Page 58 of Butterfly

And you liked it, my inner voice pointed out.

“What was that thought?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You just stiffened up and went beet red. Something upset you. What was it?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Not an option,” he told me sternly. “It’s not just your body that’s mine. All of you is mine. What’s in here,” he placed his hand at my heart, “and what’s in here,” he tapped my forehead.

“You can’t just…claim me like that.”

He ignored me. “Are you embarrassed because you liked your spanking?”

I didn’t respond. That told him enough.

“Why? We both enjoyed it. It didn’t hurt anyone. You know I’ve done worse, so why are you embarrassed?”

How could I explain that, as a recent virgin, all of this was new to me? Or that even if I’d gotten off to fantasies of that sort of treatment in the past, the reality was much more intense, and made me question everything about myself? And that didn’t even take into account my other fantasy. I doubted Mason would be interested in sharing me.

“I’m not a doormat,” I told him instead.

“I know you aren’t. If you were, I wouldn’t want you,” he said easily. “But letting me take you in hand, into my care—letting me punish you when you do badly in order to help you do better for yourself in the future—that’s not you being a doormat. That’s you learning to trust me.”

“And you think it’s that easy for me to trust you, after all you’ve done?”

He sighed. “No. But I have faith you’ll get there.”

“Why?”

“Because you not getting there with me isn’t an option. I’ll do everything I need to, wait for as long as I have to, to make sure you give all of yourself to me. I’m not a quitter, and I’m not easily defeated. You’re mine, butterfly, and I’m yours. Do us both a favor and realize it, and Daddy will reward you.”

I started to rise from the bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to my dorm. I need to think.”

“You’re staying here until I’m sure you’re capable of taking care of yourself,” he said darkly. “I want you here for the weekend, and likely longer.”

“Mason!”

“Mace.”

“Mace.” I stroked his face. “Let me go home.”

“No.” He kissed my hand. “Nice attempt at manipulation, though.”

“I learned from the best,” I grumbled.

“See?” He laughed. “We were made for each other.”

Maybe he was right. But it didn’t matter, because we were stepsiblings. I wasn’t ready to give him up, but I knew we had no future. Even if we were made for each other, we could never be together.

So why did that make my heart crack in two?

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