Page 72 of You Were Always Mine
His hand hovers low, the heat of him unbearable, but every time I arch for more, he drags it away. My body is on fire, shame clawing at me, and still I can’t stop.
“Say it,” he whispers against my lips, voice dark velvet. His thumb strokes the waistband of my jeans, taunting me. “Tell me what you want, Scar.”
“I—” The word breaks, strangled, my throat raw from holding back. My nails dig into his shoulders, trembling, furious.
“Don’t make me guess,” he breathes, kissing the corner of my mouth, cruelly soft. His hand presses down harder, right where I ache, then pulls away again until I’m sobbing in frustration. “You want my fingers here? My mouth? Or do you want me to fuck you with my cock?”
The filth coils around me like smoke. My shame bursts, spilling out before I can catch it.
“Yours,” I sob, the word tearing out of me. “I want—fuck, Kai—I want to be yours.”
He groans, a sound torn from deep inside him, his hand finally pressing down, harder, but still not enough, his lips dragging across mine as he whispers, “You already are, Scar. Every filthy piece of you.”
The second the word leaves me—yours—it hangs in the air like a noose tightening around my throat. My stomach drops, panic slams through me, and shame spreads hot and sick under my skin.
I push at his chest, shaking my head, tears stinging. “No—fuck, I didn’t mean?—”
Kai’s hand slides up my spine, slow, caressing, his voice soft where it should be sharp. “Shh.” He presses his forehead to mine, lips ghosting over my mouth. “Baby, come on… don’t cry. Let’s have some fun.”
The switch makes my heart stutter. His thumb strokes my cheek like I didn’t just beg to belong to him. Like he didn’t wring my dirtiest secret out of me.
Before I can find words, he’s already pulling back, smirking faintly, like he’s in control of everything. His hand captures mine, tugging me toward the door. “Comeon, Scar.” His grin flashes in the dark. “Let’s break into the fairground.”
The car door slams; the night air cold against my burning skin, and he doesn’t let go of my hand. Not once.
The gravel crunches under our shoes as we cross the empty lot, his hand still locked around mine, too warm, too certain. I tug once, twice, but he doesn’t let go, just glances down with that crooked grin that makes me feel like the world’s already tilted.
“Scared, baby sister?” he asks, voice low, taunting.
I roll my eyes, desperate to mask the tremor in my chest. “Of trespassing? Please. I’m scared of you.”
He chuckles, dark and amused, his thumb brushing the inside of my wrist like he knows exactly how fast my pulse is racing. “Good. You should be.”
The looming silhouette of the fairground rises ahead, gates chained shut, rides skeletal in the moonlight. The Ferris wheel cuts into the sky like broken teeth. My throat tightens.
Kai leans down, whispering near my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Don’t look so tense. I promised you fun.” His fingers trail down the small of my back as if to guide me forward, igniting sparks under my skin.
“And this is your idea of fun?” I hiss, trying to keep the shake out of my voice.
His grin widens, wolfish. “Breaking rules. Making you sweat. Watching you try not to fall apart when I touch you.”
The words land like fire in my gut, and I hate how much I shiver.
We stop at the chain-link fence, the fairground beyond cast in shadows. Kai steps close enough that his chest presses to my back, his hands braced on the cold metal beside mine. Trapping me.
“Up you go,” he murmurs, lips grazing the shell of my ear. “Or do you need me to put my hands all over you and lift you over myself?”
The chain-link bites into my palms as I grab hold, sneakers scraping for leverage. The metal rattles under me, too high, too sharp, and I already know I’m not strong enough—but I’d rather shred my hands to ribbons than admit that in front of him.
“Look at you,” Kai murmurs behind me, low and amused. “Climbing like a good little thief. Trying so hard to prove you don’t need me.”
“Shut up,” I hiss, hauling myself another few inches, breath ragged, hair sticking to my lips. My arms tremble, my foot slips, the metal tearing at my jeans.
His hand comes to my waist before I can catch myself. Not lifting me. Just there. Hot, heavy, steady.
“You’re shaking.” His voice is right against my ear, thewords curling through me like smoke. “You want me to help? Or do you want to keep pretending?”
I grit my teeth, nails digging into the fence, but his thumb strokes slow across my hip, and my whole body betrays me with a shiver.
