Page 271 of Sincerely, Butterfly

“Oh,” I laugh. “We’re getting right to it then?”

“I don’t want to hear you fucking speak unless it’s you begging me to stop,” he chuckles. “And even then, there’s no point.”

Uhhh. Okay, that’s a red flag. So is his plan to just rape me then?

If I get on that bed, he’s going to pin me down and try to fuck me. And I’ll respond by chopping his cock off.

That's what I’d hope to do, but this man is big, and he could easily overpower me, even if I have a knife.

I’m not going to let that happen.

“You don’t even know my name,” I laugh, trying to buy some time. “I’m Taylor.”

“I don’t give a shit what your name is. You said you wanted to be fucked tonight, so get on the bed like a good little whore and let me give you what you want.”

Degradation is hot as fuck when my guys do it to me. This guy? Makes me wanna slice out his tongue.

Ignoring the anger inside me, I place my bag on the table and shuffle my way over to the bed.

As I climb on, I die a little on the inside because this bed fucking smells.

The things I do for love.

I’m so retiring after this.

He stands at the end of the bed, a dark hunger in his eyes. “What are you doing?” I ask as he starts to take his dick out.

“Fucking you,” he chuckles.

“I still have my clothes on.”

“I don’t need you naked to use your slutty cunt.” He grins, kneeling down onto the bed.

I can’t help it, and I look down, but I wish I didn't. I have to bite my lip to keep myself from laughing. Because, oh my god, this man might be big on the outside, but his dick? No wonder he’s so angry during sex, his cock is the length of a mini Coke can with the girth of a hot dog.

And no, not a jumbo dog, a regular-sized one.

He probably has to pound into them to even feel anything. I’d feel bad for the fucker if he wasn’t a piece of shit.

“You know what…” I say. “Fuck this shit.”

“What?” He narrows his eyes at me.

“There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near me with that teenie weenie.”

He lets out an angry growl. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” he roars.

Change of plans because this man is about to kill me. No time to wait for the cops, and I don’t wanna kill him. I mean, I do, but I’d rather see him go down for my crimes and get the guys to set up his murder in jail or something later.

Plus, I’m kind of unhinged and just came up with a plan that could really sell this whole Roscoe is the Butterfly Killer thing.

Grabbing the knife from its holster on my inner thigh, I watch as his eyes flash with surprise.

He thinks I’m about to attack him, so when I bring the knife up and ram it into my arm instead, he’s taken off guard.

“Please!” I scream. “No. No. Don’t do this. I beg you. Don’t hurt me!”

“What the fuck are you doing?” He takes a step back, staring down at me like I lost my mind. I mean, I might have.