The Maestro's Butterfly (12 page)

“Oh,” she said, grateful for the extra lubrication.

“You created a monster,” he said, smiling, showing off his fangs. It took some firm nudging on his part for Adam to work his way into her. She threw back her head and gasped like a dying thing each time he gave a little push, opening her just a little more, going just a little deeper. “You doing okay?” he asked.

She nodded with her eyes closed.

84

85

“Okay then,” he said and began rocking his hips gently.

Miranda was so needy, it hurt. She tightened around his erection with a hungry pleasure-pain that made her simultaneously want to flee the sensation and die inside of it. He slid in and out of her carefully.

“No,” she said. “I want you in all the way. Press against me.”

He didn’t need any more prompting. He filled her with one quick thrust and began grinding against her, pressing her into the leaves and grunting. She looked up at his face, intense with sex, lion-like among the dreads, an effect that was helped along by the white points of his fangs touching his full bottom lip.

She slid her arms around his rib cage, but was too far gone for more than a vague notice of his back muscles working against her arms. Her lower belly felt as though it were on fire. Her thighs clenched and an orgasm ripped through her with very little warning. For the first time in her life, she screamed with the power of it all.

Adam shoved his cock all the way up inside of her and pressed against her with the matted hair around its base, increasing the sensation of her orgasm, letting her ride it out. Somehow, he knew when she had crested and was coming back down, because that is the moment when he really began fucking her, pounding into her and grunting loudly between clenched teeth. A line of blood began to trickle from his mouth, startling Miranda momentarily. Since it didn’t seem to bother Adam, though, she didn’t pay it much mind.

He throbbed hard inside of her when he came, and gave a few hard, parting thrusts, then collapsed on top of her.

“You’re too heavy,” she gasped. “Get off.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Whew! That was—I needed that.”

“Me too,” she said. “Ew. I’m leaking.”

“Here,” he said, and helped her up dusting off the leaves. She felt foolish standing there with no pants on, with vampire come running down her inner thigh. He noticed and took off his shirt to clean her up.

84

85

“Hey,” she said. “You don’t have to.”

“I’m not sending you back to the house with my stuff running out of your shorts. My mama didn’t raise me like that.”

Miranda nodded and let him tend to her, enjoying the feeling in spite of herself, especially when he rubbed the soft cotton against the sore spot between her legs.

Afterward, he retrieved her shorts and handed them to her, letting her use him for balance. By the time she got around to sitting on the ground and putting on her shoes, her sense of impending doom had returned, only this time she didn’t feel like asking questions about anything. She just wanted to hide.

“I think I need a nap after that,” she lied.

Adam chuckled. “Enjoy it while it lasts. Claudio will be putting you to work if you stay. Remember what I said, though. You can leave with me. Just don’t tell anybody.”

She nodded, and gave herself one more brush-off before making her way back through the path out of the woods.

86

87

Miranda cried hard in Claudio’s bed and refused lunch. Surrounded by the warm scent of cologne and man-smell that lingered on his pillow, she felt sick with the thought of leaving him, but sicker at the thought that he may not have really wanted her for anything more than a bargaining chip with his brother.

She dozed, and was unaware how much time had passed when she heard his footsteps upstairs. They were unmistakable—heavy and rhythmic, like the relentless ticking of the metronome he used for teaching her.

She heard a woman’s concerned tone in the kitchen, probably Gena’s, and thought she and Claudio were probably talking about her, which made her hug the extra pillow. Finally, the door at the top of the stairs opened and she heard those footsteps coming down,
tock…tock…tock.

He pushed open the bedroom door and came in. She admired the way his slacks and shirt fit him, the way his belt buckle gleamed even in this dim light. He went over to the bedside table, picked up the remote and turned on the electric sconces, then put it down and sat on the bed. The feel of his fingers in her hair made her want to start crying all over again.

“What did you do today?” she asked.

“The usual,” he said. “Teaching the hopeless children of doctors and visiting the theatre. Gena tells me you have not been eating well.”

She thought she detected real concern in his voice.

“What is wrong, Miranda?”

The question drew a deep sigh from her. She had spent hours imagining how she would explain her position logically, how she would negotiate with him and get the information she wanted. But the tenderness in his voice was too much. She blurted her answer through a new sob.

86

87

“I thought you wanted me! But you brought me here for some weird purpose.”

“What purpose, butterfly?”

She hesitated only because it had just occurred to her that other people could get into trouble based on what she said, or what she left out. So she simply said, “No one will tell me anything, but I know something’s up. I know about your brother.”

Claudio’s expression changed from deep concern to utter shock. He blinked rapidly and worked to compose his face, but she could see something dark smoldering there. His voice sounded tight. “What do you know about him?”

She sat up and smoothed back her hair as well as she could. “I know you have something going on with him. And it has something to do with me.”

Claudio’s jaw tensed. He spoke quietly, but with an urgency that frightened her.

“Say you forfeit our bet, little one. Say you are mine forever. Swear it.”

She shook her head and new tears stung her eyes, as if the movement had knocked them loose. I—I can’t, Claudio. You haven’t been honest with me.”

He gave a few quick, decisive nods. “After thirty days, and you are still here, then I will tell you everything. Until then, I cannot.”

“Why?”

“Because I cannot. It is simple. You have to trust my decision.”

She nodded, and held her breath to keep the new sobs from breaking free.

Finally, she was able to look again at his stern, closed expression. “Can you tell me if the man in the pinstriped suit, with curly black hair and the nose is your brother?”

Claudio nodded, once. “That is Victoire.”

Miranda looked at the bedspread, taking it all in. He put his hand on her thigh.

She looked up at him. “What does he want?”

Claudio smiled, softening his expression. Then something changed. The smile broadened and he looked at her with a mischievous spark in his black eyes. “Would you like to ask him yourself?”

She felt her jaw drop but couldn’t prevent it. “What?”

88

89

“You can see him for yourself. Then perhaps he will not be such a mystery to frighten yourself with, yes?” He took a sleek little black phone from his pocket and quickly dialed him.

“Claude-Michel,” came the voice on the other end, loud enough for Miranda to ear. “Have you already lost our wager?”

She played with a wrinkle in the bedspread as she listened. She didn’t hear any trace of a French accent, and she didn’t let on about hearing what he said about the wager.

“That will not happen,” Claudio assured him, affection for his brother creeping into his voice. “But it seems my new pet wishes to meet you.” Claudio glanced at Miranda.

Hearing him say that made her panic. She shook her head frantically and mouthed, “No.” Claudio turned from her.

“Interesting. I’m out now,” Victoire said, calling Claudio something Miranda didn’t recognize. “But tonight I will be performing at Le Chat Noir on Eighth and Ellis Street. You know it, yes?”

“Yes, of course,” Claudio said, smiling and fluttering his eyelids.

“I go on at eight. Can dollface stay up that late?”

“Dollface?” she said. “What does he think I am, some—”

Claudio put up his hand to silence her. “She will,” Claudio said.

“Great,” Victoire said. “Should I come hungry?”

“We’ll see you at eight,” Claudio said, and put the phone back into his pocket.

“You have a date,” he said to Miranda, reclining in front of her on his side, and absently running his finger along her thigh. The sensation almost caused her to draw in a sharp breath, but she resisted it, even as she moistened between her legs. Her body was ready for him at the slightest touch.

“Hungry?” she asked. “What’s going to happen?” Miranda asked, her eyes wide.

“We will see his performance tonight, and perhaps enjoy a drink after.”

88

89

She thought for a moment, wanting to ask about the wager. Instead, she asked,

“Does he play violin too?”

“No,” Claudio said, moving closer. “Tell me. Have you been good today?”

The question and its implication made Miranda part her lips, but she decided to try changing the subject. “What did he call you? Just now? That word he used.”

“Claude-Michel. It was my given name, before I took the name I use today.

Now, answer my question.”

“No—the other thing. Di—Di—”

He smiled.
“Diable.
It’s French for devil. His nickname for me. I was the oldest, so he suffered much at my hand. Now. If you do not answer my question I must assume the answer is no, you have not been good, and perhaps you need a spanking.”

Something hot spilled into her gut, while chills spread across her shoulders like wings. She lowered her eyes and blushed, chastising herself for being so easy.

Claudio caught her chin with his finger and made her look at him. “Have you been a naughty girl, Miranda?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.” He pulled away and stood. “Come upstairs.” Gone was the flirtation in his voice. It had become hard, and made Miranda wonder if he was angry.

Without waiting for her to follow, he turned on his heel and went across the room, leaving her to gape after him. He didn’t even pause at the door, but left it open.

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he called from outside, jolting her to consciousness.

She leapt off the bed and followed him out, hesitating at the door to wipe at her tear-stained face, hoping no one would see her and know she had been crying. In an effort to make up for lost time, she ran up the stairs, and stumbled just a little.

Claudio waited at the door beneath the stairs for her, and opened it for her. She ducked through under his arm, aware that he watched, aware that he had seen her eyes travel to his silver belt buckle as she passed.

He shut the door and took quick strides into the dining room, turned on the light, 90

91

then pulled a chair away from the table, positioning it away from the dinette. Then he sat, and looked at her. “Take off your shorts,” he said.

She looked around nervously, going from one foot to another. “But—”

“Do it,” he ordered, his voice sharp.

Her lips slackened in surprise. The tone brought tears to her eyes. She absorbed herself in kicking off her sneakers, thankful for the opportunity to look down so he wouldn’t see her wounded expression. She catalogued everything she had done that day in an effort to figure out if she had done something wrong.

She gave the unbuttoning and pulling down of her shorts the same undivided attention. Then they were off and there was nothing she could do but look at the hard line of his jaw and the soft curve of his mouth. “Come here,” he said.

“Am I in trouble?” she asked meekly, then kicked herself for such a show of weakness. Again, it seemed this moment was all that existed. This moment was a pinprick in time, and every centimeter of her skin was alive and on fire.

“Chérie,
if you do not begin obeying me without hesitation, you will be in very much trouble. I have been kind. It will not always be so.”

She took slow, tentative steps toward him, expecting a moment of quiet anticipation and then another order. Maybe he was going to tell her to fellate him, or to masturbate in front of him. There was no quiet moment, however. As soon as she was near enough, he leaned forward, took her arm and pulled her over his knee.

“Claudio!” she squealed, before she could stop herself.

He pulled down her panties roughly and stung her bottom with several quick blows. “I was going to give you a nice, sensual spanking,” he said, with another round of sharp stings. Miranda caught her breath and tried to find the floor with her toes, but her leg flailed uselessly. She splayed her fingers in front of her as though she thought she may fall. She was in shock, only half aware what was happening. Claudio paused.

“But you do not obey me quickly enough, Miranda. When I tell you to do something, you will do it without question,” he said with a snap of his fingers. “Without hesitation.

90

91

Do you understand?”

She nodded frantically.

“I cannot hear you,” he said.

“Yeah, I understand.”

He gave her another round of stings. She bit her lip to keep tears at bay. “With respect,” he said.

At first she didn’t know what he was talking about. She had been careful with her tone. Then she realized what he wanted. She nearly whispered it. “Yes, sir.”

“I cannot hear you,” he said again.

“Yes sir,” she said louder. Her voice quivered.

“Very good,” he said, and caressed her inflamed bottom. His fingers left trails of fire and made her catch her breath. He caressed down the cleavage with the backs of his fingers, letting the tips graze the spot between her legs. She caught her breath as he slipped a finger inside of her. “Wet,” he said. “This is how I know you will be happy here.” He worked his finger in and out of her. She was confused with the mixture of pleasure and pain, dread and anticipation. She felt his thighs and the rough slacks press into her stomach. The shirt had come up a little. She made balls with her fists and grimaced with the intensity of her desire. He slipped in a second finger. She realized the hard bulge pressing into her side was at full mast, and tried not to groan in pleasure, but couldn’t help it.