Page 98 of You Were Always Mine
“Let me see you cum for me, Scar. Make yourself fall apart while I watch. Prove you’re mine.”
His palm smothers my mouth, forcing every whimper back down my throat, but the filth he breathes into my ear leaves me trembling. My hand moves, frantic, clumsily, desperately—and then his fingers close over mine, slowing me, forcing me to move the way he wants.
“Too fast,” Kai whispers, his breath ragged, his tone cruelly calm. “You don’t get to decide how you fall apart. I’ll guide every stroke, every twitch of those pretty fingers, until you forget your own name.”
I try to jerk my hand free, humiliated, but his grip is iron. He drags my trembling fingers in lazy circles over the swollen ache, cruelly steady, keeping me on the edge without mercy. My body bucks, a sob choking against his palm.
“That’s it,” he hisses, pressing me tighter to him, his chest hard at my back. “Feel how close you are? How badly you want to snap? You’ll stay right here, Scar. You’ll tremble and soak my hand until you’re begging me to finish what you can’t.”
Tears sting my lashes, shame and heat tangling in my throat. I try to plead through his palm, muffled and broken, but he only chuckles, low and filthy.
“Pathetic,” he breathes against my skin. “Grinding your own hand while your brother makes you. You’re mine, Scar. Even your body knows it.”
And then he slows me even more, pulling me away from the breaking point, leaving me shaking, clawing for more, utterly helpless.
His hand clamps tighter over mine, holding me in that cruel rhythm until I’m sobbing against his palm, every nerve begging, every muscle straining. I think he’ll leave me there forever—ruined and unsatisfied—until suddenly his grip changes.
With a sharp tug, he rips my trembling fingers from between my thighs, shoving them uselessly to the side.
“Pathetic little liar,” he growls in my ear, his voice low and raw. “You think you get to touch yourself when I’m right here?”
Before I can catch my breath, his own hand replaces mine, rougher, firmer, merciless. The difference makes me gasp against his palm, my body arching before I can stop it. His fingers don’t tease—they drive, sliding through the mess he’s made of me, pressing hard, cruel, dragging me closer and closer to the edge with every brutal stroke.
“Feel that?” he hisses, his breath hot against my neck. “That’s me, not you. That’s what it feels like when I take over. You’re not allowed to fall apart unless it’s on my hand, on my cock, on me.”
The shame burns, but my hips grind against him anyway, desperate, helpless, ruined. My muffled cries only make him tighten his palm harder over my mouth, forcing silence while his fingers tear through me.
“You’ll cum when I say, Scar. Not a second sooner. And when you do…” his pace quickens, filthy, relentless, “…you’ll remember who owns you every time you close your eyes.”
His fingers leave me wrecked and trembling, only to be replaced by his mouth, his tongue draggingslow and deep over skin that’s already raw with need. I choke on a sob, clutching at his hair, and he just laughs against me, wet heat and wicked cruelty.
“You thought my hand was bad,” he murmurs, breath hot, tongue pressing harder until I’m shaking. “Wait until you learn what my mouth can do.”
He doesn’t let me fall—not yet. Every time I’m close, he slows, pulls back, lets the pressure ebb away until I’m clawing the sheets in silent, useless rage. Then he’s back on me again, lapping, biting, teasing, pushing me higher than before. My whole body quakes with frustration, my throat aching from muffled screams.
Just when I think I’ll break, he’s gone again—hauling me over him, his cock pressing against me, thick, unyielding, rubbing through the slick he’s made. My body jerks, desperate, and he grips my hips to drag me back and forth, using me as though I’m nothing but his toy.
“Feel that, Scar?” His voice is broken glass and sin. “Hand, tongue, cock—you’ll never know which one ruins you worse.”
He thrusts up just enough to make me see stars, then stops, holding me suspended on the edge of everything.
“You’re mine in every way, but I’m not done breaking you yet.”
I’m nothing but a trembling mess above him, every nerve raw, every muscle begging for mercy he won’t give. His fingers dig into my hips as he drags me over him again and again, his cock rubbing right where I need him most, his tongue still wet on my skin, his hand curling wickedly against me in perfect rhythm—every sensation stacked, layered, built for ruin.
And still he doesn’t let me fall.
“Scarlett…” his whisper is sharp, taunting, broken enough to make me shiver. “You feel how soaked you are? That’s mine. Every drop. But you don’t get to cum until I say so.”
I sob against his throat, grinding helplessly, desperate to steal release, but he clamps down, cruelly steadying me, denying me the satisfaction. My body jerks with frustration, the tension screaming through me like fire.
“Please,” I choke, but his laugh is darker than hell itself.
“Beg prettier,” he hisses against my ear, his tongue flicking the shell before his teeth catch it. “Say exactly what you want me to do with this cock, and maybe I’ll consider it. Until then? You suffer.”
He shoves two fingers inside me, thrusting slow and deep while his thumb torments, while his cock grinds harder against my clit, while his words tear me apart. My scream rips from my chest, muffled in his shoulder, my body so close to shattering I could die from it.
But he pulls back again, holding me still, dragging the pleasure away until I’m shaking violently in his arms.
