Scarred (Never After Series)
Scarred: Chapter 34

As usual when I’m with Tristan, everything around me mutes; dulls like it wasn’t there to begin with. I don’t worry about the ball that’s likely still going strong at the other end of the castle. I don’t think of how we’re in the open, and while I’ve been assured no one comes to this garden, technically, we could be found at any time. And I definitely don’t focus on how I’m somehow supposed to kill this man.

His kiss overwhelms every single one of my senses, and I sink into it, drowning in his essence, hoping the burn of his touch can blaze away the imprint of the ones before.

He groans, his palm tightening on the back of my neck, his other hand sliding down my side. His touch soaks through the thin material of my slip dress and the chemise underneath, sending goose bumps sprouting along my arms. He reaches the outer part of my thigh, bunching the fabric in his fingers as his lips break away, skimming down the expanse of my throat.

I tilt my head, allowing him easier access, even though somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I know I shouldn’t.

But I like the way his lips feel pressed against my skin.

“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” I force out.

“I disagree.” His teeth nip my collarbone, his fingers slipping beneath the shoulder strap of my garment, tingles sprinkling through my middle and pooling between my legs.

“Someone could—”

He bites my shoulder this time.

“S-someone could see,” I stutter.

“I’ll kill anyone who does.”

The words he just said so casually should give me pause, but they don’t. They excite me more.

It’s intoxicating to have a man willing to do anything just so he can keep touching you.

Still, the risks outweigh any momentary reward, so I push against his chest and scoot away, reaching up to smooth the flyaways of my hair. “And your brother will kill me if he replaces out.”

Tristan exhales a deep breath, his jaw grinding. He hops up from the bench, grabbing my hand and pulling me behind him before I can even process we’re moving.

“Wait,” I say as he drags us toward the forest. “Tristan, wait! What are you doing?” I try to rip my fingers from his grip, but he just smirks back at me and picks up the pace.

I should put a stop to whatever this is. There’s no way it will end well.

But I let him lead me anyway.

He doesn’t stop until we’re in the middle of thick trees, the leaves covering us in darkness that even the moon can’t shine through. “Where are we going, Tristan? You cannot just traipse into the forest and manhandle me however you… oh—”

He jerks me forward, my body twirling around him and slamming into the thick trunk of a tree. The bark scratches my upper back, creating a sharp sting that radiates down my spine, and the sleeve of my dress falls off my shoulder, revealing the white lace of my chemise underneath.

He presses into me, the hard planes of his body molding to my soft curves, his arms coming to rest on either side of my head until I’m blocked in, surrounded by temptation and bad decisions.

“Do you ever stop talking?” he quips.

Irritation winds through my middle and I open my mouth to reply, but before I can, he sweeps in, claiming my lips in a bruising kiss. My hands fly to the back of his head as I pull him closer, inhaling the hint of smoke on his breath and trying to implant the taste on my tongue. He groans, his hips pushing harder against me, the thick length of his cock gliding along my belly.

His teeth sink into my lip, piercing my flesh. A moan pours from my throat, and he swallows the sound, licking along the wound and sucking, his tongue swiping over the bubbling liquid.

I jerk back. “Did you just lick my blood?”

One of his hands grips my waist and drags me until we’re plastered together, his other palm grabbing the back of my head, fingers digging into my bun, and pulling the strands until my neck bends.

“I will lick, and suck, and cut any part of you I wish, as often as I wish, until you’re begging me to slice you open and do it some more.”

My stomach flips at his words, shock mixing in with the sharp rush of desire that splices down my middle.

“I want to consume you, Sara, until I feel you thrumming in my veins.”

“That’s sick,” I say. “I thought you hated me.”

He pauses at this, his hand releasing my hair and moving to cup my jaw, his thumb wiping the remnants of blood from my mouth. “What is hate but obsession tinged with fear?”

“I—”

His palm slaps over my mouth, the rings on his fingers cold against my flesh. “Stop. Talking.”

He grips the skirt of my dress and moves it slowly up my leg, the fabric tickling my skin. My abdomen tightens, a warm sensation spinning like a cyclone in my stomach. My leather garter is exposed, and his fingertips trace over the daggers, his stiff cock pulsing against my torso as he traces along their sharp edges.

“Ma petite menteuse, pretending to be so pure.” He drops to his knees, leaning in and kissing the spaces between my blades. “So innocent.”

My chest heaves as my heart slams against my ribs. He works his way inward, his lips peppering kisses across my flesh until he reaches the lace edge of my drawers. Quick as a flash, he’s removed one of the blades, twirling it in his fingers. My stomach jumps, wondering if I’ve made a mistake. How stupid of a woman must I be for giving my enemy a blade and trusting he won’t slit my throat.

Still, I don’t move from my spot.

If this is where death replaces me, at least it will be my choice.

With one of his hands holding up my dress, the other drags the dagger up my thigh, creating pinpricks of sensation as a shallow red line appears. He hasn’t cut the skin, but he’s dangerously close, and the anticipation has my senses heightening, wetness seeping from my center. He slips the tip of the blade beneath the lace and glances up at me, his green eyes blazing with heat so fierce I swear I can taste it in my soul.

“Do you trust me, little doe?” he asks.

My heart stalls. “No.”

He smirks. “Good.”

And then he flicks the knife, splicing open the fabric until cool air whips across my bare skin, making me gasp from the sudden chill. But I needn’t worry, because soon enough, his mouth is on me, his nose pressing into my soft curls and his tongue lavishing attention on my sensitive bud, making it pulse and swell with every swipe.

I moan, my body collapsing into the tree, fingers tangling in his disheveled locks as I push my hips against his face, letting him suck my cunt like he’s a desperate man.

“I—” I pant out, the sensations almost too much to bear. He alternates between licking me in long strokes and pulling me into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he does.

“I can’t…” My fingers tug at his head, torn between trying to wrench him away or smothering him whole, the pressure coiling inside me too much, too fast. When everything squeezes until I black out from the pleasure, I force him away, ripping his hair at the root as I pull him off my throbbing pussy.

I heave deep and unsteady breaths, my mind whirling and my muscles tight, begging for release. He drops the dagger on the ground and slides up my body, his eyes dark and his mouth glistening. I can smell my arousal and it makes my nerves pulse. I want to lean in and lick away the wetness from his lips, just to see how I taste when I’m fresh off his tongue.

His hands grip my wrists and move them above my head, the trunk of the tree chapping my overheated skin as he locks them in one of his palms.

“Do not keep me from you,” he demands.

His other hand glides back up the inside of my thigh, replaceing my core drenched and needy, and he slides two fingers into the hilt, curling them forward to rub against my inner walls.

“Oh, God,” I cry, my legs buckling as pleasure cascades through me in fierce waves.

“Such a filthy little liar, pretending you don’t want to come for me,” he whispers in my ear, his hold tightening.

I arch my back, heat collecting deep in my core and spreading outward until I can’t see straight.

“So naive, assuming I would stop if you told me no.” His thumb presses against my swollen clitoris before releasing it, causing my pussy to clench around his thick fingers, my insides winding so tight it steals my breath.

“Please,” I beg, growing delirious from his teasing.

“Please, what, little doe?”

“Make me come, I need to come.”

“Do you deserve it?” he asks.

“I will kill you,” I snap, frustration overflowing like a bubbling pot.

He chuckles, drifting his fingers in and out, a torturous pace that’s keeping me riding the edge, so close to exploding yet never enough to make me burst.

“Tell me you’re mine, ma petite menteuse. That no other man has had you.”

The anger explodes like a gunshot inside of me, irritated he thinks he can control me the way he is. Annoyed that it seems to be working. Snapping my eyes open, I meet his stare. “But then I’d be a liar.”

His entire frame stiffens, his movements freezing. “Who?”

“None of your business.”

“Tell me his name,” he croons. “So I can hunt him down and cut him to pieces.”

I arch my back until my chest grazes against his torso. “No.”

He grins, letting out a controlled breath as he releases me so fast I drop to the ground. “Then you don’t deserve to come.”

“You’re disturbed, Tristan!” I yell after him. But he’s already walking away, leaving me a panting, infuriated mess.