Page 98 of For Fillies and Monsters

Arousal pools between my thighs, sticky and wet, and I mindlessly rub my free fingers through my folds, desperate for pressure,for friction. Finding my clit, I rub in small, hard circles, pushing myself toward the cliff, sucking and pulling him with me. Heat builds through me, an orgasm barreling at me faster than I can fight off, and I pump harder, slurping and gagging around him.

He groans, his head thrashing back and forth, fingers ripping at the roots of his hair to keep himself from grabbing me. His eyes still bore down on me, and I suck in a sharp breath, his beauty like this, sucking what little oxygen I have from my lungs. He’s not on his knees, but he is bowing to me. He’s not tied up, but he’s restraining for me. He’s not strangled, but he is not breathing—for me.Because of me.

I hold his life, his heart in my hands, and the power is damning, ripping pleasure from my body before I have a chance to stop. I scream around his cock, eyes rolling back in my head, my fingers fucking my pussy as wave after wave of violent pleasure washes over me.

Crazed by my undoing, Gus breaks, his hands flying to my hair. He fucks my mouth, his teeth gritted, and I come again simply from the need in his eyes.

“Fuck, Stetson, fuck! You’re so fucking perfect, such a perfect little slut. Want me to come for you now, baby? Can I come for you?”

I nod, my eyes still rolling, drool running down my chin. I have never felt so completely powerless, and so fucking powerful, in the same moment. His undoing is my undoing, both of us spiraling until we shatter, finding each other at the bottom,in the darkness.

Gus pounds furiously, my jaw aching, but I push into him, swallowing and sucking, my body trembling with the effort to stay on my knees. I grip his balls tighter, pushing and pulling on them.

“Fuck!” He stills beneath me, cum spurting hot across my tongue, filling my mouth and throat.

I swallow hungrily, desperate to consume every last drop he gives me, and he works my throat, his fingers gingerly rubbing there, helping me swallow his cum down around his cock. When he’s spent, he slowly pulls my head up, and I groan again. He lifts me, tucking me into his side, his thumb tracing my lips. Swiping a stray bead of cum off my cheek, he licks his thumb clean, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You fucking destroy me.” His voice is hoarse, tight with emotion. I’m spent, my eyes heavy with post-orgasm bliss, but I hug him tighter.

Fighting every memory and insecurity that has taught me in this life that I have to be alone to be safe, I press harder into him, hugging his waist. My head falls, resting on his chest where I listen to his racing heart slow, his breathing even out—safe and at peace. But even as he drifts off to sleep, I cling to him, my heart pounding in my throat, like my life depends on it. Maybe after today, it does.Maybe it always has.

I love him so much it hurts.He’s destroyed me, too—completely and without remorse, and every previous version of myself burns to ash around us in this bed.

And fuck, do I love being destroyed.

FORTY-TWO

STETSON

June 29th, 2024

Stomping my foot,a small screech tearing from my lips, I throw the bobby pin into the sink. It’s no fucking use, anyway. My hair has always had a mind of its own and I don’t know why tonight I thought it would be different. Small blonde curls stick up and around the bun I’m desperately trying to pin down—I’m about ready to shave it all off.

A low whistle sounds behind me, and I freeze. Every cell in my body becomes hyper-aware of the man standing in the doorway. I catch his reflection in the mirror and nearly swoon like a stupid teenage girl. We’ve been living together now as girlfriend and boyfriend—although that terminology does not even begin to describe us—for almost a month, and seeing him cleaned up still takes my breath away. To be fair, I think seeing him dirty, clean, dressed or naked willalwaystake my breath away.

His dark hair is freshly washed, the curls shiny and soft as they neatly rest around his tan chiseled face, layered in dark stubble. He’s wearing a pale yellow button-up shirt with silver pearl snaps down the front, tucked into dark pressed jeans, all tied together with a shiny silver and gold buckle at his middle, just above his zipper. I can’t stop myself from tracing the outlineof what I know is beneath that zipper before trailing back up to his face. Dark eyes bore into mine through the glass and a shiver snakes down my spine.

“Careful, baby. I don’t give a fuck about being late or messing up your hair. But based on that little temper tantrum I just witnessed, I’d guess you would care.” His words are husky and full of longing, making my toes curl in response. I smile coyly back at him through the glass, batting my eyelashes. Before I can respond, Gus pushes off the frame of the door and moves to stand directly behind me, his hands gripping my hips.

“Do not test me,” he threatens, and I know I shouldn’t.

But fuck, I want to.

“Sorry,” I squeak, but we both know I’m not. His face softens a fraction, running his hands up and down my exposed arms, his calluses rough against my skin. Closing my eyes, I lean back into his solid frame.

“You look so damn beautiful it hurts.” His breath fans over my neck. “Open your eyes and look at how beautiful you are, Stetson.”

I did soft makeup for tonight, mainly blush and thick mascara, and I have to admit it does make me look pretty. My pouty lips are as pink as ever, shining with the thick gloss I just put on them. The denim dress I chose for this, one I ordered online special for this occasion, is strapless, held together with buttons all the way to the bottom, where it cuts off just below my knees. I haven’t decided what shoes to wear just yet, but I do like the rest of my outfit. And I like my makeup. It’s the pile of messy blonde curls that I’m trying to style that’s upsetting the whole look.

My eyes flick up to Gus’s, who are so full of heat and desire I have to look away. It’s intimidating to be so seen. He leans in, his lips brushing my ear.

“Absolutely breathtaking.” He places a gentle kiss on my exposed shoulder.

“What if I shaved off my hair? Would you still think I was beautiful?” It’s a joke, but the words lack the teasing tone—instead, they sound hollow and uncertain.

He chuckles, never lifting his face from the crook of my neck, and the movement causes his facial scruff to send a delicious wave of goosebumps over my skin. Gus’s eyes snap up to mine in the mirror, his face devoid of any teasing. His lips brush against my pebbled skin as he breathes me in. “Don’t you understand, Stetson? I have seen you—every beautiful, heartbroken, beaten and abused, strong and magnificent version. There is nothing you could do or say that would make you any less gorgeous to me.”

I stare at his dark eyes, lost for words.

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