Page 19 of Butterfly

“He wants to fuck you.”

I spluttered, taken aback. He’d lost it. “He does not. And besides, what business is it of yours?”

“Anything that has to do with you is my business. Don’t you get that by now?”

I stared at him. I was right; he had lost it. Unconcerned with my thoughts regarding his mental state, Mason backed me up further, until I was leaning back against my bed and about to tilt over on it.

And with one solid push to my chest with his big hand, he made sure I did.

I landed on the bed, the breath knocked out of my chest, and Mason climbed up.

Shocked, I just lay there as he prowled over me. “God, you don’t, do you? Why do you think I tormented you over the summer?”

“Tortured,” I said, voice weak.

“Tortured,” he agreed. “Tormented, tortured, did my best to make your life a living hell. It was only fair, you were making my life one, simply by breathing.”

I gasped. That hurt. I hadn’t done anything to him, and he hated me so much. I hated him too, even if part of me wondered what it would be like if our truce had lasted.

“What did I do to make you hate me? Get off me.”

He ignored my words, holding his body up in a one-handed push up, so that he hovered over me. Heat spread everywhere from his body to mine, completing the short distance between my skin and his. With his free hand, he started making small, light circles on my inner thighs.

I jerked underneath him, his touch pulsing in my core.

“If I made your life a living hell, why are you here?”

He shook his head, seeming frustrated. “You still don’t get it, butterfly. You made my life hell because I couldn’t have you. Not when we were both under our parents’ roof. But I’m done with that. I’m taking what’s mine.”

Still shocked and confused—and overcome with more tingles—I started to speak, but he caught my protest with his lips. He bit my bottom lip sharply until I opened my mouth, and then, once he had me where he wanted me, he sank his tongue inside.

Oh god, my stepbrother was kissing me.

And it was the best kiss I’d ever had.

He started to fuck me with his kiss. I don’t know how else to describe it. He consumed me with his lips, and his tongue made my whole body spark with need. It was so wrong, I knew that, but everything about it felt exactly right. As if every kiss before this one had been off somehow, and this one made all those other ones meaningless.

But that couldn’t be right. This was my stepbrother. My bully.

His hand was still making those devastating little circles on my inner thigh, but it started traveling upward?—

“Mason!” My protest was weak. I felt weak and loose, pliant and submissive.

He growled. “That’s not what you’re going to call me in bed, butterfly. Soon enough, you’ll know what I really am to you.”

Before I could ask what he meant, he descended back on my mouth and his fingers slid underneath my shorts and panties, until they were touching my bare pussy.

I jerked. No one’s hand had ever been there before but my waxer’s. It was the best and worst thing I’d ever felt in my life, lighting me on fire.

Mason reared back.

I got it waxed because I liked the feeling of having a naughty little secret, but from the look on his face, he didn’t agree.

“Who the hell did you get this done for, Leslie?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. The last time he’d sounded like that, he’d just discovered I’d donated his skates.

“I—I,” I stuttered, not sure how to explain.

“I swear to god, butterfly, if you let another man touch my pussy, there will be hell to pay. For both you—and him.”

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