Page 16 of Butcher

I leaned over a little further so I could see her face. Her beautiful eyes were closed, her mouth was hanging open as she panted, and blissful agony covered her features.

“Look at me,” I ordered.

She cracked her lids and those gorgeous gray eyes met mine. My fingers squeezed her nipple, drawing a cry from her. Then she came again, her entire body tensing up. She clamped down around my cock so hard it was difficult to keep thrusting into her, but I was never one to back down from a challenge.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come again,” I told her with a low chuckle, “but it seems like you helped yourself.”

“Enough,” she gasped, her eyes begging me.

Tilting my head, I studied her as I slowly plunged in and out of her tight cunt. She was so wet the sounds echoing through the room as I glided in and out were obscene. “You sure?”

“Butcher,” she growled. She was back to being the same woman I’d met in the bar. Demanding. “It’s too much.”

“Pretty sure you can’t die from orgasms,” I replied. I straightened back up, grabbed her hips and snapped mine forward.

The string of curses she hurled at me only made me laugh. I wasn’t a small man, and I was so fucking deep inside her I could feel the tip of my cock hitting her cervix with every thrust.

“That hurts, you asshole,” she snarled at me. She tried to jerk out of my hold, but she had no hope of winning against my strength. She just gave herself another set of bruises shaped like my hands as I clamped down on her and held her still. But I did ease back a little. I didn’t want her to finish remembering the pain.

“Come for me again.”

“I can’t,” she huffed.

I chuckled. “Bet you can.”

“Fuck you and your bets.”

I didn’t say anything to that. I simply reached down, found her clit with my thumb, and began working the swollen nub. I glided in and out of her, enjoying the way her pussy clenched around me. This was going to be the last time for her, just like I promised, because I was reaching the end of my control.

When she finally went over the edge I groaned at the sensation of her coming. Her walls bearing down around me, pulsing as the pleasure swept through her. I gritted my teeth, willing myself to hold out for a few seconds more. It wasn’t going to happen. Driving as hard into her as I could, I came, groaning as I did.

I held there, breathing hard, letting my orgasm pound through me. She was still recovering, too. But after a few minutes her head snapped up.

“Did you wear a condom?” she asked. She turned her head and hereyes were narrowed. “That better not be your cum dripping down my thighs.”

I grinned at her. “No condom.”

“You...fucking...” she was so mad she couldn’t seem to come up with a name for me.

While she searched for a word, I pulled out of her, ignoring the cum she pointed out and lifted her into my arms. She could call me an asshole as easily from the bed as she could from the floor.

CHAPTER 6

Isla

Iwas pissed. How dare this jerk come in me? I was supposed to be here to kill him. Not fuck him. Not potentially get knocked up by him. I messed up. Big time. This was what happened when you didn’t follow the damn rules.

He had me cuddled against his muscular chest as he carried me over to the bed.

I should fight him, but damn, I was exhausted. Between the alcohol and the nearly painful series of orgasms he’d given me, I was worn out. Of course, they hadn’t started out as painful, only mind blowing. That last one though, I wasn’t sure if it hurt or felt good. It was a weird mix of both. Very few of the men I’d slept with over the years had been able to keep up with me. They usually ended up being a disappointment.

Butcher certainly wasn’t.

My mission was still there in the back of my mind, but when he set me on the bed, I laid back and yawned.

I watched as he jerked his shirt off over his head. His back was covered in a massive tattoo. He had a lot of them. My eyes roamed over him as he bent to untie his boots—the man had a world class ass—and then as he toed them off and shucked the jeans. He wasn’t wearing underwear. And I wasn’t wrong about that ass. There on his left cheek a red heart had been tattooed. I couldn’t read the writing and was too surprised to ask about it.

He pulled a pair of gray sweats out of the dresser on the wall and tugged them on. Then he reached in, grabbed a t-shirt and walked back to me with it balled in his hand. “Sit up.”

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