Page 26 of Scar

She looks away, unable to meet my eyes, before she lifts her shoulders in a small shrug. “I thought it would be easier if I stayed here.”

I step into the room, closing the door. “Easier for who, Allegra?”

I watch as she swallows hard before she speaks again. “I’m not sure if we did the right thing,” she whispers, her eyesfinally meeting mine. “Last night wasn’t supposed to happen. We’re supposed to hate each other.”

My expression softens, a flicker of understanding passing through me. “We don’t have to be anything, Allegra. It would be easier if we didn’t try to kill each other at every turn.”

Allegra nods slowly, the knot in her stomach loosening just a bit. “I know,” she says, her voice barely audible. She must be as exhausted as I am from all the fighting.

I extend my hand to her; she hesitates for only a moment before she takes it, the fight gone out of her. My grip is firm, reassuring as I Iead her downstairs. The dining room falls silent as we enter, all eyes on us. I know my brothers are wondering what’s going on, and I know they may have already pieced together what happened last night, but I don’t pay them too much attention as I guide Allegra to the table and command her softly to eat.

She picks up her fork, her hands shaking slightly. I watch as she takes a small bite; the look on her face tells me she probably doesn’t have much of an appetite.

The tension in the room starts to ease as the conversations between my brothers resume, and I’ve never been more grateful for their noise as it helps trade her discomfort for reassurance. A sense of relief washes over Allegra’s face and she glances at me. For a moment, our eyes meet, a silent understanding passing between us.

“To new beginnings,” Brando says, lifting his cup of coffee and pointing it in our direction. “And to fragile truces.”

CHAPTER 24 – ALLEGRA

This is never where I imagined myself to be. In the arms of the man who took me from my home by force. He stole me from my parents because of a signed blood contract more than thirty years old. A contract that would have sat at the bottom of a draw if it weren’t for his stubborn resoluteness that he fulfill the contract as vengeance for an aunt that died even before he was born. Stubborn bastard.

Yet that stubborn bastard now has a firm grip on me. His huge body envelopes me from behind, an arm across my breasts, and a finger massaging my clit as he pumps into me. The sex is no longer painful like it was in the first few days.

We’ve set a rhythm for ourselves, and I find I Iook forward to these moments more than any others. He entertains me during the day with little spurts of time spent together in between work, and at night-every night-he takes me like it’s the first time all over again. Every time is different, and every night I think it can’t get any better, but it does. And I melt further into him.

He takes me brutally, like a man possessed, turning me inside out and twisting my heart just that little bit more as I start to want him more. And after he’s done, we bathe together then lay in bed until he climbs on me and takes me slowly, effortlessly, bringing me to climax again and again. I love it niceand slow just as much as I love it rough. And with each new experience of this world that he’s introduced me to, I find that I’m understanding my body and its needs more and more.

He gives me a hard thrust, then moves and turns onto his back, before lifting me and moving me above him. He lowers me onto his cock, piercing me savagely until I think I’m going to pass out. He holds steady, stopping his movements, then lifts his arms and folds them behind his head.

He's all muscle and sinew, ink covering most of his chest and across his broad shoulders. His rock-hard abs beckon me, and I bite my lip as I stare wantonly at the man beneath me.

“Ride me, baby,” Scar growls, his voice thick with desire.

I position myself over him, feeling the heat between us intensify. Slowly at first, I begin to move, savoring the sensation as I sink down onto him. His eyes never leave mine, and there's a lazy, confident grin on his face, as if he’s lounging in bed watching a ball game. His casual demeanor only fuels my desire.

I move faster, my hips finding a rhythm that has my clit scraping deliciously against his body with each thrust. Scar’s hands find my hips, guiding me, his touch both firm and possessive. His hooded eyes darken with lust as they roam over my body, settling on my breasts as they bounce with my movements.

His gaze is electric, and I can feel it like a physical touch, sending shivers down my spine. The faster I move, the more intense his stare becomes, and the more turned on I get. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I ride him harder, my body demanding release.

Scar's hands slide up my torso, cupping my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. I throw my head back, a moan escaping my lips as the pleasure builds, a tight coil of need winding tighter and tighter within me.

“Fuck, Allegra,” he groans, his voice rough.

His words send a rush of heat through me, and I move even faster, grinding against him, chasing the climax that's so close I can almost taste it. I can feel his balls tighten against my ass as I continue to move back and forth, up and down. His hips thrust up to meet mine, and the sensation pushes me over the edge. My orgasm crashes over me in waves, and I cry out, my body trembling with intensity.

Scar's grip tightens, and with a few more powerful thrusts, he follows me over the edge, his groan of release mingling with my cries. We collapse together, panting and spent, our bodies slick with sweat. I lay my head on his chest, listening to the rapid thump of his heart as it begins to slow.

For a moment, we just lie there. Scar’s hand gently strokes my hair, and I close my eyes, feeling a contentment I never thought possible.

As the haze of our lovemaking fades, Scar tilts my chin up, his eyes soft but intense. “I never hated you, you know. I know you think I did, but I didn’t.”

My father is no better when we visit him again. This time when Scar puts his hand in mine as we exit the car, I don’t fight him on it. Instead, a deep, crimson blush creeps slowly up my face, before I replace it with a soft smile.

My mother meets us at the door, her eyes glued to our hands and the ease with which our bodies communicate with one another. I can see the surprise on her face even as she pushes the door open and invites us in.

“No better?” I ask her.

“There’s been no change,” she tells me, looking over my shoulder at Scar. There are so many questions in her eyes, and he seems to sense this, because for the first time, he excuses himself and walks outside, claiming he needs to take a call. I know he’s more comfortable in our relationship that he probably now trusts me enough to stay here on my own, although it doesn’t escape me that he still hand delivers me instead of letting me come on my own.

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