Someone is calling my name. The voice sounds far away, as if it’s coming from the end of a long tunnel. Footsteps pound against the pavement. Running. Getting closer. I try to open my eyes, try to see who it is, but my eyelids are so heavy.
“Reagan! Fuck!”
Strong hands grip my shoulders and turn me over. I want to speak, but the darkness is pulling me under.
“Reagan, stay with me. C’mon, open your eyes.” The voice shakes with fear.
I try. I really do. The darkness wins, though, and everything goes black.
CHAPTER 16
Butterfly Man
She finally falls asleep. After hours of shivering and crying and breaking apart, her body surrenders. I’ve kept the heater running all night. Watched the tension slowly drain from her face as warmth seeps back into her bones.
I haven’t moved from this stool in six hours. Haven’t looked away. I can do this forever, watching her. The way sleep softens her. Her mouth parts slightly. Her breathing deepens. The furrow between her brows smooths out, and for the first time since I brought her here, she looks like the girl I fell in love with all those years ago.
Before the world taught her to lie. Before she learned to weaponize words and hide behind fiction.
My Reagan.
The pins catch the light when she breathes. I did that; I marked her in a way no one else ever could. My declaration of ownership. My little butterfly. So fucking beautiful, and she’s all mine.
My cock has been hard for hours. Painfully hard. Holding her as she cries in my arms, feeling her break and rebuild, hearing truths spill from her lips that she’s never told—it’s better than any high, any kill.
I stand over her. Her lips move in sleep. A soft sound escapes, just breath shaped by dreams. My hand moves to the mask. For a moment, I consider removing it, letting her see me while she sleeps, while she can’t run or judge or reject.
Don’t. What if she wakes up? She hasn’t earned it yet.
I lean closer. The bottom half of the mask splits with a soft click, and I can’t help stealing a breath of hers. Big mistake. One breath, one kiss, one taste isn’t enough. My mouth waters for more.
She shifts a little, but her eyes remain closed. I reach for the straps at her ankles, loosening them just enough to spread her legs wider. After last night, my queen deserves pleasure. Both of us do.
I position myself between her thighs. Then I lower my head and taste her.
It doesn’t take long for her to get wet. Her body knows me even when her mind doesn’t. My tongue strokes her long and firm. A soft moan builds in her throat, and her hips shift. God, her body arches toward me, seeking more.
I increase the pressure. Circle. Suck. Her breathing becomes ragged. Her fingers curl against the straps. Another moan. Louder this time.
She’s gonna wake up any second now, happy and grateful. She’s gonna thank me, and she’s gonna forgive me, and she’s gonna love—
“Mason,” she murmurs.
My tongue freezes. My hands clench on her thighs hard enough to bruise.
Mason.
MASON.
Who the fuck is Mason?
Rage floods through me. She’s here, with me, my mouth on her, my hands on her body, and she’s dreaming of someone else?
No. No, NO, NOOO.
I attack her clit. My teeth graze sensitive flesh. She gasps, her body jerking. “Ah—what—” Her eyes fly open. Confusion hits.Then horror as she sees me. Where my mouth is. What I’m doing. “Stop—”
I don’t. I work her harder, faster, punishing, claiming, determined to make her feel only me. Her back arches. The pins move with her, and she cries out. My cock throbs at her pain that precedes pleasure. Pleasure I’ve planned to give, but now, just as her breathing speeds up and her clit swells in my mouth, just as she’s so close, I pull back.
