Page 79 of You Were Always Mine
My nails claw at his shoulders, desperate, frantic, dragging him closer even as I try to shove him away. My body betrays me, grinding against his thigh, a sob catching in my throat. “It’s wrong,” I gasp, but it comes out soaked with need.
He pins me harder, mouth devouring mine until I’m dizzy, until the glass feels like it’s the only thing holding me up. His free hand fists in my hair, jerking my head back so he can ravage my throat with filthy, open-mouthed kisses.
“You’re right,” he pants against my skin, his breath hot and dangerous. “There’s nothing good about me. Not anymore. Not when it comes to you.”
And God help me, I shiver like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear it.
His mouth is everywhere at once—biting my throat, swallowing the whimpers I can’t silence, tasting every inch like he’s trying to erase me. His hands are brutal and tender all at once, tugging, bruising, trembling as if he can’t decide whether to worship me or ruin me.
I’m clawing at him, dragging him closer, tearing at his shirt until buttons scatter across the sticky floor. My body grinds against his like I’m possessed, like I’ll die if there’s even a second of space between us.
“You feel this?” he snarls against my skin, shoving his thigh between mine, forcing me to ride the pressure. “This is what you fucking did to me. You cracked me open, Scar. You made me this monster.”
My hips roll helplessly, sobbing into his mouth, too far gone to pretend anymore. “Kai…”
He jerks back, his forehead pressed to mine, eyes feral and bloodshot. “Say it.” His hand digs into my waist,shaking me against him. “Say what I already know. Say you want me. Say you’re mine.”
And it breaks out of me—ugly, loud, trembling—tears streaking my face as the words tumble raw from my throat.
“I love you.”
Everything stops. Just for a second. The words hang between us like a loaded gun, dangerous and irreversible.
His chest heaves against mine, his lips hovering over my mouth, his body locked like he doesn’t know if he wants to kiss me deeper or kill me for saying it.
Then he snaps—harder, hungrier, crushing his mouth back to mine like he’s going to devour the word love before it can ruin us both.
He rips his mouth from mine only long enough to lift me clean off the glass, his hands bruising into my thighs as if they were made to fit there. The world lurches, a sick carousel of broken reflections and flickering bulbs as he carries me deeper into the funhouse.
My fists knot in his shirt, my lips still swollen and wet from his, shame and want bleeding into the same fever that makes my chest hurt. His boots hammer against the hollow floors, the cracked mirrors splintering our bodies into dozens of versions of us—hungry, ruined, feral.
When he drops into a crooked bench at the centre of a warped corridor, I don’t even think. I swing over him, straddling his lap like its instinct, like gravity dragged me there. His breath punches out against my mouth, his hands gripping my waist tight enough to make me gasp.
“Scar…” It’s a groan, a warning, a prayer. His head tips back against the mirror, and every angle shows me the same thing: his eyes, black with hunger, locked on me.
I grind down once, testing, daring. His jaw snaps tight.His hand flies up, cupping the back of my neck, forcing me closer until our foreheads crush together.
“You’re playing with fire,” he breathes, voice ragged. “And you want to burn, don’t you?”
My thighs squeeze his hips, my nails drag down his chest, and my answer spills out in a whisper that doesn’t sound like me. “Then burn me.”
The bench creaks beneath us, warped wood groaning like it knows it wasn’t built for this—for me clutching his shoulders, for him tearing at my clothes like he’s trying to rip away every barrier between us. Denim drags down my thighs, the cold funhouse air biting at my skin while his hands scorch it raw.
“Off,” Kai growls, and I don’t know if he means my shirt or everything I am, but I’m shaking my head even as I arch into his hands, even as the fabric shreds under his grip.
The mirrors catch us in jagged flashes—my bare skin, his wide hands clutching, dragging, claiming. I see myself straddling him, grinding down, my mouth parted in a cry I can’t swallow, and it’s obscene, every angle a confession I never wanted to make.
He’s bare now too, heat pressed against me, and I’m moving harder, faster, chasing friction until it hurts, until it feels like I’m bleeding for it. His fingers dig bruises into my hips, dragging me down until I can’t breathe, until I can’t think of anything but him.
“Harder, Scar,” he snarls into my neck, teeth grazing, tongue tasting the salt of my skin. “Show me how bad you want it. Show me I’m the only one you’ll ever ride like this.”
The mirrors don’t lie. They show me grinding harder,breaking myself open against him, sobbing into his mouth while he swallows every sound.
His teeth catch my bottom lip, sharp enough to sting, and then he’s inside me—thick, brutal, splitting me open in one hard thrust that knocks the breath from my chest. My cry echoes against a hundred warped mirrors, ricocheting back at me until I sound like a chorus of girls being ruined all at once.
Kai doesn’t move, not yet. He just holds me down on him, buried to the hilt, his chest pressed against mine so I feel every ragged breath he drags in like it’s being stolen out of me.
“Ride me,” he whispers, voice shredded, filthy. “Slow. I want to feel you break apart one grind at a time.”
