Kai
The road blurs under the headlights, white lines streaking past too fast, but I can barely see straight. My hands choke the wheel, my jaw clenched so hard it aches. Every nerve in me strains tight, my blood pounds south, and I strain against denim until it hurts to breathe.
Scarlett sits stiffly in the passenger seat, arms folded, eyes flashing like a blade in the dark. Every word out of her mouth cuts.
“You didn’t have to drag me out like that,” she snaps, her tone all bite. “You made a scene. Like you always do.”
My teeth grind.
“You think you own me?” she spits, her voice low and sharp, heat in every syllable.
“I don’t think. I know.”
Her scoff is pure venom. “You’re pathetic.”
The word detonates in my chest. My cock throbs, my control splinters, and I can’t hold it in anymore. I slam the car into park on the side of the road, gravel crunching under the tires, my breath rough and ragged.
I turn my head, eyes locking on hers, burning through the dark. She’s trembling, furious, beautiful, and every inch of her defiance makes me harder.
“Pathetic?” My laugh is low, broken, dripping with hunger. “You keep testing me, little sister. Keep running your mouth like you don’t know what it does to me.”
Her breath stutters, lips parting, but she still glares, still deadly, and I snap.
“Come here,” I growl, my voice rough, filthy. “Come sit on my lap.”
The words hang in the thick air, hotter than fire, heavier than the dark. My cock strains against my jeans, my hands tight on the wheel, waiting.
Waiting to see if she’ll obey.
Scarlett stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, lips parted, chest heaving, her hands balled into fists in her lap.
“I’m not doing that,” she hisses, voice sharp, shaking. “You don’t get to order me around like some dog.”
The words slice, but the tremor in her tone betrays her. Her thighs shift against the seat, her knuckles white, her pulse hammering so hard I can see it in her throat.
My cock throbs painfully against my zipper, my patience fraying strand by strand.
“You think you can sit there in that dress,” I rasp, my voice low, dangerous, “run your mouth, test me over and over—” My jaw locks, my breath tearing out ragged. “—and I’m just supposed to keep driving?”
She leans back against the seat, chin high, eyes blazing. “Yes. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”
Something inside me snaps.
My hand shoots across the console, fingers gripping the seat belt, and with one hard click I release it. The strap snaps back, and before she can twist away, I’ve got my hands on her hips, dragging her across the leather.
“Stop—Kai!” she yelps, but her hands shove uselessly at my chest as I lift her, muscles straining, and plant her down over my lap.
She lands straddling me, her thighs bracketing mine, her dress riding up high, the heat of her pressed flush against the bulge in my jeans.
Her gasp shreds the silence.
My hands lock on her waist, holding her tight, keeping her there. Her fists beat once, twice against my chest, but I don’t move. I don’t even flinch.
Her eyes flash up to mine, fury and something darker burning behind them, and my voice drops to a growl against her mouth.
“I told you to come sit on my lap, little sister. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”
Her body’s hot over mine, thighs clamped tight around my hips, her nails digging into my chest like she wants to tear me apart. Her body shakes, yet her gaze is still piercing.
I slide my hands lower, grip her waist harder, and push her down against me.
She gasps, the sound torn from her throat when the hard length of my cock presses right against her. As her dress moves up, a scorching heat radiates through the thin denim, and she jumps as though jolted.
“Stop,” she spits, but the word cracks, splinters, her breath stuttering as I grind her tighter against me.
My head falls back, a low groan tearing through my teeth. “Feel that, Scarlett?” My voice is rough, guttural. “Feel what you fucking do to me?”
Her lips part, her chest heaving, and I see it — the way her pupils blow wide, the way her thighs tense around me, the shiver she can’t hold back.
“Kai…” Her voice falters, breaks. Then softer, ragged: “Why are you hard?”
My laugh is dark, low, broken. I grip her hips, drag her slowly across the bulge straining against my jeans, savouring the way her breath catches.
“Because of you,” I growl, blue eyes locked on hers, wild, unflinching. “Always you. Only you.”
Her eyes are wide, glassy, her breath shuddering as she squirms in my grip — but I don’t let her move away. My fingers lock tighter around her hips, dragging her down slow, forcing her to feel every inch of me straining under the denim.
She whimpers, just barely, her hands pressing against my chest like she can shove me back, but her thighs only clamp tighter around me.
“Fuck, Scarlett…” My voice is ragged, dangerous, my forehead pressing to hers. “Do you feel what you’ve done to me? How hard I am for you?”
Her jaw clenches, lips parting like she wants to spit in my face again, but then I grind her down harder, and her breath shatters into a gasp.
I smile, sharp, cruel. “You walk around the house in those tiny shorts, licking your lips, looking at me like you hate me… and you wonder why my cock’s been aching for you every fucking night.”
She shakes her head, trembling, her eyes shining with fury and something else she doesn’t want to name. “S-stop.”
I laugh low, broken, pushing her hips in another slow grind against me, my cock throbbing against the heat of her pussy. “You don’t want me to stop. You’re wet for me right now, aren’t you? Soaked through that pretty little dress while you sit on my lap like a good girl.”
Her whole body jerks, a betraying shiver running through her, and I feel it — the heat, the tension, the way her thighs quiver against mine.
My mouth grazes her ear, my voice filthy, brutal. “Say it, little sister. Say you feel me. Say you know you’re the reason I’m this fucking hard.”
Her breath shatters into ragged pieces as I drag her hips down harder, rolling her against me until I can feel the heat of her pussy through the thin slip of fabric between us. Her nails claw at my chest, but she doesn’t push away — she drags down my shirt like she wants to mark me.
“God, you’re sick,” she spits, her words venom, her voice trembling. “You get hard for your own sister?”
I groan low, the sound guttural, feral, my head falling back against the seat. Her body shifts with the movement, her thighs tightening around me, her ass grinding down as if she doesn’t even realise what she’s doing.
“You hate it,” I growl, pulling her hips forward and back in a rhythm that makes her gasp. “But your body doesn’t. You’re fucking dripping on me, Scarlett.”
“Shut up,” she snaps, twisting in my grip, but I catch her chin in one hand, force her eyes back on mine.
“Say it again,” I snarl, grinding her harder, the thick bulge of my cock pressed tight against her core. “Call me sick. Tell me I’m wrong. Do it while you’re rubbing your pretty pussy all over me.”
Her chest heaves, her glare sharp enough to draw blood, but her hips buck against mine — unsteady, broken, betraying her.
“Fuck you,” she hisses. “I’ll never give you what you want.”
My laugh is harsh, guttural, my cock throbbing so hard it hurts. I slam her hips down, groaning into her mouth without kissing her. “You already are, little sister. You already fucking are.”
And the sound that rips out of her — half-gasp, half-curse — nearly breaks me.
Her body jerks every time I drag her across my cock, the thin fabric of her dress bunching up, heat searing through denim. She claws at my shoulders, spits curses into my face, but her hips move with mine even as her mouth tells me no.
“Look at you,” I rasp, forcing her down slow, then snapping her forward hard enough to make her gasp. “Grinding yourself against me like a fucking slut while you swear you hate me.”
Her nails dig deeper, her glare wild, desperate. “I’m not—I’m not doing anything.”
I chuckle darkly, cruelly, grinding her tighter against me, the friction making my head spin. “Not doing anything? Baby, you’re riding my cock right now. You’re soaking through this dress, dripping all over me, and you don’t even know how to stop.”
“Shut up!” she snarls, but her thighs tremble, a shiver running through her body that betrays her words.
I fist the back of her hair, tug her head back, force her to meet my eyes. My voice is low, brutal, cutting straight through her. “Say you hate me all you want, little sister. But your pussy knows the truth.”
Her chest rises fast, her lips parted, a broken sound caught in her throat. She’s trembling, caught between fury and something darker, her hips stuttering as I grind her again, slow, deliberate, torturous.
Her breath hitches, sharp, and I can feel it — the way she’s close, too close.
I grip her tighter, groaning, my cock aching, but I don’t let her tip over. Not yet.
“Not for you,” I growl into her ear, teeth grazing her skin. “You don’t get to cum. Not until I say.”
I slam her down once more, hard, then rip my hands from her hips, leaving her trembling, straddling me, desperate and undone, and I lean back, smirking through the ache in my cock, savouring the sight of her shaking above me.
“Pathetic little tease.”
The crack splits the air before I can brace for it.
Her palm slams across my face, sharp, my head snapping to the side. The sting burns, heat flooding my cheek, but it only drags a guttural groan from my chest.
Scarlett’s chest heaves, her eyes wild, her lips trembling as she glares down at me. “You don’t get to control me,” she spits. “You don’t get to decide when I break.”
And then she moves against me.
Her hips slam down against me hard, grinding herself along the thick length of my cock until my vision blurs. The friction is brutal, scorching, dragging a curse from my lips as I grab at her waist to steady myself.
“Fuck—Scarlett.”
She cuts me off with another savage roll of her hips, her nails raking down my chest through my shirt. “You like to torment?” she hisses, her breath hot, furious. “Then choke on this.”
Her movements are punishing, rough, desperate, grinding down again and again until my cock throbs painfully against the tight denim. Every muscle in me strains not to snap, not to flip her beneath me and bury myself inside her until she screams my name.
I fist her hair, yank her head back, my teeth bared. “You think you can punish me, little sister?” My voice breaks, raw, almost pleading. “You’re fucking killing me.”
Her laugh is sharp, broken, her lips brushing mine without kissing. “Good.”
She slams her hips again, harder, and I growl low, guttural, my self-control unravelling one thread at a time.
Scarlett thinks she’s winning, thinks she’s punishing me, but every grind, every slap, every hiss of hate only makes me want her more, and I’m seconds from snapping.
She slams down on me harder this time, the sharp drag of her body against my cock tearing a groan from deep in my chest. My grip bruises her hips, but she doesn’t stop—she punishes, rolling and grinding like she wants to break me open, and fuck, she’s close to doing it.
“Scarlett,” I snarl, my forehead dropping against hers, sweat beading at my temple, every muscle in my body locked tight. “Stop—before I—”
She leans in close, her lips brushing my ear, her breath hot enough to sear. And then she whispers—low, filthy, deliberate.
“You’re so hard for me, Kai. You’d fuck me right here if I let you.”
My cock throbs so viciously I nearly tear through denim. My vision whites out, my hands shake, my whole body trembles on the razor’s edge of losing every shred of control I’ve been clinging to.
And then she’s gone.
Scarlett pulls off me in one sharp movement, sliding back into her seat, her dress tugged down over her thighs, her chest still heaving. She buckles herself in with a violent click, her hands shaking, her glare daring me to speak.
The loss is brutal. Cold air rushes in where her heat had been, my cock straining painfully, my breath ragged as I grip the wheel hard enough to split the leather.
My cheek still stings from her slap. My cock aches from her grinding. My ears ring with the sound of her filthy whisper, and she just sits there, smug and defiant, like she didn’t just ruin me from the inside out.
I drag in a breath, my chest burning, and the laugh that leaves me is low, broken, dangerous.
“You’ll pay for that, little sister,” I rasp, eyes locked on the road ahead, knuckles white on the wheel. “You have no fucking idea.”