Scarlett #5
My throat burns, but the truth tears itself out of me.
“I don’t want a brother. I want—” The rest breaks in a sob, and that’s enough.
His hand leaves my wrist only to seize my jaw, forcing me to meet the reflection of my own betrayal. His other hand drags lower, past the denim at my hips, rough and unrelenting as his mouth crushes against mine like he’s been starving for years.
“You think you can say that and I won’t touch you?” His fingers dug deeper, his body pressed me harder into the glass, and his words broke against my lips. “You’re mine, Scar. You’ve always been mine. And I swear to God, I’ll make sure you never forget who put you here shaking.”
The second his mouth claims mine, I stop breathing. It isn’t a kiss, it’s a war—his teeth on my lip, his tongue forcing past my own, swallowing every broken sound I make like he’s been starving for this.
The mirrors shake with every slam of my body against the glass. His grip bruises my jaw, his hand tearing at my shirt like fabric’s a crime between us. I taste blood when he bites me, and instead of pulling back, I arch harder, whimpering into him like the masochist I swore I wasn’t.
“Fuck, Scar,” he groans into my mouth, his words all spit and hunger, “you think I can stop now? After that? After you said you don’t want a brother?”
My nails claw at his shoulders, desperate, frantic, dragging him closer even as I try to shove him away. My body betrays me, grinding against his thigh, a sob catching in my throat. “It’s wrong,” I gasp, but it comes out soaked with need.
He pins me harder, mouth devouring mine until I’m dizzy, until the glass feels like it’s the only thing holding me up. His free hand fists in my hair, jerking my head back so he can ravage my throat with filthy, open-mouthed kisses.
“You’re right,” he pants against my skin, his breath hot and dangerous. “There’s nothing good about me. Not anymore. Not when it comes to you.”
And God help me, I shiver like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear it.
His mouth is everywhere at once—biting my throat, swallowing the whimpers I can’t silence, tasting every inch like he’s trying to erase me. His hands are brutal and tender all at once, tugging, bruising, trembling as if he can’t decide whether to worship me or ruin me.
I’m clawing at him, dragging him closer, tearing at his shirt until buttons scatter across the sticky floor. My body grinds against his like I’m possessed, like I’ll die if there’s even a second of space between us.
“You feel this?” he snarls against my skin, shoving his thigh between mine, forcing me to ride the pressure. “This is what you fucking did to me. You cracked me open, Scar. You made me this monster.”
My hips roll helplessly, sobbing into his mouth, too far gone to pretend anymore. “Kai…”
He jerks back, his forehead pressed to mine, eyes feral and bloodshot. “Say it.” His hand digs into my waist, shaking me against him. “Say what I already know. Say you want me. Say you’re mine.”
And it breaks out of me—ugly, loud, trembling—tears streaking my face as the words tumble raw from my throat.
“I love you.”
Everything stops. Just for a second. The words hang between us like a loaded gun, dangerous and irreversible.
His chest heaves against mine, his lips hovering over my mouth, his body locked like he doesn’t know if he wants to kiss me deeper or kill me for saying it.
Then he snaps—harder, hungrier, crushing his mouth back to mine like he’s going to devour the word love before it can ruin us both.
He rips his mouth from mine only long enough to lift me clean off the glass, his hands bruising into my thighs as if they were made to fit there. The world lurches, a sick carousel of broken reflections and flickering bulbs as he carries me deeper into the funhouse.
My fists knot in his shirt, my lips still swollen and wet from his, shame and want bleeding into the same fever that makes my chest hurt. His boots hammer against the hollow floors, the cracked mirrors splintering our bodies into dozens of versions of us—hungry, ruined, feral.
When he drops into a crooked bench at the centre of a warped corridor, I don’t even think. I swing over him, straddling his lap like its instinct, like gravity dragged me there. His breath punches out against my mouth, his hands gripping my waist tight enough to make me gasp.
“Scar…” It’s a groan, a warning, a prayer. His head tips back against the mirror, and every angle shows me the same thing: his eyes, black with hunger, locked on me.
I grind down once, testing, daring. His jaw snaps tight. His hand flies up, cupping the back of my neck, forcing me closer until our foreheads crush together.
“You’re playing with fire,” he breathes, voice ragged. “And you want to burn, don’t you?”
My thighs squeeze his hips, my nails drag down his chest, and my answer spills out in a whisper that doesn’t sound like me. “Then burn me.”
The bench creaks beneath us, warped wood groaning like it knows it wasn’t built for this—for me clutching his shoulders, for him tearing at my clothes like he’s trying to rip away every barrier between us.
Denim drags down my thighs, the cold funhouse air biting at my skin while his hands scorch it raw.
“Off,” Kai growls, and I don’t know if he means my shirt or everything I am, but I’m shaking my head even as I arch into his hands, even as the fabric shreds under his grip.
The mirrors catch us in jagged flashes—my bare skin, his wide hands clutching, dragging, claiming. I see myself straddling him, grinding down, my mouth parted in a cry I can’t swallow, and it’s obscene, every angle a confession I never wanted to make.
He’s bare now too, heat pressed against me, and I’m moving harder, faster, chasing friction until it hurts, until it feels like I’m bleeding for it. His fingers dig bruises into my hips, dragging me down until I can’t breathe, until I can’t think of anything but him.
“Harder, Scar,” he snarls into my neck, teeth grazing, tongue tasting the salt of my skin. “Show me how bad you want it. Show me I’m the only one you’ll ever ride like this.”
The mirrors don’t lie. They show me grinding harder, breaking myself open against him, sobbing into his mouth while he swallows every sound.
His teeth catch my bottom lip, sharp enough to sting, and then he’s inside me—thick, brutal, splitting me open in one hard thrust that knocks the breath from my chest. My cry echoes against a hundred warped mirrors, ricocheting back at me until I sound like a chorus of girls being ruined all at once.
Kai doesn’t move, not yet. He just holds me down on him, buried to the hilt, his chest pressed against mine so I feel every ragged breath he drags in like it’s being stolen out of me.
“Ride me,” he whispers, voice shredded, filthy. “Slow. I want to feel you break apart one grind at a time.”
And I do—hips trembling as I move over him, desperate and wrecked, every inch dragging him deeper, stretching me until I sob into his throat.
The more I move, the more he holds me back, fingers crushing bruises into my waist, his mouth against my ear taunting, “You feel that? You’ll never forget it. Never forget me.”
I try to chase it faster, harder, but he slams me down, forcing me to circle instead, to grind slow enough that it burns, so close to snapping but always, always denied. My nails rake his shoulders, my forehead pressed to his, whispering broken curses that melt into whimpers.
The mirrors blur as tears flood my eyes, and still he edges me cruelly, refusing to let me fall.
The slow grind shatters in a heartbeat. One second I’m rolling my hips against him, teeth clenched on a sob, the next he snaps—hands tearing at my waist, dragging me down until I scream from how deep he slams up into me.
The mirrors quake with it, my reflection breaking into a thousand jagged pieces, each one showing me ruined on him.
“Fuck—Scarlett—” his voice is a ragged growl against my mouth, every thrust brutal, shaking the bench beneath us. “You wanted me slow? Too late. You’re mine. You hear me?”
I claw at his shoulders, crying out with each thrust that knocks the air from my lungs, my head hitting the glass behind me. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even flinch, just drives harder, snapping his hips like he wants to brand me from the inside.
“Say it,” he snarls, his breath hot against my cheek. “Say who’s inside you.”
My lips tremble, the words spilling broken as he pounds into me, tearing me apart and putting me back together all at once. The mirrors blur with my sobbing reflection, but all I can see is him—Kai, everywhere, in every shard.
He feels me tightening, spiralling to the edge, and that’s when he breaks me cruel. A savage snap of his hips, a growl in my ear, and then he stops just short, burying deep but holding still, making me writhe on him like a pathetic thing.
I choke on a scream. “Kai—please—”
He bites down on my throat, hard enough to bruise, his breath hot and filthy against my skin. “You think you get to cum? After the way you ran from me, fight me, spit in my face? No, baby. You’re going to grind for it.”
His hands lock around my hips, keeping me pinned while he refuses to move. The mirrors make it worse—make me watch myself trembling, soaked, riding him in ragged little circles like I’m starving. Every reflection is humiliation. Every reflection is proof.
“Fuck yourself on me,” he whispers, cruel and sweet at the same time, dragging his tongue along the shell of my ear. “Make yourself cum and beg me to stay inside when you fall apart. Make yourself scream for your brother like a dirty little whore.”
I sob, rocking harder, clawing at his chest, grinding until my thighs are shaking, every nerve set on fire. He doesn’t move, doesn’t give, just watches me destroy myself on his cock.
And when I break—when I cry out and shatter—he catches my mouth in a brutal kiss, swallowing the sound, but still doesn’t let me have all of it. Still cruel. Still holding back the part I’m begging for.