❝ DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES. ❞
↳ in which the butcher struggles to resist the song sung by his newest partner's sister.
[ billy butcher x cassandra campbell ]
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THE HIGHRISE STUDIO APARTMENT was peaceful in the light of the fading evening sun, save for the quiet buzz humming from underneath the white down comforter atop the queen–sized bed. Streams of light peeked through the gaps between the billowing sheer curtains as the breeze tousled them from the open window. The dishwasher was silently whirring in the kitchen, and in the corner of the living room, a large German Shepherd was curled into a ball on a taupe plush dog bed, snoring softly.
The dusk was pure bliss, especially for the girl under the blankets. She felt her body twitch in anticipation, heat spreading from her head to her toes as she panted, brows furrowed in concentration. Her lip was sucked between her teeth, her legs spread wide and her knees bent at ninety degrees in an attempt to find the perfect angle to maximize the pleasure that was blossoming in her lower abdomen.
Hot lips pressed all over her naked, trembling body, suckling at her breasts, collarbone, neck, and jawline, as two thick, calloused fingers maintained a rhythmic circular pattern around her sensitive bundle of nerves. The weight of his body atop hers was intoxicating, the smell of smoke and cedar wood and perhaps a bit of car exhaust overwhelming her senses as she let herself fall deeper into his touch, completely and utterly at his mercy.
"Fuck, baby, just like that."
The intensity increased slightly, and the woman arched her back as a breathy moan fell from her mouth. She could feel the pressure mounting, rising and rising, the coil within her tightening and tightening, her climax within sight.
"Yes, yes, yes..."
All at once, the sensation abruptly disappeared.
No, no, no.
Her body jerked at the sudden lack of stimulation, her tired eyes flying open as an involuntary whine of frustration escaped her lungs.
She removed her left arm from underneath the duvet, bringing along with it her royal blue vibrator wand that had quickly gone from being her best friend to her worst enemy.
She flicked the button once, then twice, before pressing it repeatedly in hopes of somehow reviving it back to life. No dice.
Something resembling a scream of exasperation sounded from her as she flung the useless toy at the foot of her bed, feeling very close to throwing a full–blown temper tantrum at 28 years old.
