“You want me to talk to you, love?” he whispered. He reached around her body and found her clit.
“Yes!” she shouted.
I found true love in you. Ohh-ohh
“Cum for me. Be a good girl and wet that shit, love,” he whispered, lips pressed to the back of her neck.
Morgan was in heat. Bouncing on him, matching his stroke.
“This is your dick, love. Shit ain’t for nobody else. Just you,” he groaned. “Goddamn, just you, Mo.”
“Promise me, Ahmeek,” she whimpered. “Promise me, it’s mine.”
“Property of Queen Atkins, love,” he whispered the words in her ear. “Wet ass. Ain’t nobody wetting dick like you, love. Shit is yours, Mo. Take it with you when you leave, baby.”
“Agh!” she screamed. “Meek!”
He licked the nape of her neck, and Morgan exploded. He bent her over, then grabbed one of her feet as he increased the intensity of his stroke. Hard. Fast.
“Meeeeeeeeeek … Meeee…”
She felt him pulsing, and a part of her wanted to get pregnant. Sex this good could only result in a baby. Fuck it. She’d be his baby mama. She’d wear that badge with fucking honor, but he pulled out, using better judgment than what Morgan possessed currently. “Shit,” he groaned.
He stood and pulled her hand, forcing her to rise with him. She followed him to the bathroom. A shower, a quick round two because Morgan couldn’t endure anything else. He had her cumming from touch alone, so she wasn’t worth much more than a quick one. When they climbed out, Morgan was all smiles.
“So, skating,” he said as he dried her hair with the plush white towel in his hands. “You want to go skating. I need you available tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said. “Just tell me when to be ready.”
“I’ll pick you up at three? That sound good?” he asked.
She nodded as he kissed the tip of her nose. “Don’t be late.”
“A nigga gon’ always pull up right on time. Never late. I ain’t missing no shots with you, love.”
21
Messiah stood off in the distance, watching Ethic. He had been there for hours, witnessing the remnants of love as Ethic sat on the grass, his head leaned back on the headstone of Raven Atkins. He could see Ethic interacting, talking and laughing, as if Raven were speaking back to him. Messiah wondered if Mo had ever done the same for him. Had she visited his grave just to get a little piece of him? Had they had conversations that transcended life and death?
He hoped so. He prayed she had at least thought of him from time to time, because he had thought of her every single day.
“Are you going to say something? We’ve been sitting her for hours,” Bleu said. “Go talk to him, Messiah.”
“The nigga might fucking shoot me.” Messiah scoffed. “He really might, and I’d deserve it.”
“This is crazy. Messiah, the man is sitting at his dead love’s grave. He’s not carrying a gun,” Bleu reasoned.
“Ethic is always carrying,” Messiah shot back. He walked over to Ethic, and when he was within voice’s reach, he said, “OG.”
Ethic lifted his head, and shock wore away like a flash of lightning as confusion, then rage took over. Ethic stood, hand dipped to his waist from instinct alone … add in the mistrust that existed between them and Messiah couldn’t guarantee he would walk out the cemetery alive.
“I’m not on no bullshit,” Messiah said, lifting his shirt and turning around to show he wasn’t strapped.
“Niggas like you are always on bullshit, Messiah,” Ethic stated, voice deep and unforgiving. “I thought you were dead.”
“I was close to it,” Messiah revealed.
“You left my fucking…” Ethic stopped himself and cleared his throat. “I picked up a lot of broken pieces after you disappeared, Messiah. You broke Mo down. Even before she thought you died, and now you come back like it’s nothing. Like the shit you do don’t affect her!”
The longer he spoke, the louder he got. Anger spilled from him; it poured out of him.
“Shorty said I could come home,” Messiah whispered. “She said she’d always be home.” His face contorted. “I ain’t never had nobody, man, until her.”
“Then you should have taken better care of her. I told you not to fuck with her, and you did it anyway, knowing you would hurt her. I told you no, little nigga!”
“I know. I want to say I would do it different if I could go back, but I wouldn’t, OG. I love her,” Messiah said. “I’d risk it all every time just to feel that with her.”
“Where the fuck you been, Messiah? You don’t leave somebody you love for two years. I’m trying real hard to control myself. You have no idea what you left behind.”
“I have cancer, big homie. I didn’t come back because I couldn’t, and I left because I didn’t want her to see me die. I sent her every dime I ever saved in the game. A million-dollar check. Sold my businesses, my houses, all the cars, and cleared the safe so I could leave her with something. I thought I was dead. God had other plans,” Messiah said.
“Cancer.” Ethic said the word like he was pondering it. “What stage?”
“Four,” Messiah revealed. Ethic closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his head. Messiah had stressed him many times over the years, but this time had to be the most weighted. “It was everywhere, man—probably still is, but the doctors say it’s chilling for now. Remission. I’ve got a little time. Whatever time I got, I want to spend it with her. I want to see her face, man, because some days that face was the only thing that got me through. I’ve had a hard time, man.” His voice cracked, and his lip trembled.
Ethic’s defenses lowered.
“And you went through it by yourself? Chemo? Radiation?” Ethic asked.
“I ain’t got nobody, man,” Messiah said. He was broken as he dropped his head and tears fell from his eyes. He sniffed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ethic advanced on him, giving him a strong pat on the back followed by a strong embrace.
“Pick your head up, boy,” Ethic said, clenching his jaw because he was fighting through rage to feel empathy for someone he had looked at as a brother … at times he had thought of him as a son.
“I need her, man. I went through all that. So much pain just to get back to her. I can’t not have her. I need her back.” Messiah broke down.
He sniffed away his emotion only for it to flood him again. It took him a minute to gain his composure.
“Morgan is delicate, Messiah. This isn’t something you can just drop on her. She’s been through a lot. The timing has to be right.”
Ethic thought about the suicide attempt and the birthing of twins that Messiah didn’t even know belonged to him. He wanted to tell him, but neither secret was his to share. Morgan had to reveal those things, and he feared that Messiah’s sudden return may be detrimental to Morgan’s health.
“I’ll do whatever it takes, whatever you say. I need you to help me, OG. I need you to help me come home to her. Help me, man. Nobody ever helped me. I was little as fuck, man, and nobody did shit!” Messiah cried. “Don’t leave me stuck, man. Just help me get her back. She the only one that ever loved me, man. I got to get her back.”
Messiah’s head landed in the center of Ethic’s chest as he sobbed, and Ethic tightened his face as he placed his hands on Messiah’s head. He knew Messiah wasn’t talking about Morgan anymore. He was talking about his childhood, about surviving molestation, about abuse confusing him, making him angry. He was talking about every single adult in his life that was supposed to protect him inflicting harm or disregard. Ethic couldn’t be another. Somebody had to step up. “I got you,” Ethic said. “I got you.”
Relief flooded Messiah as Ethic held him. Another man had never touched him without inflicting harm. Another man had never fathered him, and the void Ethic was filling in this moment was healing. Messiah was in desperate need of forgiveness, and Ethic was willing to offer absolution. Messiah was back in the city, but he wasn’t home.
Home was with Morgan Atkins, and he was determined to earn her back, what he didn’t know was that he was starting late in the race for her heart. There were two other contenders, and Messiah was already losing. Winning her wouldn’t be easy because now that she had been loved correctly, he wouldn’t be able to come to her with anything less than his best …
TO BE CONTINUED IN
Butterfly II
COMING SOON.
DON’T FORGET TO CHECK OUT THE ETHIC SERIES.
BOOKS 1–5 ARE AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON.
ALSO BY ASHLEY ANTOINETTE
Luxe
Luxe Two: A LaLa Land Addiction
Moth to a Flame
Guilty Gucci
Love Burn
The Prada Plan series 1–5
The Ethic series 1–6
About the Author
ASHLEY ANTOINETTE is one of the most successful female writers of her time. The feminine half of the popular married duo Ashley and JaQuavis, she has co-written more than forty novels. Several of her titles have hit the New York Times bestsellers list, but she is most widely regarded for her racy series The Prada Plan. Born in Flint, Michigan, she was bred with an innate street sense that she uses as motivation in her crime-filled writings. You can sign up for email updates here.
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@Novelista
@AshleyAntoinette
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Letter to the Fans
Playlist
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Also by Ashley Antoinette
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by St. Martin’s Griffin, an imprint of the St. Martin’s Publishing Group
BUTTERFLY. Copyright © 2019 by Ashley Antoinette. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design and illustration by Joshua Wirth
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-13636-7 (trade paperback)
ISBN 978-1-250-13637-4 (ebook)
e-ISBN 9781250136374
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First Edition: January 2020
Butterfly Page 25