Page 24 of Beautifully Savage Butterfly

“Orion,” Elio spits my name through clenched teeth, and I look at him over my shoulder while I straighten up my underwear drawer.

“Did you want something?” I ask, arching my eyebrow and ignoring the steady throb in my cock.

“Yes,” he hisses.

“Oh?” I slide the drawer closed. “And what’s that?”

“You. Your cock. Your… something.” He bucks and tugs at the belt around his wrists.

“Hm. Now that you mention it, I could use a little… relaxation.” I open the next drawer down and push aside my t-shirts to grab the bottle of lube and the toy I keep stashed inside. I’ve lived alone for years now, but the habit of hiding sex toys seems to have stuck with me anyway.

I toss them onto the foot of the bed and Elio moans, his cock flexing and twitching, the tip a deep color that makes my own dick throb with sympathy. I peel my shirt off and toss it aside. Taking a slow step towards the bed, I hook my fingers around the waistband of my pants, watching the way his chest flutters with every heavy breath. Every one of the strangled sounds he makes belongs to me. The swollen dampness of his lips belongs to me too. The slick of precum trickling into his belly button is mine. The heady power of it all makes me want to call off the game in favor of climbing on top of him and rutting wildly. But where’s the fun in that? Besides, he really does need a lesson in desperation.

I shove my pants and underwear down in one motion and step out of them. My heavy cock sways between my legs as I climb onto the bed again, straddling him in the same position as before. He bucks his hips, his cock bumping against my balls again. The slick head of his cock dragging over my tight, sensitive sac makes my eyelids flutter. I moan and wrap my hand around the base of my erection, holding myself up on my knees so it’s impossible for him to do anything more than tease himself by thrusting against me.

I reach for the lube and the soft, rubbery cock sleeve on the foot of the bed. Elio holds his breath, his muscles quivering and his chest fluttering with stuttered breaths as he watches me open the bottle of lube and drizzle it onto my cock.

“Fuck me. Please, Orion, Boss, please. Fuck…” he pleads, the metal on the belt rattling with his thrashing, his stomach hollowing and expanding.

“Is that what you want?” I taunt him, wrapping my fingers around my shaft again and stroking myself slowly, spreading the lube from root to tip, teasing my thumb over the head with each upstroke. “You want my cock stretching your hole? You want me to pound you until I fill you up with my cum?”

Elio bobbles his head. “Yes. Yes. Please.”

I bare my teeth in another smirk and brace a hand on the pillow, leaning in to bring my lips right next to his ear.

“Then I’m going to give you an answer that probably no one in your life has ever given you before,” I whisper. “No.” I nip at his earlobe, and he howls.

I sit back up and grab the cock sleeve. I don’t want to admit how many times I’ve used it since the first time Elio sucked me off. I jerked myself off with it over and over, until my balls were sore and my cock was raw, thinking about the mouthy criminal who’s now tied up beneath me.

The soft, textured silicone stretches around my cock as I shove myself inside of it with a moan. The throaty sound Elio makes is half lust, half outrage, like he can’t believe I’m fucking a toy when his ass is on offer. Honestly, that makes two of us.

I grit my teeth and hold his gaze as I stroke myself faster and faster, the wet, sloppy sound of the lubed toy on my cock almost loud enough to overtake the grunts and groans rumbling in both our chests and the squeak of the bedsprings.

“You’re going to watch me cum, Brat,” I growl. “You’re going to whimper and moan for me while I spill inside this toy instead of inside you. And then you’re going to go home and you’re going to think about how badly you want it. You’re going to think about it until you go half insane from it.”

“Please,” he begs, the word coming out as a desperate sob.

“No,” I say again, taking pleasure in denying him, but also in the way his expression contorts in ecstasy, like he’s getting off just as much on being denied.

I tighten my grip around the toy and dig my fingers into the pillow next to his head, huffing and groaning, jerking my hips to fuck into the toy, imagining that it is Elio’s ass, hot and tight around my cock. My orgasm crashes into me without much warning, punching a moan from my chest as my balls constrict and my cock starts to pulse.

I flatten myself on top of Elio and sink my teeth into the corded muscles of his neck, my knuckles and the back of my hand dragging over his cock as I stroke myself through the waves of pleasure. He lets out a strangled cry, and hot, sticky ropes of his release paint the back of my hand and cling to the outside of the cock sleeve.

We grind together until we’re both breathless and spent, with cum clinging to both of us, and dripping out of the toy. I slip it off my cock and toss it aside. Then, I drag my fingers through the pools of Elio’s cum streaked across both of our bellies.

His eyes are only open to slits, but he parts his lips obediently when I bring my finger near them. I push my finger into his mouth, pressing it against his hot, wet tongue as he licks it clean. He makes a quiet, greedy noise when I slip it free again, glistening with his saliva.

I reach up to loosen the belt from around his wrists, examining the red marks it left behind. I frown and massage my thumb over the angry red indent on his left wrist, seeing if it will fade.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, sounding half drunk and faraway. He flexes his fingers, like he’s trying to prove there’s no damage done.

“It looks like you’ll have bruises for at least a few days.” The satisfaction in my voice makes it impossible for him to mistake the statement for an apology. I like the idea of Elio walking around with marks under his clothes more than I should. I like it enough to want to bite him in a few more places before I let him out of my bed.

“Good,” he echoes my thoughts, slightly more alert this time, his voice raw and rasping.

Without thinking, I draw his wrist to my lips and press a kiss against the bruise. Then, I do the same to the other, scraping my teeth over it for good measure before releasing him. Elio’s breath catches and he squirms under me again.

Maybe I’ll keep him here another couple of hours, tie him up again once we’ve both recovered and drill the lesson into his head one more time. Maybe I should just leave the Mafia brat bound to my headboard until I’ve turned him into an upstanding citizen. I choke back a snort at the thought. It would be like chaining a tiger to a radiator and hoping to turn it into a house cat. You can only keep it as long as it’s willing to be kept. I wonder how long Elio would stay.

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