Page 45 of Jagger's Remorse
"Don't be gentle. I can't take gentleness from you."
So I'm not.
I score my nails down his back, bite his lip until I taste copper.
Give him the violence he needs to accept the want.
We fuck against the shower wall like we're trying to crawl inside each other's skin.
Like we're trying to erase five years of accumulated hunger.
Like we both know this ends in blood but can't stop reaching for the knife.
Like we're trying to erase five years of accumulated hunger.
Like we both know this ends in blood but can't stop reaching for the knife.
He lifts me against the shower wall, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
No hesitation.
No preparation.
Just him pushing inside like he's coming home.
"Fuck," I gasp against his mouth.
"Is this what you wanted?" He drives deeper, fingers digging into my thighs. "To make me lose control?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because—" I lose my words as he shifts angles, hits that spot that makes me see God.
Or the devil.
Hard to tell the difference anymore.
He bites my neck, sucks hard enough to mark. "Because what?"
"Because controlled men make boring corpses."
He laughs, dark and broken against my throat. "I'm going to miss you when you kill me."
"Bold of you to assume I'll let you."
I clench around him, watch his eyes roll back.
Use every internal muscle Diego trained me to weaponize.
"Jesus, Scarlett?—"
"Wrong name." I bite his earlobe. "Try again."
He chuckles, deep and low in his chest. "You want me to call you princess? Baby? My little dragon?"
"I want you to tell me the truth."
