Bottom Scaramouche Novels & Stories

“But what if someone comes…” “That’s the idea, silly,” she breathes. “No, I mean, what if someone else comes in…” “I’ll keep a look out,” offers Laura helpfully. “You can imagine I’m Scar Son if you like,” pleads Sandra, starting to squirm around on the bed, her hips writhing in sexual frustration while she fucks herself with two fingers inside her panties.

He broke into a lewd chuckle, his face distorted with sleaze. With a lascivious smile and a filthy and repulsive glance, the man with the scarred face remarked, "A pretty boy like you defending her, huh? She's quite the looker. How about selling her to me?" Ember was disgusted. She responded with a spat and was ready to retort. However, Caleb swiftly took her hand and motioned for her to keep silent. They were in a dangerous situation. Provoking the man may have disastrous repercussions. Caleb's public presence had made him a recognizable figure. A confidant of the scar-faced man whispered to him, presumably informing him of Caleb's identity.

"You don't understand how so many sellers take advantage of people these days. If this bean weren't smart, she'd get scammed too." She pulled out her phone and shoved it in my face. On the screen, a video showed a carton of strawberries bursting open for no apparent reason. Their inner flesh was pitch-black with a sticky, slimy liquid oozing out, and they looked completely rotten. I was so speechless that I almost laughed, but I managed to hold it in and keep a straight face. "Doesn't it look realistic? The platform's customer service will definitely approve the refund request the second they see this," Laurel added.

I sipped on it, closing my eyes to savour the taste and the sting. “Scar,” I called calmly, placing the glass back on the table. A bald-headed man stepped out from the shadows and the look on Kilan's face further contorted to intense fear and shock. Scar bowed his head slightly toward the camera. “Two limbs,” I said bringing the glass of wine to my lips again, sipping on the contents. Scar's face lit up at my words. A maniacal grin spread across his lips as he made his way to a table placed behind Kilan's head. The table was covered in tools meant for the purpose of inflicting pain. He picked up a sickle, felt the tip with his finger, and nodded approvingly.

He whipped around to glare at me, his eyes filled with disgust and impatience. "Layla, what kind of garbage is this? You can't even make a simple mousse properly!" he snapped. "And look at the pathetic state you're in. You're coughing all over the place, and your face is covered in blotchy red patches. You look disgusting! Get out of here, and stop being such an eyesore to Audrey!" His harsh words felt like a jagged blade stabbing straight into my heart. Only then did Audrey smile, thoroughly satisfied by my misery.

Lucas’s jaw tightened, but his voice stayed low and steady, his eyes scanning the deck around us. “Guy’s a piece of work. You good to keep going? Scars is waiting.” I nodded, forcing my focus back into place. “I’m good. Let’s do this.” ***** I took a deep breath, smoothing down the crimson satin of my dress, and pushed the door open. Scars was sitting on a low velvet couch in the corner, a glass of scotch already in his hand. He had rolled up the sleeves of his button-down, exposing the heavy black ink wrapping around his forearms. When the door clicked shut behind me, he looked up.

“Okay, okay! I won't push you, please stop giving those puppy eyes! You know I can't say no to those! But when you don't wanna go to the party, at least come and see what I have brought for you.” “Only if you promise to think of an excuse and support me in this!” I replied as the hint of a smile appeared on my face. “Done! Now tell me what you want to have for dinner, so that I can prepare that in advance for you. And once again, stop touching your scars or it will cause pain.” ‘The scars present on my face are indeed painful, but not as much as the one that is present on my heart.’ Thinking this I stepped out and followed Katrine out of the room.

This was the transaction she had truly signed for: the purchase of their humanity. ​As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and gold, they retreated to the cottage. There was no formal dining room. They sat on the floor around a low table, eating simple pasta with tomatoes and basil that Amara had tossed together in the tiny, cramped kitchen. ​The conversation wasn't about shipping lanes or political shifts. It was about the "giant" crab Lorenzo thought he saw in a cave, and the way Bianca had discovered that lemons were very, very sour.

Scarpa's daughter. We were going to finalise everything, and I was very happy—sold, even—the moment Mr. Scarpa offered me such a huge deal. He was simply too good to be true, and maybe that was why his wife cheated. He was too good for her. Just like I was too good for Benedetto. I tried to do some research on that man, Scarpa. I didn’t know his full name, but despite how big of a deal Benedetto bragged about his boss being, the name ‘Scarpa’ didn’t seem to exist anywhere online. No headlines or news, pictures—nothing!

Holding a bottle of champagne in her hand, Scarlett danced on the floor, swaying her hips on symphony. “Finally, Stacy is out of the picture!” She cheered loudly. “That wench dared to disrespect me.” Despite the lively atmosphere, the scarred man sat calmly on the sofa, his attention focused on the laptop screen. Overwhelmed with glee, Scarlett didn’t mind his behavior and spoke excitedly. “All thanks to your help, I was able to get rid of that lowly rogue wolf. I have no regrets marrying Jessica to Damon.” Scarlett raised the bottle to her lips and gulped down the champagne at a record speed. She shook her head and growled.