Page 38 of Butterfly

Had a man ever shown care like this to me before?

This couldn’t be real.

What was Mason playing at?

“Short shorts, again?” he said darkly, but at least this time he didn’t lecture me.

No, what he did was worse. He started playing with the hem on my shorts, his touch transporting me back to the way his fingers had felt inside me. I grew embarrassingly wet.

“Stop it,” I hissed.

“Hey.” He shrugged. “You wore them. I can’t help that your legs are too sexy to keep my hands to myself. Can you blame a guy?”

Actually I could, and I was about to say something, when Professor Evans cleared her throat.

I tried to pay attention to what she was saying about the reading, but I kept getting distracted by Mason’s fingers whispering against my outer thigh. If that weren’t enough, he’d leaned his whole body into mine, so his arm brushed up against the side of my breast. The room was hot but my nipples still hardened, and I knew Mason saw because his nostrils flared and his breathing quickened.

We might as well have been alone in that room. Everyone else ceased to exist. All I could pay attention to was the heat pouring off of Mason’s body, the way his barely-there touch made me crave more. His lips quirked, like he knew what I was thinking, and I wanted to either punch or lick them, I wasn’t sure which.

“Pay attention, butterfly,” he murmured into my ear.

And then he bit it.

Heat flooded my core, making me wet from the shock of his bite. I trembled all over.

“Stop it,” I hissed.

In retaliation, his hand traveled from its moderately safe spot where it was tangled in my shorts hem, up over the top of my thigh to my inner thigh, and then..

And then…

And then he eased his fingers into my shorts. No one was looking, thank god, but as his fingers trailed their way up to my pussy, running over the seam of my panties, I had to bite my lip to contain the gasp that threatened to let loose. Since when was I an exhibitionist?

His fingers paused, a threat all of their own.

And even though I knew I had to shove his hand away, or scream or something—he was my stepbrother, for god’s sake, and I hated him, and we were in public! More public thanthe library!—I couldn’t bring myself to, just held my breath as he once again eased his fingers where they didn’t belong—underneath my panties so that they brushed my bare sex…just like Monday.

“I’ve changed my mind about your naked pussy,” he whispered, moving his pen around with his other hand like he was actually taking notes. “Now that I know no one’s been there, I like how sexy it feels to have nothing between my fingers and your skin.” His fingers trailed between my lips. I knew he could feel how wet I was.

He growled again, and I must’ve had some Pavlovian response now to that growl because I grew even wetter.

“All this for me, butterfly? You shouldn’t have.”

I shuddered in my seat as his fingers began to circle my clit, barely there brushes at first that began to heighten in intensity. I felt myself clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing, as my core tightened almost painfully, my nipples beaded, and I began to climb that mountain toward orgasm.

“Are you paying attention to the professor, butterfly? You don’t want to make a bad impression the first week.”

“Ms. Berger?” The professor called my name.

“Uh, yes?”

“What are your thoughts on the reading?”

The reading? Oh, right. I could barely remember what I’d read in preparation for class, so distracted by Mason, whose fingers had picked up in speed and intensity. And now everyone was watching. Could they tell what was happening?

God, I was going to come. Inclass. They were going to expel me, and Mason was just going to laugh.

“The Awakening, butterfly,” he prompted under his breath.

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