Page 112 of Pray for Scars
“You have,” she points out. “You will again. You tried to kill him, Lucifer. Even though you knew…” She takes a shaky breath and I pull away again, watching her. She closes her eyes tight and I see a tear run down her nose. “Even though you knew how much he meant to me.”
My grip on her wrists tightens with those words. She didn’t have to see what I saw. She didn’t have to watch what I did that night one year ago. How he hurt her.
“You want someone to fuck you up, Lilith?” I ask her. I get off of her, flip her around so she’s on her stomach. I lean down close, so my mouth is against her ear. “Is that it? You like being tortured?” My hand finds the front of her throat, and I hear her breath come out in a rush. “I can fuck you up, baby.” I reach for her shorts, pull them down.
She lifts her knees off the floor, helping me.
I laugh. “That is what you want, isn’t it?” My hand finds her ass and I pinch her, hard.
She whimpers, tries to turn to face me, but I grip her throat tighter, stopping her. My other hand slides down her ass, and I feel how fucking wet she is. My dickhurts, I’m so fucking hard.
I would have waited. I would have fucking waited forever. But it doesn’t seem like she really wants me to wait. It seems like this, too, is her way of coping.
I push two fingers into her slowly, teasing her.
“Always so wet for me,” I murmur.
She tries to say something, and I loosen my hold on her throat.
“I hate you,” she says. “I hate you so fucking much, it hurts.”
I swallow, but then I add another finger into her tight pussy, and this time, I don’t go slow.
“I’ll make sure it does hurt, baby girl.”
I pull my fingers out of her, slide off my sweatpants and my shirt and then come up behind her, spreading her legs further, so I have a good view and easier access.
But she tries to turn her head and this time I let her, letting go of her throat.
Her eyes meet mine, and I still see faint traces of tears glistening in the silver of her irises.
My heart twists.
“Don’t,” she says softly, her lip trembling.
I run my finger down her spine and she shivers, on all fours in our living room. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t hurt me anymore.”
I close my eyes a second, trying to pull myself the fuck together.
“I don’t know how to stop,” I say, honestly, looking into her eyes again. And I don’t. This war between us has become so volatile. We’re not shooting to kill anymore. We’re aiming tohurt, and that’s worse. At least death puts us out of our misery. But we like to suffer.
Sid turns to face me, sitting up, her calves tucked underneath her. She’s only wearing my shirt, and she looks so goddamn beautiful and so fucking sad, too.
She reaches for me, her hand on my face. Her eyes go down, to my abs. To the weird, gross scars there.
Scars for her.
Her other hand trails over them, circling them in small, gentle movements. I tense, holding my breath, but I don’t stop her.
“I’ll help you.” Her eyes meet mine again and she wraps an arm around my back, pulling me closer, pressing her forehead against mine. “I’ll help you, okay?” She closes her eyes and her breath comes out in a rasp. “Did you really…is he really alive?” she asks me.
Fucking Jeremiah again.
She didn’t see. I took her away. Let Maverick be the hero.
“Yes.”
