Pretty In Pain

Chapter Seven – Sweetness & Sin

Ariella

Everyone saw.

The whole school saw.

Remington Cole, the boy everyone thinks is untouchable, wrapped his arm around me in the hallway and said I was his. And then he walked away like nothing happened.

I’ve spent the entire day floating in a daze. People whisper, giggle, glare—but none of it matters. Because the only thing I can hear is his voice in my ear. You’re mine.

I want to believe him. God, I do. But Remington isn’t the type to settle down. He’s a player, a flirt, a boy with a smile that makes girls line up. And I’m just… me.

Except… he kissed me.

He claimed me.

And that has to mean something.

By the time the final bell rings, my nerves are fried. I just want to go home, curl up in my pink sheets, and write until my heart stops racing.

But when I step out into the parking lot, he’s there.

Leaning against his car, waiting.

Like he knew I’d come.

My stomach twists. My feet carry me toward him before I can think.

“Get in,” he says, not a question, not an option.

And like the fool I am, I do.

Remington

She listens to me. Even when she shouldn’t.

The second she slips into my car, the balance shifts. She smells like vanilla and sugar, all soft innocence. And I’m about to stain every inch of it.

I drive without speaking, jaw tight, blood buzzing with everything I’ve been holding back. She fidgets in the passenger seat, clutching her bag like a shield, sneaking glances at me.

Finally, I pull over. Not home, not anywhere safe. Just a quiet street where no one will bother us.

She opens her mouth, maybe to ask why, but I cut her off.

“Don’t.” My voice is low, sharp. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

Her eyes widen. Her lips part.

I lean closer, crowding her space, one hand braced on the seat beside her head. “You think it’s funny? Writing about me. Teasing me. Flirting with every guy who looks at you. Jaxon?” I spit his name like venom. “You like pushing me, Ariella?”

“I—” Her voice trembles. “I just—”

“Shut up.”

She gasps, but her eyes burn, wide and glassy.

“You want to play games?” I growl, my hand sliding to her thigh, squeezing hard enough to make her whimper. “Then you play by my rules.”

Ariella

My heart slams against my ribs. His hand is hot, rough, burning through the thin fabric of my skirt. I can barely breathe.

This isn’t the Remi the world sees. This isn’t the boy with the lazy smile. This is something else—dark, dangerous, commanding.

And I’ve never wanted anything more.

“You don’t get to flirt with him,” he says, fingers digging in tighter. “You don’t get to write about me like I’m some fantasy you can share with the world. You’re mine. Say it.”

His eyes lock on mine, daring, demanding.

I swallow hard. My lips tremble. “I’m yours.”

The words barely leave my mouth before his lips crash into mine.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s fire and fury, teeth clashing, tongues tangling, his hand sliding higher until I gasp into his mouth.

He devours me, owns me, leaves me dizzy and aching.

When he finally pulls back, I’m shaking, my lips swollen, my breath ragged.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice like smoke.

My knees press together instinctively, heat flooding through me.

I should be scared. I should run. But all I can do is whisper, “Remi…” like a prayer.

Remington

She said it.

She said she’s mine.

And f**k, I want to take her right here, in the backseat, show her exactly what being mine means. The ropes, the cuffs, the pain that turns sweet when she begs for more.

But she’s not ready. Not yet.

I force myself to breathe, to pull my hand back before I break every boundary she doesn’t even realize she has.

Her eyes follow me, wide and needy, lips parted like she’s waiting for me to keep going.

I brush my thumb across her cheek, softer now, gentler than I feel. “You have no idea what you’re asking for, Ariella.”

“Yes, I do,” she whispers.

No. She doesn’t.

But one day, she will.

And when that day comes, there’ll be no turning back.

Ariella

He drives me home in silence.

When I stumble into my room, my reflection in the mirror steals my breath. My lips are swollen, my cheeks flushed, my hair a mess.

I look ruined.

And I love it.

I curl onto my bed, clutching my phone, needing to write before the feeling fades.

PrettyInPink.blog – Draft #82

He kissed me like he wanted to consume me. He touched me like I belonged to him. And the worst part? I think I do.

I hit save, not publish this time. Too dangerous. Too raw.

But I know the truth now.

I don’t just want Remington Cole.

I want his darkness.

I want all of it.