Little Butterfly

Chapter 68 - The Predator

The Predator~

It's the first time I've intruded on my little butterfly's home to find her truly at peace. She's sound asleep on her king-size bed, the moonlight casting a soft glow over her delicate features. As I approach, I can't help but be captivated by the way her long brown hair spills over her pillow, framing her face like a halo. She looks so serene, so vulnerable, lost in a world far away from the chaos I've brought into her life. Her chest rises and falls with each gentle breath, and for a moment, I feel a strange pang in my chest-a mix of guilt and longing that I can't quite understand.

I pause, standing over her, my gaze tracing the curve of her cheek, the soft line of her jaw, the way her lips part slightly as she breathes. She looks so innocent, so untouched by the darkness that I carry with me wherever I go. And yet, I know that's not true. I've seen the shadows in her eyes, the fear that lingers there because of me. My mind drifts back to the day I showed her Terrence's body, the day I let her see the monster inside me. She hasn't slept properly since, haunted by the nightmares I've caused. I thought I was protecting her, but all I did was terrify her. Maybe I went too far.

I feel a sharp stab of regret, a rare emotion for someone like me. I've caused her so much pain, so much trauma, and for what? To prove a point? To show her that she can't escape me, no matter how hard she tries? The realization hits me hard, and for a brief moment, I consider leaving, slipping away into the night and letting her be. But as I sit down next to her, her presence draws me in, her scent, her warmth, everything about her pulls me closer.

My eyes drift down to the thin white tank top she's wearing, and I can't help but notice how her nipples press against the fabric, hard and inviting. A rush of heat floods my veins, and I feel myself harden, my body responding instinctively to the sight of her. She has no idea what she does to me, how she affects me in ways no one else ever has. The sight of her like this, so defenseless, so completely unaware of my presence, stirs something primal within me, something I can't control.

Without thinking, I lean down, my mouth finding the outline of her nipple through the thin cotton. I close my lips around it, sucking gently, feeling the fabric grow wet against my tongue. She stirs beneath me, a soft, barely audible moan escaping her lips, and the sound sends a jolt of arousal straight through me.

I can't help myself. The soft, muffled moan she lets out sends a shiver down my spine, igniting a fire inside me that I can't control. Her eyes flutter open, those beautiful siren green eyes widening in shock as they meet mine. I expect her to push me away, to scream or fight back, but she just stares at me, frozen, her lips parted in surprise. The feel of her nipple hardening against my tongue through the thin fabric of her tank top drives me wild, makes me want to push further, to see how far I can go before she snaps.

I know this is wrong. I know I shouldn't be here, taking advantage of her like this, but the darkness inside me doesn't care. It wants her, needs her, in a way that's primal and all-consuming. I press my mouth harder against her breast, sucking her nipple more forcefully, and her body arches involuntarily, a soft whimper escaping her lips. God, the sounds she makes-innocent, confused, caught somewhere between fear and desire-only fuel my hunger.

She's still half-asleep, disoriented, and I can see the conflict in her eyes, the way she's torn between pushing me away and letting me continue. Part of me wants to stop, to pull back before I do something I can't take back, but another part of me, the darker part, revels in her confusion, in the power I have over her. I know I'm crossing a line, but in this moment, I don't care. I want to push her to her limits, to see how much she can take before she breaks. I want to own every part of her, to make her mine in every possible way.

I pause for a moment, just long enough to look into her eyes, searching for any sign that she wants me to stop. But all I see is that same mix of fear and something else-something darker, something that mirrors the hunger inside me. And I know, deep down, that she's just as lost in this as I am.

I should stop. I know I should. But I can't. The taste of her, the feel of her body responding to mine, it's too much to resist. I suck harder, my hand slipping under the hem of her tank top to feel her soft, warm skin beneath my fingertips. She gasps, her body arching involuntarily toward me, and I know I've crossed a line. But I don't care. In this moment, nothing else matters but her-her body, her touch, her taste. And I'm not about to let go.

My hand glides up her side, my fingers brushing against her ribs, feeling the heat of her skin beneath the thin fabric of her top. Her breath catches in her throat, her chest heaving slightly, and I can see the fear flickering in her eyes, mixing with a hint of something darker. Desire? Curiosity? Whatever it is, it pulls me in deeper, binds me to her in a way I can't escape.

I press my lips to her neck, trailing kisses along her soft skin, feeling the rapid beat of her pulse against my mouth. Her hands, which were once limp by her sides, move slowly, almost hesitantly, until her fingers are tangled in my hair. A shiver runs down my spine as she pulls me closer, her body arching toward mine. It's as if she's torn between pushing me away and pulling me closer, caught in the same web of conflicting emotions that ensnares me.

I murmur against her ear, my voice low and rough, "Sophie... you don't know what you do to me." Her eyes, half-lidded and glazed with a mixture of confusion and something akin to longing, meet mine, and I feel a surge of possessiveness so intense it almost hurts. She's mine. She's always been mine, from the moment I laid eyes on her. I knew it then, and I know it now, even if it means dragging her into the depths of my darkness.

Her fingers tighten in my hair, pulling me back to her lips, and I'm lost. Lost in the taste of her, the softness of her mouth against mine, the way she melts into me despite the fear that still lingers in her eyes. I know I should pull back, give her space to breathe, to think, but I can't. Not when she's this close, not when her body is responding to mine in ways I've only dreamed of.

I let my hands roam, sliding down her back to the curve of her hips, pulling her against me so she can feel just how much I want her. A soft gasp escapes her lips, her eyes fluttering shut as her body presses closer, seeking more. The sounds she makes, the little moans and gasps, drive me wild, make me want to push her further, see how far she's willing to go.

Her hesitation is almost palpable, a thin thread holding her back, and I feel the tension in her body as she grapples with her conflicting emotions. But the moment my hand slips beneath her tank top, finding the soft swell of her breast, that thread snaps. Her breath hitches, a strangled moan slipping past her lips, and she arches into my touch, her body begging for more even as her mind struggles to catch up.

I pause, savoring the moment, letting the anticipation build as I watch her eyes flutter open again, filled with a wild, desperate need that mirrors my own. "Please," she whispers, her voice barely audible, but I hear it, and it sends a thrill through me. She's begging for something, for more, for everything, and I'm more than willing to give it to her.