Page 65 of Beautifully Savage Butterfly

He undoes my tie, then works open the buttons on my shirt one by one, undressing me slowly like we have all the time in the world. To anyone else, his expression would probably look impassive, stoic even, his eyes roaming over my face and then down to follow the inches of skin he exposes little by little. But I’m starting to learn the subtle twitches of the muscles around his eyes, and the almost imperceptible curves of his mouth. Like the slight part of his lips and the crease that deepens between his eyebrows as he drags his fingertips along my exposed collarbone. Heated, teasing, hungry for me. I lick my lips and my cock jerks, heavy and needy.

“You’re fucking desperate for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs.

A whimper vibrates on my lips, and I nod. “I stole your towel once,” I confess, barely above a whisper.

He cocks his head, his loose hair tumbling to one side, his eyebrows pulling closer together. “What?”

He unbuckles my belt and my cock twitches again, drooling warm, sticky precum that slicks the tip and dampens my briefs.

“A month or so ago, after your fight, you threw a towel at me in the locker room and told me to fuck off,” I remind him.

His hands are warm and demanding as he slips them past the waist of my underwear, reaching around to squeeze my ass cheeks, kneading them without any tenderness or mercy, digging his fingers into my flesh hard enough that I’m sure it will leave bruises. I hope it does. I moan and cant my hips, dragging my aching cock against the stiff outline of his.

Understanding dawns in his eyes and he chuckles.

“What did you do with it? I don’t even need to ask, do I? I bet you barely even got inside with it before you had it down your pants, humping it like the pathetic slut you are.” He lifts me up onto my toes and flicks his tongue along the seam of my lips, his breath fluttering against my tongue when I dart it out to try to catch his.

I nod again, bobbing my head. “I jerked myself off with it right up against the door. Shouted your name so loud they probably heard me three floors down.”

Orion growls possessively and slams his lips fully into mine again. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, the head of my cock catching against his through our clothes, over and over as he kneads my ass cheeks and feeds me muffled moans.

“You’re mine, Elio Moretti,” he rasps, biting my lip hard enough to draw a hiss from me.

“Yeah, Boss, I am,” I murmur, pushing his open shirt off his shoulders.

He yanks one hand off of my ass and grips my jaw instead, holding my gaze with a dark intensity that makes my heart beat even faster.

“And don’t you dare get any bright ideas about proposing, Brat. I’ll spank your ass so good you won’t sit down for days if you beat me to that too.”

I suck in a gasp, then rattle out a dizzying laugh. “You got it, Boss.”

He takes a step back, and I stumble forward at the unexpected loss.

“Finish undressing.” He shrugs off his ruined shirt and tosses it towards the bathroom trash.

Orion turns his back to me and strips out of his pants while he reaches into the shower to crank the water on. His pants and underwear fall below his sculpted ass, giving me the perfect view of the butterfly tattoo on his right cheek. I lazily palm my erection through my clothes, then do as he says and finish undressing. My gun ends up on the counter next to the sink, and the rest of my clothes are scattered on the floor. I’ll need to sort out which ones have too much of Orion’s blood on them to be salvaged, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.

He sticks his hand under the spray to test the temperature, then jerks his head to wordlessly call me over. As soon as I’m close enough, Orion grabs me by the back of the neck and hauls me into the shower. I trip over the small stone ledge and tumble into him, bracing my hands on his chest. His skin is slick within seconds, rivulets of water running between my fingers and soaking his hair.

I poke at the waterproof bandage the doctor used to protect his sutures, and Orion growls and bats my hand away.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re stubborn is what you are,” I grumble.

Both of his eyebrows go up, and a shiver of excitement zings down my spine. “What was that?”

I twist my lips into a smirk. “You, Orion Barros, are stubborn and pigheaded. And, frankly, a little fucking holier than thou.”

I know I’m pushing my luck when his eyes flash dangerously. He slides his hand from the back of my neck to my throat in the blink of an eye, before he spins me around and backs me up against the shower wall. The decorative stones have just the slightest bite against my back. Not as rough as the brick building when he fucked me in the alley, but enough to make me moan and squirm, just to feel it a little harder.

He chuckles, the low, menacing sound reverberating off the walls. “Okay.”

I blink, waiting for him to say more. Waiting for the tantalizing threats, the ball-tingling promises to teach me some fucking manners. He leaves his hand on my throat and reaches for the shampoo bottle with the other.

“Hand,” he demands, using his thumb to snap the cap open. I swallow, my throat bobbing against the firm press of his palm, not tight enough to stifle my breathing. I hold out my cupped hand, and he pours a generous amount of shampoo into it. My knees wobble, and I search his face for any hint of what kind of punishment he has planned for me, but he’s not giving anything away.

Orion puts the shampoo back on the ledge, then releases his grip on my throat and sinks to his knees. Even in this position, standing over him for a change, there’s not even a fraction of a second when I question which one of us is in charge. His blond hair is dark from the water, hanging heavy on his shoulders, the spray cascading over him. He blinks at the stray droplets that land too close to his eyes, but other than that, he’s perfectly stoic, holding me captive with nothing but his eyes boring into me, shampoo running out of my palm as I stare down at him.

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