Page 101 of You Were Always Mine
I obey, shame dripping off me like sweat, until the shirt falls and I’m bare-chested, my nipples hard under his stare. His fingers keep teasing my clit through soaked lace, slow, unhurried.
“Now climb up,” he orders, leaning back even further. “Show me how you grind. Make me believe you want it more than air.”
My knees shake as I swing a leg over him, straddling his lap. His cock is hard against me even through denim, and my body betrays me with a sobbing moan as I press down.
“Good girl,” he growls, his lips brushing my ear. “Now dance for me. One piece at a time.”
His voice is a razor at my throat. “Take your time. Make me watch.”
My hands shake as I peel my top over my head, the straps catching on my elbows. I feel his stare crawling over every inch of skin I reveal, but he doesn’t touch — just sits back, wide-legged in the chair like a king waiting to be worshipped.
“Slower,” he orders when I fumble with the clasp of my bra. His tone forces me to drag it out, fingers trembling until the straps slip and the lace falls, leaving me bare under his gaze. My nipples tighten in the chill, but it’s not the cold that makes me shiver — it’s him.
I climb onto his thighs, straddling him, my knees sinking into the chair cushion. His hands stay on the armrests, fists clenched white. He won’t touch me, not yet. He wants me to break myself.
“Move.”
I grind down tentatively, the rough denim of his jeans catching my panties, sparking heat against me. His head tips back with a groan that makes me clench, but when I try to stop, he snaps his gaze to mine.
“Don’t you dare stop, Scar. Dance for me. Show me what you’d do if the entire world wasn’t watching.”
Tears sting my lashes, humiliation burning my chest, but I obey. My hips circle, slow and filthy, dragging myself over the thick ridge beneath his zipper. Every pass makes me wetter, shame slicking my thighs, and he feels it. I know he does because his jaw tightens like it’s breaking.
“That’s it. Use me. Make yourself cum on my lap like the dirty little fantasy you told me about.”
I sob into his shoulder, still grinding, my hair sticking to my wet cheeks. His breath ghosts hot against my ear.
“Touch yourself while you do it.”
I hesitate, mortified, but his hand snaps out, gripping my wrist, guiding it down until my fingers slide over my own soaking pussy through lace. The contact nearly undoes me. He doesn’t let go — he makes me touch myself harder while his cock throbs beneath me, trapped in denim.
The humiliation is unbearable. The pleasure is worse. My thighs shake, my breath breaking into sobs, and he whispers against my mouth, sweet and cruel:
“Cry for me. Break for me. Make a mess all over me, Scar. I want every filthy inch of this dance burned into your shame.”
His knees are steel beneath me, unyielding, spreading me wider as if he’s already claimed the shape of me. My thighs tremble, not from weakness but from the way his eyes pin me—lazy, hungry, cruel. The music in my head is only the pounding of my own pulse, each beat louder as I roll my hips slowly, grinding down on him like it costs me something.
Kai doesn’t move. He sits back, shoulders loose, mouth curled in the kind of smirk that knows he owns me just by waiting me out. His hands rest on the arms of the chair, fingers tapping out a rhythm that dares me to keep going, to humiliate myself further.
“Slower, Scar,” he drawls, the words warm and poisonous all at once. “Make me feel every inch of how desperate you are.”
My skin burns as I slide my hands up my own body, tugging at the straps of my top, peeling it down in a shaky show that makes my breath stutter. The cold air kisses mychest, but his stare sears hotter, heavier, and I swear I can’t breathe without his permission.
When I rock forward, brushing against him, the friction makes me bite my lip until it stings. His thighs tense under me, but still he doesn’t touch. He won’t. That’s the game. I’m the one moving, undressing, dragging myself over him like an offering while he watches, wickedly patient.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice dark silk. “My good little sister, putting on a show no one else will ever see. Filthy girl. Keep moving.”
Shame makes my eyes sting, but I obey—because the way his jaw ticks, the way his breathing sharpens when my hips roll just right, that’s the reward. That’s the leash and the choke chain all at once.
The chair creaks under me as I grind slower, harder, dragging myself over the thick ridge of him through his jeans. Every movement feels obscene in the quiet, a low friction moan catching in my throat no matter how hard I try to swallow it back.
Kai leans forward just enough for his breath to brush my cheek, not touching, not even close enough to ease the ache burning me up from the inside. His smile is razor sharp.
“Don’t look away,” he whispers, and I force my eyes back to his, heat searing straight through me as I move.
My hands shake as I slide them higher, tugging my top all the way off, leaving me bare beneath his stare. I hate the way my nipples harden under his gaze, hate the way mybody betrays me, but it only makes his smirk deepen.
“Slower,” he says again, softer now, crueller. His voice drips over me like honey laced with venom. “Make me feel it, Scar. Make me see it.”
