Page 35 of Beautifully Savage Butterfly

“Now, we’re going back to my place. Jimmy will keep until tomorrow night.” Orion opens his mouth, but for once, I don’t give him the chance to take control. “Don’t argue, Boss. Come on. I’ve got massaging jets in my bathtub and everything.”

He groans and my dick jerks. I grin again, this time without any of the malice or threat behind it. This one isn’t a mask; it isn’t meant to unsettle anyone. A real damn smile feels better than I thought it would.

Chapter 15

ORION

The last time I came to Elio’s place, I was too focused on tearing into him about paying off my debt to notice much of anything else. My palm tingles with the memory of putting him over my knee and spanking him until he came. He quirks his lips in a half smile, giving me a sideways look that makes me wonder if he’s thinking about the same thing I am as he presses the button to call the elevator to the lobby.

I take a second to look around while we wait for it, drinking in the sleek design of the entryway and the polished gleam of the floors. There isn’t a rat trap in sight. No peeling paint or lingering smell of mold either. Shame starts to twist in my gut, but I harden myself against it before it can put down any roots. My apartment might be a shithole, but I worked fucking hard for it. While Elio was stepping into a ready-made family business, I was scrounging through dumpsters behind restaurants for food. The fact that I’ve managed to put a roof over my head and keep it there through everything else life has thrown at me is a goddamn miracle.

The elevator doors slide open, and I follow Elio inside. As soon as they close again, he sags against the back wall, reaching up to loosen his tie and letting out a sigh that echoes the exhaustion that’s weighing me down. Maybe he’s never had to fight a stray dog for some stale bread, but his life has probably been bleak in its own ways. That realization slaps me in the face and leeches out just a little bit more of the bitterness I’ve spent years building up inside of myself.

He surprises me by grabbing my hand when the doors open again. Not in a rough or demanding way, just threading his fingers between mine. My heart forces its way into my throat and I look down at our joined hands, dumbfounded.

“What? No one’s ever held your hand before?” he teases, reaching into his pocket with his free hand to pull out his key.

I swallow and shake my head, flexing my fingers around his, testing out the weight of his palm against mine and the heavy, slow thud of my heart.

His mouth twists into a sympathetic frown. “Want me to stop?”

Do I want him to stop? Every minute of my life since the first time he came to the locker room after a fight over a year ago has felt like a train that’s jumped the tracks. Out of control, on a path towards certain death, and impossible to stop. It’s also been thrilling, eye-opening, and exactly what I didn’t know I needed in some perfectly twisted way.

I shake my head again. “No, Brat. Just open the door. You promised me massaging jets and bubbles.” I tighten my grip on his hand and jerk my chin at the door in front of us.

He chuckles and slides his key into the lock. Just one lock. No extra deadbolts or anything else. Damn, would that be nice. I don’t even know where the money to pay for Jack’s care is going to come from once I’m too old to keep fighting, so an apartment upgrade is a pipe dream if there ever was one.

He stops inside the door, dropping my hand and bending down to untie his shoes. He slips them off one at a time and lines them up on a shoe rack against the wall. I don’t know if he’s going for some kind of world record on shock value tonight or what, but Elio manages to stun me again by kneeling down in front of me and working the knots in my ratty shoelaces loose. I look down at him, in his tailored suit, his head bent forward. There’s a cluster of dark freckles on the back of his neck, and another fading bruise peeking out from under his collar. I reach down and run my fingertips along the patch of skin.

“You’re being sweet tonight.” My voice sounds slow and relaxed in my ears, and that’s just as shocking as everything else so far.

He pulls my shoe off and glances up at me with a cheeky smirk. “You’re giving me a chance to be sweet for a change.”

I puzzle over that while he slips my other shoe off and places them next to his on the rack. The sight of my worn sneakers next to his pristine Oxfords is fucking laughable. He gets back to his feet and brushes off his pants, meeting my eyes. I study him silently for a few seconds.

“I thought pissing me off was your kink.” I take a step closer and unbutton his suit jacket, slipping my hands under it to slide it off his shoulders.

“It is.” He grins again. “But I’m a complex man.” He presses a kiss to my cheek, his lips searing my skin before he pulls away and starts down the hallway.

I’m right behind him as we pass through the living room. I pause for a second to take it all in, just like I did down in the lobby. His place is tidy, and every piece of furniture looks expensive and probably custom made. It’s the art on the walls that surprises me the most—abstract shapes and pops of color that draw my eye from one to the next until we reach the bathroom.

If I tried to imagine the nicest bathroom possible, it would be a dump compared to what I’m looking at right now. The floor is white marble, but all the other fixtures are matte black—the sinks, the toilet, and even the tub, which I’m pretty sure is big enough to double as an Olympic swimming pool. The shower is made of natural looking stone with tropical plants growing along the back wall.

“Oh, fuck off,” I mutter in disbelief.

Elio laughs. “You like it?”

“It’s fucking obscene.” I’m sure he can hear the awe in my voice, but it’s also hard not to think about where the money for a bathroom like this came from. “You ever think about what you had to do to afford all this?”

He looks around and then shrugs one shoulder. “Every dollar that’s changed hands since the beginning of human civilization has been soaked in blood, Boss. Face it, we’re a shitty, violent species.”

I guess his logic is hard to argue with. And I’m desperate enough to soak my muscles that I’d rather not overthink it. Maybe that makes me no different from him.

He cranks on the faucet to start filling the tub. While I strip my shirt over my head and step out of my pants, he adds some concoction to the tub, creating bubbles and filling the air with an expensive smelling citrus scent. He finishes and stands next to the tub, stuffing his hands into his pockets and dragging his eyes up and down my naked body like he can’t decide where he wants to look the most.

My cock swells lazily and a steady, pulsing heat fills my gut. If I weren’t dead on my feet, I might be tempted to bend Elio over the sink and make him scream my name until his throat is raw.

“The control for the jets is just…” He jerks his chin towards a dial on the wall next to the tub, then glances at the door like he’s not sure whether he should stay or not.

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