Page 55 of Butterfly

As for any man who threatened her…

“Okay,” I said, then changed the subject. “There’s peach ice cream for you.”

“Peach ice cream?” She shook her head, cracking a smile. “I’m too full to eat it, which sucks.”

“Alright, you can have it later. It’s time for your punishment.”

“My…what?”

“You heard me. You’re feeling better now, you got rest. Now you’re going to learn that you have to take care of yourself, or you’ll have Daddy to answer to.”

“But…”

I shook my head. “No buts. Time to stand up, strip and bend over the bed like a good girl.”

20

LESLIE

He couldn’t be serious.

We’d just confessed our deep pain to each other, gotten really vulnerable. I expected sex after, sure, but this? There was no way he actually believed I’d let himspankme. I was not a child, or like, his submissive in a dirty romance novel or something. Sure, I had called him Daddy a few times, but that didn’t give him permission topunishme.

Except as I gaped at him, he didn’t look like he was kidding. His face was stern, his eyes were hot. And—I glanced down—his cock was hard. And if Mason had proven anything to me, it was that it didn’t matter if I gave him permission. If he wanted it, he’d take it.

And I hated it, but just knowing that about him made me soak my panties.

“Strip, Leslie,” he said, his voice quiet but unyielding.

“And what happens if I don’t?”

His voice was gruff. Low. “Then I make you. And I double your punishment.”

Well, that didn’t sound fun.

So I stood and pulled my shirt over my head, then unbuttoned and wiggled out of my shorts. I stood in front of him, fisting my hands at my sides in order not to hide myself from his gaze. He’d seen me naked before, anyway.

“Underwear, too.”

Annoyed at the slight tremble in my hands, I undid my bra and let it fall to the floor, then lowered my panties. And apparently it didn’t matter that Mason had seen me naked before. Between the heat of his gaze on me and the way he growled “beautiful” under his breath as he scanned my body up and down, rubbing a hand over his cock, this time felt like the first time. I’d never been more afraid and I’d never felt more needy.

But he wasn’t going to touch me the way I wanted.

“Bend over.”

I hesitated. There was a fork in this road, and if I followed this path, I wasn’t sure where it led, but I knew it was somewhere intense and terrifying. But if I followed the other, it would lead me away from Mason, and I knew I didn’t want that anymore. He’d carried me all the way across campus. Brought me to his home. Fed me all my favorite foods—made them himself!—just to make sure I ate. Told me about how his mom had died, and how much it hard hurt him. And I’d been right: The photos this summer hadn’t been his idea. I knew I wanted him, physically. Maybe, just maybe, I wanted him for more than that.

Even if that meant bending over his bed and letting him rain terror down on my ass. If he wanted to play Daddy, then I was going to let him.

So I slowly bent over, pushing my ass out toward him and burying my head in the comforter. It smelled like Mason: like ocean spray and oranges and danger. The smell instantly calmed me, even as it aroused me.

“Good, good girl,” he praised behind me, running a big, warm hand over my left ass cheek, then my right. “Count.”

Then, without any further warning, he slapped my right ass cheek—hard.

“Hey!” I complained.

“That doesn’t sound like counting. Try again.”

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