Page 52 of Crown of Thorns
“Where’s my possessive, little devil?” My cock replaces my fingers, sliding in without a single hesitation. Louis’s fingers claw at the documents, at the table, at anything they can find.
“Fuck, Noah.”
I don’t stop, continuing blindly, until we both let out a heavy sigh. I’m fully sheathed. Slap. “Where is he?”
“I was jealous,” he barks. “Are you fucking happy now?” Sliding a hand under his chin, I pull him up and against my chest. Louis lets out a string of moans. “Fuck, you feel amazing. Mine, and mine alone.”
My chest clenches at the meaning. “Am I yours?”
“You know you are.”
“I don’t want to be.”
Louis chuckles raspily. “Too late. I love how you’re claiming what’s yours. How you’re inside me like you own me.”
Squeezing his hip with one hand, I keep the other wrapped around his throat, keeping it nice and tight. Yanking his head to the side, his lips mold into mine when I take them in a bruising, all-consuming kiss. He strokes himself, eyes glazed and mouth open. I rut into him, greedy for friction, for release, for the sound of him unraveling beneath me. Every thrust, every kiss, every drag of skin feels like a claim I’m too far gone to question.
“I’m…fuck. I’m so close.”
“Me too. Come with me.” My mouth is back on his. I want to memorize him—every ridge, every breath, every sound he makes when he’s mine. There’s no worship in it, only hunger, twisted and endless. When I climax, I can feel it everywhere. In the way my toes curl and my eyes roll back, in the way my balls draw up and I fill him with my cum. But mostly, I can feel it in the way my chest thrums. It’s fucking mind blowing. Louis shudders against me and spills across the polished surface, moaning in ecstasy as he does so. When we come back from our high, we both exhale languidly, not willing for the moment to end.
I kiss the back of his head, his nape, his shoulder, because I don’t know how to say I liked this more than I should. My fingers ghost across his cheek like they might undo what I’ve done. “Little devil…”
His expression changes, a smile tugging at his lips when he cradles his head, angling himself toward me. “I love it when you call me that,” he mutters against my lips. “I guess I’ll see you later, Professor.”
I swallow. The need to ask him if he needs anything is strong, but the words stay stuck down my throat. I’ve never had sex like this. Not with someone who could hurt me back. Who could laugh afterward and mean it. I think about aftercare—I’ve readthe articles—but I can’t bring myself to offer it. Not when he’s already halfway out the door.
So I watch him clean himself, fix his clothes, and leave. My walking sin. The man who aims for my heart and makes me feel both light and heavy with emotion. The man who controls every single part of me, even if he lets me do the fucking.
The door clicks shut behind him.
Silence floods in, thick with the scent of sex and something far heavier.
Taking off my glasses, I rub my face. Fuck… I bent him over my desk and lost control. Again. Bent him over my desk and pumped him full of my cum. Pumped him full with adoration, fascination, with that same toxic adrenaline that he seems to have for me. For years, I’ve kept away from the edge. Kept away from the darkness I knew lived inside me, the darkness my father warned me about. Yet here I am, shattered by the man who now owns every corner of me.
I should run. Resign. Disappear into a city that doesn’t know my name. I should go back to the quiet life I built, the one that kept this part of me locked away.
“It won’t happen again,” I whisper.
But even I don’t believe the lie.
And I think he knows. That’s the worst part.
14
NOAH
The world hasn’t stopped, but I have. Everything around me moves on like nothing happened.
We’re sitting in the canteen.
“Something’s up with you.” Melody places her knight right in front of my queen. A bold move. “Talk to me, big brother.”
“Nothing’s up with me.” I switch my king and my tower, but my heart’s not in it. The weight of Louis’s absence has been pressing against my ribs all morning. He’s in my head. Every word, every look, every filthy moan—I replay them like they’re answers to a question I shouldn’t be asking. Like I’m decoding a language I was never meant to learn. My chest tightens every time I do, like I’ve swallowed a stone that won’t pass.
I feel guilty for wanting him. But wanting him isn’t the worst part, needing him is.
I make a desperate move on the board, something even a novice would question. Melo raises an eyebrow. She’s a damn queen in chess.
