Page 125 of You Were Always Mine
I look him dead in the eye while I fuck her harder with my hand, savouring the way her breath hitches against my throat. “Then I’ll let them watch,” I murmur, just for her, not him.
Her whole body spasms around my fingers—right there, right on the edge—when Tyler finally scoffs, turns, and walks away, muttering, “Fucked up, man. Real fucked up.”
The second he’s gone, I slam my palm over Scar’s mouth to muffle the scream tearing out of her as I push her straight over.
She’s thrashing in my lap, muffled cries spilling into my palm as I grind my hand harder against her, dragging her through it slow and merciless. I don’t let her come clean, not once—not when she claws at me, not when she bites down on my throat like she’s trying to leave proof of us.
I keep her pinned to me, fingers working deeper, curling so cruelly she can’t stop the spasms ripping through her body. Every wave hits harder, her thighs jerking, her breath breaking, her moans drowned against my hand.
“Yeah, take it,” I rasp into her ear, sweat dripping down my temple, my teeth grazing her skin. “Let him laugh. Let him think he knows anything. Only I get to feel you break like this. Only me.”
Her hips won’t stop grinding, desperate, messy, soaking my hand like she’s trying to prove me right with every pulse. I drag her through it longer than she can handle, forcing her to stay right there on the edge of bliss and ruin, whispering filth into her hair while she sobs into my palm.
“Good girl,” I murmur, low and dangerous. “Cry for me, Scar. Cry while you cum. I want every tear, every sound. I want you wrecked so bad you’ll never forget whose lap you were sitting on when he ran his mouth.”
She collapses into me, shaking, ruined, my fingers still buried inside her, dragging out every last tremor until she’s choking on my name.
Her whole body is still trembling, thighs clamped tight around my hand like she’s trying to hold me there forever. I don’t give her that mercy. I drag my fingers out slowly, knuckle by knuckle, watching her wince and whimper against my chest. She’s soaked—my hand glistens in the low light, every inch of me dripping with her mess.
I catch her chin in my free hand, tilting her face up until those glassy, tear-wet eyes meet mine. She’s wrecked, hair clinging to her cheeks, lips parted like she can’t even breathe without me.
“Open,” I whisper, filthy soft, brushing my slick fingers over her mouth.
She shakes her head, shame in the tiny movement, but I press harder, smearing her own wetness over her lips until her mouth parts on a sob. I slide two fingers in slowly, curling them against her tongue, holding her gaze the whole time.
“Yeah,” I growl, voice low enough only she hears over the music. “Taste it. Taste what you did sitting on my lap while he ran his mouth. You think he owns anything?He doesn’t. This—” I push my soaked fingers deeper, feel her throat flutter around them, “—this is mine. You’re mine.”
Her eyes squeeze shut, tears spilling fresh as she sucks me clean, broken little sounds vibrating against my hand. I lean close, lips brushing her ear while she chokes and swallows.
“Good girl. Take it all. Don’t waste a drop.”
When I finally pull my hand free, I smear the shine across her bottom lip, marking her with it, leaving her trembling and humiliated and still straddling me in that booth.
Scarlett
The car ride home is too quiet. The music hums low from the radio, but it only makes the silence worse, every beat of bass rattling in my chest like a secret I can’t swallow. Kai hasn’t said a word since he pulled me off his lap. He locks his jaw, and his hand still grips the wheel as if he would snap it clean in two if I breathed wrong.
I should feel safe. I should feel wanted. Instead, I feel ruined. Sticky thighs. Smudged lipstick. Tyler’s laughter echoed in my head.
I stare out the window and try not to choke on the truth — that part of me that liked it. That part of me that wanted to fall apart right there in Kai’s lap, even with the entire world watching.
The car slows. Our driveway. Home.
I unclip my seatbelt, but my hands shake so badly it takes two tries. He notices. Of course he does. His eyes cut to me once, sharp enough to pin me in place, then he looks away like I’m nothing. Like I’m already guilty.
Inside the house, it is dark. Our parents are asleep. The moment the door clicks behind us, I feel the weight of it pressing down. The quiet. The secrets. Him.
I kick off my shoes, push my hair from my face, and head straight for the bathroom. I lock the door. Sit on the toilet lid. My phone buzzes before I can even breathe.
Tyler: Bet he loved fingering his sister in public.
Tyler: Should I tell everyone? Or do you want to meet me again, Scar? Just you and me.
My stomach lurches. My fingers slip, and the phone nearly crashes onto the tiles. I press my palm against my mouth to keep from screaming.
I thought he’d stop. I thought if I ignored him, he’d disappear. But he’s feeding on it, twisting the knife deeper.
I shove the phone under the sink towel pile as if hiding it can erase the words. Then I stagger to the mirror.
