Butterfly

by Jo Brenner

For everyone who ever fantasized about having a sexy, jealous, and over-the-top possessive stepbrother... …and then calling him daddy… Don’t worry. Mason’s waiting.

Some people pinned butterflies to keep them close. I was going to make this one fly far, far away. After all, she was the most beautiful girl I’d seen in my entire life. I wanted her more than I wanted anything. And I hated her for it.

See, having a nemesis is like drinking a vat of coffee on a day you’ve had no sleep—you feel shaky and tingly all over, like you can conquer the world, but you also want to cry, and time passes by in a blur while you behave without any sense of reality or consequence. And sometimes it makes you feel more alive than anything ever has.

“Mason, what are you doing?” God, my voice sounded breathy. “I don’t know,” he admitted, finally releasing me. “But I recommend you stay away from me before things get even more out of hand.” I should’ve listened to him.

My cock went hard at the association. My butterfly wanted a daddy? She’d get one.

“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.”

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

“When you crave something this desperately, anything you have to do to get it is easy.”

“Why would I keep eating McDonald’s, when there’s a five-star, gourmet meal, right within reach?”

“We need to stop.” He tsked. “I’m not stopping until you come on my fingers, butterfly. So you better come, if you don’t want anyone to see me fingering your filthy, sloppy pussy.”

I had plans for my stepsister—the long-term, own-her-forever, lock her down with a ring and plant-fucking-babies in her kind of plans.

sometimes it took losing someone to realize that their absence was untenable. That you’d give up anything else that mattered to you to have them back.

“Did you learn Disney for me?” I asked, shock making me forget my lust for a second. He kissed my forehead again, nuzzling my hair. “Butterfly, I’d learn how to pilot a rocket ship, if I thought it would make you happy.”

When I say I love you, I mean the messy, dirty, dark, obsessive, can’t think about anything or anyone else, don’t care about anything else, kind. I’m in love with you, butterfly. That means I’ll do anything to make you happy, and safe, and mine. That might mean something else for another man, but the only man you’re getting is me, so the only kind of love you’re getting is mine.”