Page 8 of Born to Scar

“This is a unique place to go without a ride back. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She shakes her head. “Why? This is all your fault.”

I grunt, ignoring her backhanded comment, because she’s not the only one who thinks that. “Who’s Jennifer?” I ask again.

“Jenny—she went by Jenny. And she was the best person to ever grace this earth. My sister.”

From the headstone, I learn she was only twenty when she died. “She was so young.” Indy nods. “What—” I start to ask.

“Don’t. You’ll never be ready for that story,” she spits, cutting me off.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come back here. This girl is pissed at the world. “Do you push everyone away?”

Her head snaps up. “You don’t know a goddamn thing, Cameron.”

“I doubt anyone else does either,” I bite back.

Somehow, her eyes narrow even more, turning into slits. She gets up and meets me toe to toe. She gives zero fucks that I tower over her. She doesn’t care that I can easily take advantage of this situation. She does not care. Her neck cranes to look up at me.

“The good ones do,” she says in such a poisonously sweet voice.

Her eyes are burning holes through me. A hum rumbles through my chest. Her lips turn up in a vicious smirk. She turns to walk away, but I’m not going to let her go, not this time. Reaching out, I grip her wrist.

She gasps and tries to jerk away, as she did at the bar, but I tighten my fingers. The feeling of her scars under my fingertips is rugged. Her breathing is heavy, and her jaw clenches.

“You don’t want to do this, pretty boy,” she grits out. Aww, she thinks I’m pretty. How adorable. Jerking her back to me, I look down at her with my eyebrow arched. She meets my look with her own. “Let me go,” she enunciates clearly. Tilting my head, I slowly shake it no. Her mouth turns down, and she glares. “You have no idea what you are getting into.”

“Try me.”

Her eyebrow arches again, and she smirks—a look that’s somewhere between sweet and evil, heaven and hell, before and after.

Her hand—the one I’m not holding—snaps to my throat and squeezes the sides. My eyes widen, surprise shooting through my body. She’s not restricting me much, but the pressure feels fucking amazing. I’ve never had anyone choke me before, but I’m into it.

She pushes me backward until my back hits a tall stone. My blood is roaring through my body. I’ve never been more turned on in my life. And the way she never breaks eye contact almost pushes me over the edge.

“Are you sure?” she taunts. I close my eyes. Her grip loosens slightly, then tightens more than before. “I asked you a question, pretty boy.”

I wrap my hand around hers and press her fingers harder into my throat.

“Say it,” she snarls.

My jaw clenches. “Yes,” I choke out, still holding her hand on my skin.

“Yes?” she muses with surprise in her voice and a glint of astonishment in her eyes.

“Fuck, yes,” I breathe, my chest heaving and my body screaming for her.

She hums, jerking her wrist from my hand to grip my cock over my slacks, still choking me with her other hand. Dropping my head back on the stone, I groan absentmindedly, pushing into her hand.

“Yes, you are,” she croons, undoing my belt, popping the button, and unzipping me, all with one hand. My pants drop to my ankles while she palms me over my boxer briefs. Her fingers become feather-light, letting my throat go.

She drops to her knees, pulling me out. She hums, forcefully wrapping her hand around me, so hard. I grunt in her grip, as she sucks my tip in her mouth. Oh, my fucking god. She has her tongue pierced, and it’s on my cock. The strangled moan that falls from my lips doesn’t sound like me.

But before I can register how good all of her piercings feel dragging against my skin, I’m down her throat. Her tongue dances on my shaft from base to tip. I look down at her, watching her take every inch. Gripping the stone so hard my knuckles turn white, I softly groan.

This is the best head I’ve ever had. She knows exactly what to do with me. She’s devouring me, eating me alive. I hiss as her piercings graze my skin. It’s so fucking good. She pulls me out, stroking me as she stands.

“I want you to be louder, pretty boy. I like knowing when I make you feel good or when I need to stop.” She smirks. My eyes close as another moan rips from my chest. I’ve never been very vocal, besides some dirty talk and the occasional “good girl” growled to women who were anything but.