Kai
The wheel is slippery in my hands. I don’t know if it’s sweat or if I just can’t hold anything steady anymore, not after that. Not after her.
It was supposed to be a distraction. Break into the fairground, make her laugh, chase her through the dark until she forgot the way her eyes had been shining with tears in her room. I just wanted her to feel alive again, even if it was with me hunting her.
But then she said it.
I love you.
My chest hasn’t stopped caving in since. The words keep detonating inside me like I’m the one who’s about to shatter.
She’s quiet in the seat beside me, hair a mess from where my hands had been, lips swollen, thighs pressed together like she’s still trying to hold me inside her. And fuck—I want to reach over and drag her onto my lap all over again.
“Scar.” My voice comes out raw, broken, not the predator who dragged her over that fence, not the brother I’ve pretended to be. Just me.
She turns her head, and I swear my entire world tilts with it.
Her eyes catch the neon bleeding through the windshield. She looks tired, ruined, beautiful. “Kai…”
I grip the wheel tighter. Don’t say it again. Don’t break me worse than you already have.
And then she does. Soft, shaking.
“Do you… do you regret it?”
My stomach drops.
Her head is against the window, her breathing still uneven, my jacket wrapped around her shoulders like I can shield her from the very thing I’ve done to her.
Streetlights cut across her face in flashes, and I should look at the road, but I can’t stop stealing pieces of her when I think she won’t notice.
She shifts as if the silence is eating her alive. “Do you regret it?” she whispers, so quiet I almost think I imagined it.
My grip on the wheel tightens until my knuckles ache. I should lie. I should tell her yes. That it was a mistake. She’s safe from me if I say the right words.
But I can’t.
“No,” I rasp, the word burning out of me like I’ve been swallowing it for years. “I don’t regret a fucking thing.”
Her head turns, eyes wide, wet, shining in the dark. I keep my stare on the road because if I look at her too long, I’ll pull over and ruin us all over again.
“I’d do it again,” I add, softer now, almost tender. “Every second of it. Every mistake. I don’t regret you, Scar. Not once. Not ever.”
The silence after that isn’t empty. It’s alive. Her breath hitches. My chest feels like it’s caving in, but for the first time I don’t feel like I’m drowning. I feel like I’ve finally told the truth.
Her hand is small but hot on my thigh, sliding higher, making it impossible to focus on the road. The sound of the zipper splitting open is louder than the hum of the engine, louder than the blood pounding in my ears.
“Scar…” My knuckles go white around the wheel, my jaw locked so tight I could snap my own teeth. “Don’t—”
But then she’s there, her breath spilling over me, her voice soft but deliberate, the kind of whisper that kills.
“I don’t regret it either.”
My world detonates. The car swerves half a foot before I wrestle it straight again, headlights slashing through the dark. My cock is already heavy in her hand, and when her mouth seals around me, I almost slam my foot on the brake just to feel something other than the way I’m unravelling.
“Fuck—Scarlett—” Her name cracks in my throat, half-prayer, half-curse. I shouldn’t let her. I should pull over, shove her back, stop this madness before it burns us alive. But her tongue slides along the underside, her lips taking me deeper, and my resolve shatters in a single wet sound.
Every inch she swallows makes it harder to see straight, harder to breathe, harder to remember who the hell I was before this moment. I grip the steering wheel with one hand, her hair with the other, threading my fingers through until I’m tugging her rhythm, guiding her like she belongs there.
The road is a blur. The world is a blur. The only real thing is her mouth stretched around me, the filthy, obscene sounds filling the car, and the way my chest is tearing open because she said she doesn’t regret me.
And I know I’m lost. Completely.
Her hand still strokes me slowly and meanly, as if she knows every nerve in my body is strung tight and about to snap. The wheel jerks under my grip, the lines of the road blurring, and for a second I don’t even care if we crash.
But then I slam on the brakes, hard enough that she gasps, and yank the car off the road into a strip of darkness beneath the trees.
The engine idles low, headlights throwing crooked shadows across her face, and she’s looking at me with that wild, ruined mouth that still glistens from kissing me open.
“Scarlett,” I rasp, my voice torn raw. My zipper’s still half down, my cock straining against the press of her hand, and I can’t think, can’t breathe.
I catch her wrist before she moves again and drag her hand higher against me, grinding into her palm.
“You want to play games while I’m driving, baby? You trying to kill me?”
Her lips part, trembling, but she doesn’t pull back. She leans closer, eyes dark, lashes wet.
I lean into her like a sinner pressing to an altar, pressing my forehead to hers. My breath shakes between us. “Say it again,” I whisper, so soft it burns. “Say you don’t regret it. Say I’m not your fucking mistake.”
Her nails dig into me through my jeans, her touch frantic, desperate.
And for the first time tonight, I don’t fight it. I let myself fall into her hand, her mouth, her everything.
She doesn’t wait for me to move. She climbs, straddling me over the console, her knees digging into the worn leather as her body presses down, hot and trembling, exactly where I’ve been aching for her.
Her mouth crashes into mine—messy, wet, teeth scraping—and I let her ruin me. Her hands tear at my shirt, nails biting into my skin, and I can’t stop the growl ripping through my chest when she grinds down against me.
The zipper’s already down, and when she slides her hand in, wrapping me tight, I nearly lose it right there.
“Scarlett,” I choke out, my fingers digging into her waist, bruising. “You’re gonna make me fucking wreck you.”
She just bites my lip harder, whispering against my mouth, “Do it.”
I drag her panties aside and shove into her in one filthy thrust, the car rocking with the force. Her scream splits against my throat, and I catch it with my mouth, swallowing it like it’s mine to keep.
The windows fog instantly, her body bouncing in my lap as she rides me hard, desperate, the steering wheel creaking under my grip when I slam her down harder.
Every thrust is reckless, cruel, too much for the cramped space, but I don’t care.
I want her wrecked, broken, dripping all over me until she can’t think straight.
Her head falls back, hair sticking to the fogged glass, and I drag my teeth along her neck, whispering filth against her skin. “Soaking my cock like you were made for it. You like this, baby? Like me ruining you where anyone could see?”
She shatters on top of me, screaming, and I don’t let her stop. I drive up into her harder, chasing my own end, until the car feels like it’s going to split apart with us.
Her weight straddles me now, knees digging into the worn leather, her dress bunched around her thighs. My jeans are shoved low enough that my cock is out, hard and aching, the head slick against the heat of her.
I grip her hips, hold her just above me, not giving her what she’s begging for. Instead, I slide the length of me along her, grinding against her soaked panties, pressing right where she wants me most and then pulling back.
She whimpers, claws at my shoulders. “Kai—”
I catch her jaw in my hand, forcing her to look me in the eye while I rut cruelly against her slit, letting the ridge of me drag slow, harder, filthier. Her breath stutters. Her body shakes.
“You feel that?” I grind the swollen head against her clit, making her cry out, then deny her by dragging away, down to her entrance without pushing in.
My lips graze her ear, voice low and vicious.
“That’s mine. Every drop of wet you’ve got belongs to me.
And you’re gonna say it before I let you take me. ”
She tries to sink down anyway, hips jerking, but my grip bruises her waist as I hold her in place. I push up just enough for her to feel the blunt head stretch her a fraction—then drag back out, leaving her sobbing in frustration.
“Say it,” I whisper, cruel and sweet. “Beg for my cock, little liar. Beg like you mean it.”
Her body jerks against me, wild and desperate, but it’s the sound that breaks me—the wrecked little sob in her throat as she claws at my shoulders and gasps, please.
I don’t wait. I don’t give her another second to breathe. I slam her down onto me in one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt, and her scream tears through the dark interior of the car.
Her walls clamp around me, tight, wet, clenching like she’s trying to choke the life out of my cock, and my vision blacks at the edges. My hands fist in her hair, my mouth dragging across her cheek as I pant against her skin, half feral.
“Fuck, Scar,” I growl into her ear, grinding up into her, hard, slow, deeper every time. “You wanted me to shove it inside? You wanted to know how it feels to be split open on your brother’s cock?”
Her nails rake down my chest, her head thrown back, tears streaking down her flushed face as she sobs against my mouth.
Every thrust holds her tighter, wetter, her hips trembling, but I don’t give her mercy—I drive her down on me again and again, making her ride it out until she’s choking on her moans.
I can’t pull back anymore. I can’t stop. She’s mine, completely mine, and I want her ruined enough to never forget it.
I don’t ease up. I don’t slow. I keep hammering into her like I’m trying to carve myself into her body, every brutal thrust staking a claim no one can ever erase. Her cries blur into moans, into sobs, into something raw and broken that makes my blood run hotter.