VIPER || Oscar Piastri

Chapter 142

"No—!"

It tore out of her before she could catch it and and shove it back down, or maybe twist it into a laugh instead, but it came out broken, a half‑sob, against his neck. Her hand came up to his face, palm flat, stopping the words from finishing. Her eyes squeezed shut.

She didn't want to hear what he was about to say.

She'd heard it enough already; she'd felt it on his tongue, in the way his mouth opened, in the way his breath hit her skin. She couldn't let him say it. She didn't want him to. If he said it, she wouldn't be able to keep pretending this was over— that this was nothing, that it was just two people fucking because they didn't know what else to do. If he said it, she'd have to admit that she did too, that she still did, and that she couldn't. She wouldn't.

Her chest hurt. It was too much. She didn't want the weight of it, she didn't want him to give her that, because she would drop it, she would ruin it, she would hurt it.

So she pressed her hand harder to his face, not gentle, not soft, just stopping him.

No, no, no, no, don't say it.
Don't give that to me.
Keep it.

I don't want it.

Her head shook, and though her forehead stayed pressed to his skin as if she were hiding from him, her hips still moved, and she kept holding him inside her anyway.

She wanted him to fuck her like it meant nothing.

This had to mean nothing.

And if he loved her, it couldn't mean nothing.

Oscar was still. He had been still since she said no. His breathing was uneven, and his body was tight against hers but not moving. For a second she thought maybe he'd stop altogether, maybe he'd leave, and that'd be it.

But then his hand came up, closing around her wrist, the one still clamped to his mouth. He pulled it away, and at the same moment, he pushed forward, pulling himself off the headboard so that they sat upright, chest to chest. The shift made him slide deeper inside her — her hands flew to his shoulders, along with a sharp moan she hadn't wanted to give him.

She still didn't look at him. Couldn't. Her eyes stayed shut, her face turned into the curve of his neck.

"Why not?"

It sounded like it hurt for him just to say it.

He was still again, waiting, holding himself back.

She couldn't answer. Her throat locked up.

"Why can't I say it?" he asked again, and this time he started to move. The question pressed into her with every thrust, every drag of him inside her, every shift of her body as he pulled her down onto him and pushed up into her. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her breath breaking against his skin, but she still didn't look.

She thought if she met his eyes she'd give in.

He thought that, too.

So he tried.

His hand slid up her back, holding her in place, keeping her upright even as she tried to curl in. His chest was pressed to hers, every movement dragging her deeper, and she couldn't stop the sounds that came out of her.