To let himself just be real.
“Tell me about it. What was it like when you hurt him?” The words tumble out at the same time as the thought arises, giving me no time to analyse them. I just want to be closer to him, I think. Connected to his dark mind and accepting of it.
I reach for his hand and push it beneath my shorts, guiding his finger between my folds, working my pussy together. He lets out a long groan and wastes no time diving deeper inside me, obviously excited I’m letting him touch me.
I am too.
I wonder if he likes the way I feel. Pulling my hand out, I let him take over. As he rocks my pelvis back and forth with each inward thrust and outward pull, I grip his shoulders.
“When I hurt people. . .” He leans up and stares down at me as I pant beneath him. The blazing pools of green and blue watch me intensely while his fingers set a steady rhythm inside me. I try not to blush, hoping he likes this as much as I do.
I lift into his touch.
Fight to hold my eyes open.
A tingle grows within me as he explores. When pleasure prickles along my skin, I wriggle and moan. Learning as my body responds to him, he slows down and focuses his attention on the right places. I breathe through a moan that seems to go on and on. “When I threw that guy off the balcony, baby, because he was talking to you, because he was rude to you, I heard something. Like a high-pitched laugh. But it was far away. It’s not the first time I’ve heard it.” His words scare me, but the thrusting of his fingers only redirects those spikes of adrenaline towards feverish unrelenting pleasure.
My head spins.
Feels so good.
Sounds so bad.
Why is this turning me on so much?
His eyes ensnare me as I start to quiver.
“Do you like it when I fuck you with my fingers? Does it turn you on that I would kill for you, baby? That I’ll protect you? Never leave you alone to fend for yourself?”
God.It comes on fast.
My abdomen clenches as a wave of euphoria crashes down on top of me, sinking me further into the hammock with its intense pressure. His words scare me as his fingers make me come, and I’m delirious in both pleasure and confusion. Both send me spinning. “I got you, baby. Let it all go.” He groans when I clench around him, coming hard, a constant pulse that massages his fingers.
“Fuck, this is hot. You’re hot. Your body. The way it works,” he murmurs in awe, his fingers circling slowly.
After a few moments, my senses settle. My body stops humming. I look up at him to find a curve to his lips. I laugh a little at the insanity of him.Of us.
“I don’t like that you hurt that boy,” I confirm.
“Me neither,” he finally admits.
I cup the back of his neck. “But we’re in this together.”
He buries his head at the base of my throat, and I hold him close as he says, “Okay, baby.”
Bronson Butcher.
In all his madness and shadows, he is the only person who gives me the confidence to be myself. I always thought that a good relationship was when two people made each other better versions of themselves. . . but it’s not. It’s when they are content enough together to let all their crazies shine.
And maybe he is mad.
Me, a little crazy.
But we are mad in love and crazy about each other.
Shoshanna
Present day