"You fucking are."
No one has ever felt like this.
Every snap of his hips drives his piercing against that spot that makes my vision blur. Every filthy groan in my ear sends aftershocks through my already trembling body. Every time he growls my name like it's a curse he can't stop saying.
"You're so fucking tight when you cum,” he pants, his hand sliding between us to circle my swollen clit. "Give me another one. Now."
My back arches off the couch as oversensitive nerves scream under his touch. "I can't—I can't—"
"You can," he demands, lowering his mouth to my breast, teeth grazing my nipple before sucking it hard. The dual sensation makes me convulse. "Your pussy's dripping for me."
His fingers work faster, his cock never slowing its relentless pace. He tugs my hair, forcing my head back, exposing my throat to his hungry mouth.
"Look at you," he growls against my pulse. "Taking my cock so fucking deep. You were made for this. Made for me."
The pressure builds again, impossible, overwhelming. When it breaks, I gush around him, soaking us both.
"That's it," he groans, watching me come apart. "Fucking drown my cock."
He doesn't stop. He wraps his arms around me and keeps going, fucking me through the aftershocks, chasing his own release. I'm whimpering, overstimulated and delirious.
"I'm gonna fill this pussy up," he pants, rhythm faltering. "Gonna mark you from the inside out."
His whole body tenses, muscles rigid as steel as he drives in one final time.
"Fuck—Butterfly—you're mine—all fucking mine—"
He shudders, pulsing deep inside me, his release triggering one last, shattering orgasm that leaves me boneless beneath him.
Home.
And for one reckless, breath-holding second, the world finally quietens around us — not because anything has calmed, but because his body on mine feels like the only solid thing in a universe that keeps shifting under my feet.
His weight sinks into me, heavy and grounding, his breath spilling warm against my skin, his arms locking around me with a desperation that feels like a promise and a warning all tangled into one bruising embrace.
He holds me like loosening his grip means losing something he never expected to find, like the moment his fingers unclasp, reality will flood back in and take me with it.
And God help me, for a heartbeat — a frail, trembling heartbeat — I let myself believe he might not walk away this time.