The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 103

Chapter 103: 103 | Get. On. My. Lap.

I barely managed to get the door closed before Sloane’s hands were on me, shoving me hard against the wooden surface. Her mouth found mine with a force that made my teeth click together — no gentle exploration, no tentative buildup. Just pure, unfiltered aggression and the lingering taste of maple syrup from the french toast she’d demolished at breakfast.

"You think you can just carry me around like some princess?" She bit down on my lower lip, hard enough to make me wince. "Like I’m some damsel who’s going to melt because you made me fucking french toast with extra butter?"

"You practically licked the plate clean," I managed.

"Shut up." Her hands framed my face, nails digging crescents into my jaw as she kissed me again. The sting felt electric. "I’m still furious with you."

"Yeah, I picked up on that."

Her palms flattened against my chest and shoved. I stumbled backward through her room until the backs of my knees connected with the edge of her bed frame.

"Sit."

The command came out sharp and breathless. I sat.

Sloane stood over me, pink hair disheveled and wild around her shoulders. Her oversized sleep shirt had slipped off one shoulder, revealing the smooth line of her collarbone. Those blue eyes — identical to her mother’s but burning with something entirely different — blazed with an intensity that sat somewhere between fury and raw hunger.

"You want forgiveness?" Her hands moved to the hem of her shirt. "Then you’re going to make me forget all about her."

She pulled the fabric over her head in one fluid motion. It hit the floor with barely a whisper.

My mouth went completely dry.

She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Her breasts were small and perfect, pale skin flushed pink from the heat in her cheeks. Her nipples were already hard, tight peaks that made my hands itch to touch.

"You’re going to fuck me so thoroughly I forget what it felt like when you weren’t mine." She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her sleep shorts and pushed them down her hips. No underwear. Just smooth, pale skin and the soft pink between her thighs that was already glistening with want. "You’re going to make me come so hard I can’t remember anything except your name falling from my lips."

I reached for her automatically.

She slapped my hand away, the crack of palm against skin echoing in the quiet room. "Did I give you permission to touch me yet?"

"Sloane—"

"That’s not how this works." She stepped closer, near enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her bare skin. "You messed up. You slept with my mother. You made me cry." Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, but she pushed through it with typical Sloane determination. "So now you get to sit there and watch until I decide you’ve suffered enough."

My hands moved to her hips before I could stop myself.

She gasped, trying to push my hands away, but I held firm.

"Let go."

"No."

"Lukas—"

I pulled her forward. She stumbled, catching herself with her palms against my shoulders. Her legs bracketed my thighs, her body pressed against mine — bare skin to bare skin except for the boxers I still wore.

"You want me to make you forget?" I looked up at her, taking in the flush spreading down her neck, the way her pupils had blown wide. "Then stop giving orders and get on my lap."

Her face went nuclear red. "I hate when you get all commanding."

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