Page 100 of You Were Always Mine
My lips part, but nothing comes. I shake my head, and his hand presses harder, his knuckles grazing my clit through the thin fabric, making me gasp.
“I—” My voice cracks. “I… pretended your hand was around my throat.”
A growl rumbles against my skin. His fingers slip beneath the waistband, dragging slow, deliberate strokes over my swollen folds. “Good girl. What else?”
I’m panting, my thighs trembling, shame boiling in my chest. “Sometimes…” I bite down hard on my lip, but his finger circles my clit cruelly, forcing the words out in a rush. “Sometimes I put the pillow over my face and I say your name.”
He drags two fingers lower, slicking them with my wetness, then pushes them back up, spreading me apart until I cry out. His breath is ragged now. “Say it for me, Scar. Say it now.”
“Ka—Kai…”
His thumb grinds down, relentless. “Another one. Don’t stop. Feed me everything you’ve hidden.”
I sob, arching, my nails clawing at the sheets. “I imagine you making me beg. On my knees. I—oh God—” His tongue suddenly replaces his fingers, hot and merciless, and I choke on the confession, shaking.
He pulls back just enough to sneer against me. “Filthy little liar. You’ve been mine all along, haven’t you?”
And with one sharp thrust of his fingers, curling wickedly inside, I break open, shame spilling with every ragged breath. “Yes—yes, I’ve always been yours.”
His finger hooks beneath the lace, slow, taunting,grazing over skin that makes my thighs jolt shut — but he forces them apart with his knee.
“Show me how wet you are for me, Scar.” His breath is hot against my throat. “Or do I need to find out myself?”
I choke, my voice breaking. “Please don’t?—”
He dips lower, stroking through my slick folds, dragging the wetness up until it stains the thin fabric. “This is what you don’t want me to know?” His thumb presses cruelly on my clit, light, mocking circles. “You’ve been dripping for me while telling yourself I’m your brother. That’s your shame.”
“Stop—” My protest shatters into a whimper when he presses harder, slow enough to leave me thrashing.
“Not until you confess the rest. Tell me what you imagine when you touch yourself.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, tears leaking down my temples. “I… I imagine your mouth.” The words claw out of me. “Between my legs.”
His laugh is dark, broken. “Filthy little liar. You don’t just imagine my mouth.” He pushes two fingers inside slowly, curling. “What else?”
My body bows, sobbing. “Your cock.” The word tastes like sin, and it leaves me trembling. “Splitting me open.”
His pace never quickens — slow, relentless, cruel. “And where do you imagine it, Scar? Say it.”
My whole body shakes. “Inside me,” I whisper, ashamed and undone.
His fingers trail up my ribs, deliberately slow, leaving goosebumps that sting like burns. He palms my breast through the thin cotton, squeezing just enough to make me gasp, then lets go, smirking like he’s disappointed.
“Too many clothes, Scar,” he murmurs, his voice lowand cruel. “But I’m not taking them off for you. If you want me this badly, you’ll give me a show.”
Heat floods my face. “No.” It’s weak, a lie we both hear break in my throat.
He leans back in the chair, spreading his thighs, his eyes molten as they rake down my body. “Then I’ll just keep touching you through every damn layer until you’re screaming for me to tear them off. Your choice.”
His hand snakes back between my thighs, pressing hard over the damp spot in my panties, his thumb circling lazily. I jolt forward, my hands trembling, shame cracking me open.
“Please…” I whisper.
“Please what?” His tone sharpens. “Please take them off? Please watch me while you strip? Please make me lose my fucking mind while you dance on my cock, Scar?”
My hands move before my mouth answers. Tugging the hem of my shirt up, I peel it off slow, trembling, my stomach tightening with humiliation. His gaze devours me, hungry, greedy, cruelly entertained.
“That’s it,” he says, voice dark silk. “Arms up, baby. Let me see every inch.”
