Page 20 of You Were Always Mine
She lands straddling me, her thighs bracketing mine, her dress riding up high, the heat of her pressed flush against the bulge in my jeans.
Her gasp shreds the silence.
My hands lock on her waist, holding her tight, keeping her there. Her fists beat once, twice against my chest, but I don’t move. I don’t even flinch.
Her eyes flash up to mine, fury and something darker burning behind them, and my voice drops to a growl against her mouth.
“I told you to come sit on my lap, little sister. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”
Her body’s hot over mine, thighs clamped tight around my hips, her nails digging into my chest like she wants to tear me apart. Her body shakes, yet her gaze is still piercing.
I slide my hands lower, grip her waist harder, and push her down against me.
She gasps, the sound torn from her throat when the hard length of my cock presses right against her. As her dress moves up, a scorching heat radiates through the thin denim, and she jumps as though jolted.
“Stop,” she spits, but the word cracks, splinters, her breath stuttering as I grind her tighter against me.
My head falls back, a low groan tearing through my teeth. “Feel that, Scarlett?” My voice is rough, guttural. “Feel what you fucking do to me?”
Her lips part, her chest heaving, and I see it — the way her pupils blow wide, the way her thighs tense around me, the shiver she can’t hold back.
“Kai…” Her voice falters, breaks. Then softer, ragged: “Why are you hard?”
My laugh is dark, low, broken. I grip her hips, drag her slowly across the bulge straining against my jeans, savouring the way her breath catches.
“Because of you,” I growl, blue eyes locked on hers, wild, unflinching. “Always you. Only you.”
Her eyes are wide, glassy, her breath shuddering as she squirms in my grip — but I don’t let her move away. My fingers lock tighter around her hips, dragging her down slow, forcing her to feel every inch of me straining under the denim.
She whimpers, just barely, her hands pressing against my chest like she can shove me back, but her thighs only clamp tighter around me.
“Fuck, Scarlett…” My voice is ragged, dangerous, my forehead pressing to hers. “Do you feel what you’ve done to me? How hard I am for you?”
Her jaw clenches, lips parting like she wants to spit in my face again, but then I grind her down harder, and her breath shatters into a gasp.
I smile, sharp, cruel. “You walk around the house in those tiny shorts, licking your lips, looking at me like you hate me… and you wonder why my cock’s been aching for you every fucking night.”
She shakes her head, trembling, her eyes shining with fury and something else she doesn’t want to name. “S-stop.”
I laugh low, broken, pushing her hips in another slow grind against me, my cock throbbing against the heat ofher pussy. “You don’t want me to stop. You’re wet for me right now, aren’t you? Soaked through that pretty little dress while you sit on my lap like a good girl.”
Her whole body jerks, a betraying shiver running through her, and I feel it — the heat, the tension, the way her thighs quiver against mine.
My mouth grazes her ear, my voice filthy, brutal. “Say it, little sister. Say you feel me. Say you know you’re the reason I’m this fucking hard.”
Her breath shatters into ragged pieces as I drag her hips down harder, rolling her against me until I can feel the heat of her pussy through the thin slip of fabric between us. Her nails claw at my chest, but she doesn’t push away — she drags down my shirt like she wants to mark me.
“God, you’re sick,” she spits, her words venom, her voice trembling. “You get hard for your own sister?”
I groan low, the sound guttural, feral, my head falling back against the seat. Her body shifts with the movement, her thighs tightening around me, her ass grinding down as if she doesn’t even realise what she’s doing.
“You hate it,” I growl, pulling her hips forward and back in a rhythm that makes her gasp. “But your body doesn’t. You’re fucking dripping on me, Scarlett.”
“Shut up,” she snaps, twisting in my grip, but I catch her chin in one hand, force her eyes back on mine.
“Say it again,” I snarl, grinding her harder, the thick bulge of my cock pressed tight against her core. “Call me sick. Tell me I’m wrong. Do it while you’re rubbing your pretty pussy all over me.”
Her chest heaves, her glare sharp enough to draw blood, but her hips buck against mine — unsteady, broken, betraying her.
