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Shoving deeper and harder, her body rides up the bookshelf. A whimper slips out of her perfectly parted red lips.
“I do like it, Scar. How about you? Do you like this, or does it make you want to inflict more pain on me?”
Her hands clamp down on my shoulders, fingertips pinching into my skin through my shirt. “As if you're capable of feeling anything at all.”
One hand lands on her hip and I spin her around, so her back is flush to my chest. My fingers twisting inside her.
“We’re in a library, Crew. You really want your ass kicked in a library?”
Still pumping my fingers inside her, I draw in a breath of her scented hair. “That’s just like you—to pretend you don’t want something, just because someone else is giving it to you.”
When my thumb sweeps across her clit, her body quivers, and her fingers clench the shelf.
“You’re wrong. Jagger did the same thing, and I fucking loved it.”
Baring my teeth, my eyes go cold as I grab a fistful of her hair, jerking her head back. “Take that back.”
“Never.”
Tugging harder, I add another finger, flexing them and spreading her apart. She whimpers, a mix of pleasure and pain. I know this because her legs extend farther, all but welcoming what I’m giving her.
“Take it back now or I’ll shove my cock in you and brutally fuck you into one of these horror novels.”
In a moment of weakness, I let my guard down, and Scar slips out of my reach. She turns around, hands pushed to my chest, and she lashes out as she walks me into the shelf behind me. “I’ll never take it back because, as much as I despise Jagger, it felt good. You, on the other hand, have lazy fingers. They just chill inside me like it’s a warm, cozy blanket on a chilly night.” She holds a hand up, grinning as she wiggles her fingers. “Work them, Crew. Make it known they’re in there.”
“You bitch!” I grab her by the throat in a knee-jerk reaction.
She raises a hand, slapping me hard across the face. “Asshole!”
“You’re gonna regret that.”
“Doubtful!” she snaps back.
My hands are still around her neck, barely squeezing, when a shadow to the left grabs my attention.Scar and I both drag our eyes toward the end of the aisle, where a petite girl with glasses is standing.
“I…umm. I’m sorry,”the girl says with an armful of books.
“You should be,” I say, back to dodging fists and open palms from Scar. “This is a private conversation. Now get the fuck out of here.”
She hurries away, knowing better than to open her mouth about what she just saw.
I return my attention to Scar, who’s now climbing my body like a spider monkey. Her flannel shirt falls off her arms, landing on the floor, as her legs wrap around my waist. A kink in my arm forces me to release my hold on her.
“Ya know. If you worked your fingers inside my pussy as well as you do around my neck, I might be coming right now.”
I carry her back to where she belongs—back pressed to the shelf. “You are a dirty-talking whore, you know that?”
“Only with you.”
She better fucking mean that.
My mouth crushes against hers, and I mutter, “Let’s keep it that way.”
Like two primal animals, we tear into each other. Bite for bite, claw for claw. Scar fists my hair, tugging my head wherever she wants it to go. I flip her skirt and slip her panties to the side, showing her I can make her feel better than Jagger, or any guy for that matter.
I slide my fingers in, knuckle-deep. Curling and working them at just the right velocity to make her moan into the small space between us.
Her head drops back and I taste her skin, re-marking her. Showing the world that this girl is mine. Maybe not in every sense of the word, but in every sense that matters. She is not to be touched. She is not to be fucked. And she sure as hell is not to be fuckedwith.
