Stained under the spray

Chapter 3

Scarlett's POV

Christian’s eyes never left the curve of my breasts as the steam curled around us. My nub hardened under his unhinged gaze. I had never seen him this way. So unhinged, so affected.

His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. He took a step closer until the heat of his body brushed the damp towel I clutched to my chest.

The look in his eyes undid me. My core was clenching. I felt a stream of liquid down my legs and it had nothing to do with the shower I just had. It was all Christian.

“Scarlett…” he drawled and my toes curled on the floor. “How could I leave? When the image of your naked body and the things I could do to you kept me awake all f*cking night?” His voice was a rough whisper.

So he too hadn't slept? The sound of his confession gladdened me.

“You’re trembling, Scarlett. How long have you been fantasizing about your stepbrother?”

My breath hitched. He knew I had always wanted him. I couldn't speak. I only kept my eyes on his beautiful face, relishing the scent of his aftershave. “I envisioned my hands on you, my mouth on you. I envisioned ruining you– all f*cking night.”

The towel slipped as his fingers brushed the side of my ribcage, tracing the line where my waist flared into my hips. His touch felt like fire, but it didn't burn me. It made me want more.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his thumb finding the sensitive peak of my breast and rolling it between his thumb and his fingers. More wetness pooled out of me. “Say it. Beg for it. I want to hear the words that have been choking you.”

My mind screamed no—the voice of my father’s princess, the ingrained fear that he would still leave me, that this was forbidden. But the ache between my legs drowned it all. I forced the words out, raw and desperate.

“I want you… I want you to f*ck me. I want to feel you inside me, to hear you groan as you take me. I want you to make me yours.”

Christian’s smirk widened. He dropped the towel to the floor, letting it pool around my ankles. I gasped when I stood naked before him but he silenced me when his hands slid down my arms. He gripped my wrists and pinned them gently but firmly against the cool tile behind me. His touch was possessive, as if telling me who was in charge.

“Good,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips brushed the shell of my ear. “Because I’ve been imagining this since I saw you sitting at the dinning, pathetically waiting for me.”

He lowered his head, his tongue sweeping a hot, wet line from my throat to the swell of my breast. I drew air as he sucked my skin, pulling each of my sensitive tip into his mouth, his teeth grazing my flesh. I arched towards him, a whimper escaping my lips. His free hand moved lower, fingers slipping between my thighs, finding my slick heat.

Lord have mercy because if this was wrong, I didn't want to be right.

“You’re wet for me,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “Your little p***y is begging for my c*ck. I haven't even touched you Scar.”

He called me a pet name. My chest tightened.

He pushed two fingers inside me, stretching me slowly and carefully. The sensation was burning and exquisite. I cried out, my hips bucking against his hand. My tightness clenched around his knuckles as he began a slow, relentless pump. Each thrust drew a gasp from me, each time he pulled out, I yearned for more.

“Feel that?” he whispered, nibbling my earlobe. My breathing quickened. “That’s you opening up for me. That’s you surrendering.”

I was torn. A part of me wanted to push him away, reminding me that he was my stepbrother, a monster forged in blood and that giving in would mean surrendering to heartbreak. Yet the pleasure coiled tighter in my belly, the heat threatening to consume me whole. I moaned. It was a half protest, half plea, and wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

Christian’s other hand found my hip, gripping hard enough to leave bruises as he he lifted me slightly and aligned himself. The head of his thick, throbbing shaft pressed against my entrance. He paused, eyes locked onto mine, searching for the slightest hint of hesitation.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, breath ragged when he didn't find what he was looking for. “Tell me to stop now.”

I shook my head, tears spilling down my cheeks. After now, I'd never see this impossibly handsome man again and his being here right now, was nothing short of a miracle. I’d be damned if I let him leave. “Don’t… don’t stop,” I choked out, my voice breaking. “Please… f*ck me.”

With a guttural groan, he pushed forward and took me in one hard stroke. Pain sliced through me. He filled me completely and I shut my eyes close, fighting the pain, squeezing his shoulders for anchorage. I cried out, a mix of shock and ecstasy, as he began to move, his hips slamming against me with a rhythmic force. There wasn't much pleasure in the act, just pain. But the sound he made with each thrust, the look of pure adoration in his eyes dulled the pain to a bearable extent.

He gripped my thighs, pulling them wider, giving himself better access.

“You’re so f*cking tight,” he snarled, his voice raw. “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else. You’ll feel me everywhere, even when I’m gone.”

“Yes…please…” I writhed, meeting his thrusts with a desperate urgency, my nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure built. I felt his release approaching from the way his breath hitched, the way his thrusts grew more erratic.

“Come for me, Scarlett,” he commanded, his thumb finding the bundle of nerves between my legs and making circles. “Milk my f*cking c*ck.”

Those words were all it took. A scream tore from my throat as the waves of orgasm crashed over me. My muscles clamped down hard on his length, milking him. He groaned as he released into me, filling me with his essence as we shuddered through the pleasure.

Christian’s forehead rested against mine, his breathing ragged, his eyes shinning with satisfaction. He bit into my neck, sucked and nibbled, making red marks on my skin. I was still trembling, my palm rested against his heaving chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. Now I had no doubt. I loved him, craved him, despite the reality of who he was.

“Christian…” I whispered. “Take me with you. Please. I can’t stay here… I can’t live as his princess while my heart belongs to you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me. His hand cupped my cheek, almost lovingly, brushing away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen.

“You are Salvatore’s daughter in every regard, no matter how much you try to make me think otherwise.” His grip tightened. “You are your father’s daughter, Scarlett. Those eyes, that name, that legacy—it’s in you. No amount of f*cking, no amount of begging will wash it away. You will always be the his princess. And I'll never forgive either of you for it.”

“Don't say that Christian. Please…” Hot tears rolled down my cheeks but it didn't matter to him. His eyes had no mercy.

He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered. “Stay here and let him marry you off to whichever bastard he wants to. You wanted forbidden pleasure? You got it.”

He released me, stepping back under the shower’s spray, the water washing away the evidence of our union. I cried, coughed, pleaded as my legs gave in and I watched him exit the room.

I was utterly ruined. Nothing could salvage me.