Page 22 of Beautifully Savage Butterfly

A confusing tangle of emotions knots in my gut, too much to sort out right here and now. It’s so much easier to keep hating Elio and everything he stands for. It’s supposed to be easier, anyway. But even that burning rage that’s become a comforting presence in my chest whenever he’s around doesn’t feel quite the same as it did an hour ago.

I snag his belt with two fingers and tug at him, even though it’s impossible to pull him any closer. His chest is already right up against mine, his hips pressed to mine, our faces only an inch apart. I let my eyes roam over his face up close like this, seeing him clearly for the first time. There are faint bags under his eyes, like he wouldn’t know the meaning of a good night’s sleep if it slapped him in the face, and a faint scar over his left eyebrow that I’m tempted to brush my lips against for some reason.

Elio doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t move. He just lets me stare at him for so long it should be awkward. But the feelings that squirm and pulse inside of me are anything but that. Sizzling tendrils of anger that took root decades ago and never quite fizzled out, a hungry feeling that settles heavily between my legs and becomes more insistent with every passing second and needy look from Elio, and an entire writhing heap of other things that I would probably need therapy to sort out.

I’m desperate for something to ground me, something simple to wrap my hands around and take control of. Something uncomplicated and easy to understand. Elio’s next exhale flutters against my lips, and I’m moving before the conscious decision to do so registers in my brain.

Elio lets out a surprised gasp, the sound muffled by my mouth crashing into his, rough and ravenous, hungry for the taste of him. My heart beats so hard that I’m sure he can feel it pounding against his chest, just like I can feel the vibration of his next stifled moan in mine. He sags into me, melting under my touch. The intoxication of him submitting with barely a flick of my tongue against the seam of his lips makes my head spin and my dick throb.

I want to tangle my fingers in his hair and force him to his knees, I want to drag him over my lap and spank his ass red again, and I want to kiss him so hard and deep that he can’t remember how to breathe on his own.

I run my tongue along the crease of his lips again, catching his next moan and growling into his mouth as I shove my tongue inside. His mouth is soft and pliant, his tongue sweetly addictive as it tangles with mine, giving me everything I demand, then dancing away to tease me. I was right about Elio, he’s a brat through and through, getting off on winding me up just to see how rough I’ll get with him.

I bite his bottom lip, and he hisses and then groans, jerking his hips to grind his hard cock against mine. I can feel the heat of his arousal, the shape of his eager, throbbing cock through the thin layers of clothing between us.

A coil of tension inside my chest unravels, and I slide one hand around the back of his neck to hold him close, to tilt his head back and explore more of his mouth. Licking deeper, biting harder, swallowing and savoring every shiver and groan Elio feeds me.

I break the kiss, and he gasps the same way he did when our mouths first connected, like the shock of the kiss ending is just as startling as the idea that I would kiss him in the first place.

“Give me a ride home.” It’s not a question, it’s a command, and another flutter of relief relaxes his face, his damp lips parting on a sigh and his eyelids drooping.

“Yes, Boss.”

Chapter 10

ELIO

“Turn left at the next light,” Orion says, his voice deep and gruff. I’d like to think it’s from the kiss, if you can even call it that. It feels like an insult to lump what he just did to me with his lips and tongue back in that seedy parking lot in with the cursory, obligatory trading of spit with someone before you can fuck them.

I dart my tongue out and drag it along my bottom lip, greedy for another taste of him. Unfortunately, I’ve already licked it all away.

“I know where you live,” I assure him, taking the turn when I reach the light and switching lanes, so I’ll be ready for the next one that’s only one more block up.

“That’s right. You’ve been stalking me for months.” He says it so matter-of-factly that I can’t help but sputter a laugh.

“I wouldn’t say stalking. Stalking implies a certain amount of…”

“Obsession,” Orion supplies, and fine, maybe he’s not wrong.

I chuckle again and glance over at him, my cock still rock hard from letting him dominate my mouth, my head swirling with questions about everything else that went down at the motel and how he feels about it. But I’m not sure how to ask. “Hey, how are you feeling about watching me shoot a man in the head?” just doesn’t feel like the right approach.

I ease my foot off the gas as we near his building. Does he want me to drop him off? Or does he want me to come inside so he can finish what he started? There’s an electric kind of anticipation in not knowing which, and in leaving the decision in his hands. I want to follow him inside, strip bare, and let him use me to work out the deep wells of rage and desperation inside of him. But only if he tells me to. I want the growled command more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

“Park there,” he says, pointing at a spot not far from the door. I do as he says, claiming the empty spot and putting the Jag into park. Her engine purrs as it idles, my hands lingering on the wheel, waiting for his next demand. “I can’t promise it’s safe to leave a car this nice in a neighborhood like this,” he warns.

“I don’t give a fuck about the car, Boss. If you want me to hand the keys over to the first crackhead who walks by, I’ll do it and I’ll just buy another stupid, overpriced hunk of metal on four wheels tomorrow.”

An annoyed sound rumbles in Orion’s throat and he reaches over to turn the key, killing the engine.

“There you go again, all mindless privilege and fucking spoiled bullshit.” The hard edge in his voice is different from how it was before—less dangerous, less… seething. But it has the same effect, sending electric jolts down my spine and heat skittering over my skin. My cock twitches and I shift in my seat.

He flings open the passenger door and stuffs my keys into his pocket as he climbs out.

“Come on, Brat,” he barks.

I scramble out after him, my mouth going dry, a pathetic whimper rising in my throat. I’m vaguely aware that someone might recognize me, but it’s impossible to care what they might see or think when every ounce of my energy is being spent on keeping myself upright as I hurry after Orion. He’s a few steps ahead of me the whole way, pausing to hold the door just long enough for me to follow him inside. He jogs up the stairs to the second floor, not stopping to look over his shoulder or slowing to make sure I’m still behind him. It’s like he couldn’t care less if I’m coming or not, and fuck if that doesn’t make me reach for my throbbing cock as I race up the steps behind him.

I take in the peeling wallpaper in the hallway and the rat trap laid on the landing at the top of the stairs without really seeing them. The faint, muffled sounds of TVs playing and conversations being had come and go as I pass each apartment door on the way down the hallway. I finally catch up to him when he stops to unlock his door, inserting his key into three different locks before pushing it open and stepping inside.

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