Page 46 of Butterfly

“Mmm?” she stretched, opening her beautiful brown eyes.

“Butterfly.”

“What is it?”

“I need you to tell me something,” I murmured.

“Tell you what? I’ll tell you anything.” She giggled.

Perfect.If I was ever gonna get her to tell me something that embarassed her, it was now, blissed out on orgasms and still under the influence.

“Tell me about your most secret, shameful fantasy,” I said.

“You are,” she sighed, no pause, no hesitation, and some unfamiliar organ in my chest started to ache.

My heart.

Fuck.

I loved her.

Ilovedher.

Jesus fucking Christ. Of course I loved her.

She sighed again, reminding me about my mission. I could’ve stopped—I wanted to stop, to bask in her response and my realization, but I jostled her again.

“Beyond that. What’s something that makes those panties wet but also makes you think you need to talk to a priest?”

She laughed, sounding a little more coherent. “I’m Jewish, Mason. We don’t have priests. Or confession.”

“Butterfly.”

Her face colored. “Okay, I have one fantasy…that the man I’m with forces me to fuck someone else.”

I froze, and my heart no longer ached—itburned.

“Someone else?”

“Both of them, at once,” she said dreamily. “And I have no choice but to do what he says…”

I wanted to punch a hole in the wall behind the bed, but that would ruin her peace, so I made myself stay calm. After inhalingand exhaling slowly, I asked, “And would this be a regular thing? Would there be a third in the relationship?”

“Noooooo…” she blinked. “I don’t think so? No, not that.” She sounded sure, and so I relaxed—slightly. “But it would prove that he trusted me, trusted in us…and that he was so proud of me, that he realized other men would want me. He’d keep me safe, but let me have that, too…no one’s ever done anything like that for me before, and no one ever will…”

She trailed off, yawning.

“Go back to sleep,” I said.

“Okay, Daddy,” she agreed, and a moment later, she was dreaming again. Hopefully not about a second man.

Fuck.

I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t share her, no matter how much she wanted it, no matter how hot it might be. Every single cell in my body agreed. She was mine. No one else got to touch her.

But if that’s what she wanted? It was my job to make her happy.

If I could learn fuckingMulan, could I learn to share?

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