Page 42 of Butterfly

Suspicion made its way through my sex-soaked, horny-blurry brain.

“How did you know that?”

“Because I know everything that goes on withmypussy,” he said. “I especially know when she needs her Daddy.”

Each time he called himself Daddy, my thighs clenched. He’d called himself Daddy before, and my body loved it as much now as it had then. I didn’t knowwhyI liked it, and I was too horny, too desperate, to care.

His eyes swept my bare torso and lace encased breasts and sex. I was wearing a sheer bralette, and my nipples showed through it. His eyes went dark with lust. He’d seen me naked before, but this was different—we weren’t surrounded by his asshole friends and I wasn’t angry or humiliated.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he said fiercely. “More perfect than I could have even imagined.”

Then, before I could protest—not that I would at this point—he lifted me up onto bed, placing me carefully on the center before climbing up next to me.

“I want to defile your sweet body,” he told me, “but you’re a virgin so I’m going to take it easy on you.”

“Please,” I begged him, uncaring anymore what our history was, or how mean he’d been to me, or how wrong this was. “Just make the pain go away.”

He shushed me. “Of course, butterfly. Daddy will make it all better.”

And then he parted my legs, pulled my panties off my writhing body, placed my feet on his shoulders, and leaned down to stare at my pussy.

“God.” He breathed me in. If I’d been in any other state of mind, I’d be self-conscious. Instead, I cried out. “I knew you’d be beautiful, but I had no idea you’d be this beautiful, Leslie.”

He placed a gentle kiss above my clit. I squirmed, and he smacked my thigh in reprimand.

“Still,” he commanded, holding my hips tight with his big hands so I couldn’t move around. It made it all the more intense when he licked from the bottom of my slit to the top of my clit.

And then he licked again.

And again.

Heat flooded me, and I started saying nonsensical things, silly sounds broken up by his name, especially when he stuck his tongue in my pussy and began to truly eat me out.

“Mason!” I cried.

“You don’t call me Mason,” he growled, making that Pavlovian response go off again. “You call me Daddy when we’re in bed, butterfly.”

“Daddy,” I cried, not caring that I was giving in so easily. I needed him too badly.

In reward, he licked, sucked, and bit until I screamed as I came again, and again, and again.

It was better, but it still wasn’t what I needed.

“Please, please, please,” I begged him.

“What do you call me?” His mouth was covered in my juices.

“Please, Daddy, I need…”

“Shh, butterfly. I know exactly what you need. You need Daddy’s big cock, don’t you? Need it to stuff you full and fill you up with his come? Don’t worry, it’ll happen, but first you have to give Daddy a little something.”

Picking me back up, he deposited me on the floor. I stumbled, and he caught me.

“Time to get out of this bra,” he mused, peeling it off me and dropping it on the floor. And his face changed to something so terrifyingly animalistic, I should’ve run. Instead, I whimpered.

“Yes,” he snarled. “There are those perfect little tits. Look at how hard and red your nipples are. They want me just as badly as your sweet little pussy does, don’t they, butterfly?”

“Yes, yes,” I cried, and he pinched them tight, making me orgasm again on shaky legs.

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