Page 4 of XOXO, Little Butterfly (The Storyteller’s Bodyguard #2)

“Then let me see your face and glimpse you feel,” she demands. “I don’t care if you’re Beast or Phantom or a hideous mythical creature. I just want to see you . It’s the least I deserve, to see what I’m up against.”

“You deserve the world, and I’d bring it down for you. I wish I could touch you in the light the way you let me in the dark, but I can’t. I can’t let you see me. Not now.”

“Why?”

Silence stretches between us again, thick and suffocating.

Hurtful confusion darkens her eyes. “I’ll answer for you. It’s because you’re not a stranger emerging from the shadows. Because I’ve seen your face before countless times, but you think I didn’t really see you. So you wear this mask, hoping this time I will.”

I’ve put on this mask, thinking it’s impenetrable. Suddenly, it feels paper-thin. How could she see through it so easily? She’s right, of course. I’ve hidden behind this facade, terrified of being rejected once she sees the real me. But now, faced with her understanding, I’m even more afraid.

What if I let her in and she still walks away? What if the broken, yearning creature beneath the mask is too much for anyone to love?

Not ready to find out, I press my thumb to her clit and circle it. My fingers flutter inside her, mimicking the exact rhythm of her sex toy. She purrs and moans, telling me I’ve got it right.

“Will you talk to me?” she huffs. “I don’t like the silence.”

“Want me to talk dirty to you? Does it turn you on?”

“A little. I want to hear you say the things you want to do to me.”

“Trust me. You don’t.”

“But I do. You’ve just put a gun inside my pussy, and I creamed all over it.”

Would she cream if I told her I fantasized about using it to make her cry and bleed? Guess not.

I sigh, distracting myself by memorizing every path inside her, the right amount of pressure on her clit that makes the pleasure almost unbearable, the speed that forces her to bite her lips on a hiss.

“Please,” she begs.

Fuck me. I can’t say no to her when she begs like that.

“Well,” I swallow as I take in the swell of her breasts, the nipples protruding like pebbles in the dark, “I wish I could feel your nipples harden between my lips. I wish I could taste you when you were dry and then learn the difference as you became wet on my tongue. I wish I could kiss you, Reagan.”

“Do it,” she rasps. “You can blindfold me to lift off your mask and do it.”

My cock jerks. She is giving me ideas? I feel one of her nipples with my thumb and fill my palm with her plump flesh. She’s so fucking pretty. I want to sleep and cry and play and die on these beautiful tits. “It’s crossed my mind, darling, but I’m afraid even that isn’t a liberty I can take.”

“Why not? I want you to.”

God, she’s killing me. “Same reason I didn’t take my glove off before touching you. I can’t leave a trail. Saliva is DNA.”

“You told me to trust you, but you can’t do the same?”

I insert a third finger and watch her squirm. “Trust, like love, is earned. Isn’t that what you wrote in Twisted Obsession, Birdie, little bird ?”

“Don’t…call m-e th-at.”

“Okay, darling. Okay, Reagan.”

“Say it again. My name, say it again just like that.”

I oblige, my voice hoarse with every latent need and desire I’ve kept all these years as I whisper against her ear, “Reagan.”

“Tell me what you did.”

“What I did?”

“When you watched me touch myself the first time.”

“You really like dirty talking, you horny little slut, don’t you?”

“Did you touch yourself?”

My cock strains against the zipper of my pants as my mind drifts to the moment she’s referring to, even though it’s not the first time I’ve watched her work on herself. But she doesn’t need to know that. “Yes. I couldn’t help myself. You were a vision.”

She moans harder, her pussy throbbing around my fingers. “Did you come?”

“Right with you. My body and yours are synchronized beyond our understanding. We were made for each other. We’re born to be together, Reagan.”

Her pants fill the room. My shoulder rocks as I work faster. She’s clenching, swallowing my fingers with insatiable hunger. “Did you mark me on the screen with your cum?”

A sigh shakes out of my throat. “Not the first time I watched...but later…yes.”

She’s practically riding my hand now. Her orgasm is so close I can feel it. “I want to touch you.”

I’m too lost, watching her about to come, barely holding myself from coming in my pants, when she reaches a hand to my cock.

Flinching, I almost fire the gun. “No.” I grab her hand and squeeze it so hard she yelps. “I’m sick of your tricks.”

Her breath snags, and she whimpers. “What tricks? I just want to touch you.”

“No. You try to get me to show you my face and leave DNA on you, and when that doesn’t work, you do this. You think you can identify me by my cock because you believe you know who I am or, at least, suspect.” I snort bitterly. “And you talk about trust…”

“You’re wrong,” she sniffles.

Is she crying? Reagan doesn’t cry. Not like that. “My beautiful liar, enough. None of that. Aren’t you tired? You don’t need to lie anymore. Not here. Not with me.” I ease up on her hand. “You don’t need your camouflage around me. When I’m here, you show your true colors, little butterfly.”

“Okay,” she says softly, no more fake tears in her voice. “But I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to touch you.”

“Well, you haven’t earned that yet.”

Her brow arches. “ I earn the right to touch you ?”

“Like I’m earning your love, yes.”

She stares at me like I grew a second head. “Has it ever occurred to you that even after all the murders you’re committing for me I still won’t love you?”

“You will.”

“No, I won’t.”

Is it an attempt to hurt me like I’ve hurt her pride or is it the truth?

My jaw ticks. “I don’t care. I’ll still make you mine.

As much as I want you to love me, I don’t care if you spend a lifetime hating me as long as you’re mine.

” I press the gun to her temple. “Do you hear me, little butterfly? No one else will have you. You. Will. Be. Mine.” I shrug helplessly, blowing out a defeated breath. “As I’m yours.”

She shakes her head, unfazed by the weapon pressed against her temple. “I’m done with this game. Get out. I don’t want you here anymore, Butterfly Man.”

With a chuckle, I pin her down and squeeze her wrists together above her head again.

“Don’t you learn at all, naughty girl? I’m done taking it easy on you.

I tell you what to do, and you listen or you’ll be punished.

” I shove the gun in the back of my pants.

It doesn’t scare her anymore. Then I slide my fingers inside her pussy again.

“You have twenty seconds to come or I’ll kill one of your guards anyway. ”

“But I—”

“Nineteen. Eighteen.”

“Please. That’s why I wanted to touch you. It’ll make me come faster.”

“You think I want nothing more than to fuck you until you can’t remember your name?

But if I lose control, and trust me, I will if my cock feels your touch or so much as catches a glimpse of your pussy, there will be nothing left of you when I’m done.

” I circle my fingers and rub her clit, gaining the right pace. “Twelve. Eleven.”

Her breath catches. “Remember when I said in my head you were a fantasy I control? That’s the only way I can come this fast. I’m begging you.”

She’s not lying. Her heart racing against my chest tells me this much. That’s progress. As much as she wants to obey me so I’ll kill Blake for her faster and maybe save the random soul I’ve threatened to take, I want to see the face she makes when I make her come.

My eyes travel to her wrists in my grip. “If it’s control you need,” I take her hand down to her pussy and wrap her fingers around mine, “there. You lead. It’s your narrative, my brilliant storyteller. Control it. Own it. Write our story as you deem right.”

She nods and guides me inside her, setting the rules, wielding the path, and we both surrender.

Eyes pinned on the butterfly on the mask, she moves her hips to chase that orgasm, and I marvel at her expression, the pain, the rush, the sound of her pants, carving them into memory.

And I allow myself to imagine a future where moments like this aren’t so rare.

“Seven,” I count, and she works her hips faster. “Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. O—”

A wild moan flees her lips as she clenches and explodes all over my glove.

I stare at her in awe as she comes down from the climax. “Six times. Your pussy clenches six times in release.”

She blinks, catching her breath. “You counted?”

“I counted. I learned. I filed every inch of your face when I made you see stars and you made me see God. And the sounds you made will sing in my head day and night until the day I die.”

“That’s…”

“Cheesy? Sick? Plain psycho?”

“I was going to say—”

Footsteps, followed by heavy knocking, interrupt. Both our heads jerk toward the door.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry to wake you again, but I hear noises coming from your room that aren’t consistent with the feed we have for it. I have to come in,” one of her bodyguards says.

Fuck. I really want to know what she was going to say. “Looks like I don’t have much time to continue our conversation.”

“You have to go,” she whispers to me, “now.”

I tangle my fingers in the back of her hair and press her to my chest. “I’ll see you again very soon, darling.

” Then I drag myself away and dart to the terrace.

Casting one last look at her before I leave, I say, “When the man with the motorcycle returns, prepare for some good news. I’ve left him something precious where he’s at. ”