Page 63 of You Were Always Mine
I can’t.
I grind harder, frantic, sobbing into his mouth, smearing my tears against his lips, every sound that rips out of me a broken confession of how badly I need him.
And his cock twitches under me, hot, hard, leaking, sliding against me until I don’t know if I’m begging for release or for him to finally give in and push inside.
I’m gone. My body’s not mine anymore—it’s his,trembling, begging, burning. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t stop the filthy sounds tearing out of my throat as I grind against him, bare skin to bare skin, slick heat dragging over the hard length of him.
He’s hissing curses into my mouth, gripping my hips, trying to slow me, trying to hold me back, but I can’t—I won’t.
I ride him harder, wetter, desperate, tears running hot down my face. My sob breaks into a moan as his cock slides against me, the head catching right where I ache the most.
“Scar—fuck—stop,” he says with a wrecked voice, his grip faltering, his body trembling under mine.
I don’t stop.
I can’t.
I rock once, twice, until I’m lined up, and the tip presses right where I need it, stretching me open. And then I do it.
I sink down.
His roar rips through the room, his head snapping back, every muscle in his body locking as I take him inside me, inch by brutal inch. My scream crashes into his, pain and pleasure tearing through me until I’m sobbing, shaking, clinging to him.
He’s buried inside me now. All of him.
And I can’t take it back.
The stretch splits me apart, sharp and burning, but I can’t stop—I won’t. My hips move on their own, broken little circles as I try to take more, try to swallow all of him even though it feels like too much.
Kai’s hands are iron on my waist, his jaw clenched, his eyes wild. “Scar—fuck?—”
I sob, pressing my forehead to his, my tears drippinghot down his cheek as I rock on him, every motion driving him deeper.
“It’s so wrong,” I whisper, my voice cracked and shaking, the words falling apart on my tongue. “So fucking wrong?—”
But my body doesn’t care. My thighs keep working, dragging myself up and sinking back down, grinding until the pain turns molten, until the wrongness twists into something filthier.
“Scarlett—stop—” His voice shreds, but his grip only drags me down harder, forcing me to take him deeper, his breath tearing ragged against my lips.
I sob again, louder, my hips slamming down despite myself, my nails carving into his chest. “I can’t—I can’t stop—I don’t want to.”
And then I’m moving faster, broken, ruined, crying the truth into his mouth while my body rides him like I’ve been his all along.
“So wrong,” I whisper again, my voice nothing but shattered need. “So fucking wrong… but it feels?—”
A moan tears through me, filthy, desperate, undeniable.
“—it feels so fucking good.”
The words taste like ash, like sin, like blood in my mouth, but I can’t stop saying them. My sobs break into moans, the sound of me bouncing on him filling the room, wet, obscene, every thrust a betrayal that feels like salvation.
“I’m disgusting,” I choke out, my hair plastered to my face, my body slamming down on his cock like I’ll die without it. “I’m so fucking wrong, Kai?—”
His hands crush my waist, his eyes burning into mine, but I don’t stop; I can’t. My hips grind harder, filthier,dragging him deeper, chasing the high even as the shame tears me apart.
The wet slap of our bodies collides with the broken sounds ripping from my throat. I sob and moan at once, my tears dripping down his chest as my nails leave raw red tracks across his skin.
“I hate myself,” I whisper, my voice splintering as I rock faster, harder, shamelessly. “But I can’t stop—I don’t want to stop—I want more.”
