Page 25 of Pray for Scars
And then the hand on my thigh moves, and another finger pushes in against me, and someone digs their hand into my hip, holding me as Mayhem and Cain work together, stretching me, circling inside of me.
Lucifer’s thumb travels down, and someone is still holding my panties to the side, and his touch on my bare pussy makes me tense in his arms.
“You want to come for me, Lilith?” he growls in my ear.
I nod my head, biting my lip.
“All over my brothers’ fingers?”
Another nod.
He laughs again.
“You’re such a good little slut.”
And then my limbs lock up.
I feel suddenly so, so cold.
No.
No. No. No.
I try to close my legs, slam my knees together, but there’s too many hands on me, too many between me, and Lucifer is holding me still with his arm over my chest.
No.
I shake my head, trying to pull away from him.
He goes rigid behind me.
“Stop,” he says quietly.
I think he’s talking to me. Panic claws at me, my throat feels as if it’s closing up. I can’t breathe. I pull at my chains, trying to free my hands. He wouldn’t. He’s notthem.He’s notmy brother.He’s not myfoster parents.He’s a monster butnot like them…
Isn’t he?a voice in my head says.Isn’t he worse?
Because he makes you think you want it.
“Back the fuck up,” he growls, and my hair stands on end, but I stop moving, stop shifting in his grasp.
It takes me a minute to realize everyone’s hands are off of me, out of me, and my knees are together. He’s still got one arm around my chest, another around my knees.
“Get out,” he snarls, and I hear footsteps receding, a creak of a door, and then it closes shut.
Lucifer moves his arm from my knee, his legs still around my body. Then he grips my wrists, unlocks the cuffs, and throws them across the room. I hear them skitter on the cement, hear the key drop, too. I bring my arms around myself, to the front of my body, crossing them over my chest, and I realize I’m shaking all over again.
He picks me up, pulls me into his arms and cradles me against his chest like I’m a child, one hand pressing my head against him. I hear someone’s heart racing, and I’m no longer sure if it’s his or mine.
I close my eyes, breathing in his scent, my limbs still tense as I curl into a ball against him. I realize my hands are shaking and I clench them into fists.
“Sid?” he whispers in my ear. “Who hurt you?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, not answering him, trying to get control of my breath. In and out, slow and steady in this cold, dark room against my own personal villain.
You’re such a good little slut.
My skin crawls, and I clamp my hands over my ears, shaking my head over and over again, as if I can make it all stop, as if that voice in my head will just disappear. That voice that belongs to someone far darker than this boy holding me to his chest now.
