Page 81 of Butcher & Blackbird
“Remember what I told you?” he asks, not taking his eyes from the apex of my thighs.
I nod. “That you were going to devour me on a table in the restaurant.”
“Damn straight, Blackbird. And this is a meal I’ve been fucking dying for.”
Rowan stretches my panties to one side, lowers his head, and feasts.
He wasn’t lying. There could be people walking by. They could be staring in the window. They could be at the table next to us and he doesn’t fucking care. He ravages my pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. He lavishes every piercing with attention and sucks on my clit. He plunges his tongue into my cunt and moans. He tightens his fingers on my thighs in a bruising grip that only ratchets up my desire.
And if anyone is watching, I don’t care either.
I grasp Rowan’s hair in a tight fist and hold him against me to grind my pussy into his face. I’m rewarded with a throaty growl and two fingers plunged into my cunt, the immediate rhythm and his expert touch pushing me closer to coming undone. My ass squeaks against the wood as he surges forward and consumes me, body and soul.
I come apart with a cry of Rowan’s name, soaking his fingers, coating his face. And he leaves me no time to recover from the intense orgasm before he drags my panties down my legs and tosses them to the floor. The moment they’re gone, he’s tugging his pants and briefs down and sliding into me.
“Fuck, Sloane,” he grits out with the first full thrust. I can already tell it won’t be long before I’m coming apart for a second time. “I’ve missed you so fucking much. It’s been hell here without you.”
“I’m right here,” I whisper. I rake my fingers through his hair with one hand and glide my touch beneath his chef’s coat to trace the muscles of his back with the other. He leans away enough to pull the thick fabric over his head and I press my touch to every taut muscle and jagged scar.
Rowan bands an arm across my back and yanks me off the table, never breaking our connection as he pulls me down to straddle him on the bench. “You’re going to take my cock as deep as you can. You’re going to ride it the way you want until you come all over it. And these tits,” he says as he unzips the back of my dress and pulls the low neckline down along with the cups of my bra, “you’re going to bounce these glorious fucking tits in my face.”
I grip the top of the booth with one hand and lean closer to guide my breast to his waiting mouth with the other. He sucks on my nipple and rolls his tongue across the piercing, his moan a vibration in my flesh as he pinches the other one to a firm peak.
I glide on his erection, filling myself with his length. I want to make this pleasure last. I want to savor every long stroke of his cock, every grind of my clit against his flesh as I take him deep, every touch of my piercings against sensitive nerves. But he drives me right to the edge with his kisses on my breasts and the filthy demands he makes every time he surfaces from my skin.That’s right, baby, take me deeper in that tight little cunt. You’re going to be dripping my cum down those pretty thighs all the way home.
My orgasm shatters my vision with a burst of stars as I press my eyes closed and scream. I break apart as Rowan thrusts up, hitting even deeper as he spills into me, his hands gripped tight to my hips as he holds me down on his pulsing cock. Our foreheads are pressed together, our breath shared, our gazes fused. When we finally come down from the euphoric fog, I smile and trace Rowan’s cheeks with my fingertips.
“I missed you too.”
Rowan sighs, and I realize this is the first time I’ve seen him truly relaxed since I got back. He lays a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Let’s go home and do this again. And again, and again, and again.” He guides my hips up until he slides free, his cum leaking from my entrance.
“Napkin?” I ask as I dart a glance down to my legs.
Rowan traces a line up my inner thigh. Two fingers gather the milky rivulet and slide up to my pussy, his eyes already dark with desire as he watches my reaction.
“Fuck no,” he rasps as he finger fucks the cum back into me with slow thrusts. I shudder and moan, my sensitive flesh already desperate for more. “I meant what I said. You’ll be walking home with that mess on your thighs, little bird.”
After a final, deep thrust and a roll of his thumb over my clit that has me gasping and clutching his shoulder, he withdraws his fingers and raises them to my lips to suck them clean. When he’s satisfied, he gently guides me to the end of the booth and pulls his clothes back into place before following.
We stand for a moment, hand in hand, looking at the space and the windows where thankfully no one has stopped to watch us in our sanctuary, the one that always seems to surround us when I’m alone with Rowan. I let my eyes travel over the space, and when my attention flows in his direction, I feel Rowan’s gaze pressing against my face like a gentle caress.
“I’m so happy you’re back, Blackbird,” he says as he pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms across my back.
I close my eyes. We shift in our embrace, moving together like two dark creatures intertwined, flowing with the current of the world around us.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper. “Just home with you.”
20
TOWER
ROWAN
It feels like I’ve walked through hell the last two weeks to get to this exact moment—opening night ofButcher & Blackbird.
We’ve had the normal pre-launch growing pains. Issues with the POS system. Problems with suppliers. The usual things, but nothing major—just a lot of shit that adds up. But3 In Coachhas been another beast entirely. Equipment breakages. Electrical problems. Faulty appliances. It’s like an endless pain in my ass, when it should be running smoothly. I’ve tried to brush many of the issues off to stay focused, but the stress is still there, and there’s not even been time to let off any steam like the Butcher of Boston normally would. If I could just pick off an easy target like some shitbag drug dealer, I know I’d feel so much more at ease. There’s just no time.
But thank fuck, the one bright light is Sloane.
