I drag my mouth over her throat, bite down hard enough to bruise. “This pussy—fuck, this perfect little cunt—it’s not yours anymore. You shaved it, you got it wet, you spread it open. But it’s mine. Mine to taste. Mine to fuck. Mine to bleed.”
Her gasp shudders through her chest. “Dax?—”
“Say it.” My hips grind forward, pressing my cock deeper until she chokes on the intrusion. “Say it’s mine.”
Her tears shine in the broken moonlight. Her lips tremble. “It’s—yours.”
A growl tears out of me, raw and savage, and I slam my hips harder, dragging another cry from her throat.
“That’s right, Butterfly,” I whisper, filthy and reverent all at once. “Every time you come, it’ll be on my cock. Every time you scream, it’ll be my name. You don’t get to breathe without me. You don’t get to bleed without me. You don’t get to fucking live without me.”
Her legs tighten around my waist, like her body already knows I’m right.
I press my lips to her ear, my words a threat and a vow. “You can run into war zones, patch up soldiers, flirt with Torres, lie to yourself all you want. But this—” I thrust deep, hard, sharp enough to make her sob. “—this is mine. You hear me?”
“Yes,” she gasps, voice breaking.
I lick the salt of her tears, my cock still pulsing inside her. “Good girl.”
I grind into her again, slower now, deliberate. “You think you’ll ever forget this? You think you’ll ever spread your thighs without remembering my cock inside you, marking you, owning you?”
She sobs, her forehead pressed to mine, broken and beautiful.
“You won’t,” I promise, my voice a snarl. “Because even if you try, Butterfly, I’ll remind you. I’ll fuck it back into you until you can’t tell the difference between your heartbeat and mine.”
Her walls flutter tighten around me, a desperate pulse, and I drag my hand up to grip her jaw, forcing her eyes on mine even as her tears spill over.
“You think you get to cry without permission?” My voice is gravel, vicious, but my cock stays rooted inside her, stretching her open, keeping her mine. “No, Butterfly. You cry for me. You break for me. You fucking speak for me.”
Her breath hitches, lips trembling against my hold.
“Say it,” I rasp, my forehead pressing into hers, sweat and heat locking us together. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” she whispers, too soft, too broken.
“Louder.” My hips slam forward, a brutal thrust that rips a sob from her throat. “Say it like you fucking mean it.”
“I’m yours!”
I growl, low and feral, biting down on the side of her neck. “Again.”
Her nails claw my back, her body arching into me. “I’m yours.”
“Again, Butterfly.”
Her voice cracks, raw, ruined. “I’m yours!”
I thrust harder, punishing, driving the words deeper into her body with every movement. “Say this cock is yours. Say you’ll never take another.”
Her sob breaks into a moan, head falling back against the wall. “This cock is mine—fuck, Dax, it’s mine?—”
“That’s right,” I snarl, teeth gritted as I slam into her again, so deep she screams. “And this pussy? Whose is it?”
Her thighs shake around me, her breath stuttering. “Yours—fuck—it’s yours, it’s only yours?—”
“Again!”
“Yours!” she cries, her voice torn open, raw and filthy. “My pussy is yours, Dax, only yours!”
