Too real.
“I see you when I blink,” I murmur against her. “Fucking prove to me you’re real.”
She gasps. “Dax?—”
I look up at her.
“Say my name.”
“Dax—”
“Again.”
“Dax—please?—”
I grip her thighs so hard I’m sure they will bruise in the morning but this is my fantasy, she’s not real just a figment of my fucked up imagination but fuck, she feel so fucking real.
“You taste so fucking sweet, butterfly.” I gasp as I slide my tongue into her dripping wet hole, pushing my fingers roughly over her clit, feeling the tremble in her thighs with ever flick of my tongue and twitch of my fingers.
“Oh god, Dax—don’t stop.” She cries. “Don’t fucking stop.”
I palm her thighs open wider, flicking the tip of my tongue over her clit while she squirms, then flatten it and traced my tongue upwards, slow at first, then harder, greedy for every twitch and whimper that poured from her lips. She tries closing her legs around my head and all I can think is I would happily be buried in her sweet pussy.
“No, baby, you take everything I have to give you.”
I spit on her sweet cunt trying to ignore how painful the throbbing in my cock is, I’m trying so fucking hard not to lose control but when I suck her clit between my lips and tongue it in tiny, relentless pulses her moans almost make me lose it…almost. Grazing the bud lightly, I feel her entire body jolt, my cock kicks painfully against the inside of my thigh.
“Dax,” She gasps and I just mumble against her pussy letting the vibration slide through her.
“Yeah, butterfly?”
She grinds her pussy harder against my fucking lips, moving her hips upwards, thrashing, trying to chase a release I’m not going to give her right now. I grip her hips hard and hold her down as I slide my tongue deep inside her sweet little pussy, sucking hard, tasting every drop of her desire but not giving her the release she is desperate to chase.
I slide my tongue out slowly, sliding my tongue slowly up the length of her pussy, circling her clit In agonisingly slow circles as my teeth lightly graze her.
She reaches out, touches my face, voice barely a whisper—“I am real, Dax. And you’re not allowed to break me again.”
The world stops spinning.
Everything freezes.
Her voice.
Her words.
Her tears.
The soft, trembling edges of her breath filling the doorway like she’s the one thing the universe forgot to protect me from.
My hands are still on her thighs, my mouth still wet with her taste, my pulse a violent, uneven thing thundering against my ribs like I’ve run miles barefoot over glass and only just realised I’m bleeding.
“You’re real,” I breathe, and the words shake so violently they barely sound like mine. “Butterfly… this isn’t a dream.”
She’s terrified.
But so am I.
I drag my hands over my face, palms rough and shaking, like if I press hard enough I might force myself back into my ownbody. Like I can anchor myself to the floor, to the air, to anything that isn’t collapsing inside me.
