Scarlett #2
His mouth devours mine until I’m dizzy, until I can’t remember where I end and he begins. My back slams against the seat, his hand digging into my waist, pulling me up so tight against him I can feel every furious beat of his heart.
The kiss grows messier, hungrier—his teeth nip my bottom lip, his tongue slides deeper, claiming, ruining. My moan betrays me, and he groans like it’s the sound he’s been dying for.
Then his hand drifts lower. Not all the way. Just enough. Fingers hook under the hem of my shirt, grazing skin, burning every inch they touch. My whole body shudders.
“See?” he breathes against my lips, his forehead pressed to mine, voice trembling with rage and want. “This—fuck, Scar—this is real. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it. Don’t tell me you don’t need me.”
His other hand fists in my hair, angling my face so he can crush another kiss onto me, wetter, filthier, his tongue tasting my sobs like he wants to drink them. I can’t stop. I don’t want to.
And it terrifies me more than anything.
His hand slides higher under my shirt, dragging roughly over my ribs, his palm flattening against my bare skin like he owns it. I gasp into his mouth, but he swallows the sound, kissing me harder, deeper, his tongue claiming every inch.
“Kai—” it breaks out of me, muffled against his lips, but he growls low, silencing me with another brutal kiss.
“Don’t say my name like that unless you mean it,” he whispers against my mouth, his hand squeezing at my side, thumb brushing dangerously close to the curve of my breast. My body trembled with a confusing mix of shame and desire.
His other hand drags down, gripping my hip hard enough to bruise, then sliding lower, pressing me into him, grinding me against the hardness I shouldn’t feel. The friction shocks a moan out of me, loud and broken, and his grip only tightens.
“Fuck, Scar,” he groans into my mouth, lips wet, teeth clashing. “You can hate me later. But right now—right now, you’re mine.”
And I don’t stop him. I can’t. My body arches, begging without words as his hands wander, pushing further than they should, pulling me closer than anyone ever has.
His hand drags up, skimming the swell of my breast, thumb brushing just enough to make me jolt against him. I whimper into his mouth, chasing the touch, desperate, and that’s when he stops.
He pulls back an inch, lips still grazing mine, his breathing ragged. His hand stays there, cupping me through the thin lace, squeezing just enough to make me cry out—then sliding away, leaving me burning, empty.
“No—” The word shatters out of me, broken and pathetic, but he just smirks, brushing his lips along my jaw, down to my throat.
“You sound so sweet when you beg,” he whispers, his teeth scraping my skin. His hand trails lower again, hovering over my jeans, pressing hard enough to make me gasp—but not enough to give me anything real. He grinds me into him once, slow, brutal, then pulls back, making me sob in frustration.
“You feel that?” His breath is hot in my ear, cruel and tender all at once. “That’s mine. Every wet little shiver, every filthy sound—you’ll give it to me, Scar. But not tonight.”
I slam my fists against his chest, tears stinging, my whole body on fire, and he just holds me tighter, his forehead pressed to mine, whispering, “God, you’re perfect when you’re wrecked.”
His hand hovers low, the heat of him unbearable, but every time I arch for more, he drags it away. My body is on fire, shame clawing at me, and still I can’t stop.
“Say it,” he whispers against my lips, voice dark velvet. His thumb strokes the waistband of my jeans, taunting me. “Tell me what you want, Scar.”
“I—” The word breaks, strangled, my throat raw from holding back. My nails dig into his shoulders, trembling, furious.
“Don’t make me guess,” he breathes, kissing the corner of my mouth, cruelly soft. His hand presses down harder, right where I ache, then pulls away again until I’m sobbing in frustration. “You want my fingers here? My mouth? Or do you want me to fuck you with my cock?”
The filth coils around me like smoke. My shame bursts, spilling out before I can catch it.
“Yours,” I sob, the word tearing out of me. “I want—fuck, Kai—I want to be yours.”
He groans, a sound torn from deep inside him, his hand finally pressing down, harder, but still not enough, his lips dragging across mine as he whispers, “You already are, Scar. Every filthy piece of you.”
The second the word leaves me—yours—it hangs in the air like a noose tightening around my throat. My stomach drops, panic slams through me, and shame spreads hot and sick under my skin.
I push at his chest, shaking my head, tears stinging. “No—fuck, I didn’t mean—”
Kai’s hand slides up my spine, slow, caressing, his voice soft where it should be sharp. “Shh.” He presses his forehead to mine, lips ghosting over my mouth. “Baby, come on… don’t cry. Let’s have some fun.”
The switch makes my heart stutter. His thumb strokes my cheek like I didn’t just beg to belong to him. Like he didn’t wring my dirtiest secret out of me.
Before I can find words, he’s already pulling back, smirking faintly, like he’s in control of everything. His hand captures mine, tugging me toward the door. “Come on, Scar.” His grin flashes in the dark. “Let’s break into the fairground.”
The car door slams; the night air cold against my burning skin, and he doesn’t let go of my hand. Not once.
The gravel crunches under our shoes as we cross the empty lot, his hand still locked around mine, too warm, too certain. I tug once, twice, but he doesn’t let go, just glances down with that crooked grin that makes me feel like the world’s already tilted.
“Scared, baby sister?” he asks, voice low, taunting.
I roll my eyes, desperate to mask the tremor in my chest. “Of trespassing? Please. I’m scared of you.”
He chuckles, dark and amused, his thumb brushing the inside of my wrist like he knows exactly how fast my pulse is racing. “Good. You should be.”
The looming silhouette of the fairground rises ahead, gates chained shut, rides skeletal in the moonlight. The Ferris wheel cuts into the sky like broken teeth. My throat tightens.
Kai leans down, whispering near my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Don’t look so tense. I promised you fun.” His fingers trail down the small of my back as if to guide me forward, igniting sparks under my skin.
“And this is your idea of fun?” I hiss, trying to keep the shake out of my voice.
His grin widens, wolfish. “Breaking rules. Making you sweat. Watching you try not to fall apart when I touch you.”
The words land like fire in my gut, and I hate how much I shiver.
We stop at the chain-link fence, the fairground beyond cast in shadows. Kai steps close enough that his chest presses to my back, his hands braced on the cold metal beside mine. Trapping me.
“Up you go,” he murmurs, lips grazing the shell of my ear. “Or do you need me to put my hands all over you and lift you over myself?”
The chain-link bites into my palms as I grab hold, sneakers scraping for leverage. The metal rattles under me, too high, too sharp, and I already know I’m not strong enough—but I’d rather shred my hands to ribbons than admit that in front of him.
“Look at you,” Kai murmurs behind me, low and amused. “Climbing like a good little thief. Trying so hard to prove you don’t need me.”
“Shut up,” I hiss, hauling myself another few inches, breath ragged, hair sticking to my lips. My arms tremble, my foot slips, the metal tearing at my jeans.
His hand comes to my waist before I can catch myself. Not lifting me. Just there. Hot, heavy, steady.
“You’re shaking.” His voice is right against my ear, the words curling through me like smoke. “You want me to help? Or do you want to keep pretending?”
I grit my teeth, nails digging into the fence, but his thumb strokes slow across my hip, and my whole body betrays me with a shiver.
“Fuck,” I whisper, eyes squeezed shut.
“Exactly,” he breathes, pressing closer, the fence rattling with his weight braced behind me. “That’s what you’re scared of, isn’t it?”
The fence rattles hard when his palms close around my thighs, fingers digging in. I gasp, clinging tighter to the chain-link as Kai lifts me like I weigh nothing.
“Relax,” he mutters, voice rough, right against the back of my knee. “I’ve got you.”
Except he doesn’t just boost me. His hands slide higher, squeezing the soft flesh of my ass, pushing me up the fence with deliberate cruelty. The denim of my jeans scrapes, bites into me, but it’s nothing compared to the burn of his touch.
“Stop—” My voice cracks. “Just… push me over.”
“Oh, I’m pushing,” Kai whispers, laughing low. “Feel that? Every time you climb higher, you grind right down on me. You love it.”
I choke on a sob, my body arching against the fence as his grip forces me up another rung. My heart stutters, shame scorching me alive.
“Fuck, Scar.” His breath is hot; his words filthy. “Climbing for me like a good little slut. Bet you’re soaked under these jeans. Want me to check before you make it to the top?”
I dig my nails into the chain-link, trembling so hard I almost lose my hold.
“Please—” It rips out of me, more a cry than a word.
Kai growls, boosting me the last few feet, his fingers sliding away slowly, like he’s carving the heat of his touch into my skin.
I hit the ground hard, knees stinging, palms scraped raw. The empty fairground stretches out before me — dark rides, skeletal stalls, dead bulbs strung overhead like stars that forgot how to burn.
I don’t wait. I run.
My breath tears in my throat, hair whipping behind me, sneakers slapping the cracked pavement. The sound of my own pulse is deafening — until I hear him.
The thud of boots hitting the ground. The low chuckle that carries across the shadows.
“Run, Scar.” His voice is everywhere, echoing off the rusting rides. “Hide if you want. I’ll still fucking find you.”