"Butch," I whisper, suddenly shy despite everything we've already done.
"Spread your legs for daddy," he commands. His command sends another wave of heat through me. I hesitate only a moment before obeying, parting my knees as I sit on the edge of the couch.
"Good girl," he praises, his large hands sliding up my inner thighs. "So obedient for daddy."
I should be embarrassed—exposed like this, his intense gaze focused between my legs—but the hunger in his eyes makes me feel powerful instead. Desired. Treasured.
"So pretty," he murmurs, thumbs gently parting me. "Pink and perfect and all mine."When his mouth touches me, I jolt like I've been shocked, a gasp tearing from my throat. Nothing—not the romance novels I've devoured, not my limited experiences, not my wildest imaginings—has prepared me for the sensation of Butch's tongue against my most intimate place.
"Oh!" I cry out, hands flying to grip his shoulders.
He looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire, mouth hovering just above where I'm aching for him. "Too much?"
"N-no," I stammer, face burning. "Just…intense."
His smile is pure masculine satisfaction. "Just wait, baby. Gonna get so much better."
Then his mouth is on me again, his tongue exploring with devastating precision. I've never felt anything like this—the wet heat of his mouth, the scrape of his stubble against my inner thighs, the low growls he makes that vibrate through my core. My head falls back, eyes closing as sensations overwhelm me.
"That's it," he murmurs against me. "Let daddy make you feel good."
His large hands grip my thighs, keeping them spread wide for his assault. I should feel vulnerable, exposed, but instead I feel cherished, worshipped. Each stroke of his tongue draws sounds from me I didn't know I could make—little whimpers and gasps that seem to fuel his enthusiasm.
When he focuses on that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling it with deliberate pressure, my hips buck involuntarily. One of his hands moves to my lower belly, pressing down gently but firmly, holding me in place.
"Stay still for daddy," he commands, the vibration of his words sending new shocks of pleasure through me. "Take what I'm giving you."
I try to obey, but it's impossible. The pressure is building inside me, a coiling tension that makes my thighs tremble. When he slides a thick finger inside me while still working me with his tongue, I cry out his name, my hands moving to tangle in his hair.
"That's it," he encourages, adding a second finger, stretching me in the most delicious way. "Show me how good it feels. Show daddy how much you love his mouth on your pretty little pussy."
The crude words, spoken in his gravelly voice, push me closer to the edge. I've never been spoken to like this—raw and filthy and completely unfiltered—and the effect is intoxicating.
"Please," I whimper, not even sure what I'm begging for.
"Please what, baby? Tell daddy what you need."
"I need…I need to..." I can't form the words, too overwhelmed by sensation.
He seems to understand anyway. His fingers curl inside me, finding a spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids, while his tongue increases its pressure and speed.
"Come for me," he commands. "Come on daddy's tongue like a good girl."
The orgasm crashes over me, more intense than anything I've ever felt. My thighs clamp around his head as waves of pleasure pulse through me, my vision going white at the edges. I'm crying out his name, over and over, as he works me through it, not letting up until I'm trembling and oversensitive.
When he finally pulls away, his beard is glistening with evidence of my pleasure. He looks utterly primitive, utterly male, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smiles up at me with predatory satisfaction. He gathers my limp body to him and strokes my head like I’m nothing more than a little kitten.
“Sleep now, baby. Daddy’s got you. You’re safe.”
nine
. . .
Butch
First light filtersthrough the small office window. The storm's breaking. Rain's still falling, but lighter now, the thunder moved on to terrorize some other town. Julia's asleep on the narrow couch, curled against my chest, her breath warm against my neck. I've been awake for hours, just watching her, memorizing every detail of her face. Making plans. Because there's no fucking way I'm letting her go now. Not after last night. Not ever.
She stirs against me, those long lashes fluttering open. For a moment, there's confusion in her eyes. Then recognition, and something else—something warm that makes my chest tight.
