Page 104 of You Were Always Mine
Her nails are raking down my arms, leaving fire in their wake, and I don’t know if it’s hate or desperation or both, but I don’t care — I want it carved into me. My hand still clamps over her mouth, and her screams are reduced to muffled, broken noises that make my cock ache harder inside her as I can feel her snapping.
Her body goes rigid beneath me, back arching, then she thrashes against me, every ounce of fight exploding at once. She’s clawing, bucking, trying to throw me off, and I slam her hips back down, burying myself so deep she can’t move. My chest crushes hers, my breath ragged against her ear as I growl.
“Snap for me, Scar. Break right here. Break on my cock.”
And she does. God, she does. Her entire body convulses, legs shaking, tears leaking into my palm as she sobs into my hand, soaking wet, spasming around me so hard it almost drags me under with her. I thrust through it, relentless, making her feel every inch, because I want her to know there’s no air, no escape, nothing left of her except the way she shatters around me.
“Mine,” I snarl against her skin, pressing harder, harder, until she’s trembling in ruin beneath me. “You’ll never fucking cum without me. Never.”
She’s already gone glassy-eyed, body buckling under me, but I don’t let up. Not when she claws weakly at my wrist. Not when her cries crumble into whimpers under my hand. Not when her thighs shake like they’re going to give out.
I bury myself deep and keep grinding into the spasms, each thrust wringing another broken tremor out of her. She’s limp and shaking, her hips only moving because I force them to, and the sight of her like this — ruined, helpless, undone on me — snaps something black and wild inside my chest.
“Don’t stop now, baby,” I rasp into her hair, my voice shredded. “You’re going to feel me until you can’t remember your own fucking name. Until the only thing you know is me.”
Her nails drag down my shoulders in a pathetic scrape, no fight left, just reflex, and I drive harder, crueller, making her fall through the wreckage again and again. Her sobs hitch into little gasps against my palm, and I feel every broken sound vibrate into my bones.
“You collapse, I’ll hold you up. You shatter, I’ll keep the pieces. But you don’t get away from me. Not now. Not ever.”
Her body jerks around me one last time, so weak it’s almost nothing, and then she slumps, trembling wreckage in my arms, head rolling into the crook of my neck. And I keep moving anyway, slower now, dragging her through the aftershocks, because I can’t stop — because I don’t want to feel where she ends and I begin.
Her whole body is slack now, boneless in my arms, every ounce of fight stripped from her until she’s nothing but heat and tremors wrapped around me. And I can’t hold it anymore.
The sound she makes — broken, barely there — tears through me worse than any scream. My hips slam forward, my forehead pressed hard to hers, and I give in.
The world rips open when I cum inside her. Fierce, punishing, endless. My vision whites out, and I spill like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do, grinding deeper with each violent pulse until I’m carved into her, until she’s branded from the inside out.
“Scar,” I choke, my voice wrecked, almost begging. My hands clamp her tighter, one on her hip, one tangled in her hair, holding her down on me as if letting go would kill me. “Take it. Every drop. You’re mine. You fucking hear me? Mine.”
Her head lolls against me, a soft whimper sliding from her lips, and it undoes me all over again. I keep rutting through it, forcing myself deeper even as my body empties, desperate to fuse us together so nothing can rip her away.
I breathe her name like a prayer, like a curse, like it’s the only thing tethering me to this earth.
And when it’s over, when the quake finally drains from me and leaves me shaking, I don’t pull out. I don’t let go. I just hold her tighter, burying my face in her damp hair, whispering jagged, ruined words against her skin.
“Never leave me, Scar. I’ll burn everything before I let you go.”
Scarlett
The lie sits in my throat like broken glass.
Every time Kai looks at me, I can feel the edges cutting deeper, bleeding me out from the inside.
He doesn’t have to say a word. The way his eyes pin me in silence is enough. He knows. He’s always known.
I try to hold steady, try to keep my hands from shaking as I pour water into a glass at the kitchen counter. My back aches with the weight of pretending. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Nobody hurt me. This is the script I’ve been rehearsing in my head for days.
But his voice comes low, right behind me.
“Scarlett.”
My shoulders lock.
“Don’t,” I whisper, keeping my face turned to the sink.
He steps closer, heat bleeding off him, crowding me against the counter until the glass trembles in my hand.
“Don’t what?” His breath is in my ear, steady, dangerous. “Don’t ask? Don’t press? Or don’t hear you lie to me again?”
