Page 20 of Butterfly

His pussy?

His?

More tingles. Fuck my life.

“No one touched me,” I squeaked.

“Not even that boyfriend?”

I shook my head. “We broke up.”

For good.

He didn’t look like he believed me. “Then why did you get your pussy waxed?”

“I like how it feels. I’m a virgin.”

Wait a second. This was none of his business, so why was I defending myself like I’d done something wrong? I didn’t know why he had this power over me, but I loathed it.

His growl sounded satisfied. “Yeah you are, good girl, but not for long.”

He started to kiss me again, and although I wanted to give in, I couldn’t. Evil. Stepbrother. Bully. So I swatted at him until he stopped.

“Mason, tell me what’s going on. We hate each other, and suddenly you want to what, hook up? Is this your newest attempt to mess with my head? Are you recording this? Are people waiting to pop into the bedroom and make fun of me? Is there pig’s blood somewhere? None of this makes any sense.”

It didn’t. Not the way he was talking to me, not the way he was touching me—and not the way I liked it.

His muscles tensed, like he was at war with himself. Then, with a “Fuck!” he rolled off me. My body ached, missing his solid heat, the weight of him on top of me.

“I think you need to leave,” I told him, fixing my shorts and ignoring the way that my hand brushed over where his had been, shooting off sparks everywhere.

“I’m not leaving until I fix this,” he threatened.

“Leave, or I call your dad and tell him you’re trying to fuck me,” I threatened right back, finally finding my strength. I didn’t know the details of Mason’s relationship with Paul, but the tension between them was obvious. Learning his son was trying to sleep with his stepdaughter certainly wouldn’t make things easier between them.

“You wouldn’t,” he said.

“I would.”

We glared at each other, and then with one more snarl, he left, slamming the door behind him. I flopped back down on the bed, confused as hell and turned on as hell.

I didn’t understand what had just happened, but I did understand one thing: I wanted it to happen again, even if it made me disgusting.

I was so, so, completely, utterly fucked.

8

MASON

That had gone well.

After slamming out of Leslie’s dorm, I considered going to the gym and working out my aggression on some weights, since I couldn’t work it out on Leslie’s virgin pussy.

Virgin. I groaned and slapped my hand against the wall. She was mine, and would only ever be mine, and all I fucking wanted was to get my mouth on her and find out what mine tasted like.

So much had changed since this summer. Since the night I’d met her at the wedding. Leslie had changed everything. Changed me. With her sass, her spark, the way she stood up for herself, even though it was clear I terrified her. The sweetness she shared with her mom, sweetness I wanted badly for myself. The submissive way she’d responded to me in the pool that night.

And even though she’d never told me directly, I knew from Paul that her father’s betrayal and departure from her life had hurt her, badly. It pissed me off that he could abandon her like that, and it made me understand her better. I’d lost my mom because she died, not because she’d had a second family. Still, I understood what it was like, to be missing that love and stability from your life. We were opposites, mirror images, and would snap together like puzzle pieces—once she let me get close enough.

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