Page 18 of Butterfly

He surveyed the room, taking in the photos I’d put up immediately of me and my mom. He ran a finger over one of them, taken at our parents’ wedding.

“Some night, huh?” he mused.

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head but changed the subject. “Do you have anything more appropriate to wear?”

“What is it with you and this new obsession with my wardrobe?”

“It’s not new,” he muttered, then started rifling through my clothes. He held up a dress.

“Why is this so short? Why are all your clothes so tiny? They weren’t like this back in Westchester.”

How dare he put his hands all over my clothes, or try to control how I dressed? He had no right. None.

And I had no reason to get tingly over how irrationally bossy he was being.

Stepbrother, I reminded myself. And also: I’m a feminist. I don’t like this caveman bullshit.

That done, I focused my attention on the stepbrother in question.

“I’m turning over a new leaf.” I’d decided after this summer to embrace my sexuality instead of hiding it. “Mason, stop it!”

I reached over and tried to rip the dress out of his hands. He just lifted it higher up, and since he was at least a foot taller than me at 6’3”, it was pretty easy for him to. I jumped, and he caught me, wrestling me backwards until my back was against his chest, his arms wrapped around my waist. I could feel how hard he was. Shock blew through me and my core warmed. I felt myself grow loathesomely wet.

“Well,” he murmured, nipping at my ear, “Guess we keep finding ourselves in the same position. What are we going to do about it, butterfly?”

“Nothing!” I tried to shove him away, but all I managed to do was shove my ass against his hardening cock. God, how was he so huge? It was like there was an elephant’s trunk back there.

A knock came at the door and then it opened.

“Leslie, do you need help hanging any—oh.”

Chris, the slightly creepy RA in my hall—and one of the first people to provide me with directions when I got lost—stood in the doorway, staring at us.

“Who’s this?” Chris asked, eyeing us warily.

I tried to pull away from Mason, whose hand just tightened on my waist, almost painfully. He shouldn’t be touching me like this, not when someone else could see.

He shouldn’t be touching me at all.

“Chris, this is my stepbrother, Mason.”

“Stepbrother?” Chris relaxed slightly, then looked confused, his eyes on where Mason still gripped me.

I tugged away and after a moment, he released me, stepping forward to cross his arms and block Chris from entering the room.

“Chris, huh? Why are you here messing with my stepsister?”

Chris puffed up his chest. “I’m not messing with anyone. I’m your sister’s RA, and I’m offering to help her nail her stuff to the wall.”

Mason glared, ice-blue eyes promising pain. I suddenly found myself worrying for Chris’ safety. “You won’t be nailing anything of hers,” he said, his voice filled with warning. “She has me.”

With that, he backed Chris out of the room and slammed the door shut before advancing on me.

Oh god, we were alone again. The realization made me breathless. My body was tense, tight, like it was waiting for something.

I focused on what he’d done. “That was rude!”

---