Page 154 of Sincerely, Butterfly

Then I’m reminded why we’ve denied ourselves this girl.

I hate the man I’ve become because it’s the man who isn’t allowed to have her. I hate that my sexual preferences make me sick and fucked in the head.

One by one, everyone goes back into the house. Callie and Nola head upstairs to get ready for bed, and Garrett leaves.

Sylas says he’s going to stay downstairs and clean up while Jasper excuses himself to make some calls.

I make my way upstairs, finding Nola leaving Callie’s room and heading down the hallway to the bathroom.

I follow behind her and slip inside after her.

“Wesley?” she gasps, eyes widening in surprise.

Closing the door. I shove her up against it, my hand cupping the back of her head as I lower mine until my lips crash against hers.

Her sweet little whimper nearly breaks me.

I’m not sure what I’m doing, what possessed me to follow her here and do this. But as her lips part for me, letting me thrust my tongue inside her mouth and over hers, I don’t fucking care.

Gripping her hip, I growl against her lips as I pull her lower half to me, letting her feel how hard I am for her. How crazy she fucking makes me.

I’m breaking my self-control for just a little bit. But boy am I holding back.

The thought of grabbing a handful of her hair, hearing her cry out as I shove her to her knees, forcing her to choke on my cock, rushes through my mind as our kisses grow punishing.

She fists my shirt, pulling me closer.

She tastes like sin and temptation of the sweetest kind.

I want nothing more than to fucking ruin her right now, and I know if I don’t break this kiss, if I don’t walk away, I’m going to do just that.

Pulling back, I leave her panting heavily. She looks up at me with lust-filled eyes and swollen lips.

She blinks a few times, like she can’t wrap her head around what just happened.

Hell, neither can I.

I fucked up, I let myself slip.

She’s not mine. She never will be. But I can’t bring myself to regret this. Because I don’t.

What I do regret is not being able to shove her against this door and take her like the savage I am.

“What was that?” she whispers, releasing my shirt to cover her lips with her fingers.

“Everyone should have a New Year's kiss, shouldn’t they?” I grin. “Happy New Year, Nola,” I murmur.

Stepping away from her, I grab the door handle and pull it open. She moves, letting me leave the bathroom without a word.

I head to my room and close the door. Stripping down to my boxers, I climb into bed.

I’m hard as a rock. Pulling my cock free, I wrap my hand around myself and stroke my length until I’m cumming all over my chest to the thoughts of Nola on her knees, gagging on my cock as tears stream down her cheeks and snot runs down her nose.

It’s fucked up that I want her fear, her pain. But I also want to make her come undone for me, over and over again.

Just because it won’t ever happen doesn’t stop the sick little fantasies that live inside my head.

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