Butterfly

by Jo Brenner

“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.

“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.”