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He cups your tits in both hands, squeezing them like he owns themβbecause he does. He always has. Since the moment you were born, you were his, and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it now.
“Pretty little thing,” Boothill drawls, thumbs rolling over your nipples, watching the way they harden under his touch. He smirks, licking his lips. “Y’always get like this, huh? Even when you ain’t supposed to.”
You shake your head frantically, but your body betrays you.
“Mmm,” he hums, flicking one sensitive bud, enjoying the way you twitch. “Body don’t lie, sugar.”
Your breath hitches as he pinches one, hard enough to make your back arch. He leans in, dragging his tongue over the swollen bud before wrapping his lips around it, sucking with just enough force to send a bolt of heat down your spine. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, uselessly trying to push him away, but all that does is make him chuckle against your skin.
“Y’know, fer a smart girl, you do some real dumb shit,” he murmurs against your flesh. His stubble scrapes against your skin, adding to the overstimulation as he bites downβsharp, punishing. You jolt with a whimper, thighs pressing together in a weak attempt to suppress the aching between your legs. “That college boy from earlierβyou think he coulda done this to ya? Think he coulda made ya squirm like this?”
His teeth sink in again, marking you, branding you. He pulls back, watching the red imprint of his bite bloom against your skin.
“Nah,” he answers for you, dragging his tongue along the fresh wound, soothing and taunting all at once. “Ain’t nobody knows this body like Daddy does.”
Your stomach churns at the name, but before you can protest, he takes your other nipple between his fingers and twistsβsharp, sudden, enough to make you cry out.
“Louder.” His voice is low, commanding. “Let Daddy hear ya.”
Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, but your lips stay stubbornly shut. A mistake.
Boothill tuts, shaking his head. “Sugar, you ain’t learned a damn thing, huh?”
Then, he’s got both breasts in his hands again, kneading them rougher, fingers digging into soft flesh, thumbs rubbing relentless circles over your abused nipples. He shifts, pressing his thigh between your legs, grinding against you. Your body reacts before your brain can catch up, hips bucking against him.
He grins. “There ya go, sweetpea. Just let Daddy take care o’ya.”
He rolls one nipple between his teeth, sucking until your back is arching, until your breath is coming in short, ragged gasps. The heat between your legs is unbearable, shameful, but he doesnβt stop. He wonβt stop.
“Y’feel that?” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s your body knowin’ where it belongs.”
He gives one last, cruel twist, watching your expression shatter, watching you fall apart in his hands.
Right where you were always meant to be.
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