Page 88 of Vicious Butterfly
“I said I would protect you, and I mean it, Ryan,” he says. “Haven’t I shown you what I do to those who hurt you?”
Kline is probably still shouting in the dark. “You have. But it could all be part of your plan. Make like you give a fuck, so I believe you do, pull the rug out when you have what you want.”
He laughs. “That is something I would do, can’t deny that.” Tate leans back till I’m looking into his steely eyes. “I’m not right on the inside, Ryan. Up here,” he says, tapping his head. “If my uncle were here, he’d tell you all about the piece of work I am. Twisted, selfish, his very own monster with no soul.”
“That guy sounds like the piece of work,” I say, while Tate’s hand around my neck gets tighter. He’s not really here right now, as if he’s trapped in a memory. “Tate?Tate.”
He jolts, giving his head a quick shake. His hand loosens, moving to cup my cheek. Tate slides his other hand to my heart, his eyes fall to my chest, timing my breath to heartbeat ratio. Does it calm him? Am I an egomaniac for wanting to be the person who can soothe the savage beast?
“So long as I’m above Pearl,” I say to pull him out of whatever hell he was just pulled into. Tate thinks of me as a possession.
He gets it immediately.
“You’re jealous.”
“Fine, I’m jealous.”
“Don’t need to be, dollface. I think it’s time to introduce you two since you’re going to become best friends. She’ll fuck you while I stroke my cock, and you beg me to stroke yours.” His eyes fill with desperate hunger. He bares his teeth.
Fuckinggod, why is that so hot? I should be appalled. I am appalled. But I’m also filled with so much arousal my nuts are ready to burst.
Yeah, I’m so going to end up in a glass case next to Pearl, but I’d better always outrank that bitch.
14
TATE
November
It was better than my fantasies. Watching Pearl slide in and out of Ryan’s greedy fuckhole was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I made him kiss her. Lick her. Beg her to fuck him.Fuuuuuck.That’s happening again. And he liked it. The noises he made. How he begged me to let him come. I’ll never tire of the desperation in his voice. I decided not to touch his cock, for the record. If he wanted to come, he had to come from Pearl alone—and he did. God, what a sight that was.
He collapsed naked on my office couch, and I put a blanket over him, doing some work on my computer until Ethan texted to remind me that I had to return him.
Did I have to, though? He belongs to me. Ryan knows it too, even if he was a bit slow on the uptake. His body always knew, though. But, alas, my strategy dictated that, yes, he did have to go back to North Point, and I was left in this unforgiving wasteland that some people call pining.
It’s a little better this time, because I have a picture of him. It’s not even of him with Pearl up his ass—I’ll get one next time if I’m not too blitzed out—it’s of him sleeping.
I didn’t realize how much the world weighed on him until he was out cold. He was in bliss. Heavy limbs sprawled, the lines of tension in his face melted away. The rise and fall of his chest was hypnotizing. So sweet and melodic that I found myself wandering over and kneeling over him so I could time his heartbeat along with his breaths.
“What’s got you smiling like that, VanCourt?” a voice from the door says.
I’m back in my office at Shadowridge. The last time I was with Ryan was two agonizing days ago. That’s fine, I won’t have to tolerate so many days apart for long. He didn’t say he’d marry me, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t marry me.
Or, well, technically, he saidno, and I respect that, but thenowas a solidprobably yesby the time he left.
But holy shit, am I smiling?
Patrick invites himself in, taking a seat. I know he wants to talk fundraisers, but I’m sick of the word fundraiser. I’ve got way more important shit going on.
“I’m going to assume things are going well with the boyfriend.”
Would it be too soon to announce the engagement? First law of manifestation: Act as if it’s already happened. Patrick and Luke don’t talk anyway, and Luke is distracted with McKinnon’s ass. Literally and figuratively.
“Fiancé, actually. We’re engaged.”
“Really, VanCourt? Alright, let’s see it.”
I frown. “See what?”
