Scarlett #6
He snaps me onto my back so fast the cracked bench shrieks against the warped floor, and the mirrors all around catch the wreck of me—naked, trembling, wide-eyed as he drives into me with a punishing rhythm that steals every breath.
I claw at his shoulders, at the slick heat of his back, and when my gaze tangles with his, the tears come fast, harder than I can hide.
He slows just enough to press his mouth to my cheek, swallowing the salt, whispering ragged against my skin, “Don’t cry, baby… don’t cry for me.” His voice cracks, filthy and tender all at once as his hips keep slamming. “Why are you crying when I’m right here?”
I choke, sob, shudder beneath him, the world fracturing in every broken reflection, until the truth tears itself out of me.
“I don’t love you like a brother, Kai,” I gasp, clutching his hand, dragging it to my chest where my heart hammers like it wants to burst free. My tears wet his knuckles, my body clenched around him. “I never have. I love you.”
The words cut through both of us, raw, bloody, irreversible.
His thrust falters, his eyes burn down into me, and I shake my head, sobbing harder as I hold his hand tighter over my heart. “I don’t—Kai, it hurts—I don’t know what to do with it, I can’t,”
He groans like the sound rips him open, crushing his mouth to mine, kissing me until the confession sinks into his bones, until my sobs are just as much his as they are mine.
I feel him snap the moment my voice cracks with it—I love you. The words rip out of me like glass, bloody and wrong, but they’re already echoing through the mirrors, bouncing back at me from every angle until there’s no denying what I said.
Kai freezes under me. His grip tightens so hard on my waist it hurts, his chest shuddering against mine like he’s trying not to breathe. His eyes are fire, rage and ruin and want, and then it all detonates at once.
“Fuck, Scar,” he growls, like the words are dragged from his throat against his will. He slams me down, brutal and unrelenting, each thrust breaking me open until I’m sobbing. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you fucking—”
But he can’t stop. He’s gone. Lost. His mouth crushes mine, devouring, destroying, his hands bruising as they drag me tighter, closer, like he could bury me inside his chest and never let me go.
Every movement is a breaking point. Every kiss is punishment and confession tangled together. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can only whisper it again against his mouth, crying, wrecked, I love you I love you I love you, until he snarls into the words like they’re killing him.
“Then you’re mine,” he whispers, broken and filthy and cruel, driving harder, deeper. “Say it or I swear I’ll tear this whole place down around us. Say it, Scar. Say you’re mine.”
“I—” The word fractures on my tongue, dies in my throat. My whole body folds in on itself even as he slams me down, my nails clawing into his shoulders like maybe I can anchor myself, maybe I can survive this, but the truth is spilling out of me in sobs instead of words.
“I can’t—Kai, I can’t—” My chest is heaving, my voice breaking, my eyes spilling until the tears are hot against his mouth where he crushes kisses into me like he wants to drown in them. I shake my head, violent, desperate, but it doesn’t stop him. It only makes him worse.
His grip is merciless on my waist, his teeth catching at my throat, his breath ragged. “You can,” he snarls, half command, half plea, the sound guttural, unhinged. “Don’t you dare take it back. Don’t you fucking run from me now.”
But I’m already breaking in his hands, sobbing into his skin, trembling under the weight of him. My body betrays me, still clinging, still moving against him, while my mouth refuses, choking on the words he needs.
“Say it,” he hisses, forehead pressed hard to mine, his fingers digging bruises into my hips. His voice is shredded, dangerous, shaking like he’s about to fall apart if I don’t give him what he wants. “Say you’re mine, Scar. Say it or I’ll fucking make you.”
My sobs choke me but his grip doesn’t loosen, not even when I claw at him, not even when my throat burns from the sound I’m making. He pins me harder, his breath searing against my cheek, and the words tear out of me without permission—
“You don’t own me,” I spit, voice ragged and venomous, though my hips are grinding against him like I’m begging to be ruined. “You’ll never—”
His hand snaps up, fingers in my hair, jerking my head back until I’m staring into those merciless eyes, my tears spilling and my body trembling. He grinds up into me, cruel, filthy, so deep I scream, the words shattering on my tongue.
“Don’t I?” His whisper cuts like a blade, low and shaking with rage and need. His thumb drags across my wet cheek, smearing salt into fire. “Look at you. Crying. Moaning. Wrapped around me like you were made for this. Tell me again I don’t own you while you’re soaking my cock.”
I try to shake my head, I try to fight, but my own voice betrays me with a broken whimper. My body won’t stop, my thighs clenching around him, my shame spilling louder than my defiance.
He presses his forehead to mine, snarling through his teeth, “Say it, Scar. Tell me I don’t own you—while you fucking break on me.”
I open my mouth, desperate to force the words out, but nothing comes—only a strangled sob, raw and ugly, torn from somewhere too deep. My throat locks tight, like it knows the truth I’m too terrified to say aloud.
His hips drive up into me harder, crueller, and my nails drag down his shoulders because I can’t hold it in, can’t fight the wave tearing me apart. My lips tremble around the word no, but all that spills out is a broken moan, cracked and needy, shameful and wrecked.
His laugh is dark, dangerous, like he’s peeling me open with it. His palm cups the back of my neck, forcing my face closer until his forehead slams against mine, sweat and tears mixing between us.
“You can’t even say it,” he breathes, voice shaking with fury and something filthier, hotter. “You wanted to tell me no. You wanted to lie. But your body’s screaming the truth, baby sister.”
I shake my head because I have to, because if I don’t I’ll admit it, I’ll let it spill, and then I’ll never come back from it. But he grinds up again and I bite down on my lip so hard I taste blood, muffling the cry that still bursts through anyway.
“Choke on it,” he whispers, lips brushing mine, his teeth dragging cruelly at my mouth. “Choke on every lie you try to tell yourself. I’ll keep you here until you break.”
Every nerve in my body is on fire. I don’t even know where to put my hands anymore—one fists in his shirt, the other slips uselessly against the sweat on his chest—because he won’t let me move, won’t let me run, won’t let me fall apart the way I need to.
He drags me closer, so close I can’t tell where I end and he begins, and then he stops. Holds me there. Buried inside me but still, cruelly still.
I whimper. I hate the sound—it sounds pathetic, broken, a plea I swore I’d never give him. But he drinks it in, his mouth brushing my jaw as he breathes me in like I’m already his.
“Please…” It slips out before I can swallow it back. My hips twitch, my thighs shake, my whole body begging without my permission.
His hand slides down my waist, fingers pressing into bruises he’s already made, holding me tight so I can’t grind, can’t take what I’m desperate for.
“You’re soaked for me,” he whispers against my ear, voice filthy-sweet, twisting like a knife. “And I haven’t even given you anything yet.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trembling. My body is screaming at me to move, to take, to ride him until I forget who I am—but he won’t let me. He just holds me still, pulses of unbearable heat building between my legs, and I sob into his neck, my lips brushing his skin with every shuddered breath.
“You’re going to beg louder, Scar,” he murmurs, cruel and calm, like he has all the time in the world. “You’re going to choke on it until you can’t breathe. And then maybe—maybe—I’ll let you cum.”
My throat is raw before I even realise I’m screaming. Not words at first—just ragged sobs that scrape out of me like my body is trying to tear itself open, trying to bleed out all the shame that’s choking me.
“Kai—please—” My voice cracks, breaks, splinters on his name. My hips jerk helplessly against his grip, every nerve alight with fire, but he keeps me locked down, shaking, desperate, humiliatingly undone.
“I can’t—please, I can’t—” My head falls back against the mirror behind me, glass cold against my scalp, my eyes swimming. My chest heaves, skin slick with sweat, and still he doesn’t move. Doesn’t give me the mercy I’m dying for.
“Say it,” he whispers, voice so low, so wrecked, it’s almost tender—but the filth in it cuts straight through me. His lips graze my cheek, my jaw, his breath hot in my ear. “Beg for me, baby. Tell me what you want.”
I sob harder, tears streaking down into my mouth, my chin. My pride is gone, shredded. My body is humiliating me, clenching around him, soaking for him, desperate in a way I swore I’d never let him see.
“I want—” The words choke me, I can’t even breathe them, not until his hand slides up my throat, just enough pressure to remind me he owns every gasp. My voice breaks wide open, raw and shameless. “I want you to fuck me—please, Kai, I need it, I need you—”
The sound that tears out of me is nothing but begging. A mess. A confession. A prayer.
And I know he’s smiling when he whispers, “Good girl. Louder.”
It rips out of him like a growl, low and violent, his restraint splintering in one brutal second—and then he’s moving, slamming into me so hard my scream shatters in my throat.