Page 83 of Butterfly

There we go. Pushing as deep in her as I could go, I grabbed the ring and reached for her left hand.

It took a little maneuvering—I only had two hands, after all—but I managed to hold her wrist with one hand and slip the ring on her finger with the other.

She gasped.

“Is that what?—”

I twisted my hand back underneath her and turned the bullet vibe back on.

“Marry me, butterfly.”

Replacing my hands over hers, I laced our fingers together and held her down. I began to thrust again as I spoke. “I know we’re young. I know we have a difficult path ahead of us. But I can’t see my life without you—haven’t been able to since I saw you spinning on the dance floor at our parents’ wedding. I’m not a good man, but I’ll be the best man I can be for you. I promise.” Heart in my throat, I asked, “So butterfly, what do you?—"

“Yes!” she cried out, in orgasm, her ass beginning to clench around my cock.

It counted, didn’t it?

Just to make sure, I asked, “Yes you’ll marry me?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Daddy. Yes, yes, yes!”

Fuck, yes.

I hammered my hips into her as she squeezed around me, and came, came, came.

“Daddy’s coming,” I told her in a growl. “Daddy’s gonna fill his wife’s little ass up with his come.”

And then I did, releasing what felt like buckets of come into her ass before I finally collapsed on her in satisfaction.

Not wanting to crush her, I pulled out—and could’ve come again as my come leaked out of her ass. I loved how sloppy I had made her.

I pulled her—my almost wife—into my arms.

“Did you mean it?” I demanded.

She was breathing heavy.

“No,” she told me. Before I could growl in outrage and punish her ass for it, she began laughing, a little breathlessly. “Yes of course I did, you idiot. I love you, and I’ll marry you, even though we’re way too young.”

“Hey, maybe that’ll be the bigger issue for your mom,” I said, and she started laughing.

“We can only hope.”

The pounding started back up.

“Calloway, if you don’t unlock this fucking thing, you’re off the team,” Coach warned through the door.

Ah, fuck.

Making sure Leslie was all covered up in my jersey, I went to unlock the door. Face to face with Coach, I grinned.

“Sorry, Coach. I was busy.”

He shook his head. “Get your girlfriend out of my locker room.”

“Fiancée,” I corrected. “And all due respect, but eyes off of her.”

His own eyes narrowed, then he chuckled. “You’re a fucking idiot, but you played a good game today, so I don’t give a shit about your private life.” Spotting Leslie, he said, “You, good luck charm, do me a favor and keep Lucy in line. You do that, I’ll pretend this never happened.”

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