Page 5 of Monsters Wear Crowns
“Should we invite him to play?” she teased, eyes glinting with amusement.
I kept my eyes on him. “No. He’s not my type, I’m afraid.”He was.But my best friend didn’t know the fantasies I often played in my mind late at night. Of being hunted and used. I thought it was because I was so dominant in my daily life.
Laura’s laugh was soft and sinful. “Oh, darling...I doubt that.”
The air was electric with the heartbeat of the music and the heat of bodies moving in a wild rhythm. My heart matched the bass, a steady, primal thrum that vibrated through my chest. I felt the weight of his stare still burning on my skin. But when I finally turned back to the balcony–he was gone.
The sudden emptiness where he had stood made my stomach knot. The crowd seemed denser now, faces flashing and blending under the shifting lights. For a fleeting moment, unease brushed against my spine, cold and whisper-thin. But then Laurawas there, her arm looping through mine as she grinned, eyes glinting like she could read every thought racing through her head.
“Lost him already?” she teased, voice honeyed and sharp. “Shame.”
I huffed softly, tossing my hair over one shoulder. “Coward.”
“Or...patient,” Laura countered with a smirk. “C’mon. Drink with me.”
Three shots later, the warmth had returned, smoothing over my nerves with a golden haze. The music felt like a current, and I let myself be swept back into it, moving with Laura through the writhing bodies, the crowd swallowing us whole. But the feeling hadn’t entirely left me. I danced with my back straight, my senses alive. I could still feel it–that pull. Only now, it was different.
A new presence.
A brush of air as someone moved behind me, close enough for my skin to hum with awareness. I turned–and there he was.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Messy blonde hair that fell just enough to frame a pair of rich, brown eyes. He was effortlessly disheveled, the kind of man who wore carelessness confidently. But his gaze was sharp, studying me in the half-darkness with a hint of hunger.
I didn’t step back. Instead, I met his eyes and let the corner of my lips curl.
He understood.
Without a word, his hands found my waist. We moved together, my body following his lead as though we’d done this a hundred times. Heat sparked, an invisible tether tightening with every shift of our hips.
Laura’s playful voice, laced with amusement, cut through. “Someone’s having fun.” She shot me a wink from the edge of the dance floor before disappearing into the crowd.
I barely registered it. My focus was singular now, the rest of the room melting away until only he existed–his touch, his heat, andthe slow, simmering tension building between our bodies. I wondered if that man still lingered.
A thought flickered through my mind: I felt safer with this one here. Safer from whoever else might be watching. So, I decided to bring him home.
He leaned in, capturing my lips in a greedy kiss that set a blazing fire in the pit of my being. His strong, muscular arms enveloped me while the pulsating music around us swallowed the small moan that slipped from my lips. I needed this release, this surge of feeling coursing through me. When our lips finally parted, I took a moment to glance over and saw Laura grinding against an attractive brunette man.
“What’s your name?” my dance partner inquired, his voice a low, seductive murmur that resonated over the beat.
I laughed, realizing that I had tasted him before even knowing his name. “I’m Adela,” I replied, my voice laced with playful amusement.
He kissed me again, his lips warm and inviting. “Louis,” he murmured softly against my mouth.
I smiled, my curiosity piqued and eager to discover the contours of his body hidden beneath that shirt. “Nice to meet you, Louis,” I said, my words carrying a hint of anticipation.
The air between us burned hotter than the pulse of the bar lounge as I tugged Louis through the entrance of my building. Our wild and reckless laughter wove into the music, our bodies brushing with every step. I felt his pace slow, his gaze sweeping across the marble floors and towering windows, eyes wide with surprise.
“Impressed?” I teased, a playful edge curling my lips.
His grin was crooked, lazy. “Didn’t peg you for thepalacetype.”
I smirked, my fingers curling into his shirt as I pulled him into the waiting elevator. “Good. You won’t know what to expect next.” The doors slid closed, trapping us in a space thick with unspoken tension. His gaze raked over me, and it sent a thrillthrough my veins. Could he handle me? I doubted it. But I was willing to let him try.
Inside my penthouse, the city’s hum was a distant murmur beneath soft, ambient lighting. We barely made it through the door before his hands snatched my waist, and I welcomed them with a sharp, hungry smile.
Then it blurred–heat, laughter, the crash of lips and bodies.
His hands explored my body with a confident, practiced touch. I guided him into my dimly lit bedroom, pulling him on top of me. In a matter of moments, our clothes lay scattered across the floor.
