Page 9 of Beautifully Savage Butterfly

“You’ve got everyone in this city on their knees for you. You want to see what it feels like when the tables turn? Well, here you fucking go,” I snarl, slamming my hips forward to force my cock between his lips.

His tongue vibrates against my shaft with a muffled groan. His eyes roll back again, and he balls his hands into fists on his lap, his erection visibly twitching through his expensive slacks. His lips stretch around the weighty girth of my cock as I bury myself deep. His throat convulses around me when I hit the fleshy back of it, making his entire body heave with a gag.

I choke back the moan that rises from my chest, refusing to give him the satisfaction. I pull back and snap my hips forward again, letting my head loll, biting down on my bottom lip as his throat gives way around me this time, engulfing me in tight, wet heat from root to tip. The ridges along the roof of his mouth drag along my shaft with each thrust, the eager, hungry stroke of his tongue bathing the underside and lapping at my head each time I pull out before fucking deep into his throat again.

I don’t give him the chance to catch his breath, falling into a brutal, greedy pace. Grunts rumble in my throat as I tug his hair harder, bleeding out all the aggression left over from the fight with each ruthless thrust. Tears stream from his eyes, staining his cheeks as he stares up at me with something that looks so much like fucking reverence that it makes me want to scream.

“You. Can’t. Fucking. Own. Me,” I rasp with each thrust. “But right now, I fucking own you.”

He makes a strangled, muffled sound around my cock, his body trembling and his cock flexing again. I slam my cock deep into his throat again and a guttural sound vibrates around me, Elio’s body shuddering with an unmistakable orgasm. I roar, twisting his hair, tugging it so hard I nearly tear chunks of it right out of his scalp as my balls pull up tight and my cock starts to pulse, painting the back of his throat with rope after rope of my cum, choking him with it, drowning him in it.

Elio swallows every drop and laps at my slit for more when I start to pull out, sucking and whimpering like the pathetic cock slut he is. My head is spinning, my pulse thundering so loudly in my ears I can’t hear anything else. His chest is rising and falling with the breaths he gulps down. I take him in again, his hair a disaster, his cheeks stained with tears, his pants wet with the orgasm that came from being hate fucked in the mouth on the floor of a public bathroom.

A hot, satisfied feeling courses through me.

I tuck my spent cock away and pull my shorts back into place before I stoop to pick up the roll of bills I threw at him earlier and stuff it into my pocket. Elio still hasn’t gotten up. He hasn’t said a word. The silence becomes a deafening white noise for another minute before I turn around and stride back over to the sink where he found me when he first came in.

Chapter 5

ELIO

My knees ache against the hard tile floor as I gulp down breaths to slow my racing heart rate. I’m trying not to think too hard about when anyone might have bothered to mop this floor last, if ever, or the hot, sticky cum clinging to my soft cock and the inside of my underwear. Of course, the harder I try to think of anything else, the more stuck those two thoughts become, ricocheting around my brain and creating a hot well of shame in the pit of my stomach that I like a hell of a lot more than I should.

I drag my tongue slowly over my bottom lip, savoring the lingering flavor of Orion’s cum—salty and sweet, and without a doubt my new favorite flavor in existence. My scalp is still tingling from the rough way he yanked at my hair, using me to work out his aggression, doing his level best to teach me some kind of lesson by punishing my throat with his cock. Unless the lesson was meant to be about what a shameless slut I am for pain and humiliation, I don’t think I was a very good student. It would probably be best for us to have at least a dozen more one-on-one tutoring sessions just like this one until whatever it is he wants me to learn starts to sink in properly.

I study his back for a few seconds, lean but powerful as he hunches his shoulders slightly, his attention back on the bleeding wound on his jaw. Or maybe that’s just a good excuse for him to ignore me until I take the hint and leave. Silent laughter tightens my throat, and I grin to myself. If he thinks being dismissive is all it’s going to take to get me to slink away with my tail between my legs, then I’m not the only one with a lot to learn.

I get to my feet, careful not to touch the sticky floor with my hands as I push myself up. I don’t bother to do anything to straighten myself out. My tie is crooked, my jacket unbuttoned, and even without looking in the mirror, I’m sure my hair is as wild as I feel inside right now. But I don’t want to put myself back together yet. I want to wear the disarray and know that I didn’t imagine the way he put his hands on me with the perfect blend of passion and violence.

Orion is dabbing at the jagged wound with a fresh wad of dry paper towels, his eyes flicking to mine through the mirror when I come up behind him for the second time tonight. This time, he doesn’t bark anything at me. He doesn’t scoff or scowl, he just glances at me for a second before yanking his attention away all over again.

The paper towel dispenser hanging next to the sink is barely attached to the wall at this point, hanging loosely and dented like it’s seen one too many rogue fists from drunken patrons. But whoever is in charge of keeping it full didn’t let that stop them from doing their job. The whole thing rattles and sways on the wall as I yank out a handful of brown paper towels.

Orion glances at me again as I sidle up next to him at the only working sink and crank the nozzle on. I stuff the wad of paper towels under the water, then wring them out so they aren’t dripping wet.

“Here,” I murmur, pivoting to face him.

He stares at me for a minute, his eyes ping ponging between the damp towels in my hand and my face, like he’s trying to work out a complex puzzle. I’m expecting him to tell me to fuck off and stay away from him again, maybe even shove past me and leave without a word. But after a few silent moments, he lowers the bloodied compress away from his jaw and makes a grab for the ones in my hand. I yank them back, then take a step closer, feeling the heat radiating off of his body. The smell of his sweat and blood tickles my nose as I gently dab at the cut. The blood wells up and spills over again every time I clear it.

Up close like this, I greedily rake my eyes over every inch of his face, cataloging all the details I’ve never had the time to notice before, like the hazel flecks in his green eyes and the light, almost invisible freckles on the bridge of his nose. His breathing is steady and even, his eyes hard as he stares right back at me like he’s trying not to see me.

“It looks like you need stitches.” I press and hold the paper towel to the spot again, applying more pressure this time.

“Mm,” he grunts, a clear dismissal of my suggestion without uttering a single word.

“You don’t have to tell them you got it during an illegal, underground fight.” I pull the paper towels away to check it again. It takes a few seconds longer before the blood wells up again, but it still does. “Or I could come with you, keep them from questioning you about it at all.”

Orion rumbles out another scathing, humorless laugh. “You’ve got ER doctors on the Moretti payroll, I take it?”

I flatten my lips into a thin line and reach for a fresh batch of towels. “One or two. And the rest of them know what’s good for them, just like everyone else in this city. Except you, apparently.”

He laughs again, but this time there actually is a hint of amusement in the sound, and it sets my heart racing all over again. He doesn’t respond though, and I didn’t really expect him to. He’s obviously stubborn enough to avoid the hospital just because I told him he should go.

“Hold these.” I press the fresh paper towels to his face and wait for him to take over with his hand before pulling mine away. My unbuttoned suit jacket flutters open as I reach inside to check the hidden pockets. I notice Orion’s eyes lingering on my holstered revolver, the furrow between his eyebrows deepening. My fingertips brush the small strips I was looking for. I pull out a small handful of butterfly sutures and button my jacket with one hand.

“You’ve got a pocketful of first aid supplies?” He surrenders the paper towels to me again, letting me pull them away from the wound and toss them into the trash.

Orion tilts his head slightly, giving me better access to patch him up.

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