Page 102 of You Were Always Mine
So I drag my hips in a slow circle, then another, pressing myself down as if I can brand him through his clothes, shame prickling every inch of my skin. My breath turns ragged, thighs burning, but I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.
“You hear that?” he murmurs, tilting his head, listening to the wet sound of me grinding on him. “That’s you, Scar. That’s what you sound like when you beg without words.”
Tears sting my lashes as I keep moving, because he’s right—I am begging. Every roll of my hips, every tremor in my hands, every shaky gasp is a plea I can’t take back.
And still he won’t touch me. Still, he just sits there, smirking, letting me destroy myself in his lap.
I try to pull away just enough to breathe, but his hand is already at the small of my back, not pressing me down—just resting there like a brand. It’s the threat in the weight of it, the way he doesn’t even need to hold me for my body to obey.
I rock harder. Slow. Obscene. The denim of his jeans is damp with me now, friction biting and feeding the fire between my thighs. My chest heaves as I arch and slide, and the shame coils tighter in my gut until it’s almost dizzying.
“Take it off.” His voice is velvet over steel.
My hands hesitate at the clasp of my bra. He cocks a brow, smirk cruel and patient. I undo it, straps sliding down my arms, nipples aching in the cool air. His gaze lingers there long enough to make my stomach flip, but he doesn’t touch, doesn’t lean in. Just watches like he’s the king of something dark and I’m performing for him.
“That’s it. Keep going, Scar.” His words are low, hungry, but still cruel. “Rub yourself all over me. Pretend it’s enough.”
It isn’t. It will never be enough. My thighs quiver as Idrag myself down harder, spreading slick across rough denim. The sound of it makes me want to vanish into the floor.
“Look at you,” he whispers, leaning so close his mouth almost brushes my ear. “Grinding yourself raw on me like a little whore. And I haven’t even touched you.”
The tears come hot, sliding down my face as I move faster, humiliation and need crashing together until I can’t tell where one ends, and the other begins.
“Say it,” he breathes. “Say you like it.”
My voice cracks on the confession, shame spilling with it. “I like it.”
“Louder.”
“I—” My hips buck helplessly. “I like it.”
His laugh is low, dark, satisfied. He leans back, spreads his legs wider beneath me, letting me ride him deeper. My whole body trembles as I obey, every drag hotter, filthier, wetter.
And still he doesn’t touch. Still, he keeps me there, writhing and crying on his lap, until I feel like I’ll split apart from the ache.
One second I’m grinding myself raw on the hard ridge of him, tears slipping down my cheeks because I can’t stop humiliating myself like this—because he told me to—because I want him to see me break.
The next his hands are on me.
Kai snaps like a storm, fingers bruising my hips as he yanks me down hard, shoving me against him so rough the chair slams back against the wall. My gasp cracks into a sob, my body jerking at the violent shock of finally being touched after all his cruel waiting.
“Enough,” he growls against my ear, voice ragged, dangerous, like he’s as wrecked as I am. “You think youcan tease me? Make me sit here and watch you lose your mind while I do nothing? Not a chance, Scar. You don’t get to play with me—I play with you.”
His mouth finds my throat, biting, sucking, branding me with every filthy promise he’s ever whispered. His hips surge up hard into me, grinding so deep my cry tears itself free, half pain, half desperate pleasure.
“You’re mine,” he rasps, shoving me down again, grinding me until I feel split in two. “Say it. Say you’re mine or I’ll ruin you right here, right now, until you can’t even crawl away from me.”
I choke on the words, on the tears, on the heat that won’t let me breathe. My nails dig into his shoulders, my body arching even as shame floods me.
And all I can think is—this is what I wanted. This is what I feared.
Kai
Idon’t even remember the moment I lost the thread. One second she’s straddling me, dancing slow and cruel with her tears running down her face, the next I’ve got her pinned, dragging her down hard until she’s split open on me.
The first slide inside rips me apart. She’s so tight, so wet, so wrecked that I can’t breathe—my head kicks back against the wall and a raw, guttural sound tears out of me before I can stop it. Her heat drags at me like quicksand, like she’s going to swallow me whole and I’ll thank her for it.
“Christ, Scar…” My voice is nothing but gravel and filth, my hands locked on her hips like I’ll break her if she even thinks about moving away. “You feel like you were made for me. You hear me? Made for me.”
