Page 69 of You Were Always Mine
The room is spinning, the mattress shaking beneath us, my body wrecked and clinging when he finally breaks. His thrusts turn desperate, ragged, his groans ripping into my throat as he buries himself one last brutal time and collapses over me.
His weight crushes me, his chest heaving against mine, sweat slick between us. I can feel his heart pounding like it’s about to tear out of his ribs, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
I’m sobbing quietly, too spent to move, my legs still locked tight around his waist, holding him inside me like I don’t know how to let go.
His mouth finds my ear, his voice shredded, broken, but still filthy, still claiming. “You’re mine, Scar. Always mine. It doesn’t matter how wrong it is—it doesn’t matter who sees—you’ll never belong to anyone else.”
His hand drags down my side, fingers digging into myhip like he’s afraid I’ll slip away even now. He buries his face in my neck, breathing me in, whispering the same vow again, softer this time, like a prayer he’ll never stop repeating.
And I lie there trembling, destroyed, knowing I should hate him for it but hating myself more because I don’t.
Scarlett
The car hums low, windows down, the wind clawing at my hair as Kai drives like the road belongs to him. With one hand loose on the wheel, the other drumming against his thigh, cigarette burning between his fingers.
We’re not going anywhere special. Not a restaurant. Not a movie. Just—out. The excuse was errands, but it feels nothing like errands with the way his arm brushes mine every time he shifts gears.
The silence isn’t empty. It’s thick. Heavy. Pressed down on my chest until every breath feels stolen.
He flicks ash out the window, glances at me once, quick, like I’m not supposed to notice. But I do.
“Hungry?” His voice is low, casual, like we’re normal, like this is nothing.
I shrug, tugging at the frayed seam of my jeans. “Not really.”
He smirks, just barely. “Liar.”
The word lands hotter than it should,curling in my stomach. I stare out the window, the blur of trees and neon signs. We pass a fairground on the edge of town, rides standing silent, closed for the season. Rusted metal, chipped paint, a graveyard of noise waiting to be resurrected.
Kai slows at the light, glances again. “Want to stop?”
I almost laugh. It’s ridiculous. The place is dark, gates chained, only the moon lighting up the skeletons of rides. “It’s closed.”
His jaw ticks, smoke curling out of the corner of his mouth. “Since when has that ever stopped me?”
And then he turns, the car rolling onto the gravel shoulder, tires crunching loudly in the silence. He kills the engine, the night swallowing us whole, and suddenly it doesn’t feel like errands anymore.
It feels like something else. Something I shouldn’t want.
The engine cuts off, but he doesn’t move. Just sits there, one hand draped on the wheel, the other resting too close to the bare skin above my knee, his thumb brushing the hem like it’s an accident.
My throat is tight. “Kai… what are you doing?”
He turns his head slowly, that lazy grin tugging at his mouth like he knows exactly how my voice shakes.
“Relax, baby,” he says, low and drawled, like he’s not parking us outside a locked-up fairground at midnight. His thumb drags higher, barely grazing my thigh. “Don’t look so scared. I didn’t bring you out here to kill you.”
“Not funny,” I snap, but it comes out thinner than I mean it to, my pulse stuttering under my skin.
He leans in closer, the shadows cutting across his cheekbones, his voice sinking. “Then stop looking at me like you’re already bleeding for it.”
My breath stumbles, heat pooling traitorously low, and I try to twist toward the door, but his hand slides higher, firm now, grounding me in place.
“Kai—”
“Shhh.” His smirk sharpens, but his tone softens, like he’s coaxing me instead of taunting. “Come on, Scar. Just breathe. It’s only me.” His thumb strokes slow circles against my skin, his eyes pinning me there.
And the worst part is he’s right—it is only him. That’s what terrifies me.
