Page 67 of Crown of Thorns
Raven strands, long enough to curl up around his nape. His smooth face is flushed from sweat and arousal. His cheekbones form strong lines that lead to a straight nose and trembling, wet lips. They’re agape, eyes hooded but filled with that fragile hope I have caught Louis with before. What is he hoping for? A guy who has everything? What else could he want? Louis seeks praise and needs to feel he’s worth it.
Could it really be so easy?
With every thrust Louis’s cock hits with a thwap against his flat, sculpted abs, smearing precum over his six pack. And though it’s a glorious sight. Him, throat bobbing, begging me to continue. I grab hold of his cock and stroke it with a tight hand. Fast, the same rhythm as my thrusts. His tight, heaven of an ass is filled by my cock and with the way he looks up at me, I can’t look away, because for once my mind has gone quiet. With every stroke, thrust, stroke, thrust, I’m bringing us closer to the finish line.
His eyes roll back, and my toes curl. Our mouths crash in a kiss that’s all tongue and noise, as if we’re trying to consume each other. Louis moans against my lips, his back arching beautifully as he spills into my hand, hot and sudden, hisrelease painting both our stomachs. The sound he makes, a raw, unhinged cry, burns into my memory.
I ride him through it, a few final, brutal thrusts before my body seizes with a grunt. My climax hits hard, and I come deep inside him, every pulse wringing the breath from my lungs. For a second, neither of us move, suspended in heat and sweat and gasps.
Finally, Louis drops his legs from my shoulders, drawing in a shaky breath. My gaze drags up his body. His flushed skin, trembling thighs, and the mess between us, all of it mine. All of him.
“Felt good?” I ask, voice hoarse.
He hums lazily, a dazed smile curling his lips.
I guide his legs down gently and take in the view, thick ropes of cum streaking his abs like art. “So good,” he whispers.
Dipping in, I lick up his release, taste it on my tongue before kissing Louis. His mouth, warm and pliant, opens for me, suckles on my tongue. “Hmm.” Mine. The thought makes me shudder, and I pull back a little too fast. Louis’s eyes darken, but he doesn’t comment. He just lets me clean him up with a cloth I grab from the ensuite bathroom. The quiet between us feels heavy, full of things left unsaid and tension that’s barely held back. Tonight, nothing else matters. But I already know tomorrow will.
Once we’re both dressed again, a soft knock sounds on the door before it opens. Amadou steps in, his gaze carefully neutral. “Your escort back to campus is ready, sirs.”
Louis adjusts his cuffs, then runs a hand through his mussed hair. “It’s late,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “My family’s still out celebrating, I should head back before they notice.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
We follow Amadou out. The bass of the club thuds softly through the walls, distant now, like a dream we haven’t quitewoken from. Louis walks a step ahead, sunglasses on despite the hour, posture lazy but unreadable. The cold air hits as we exit into the night, sobering and sharp. He doesn’t speak as he slips into the car. I climb in after him.
The ride is quiet, charged. And when we reach the dorm gates, he doesn’t look back as he gets out.
Not tonight.
19
LOUIS
Little Devil: Whatcha doing, Professor?
Little Devil: Baby…
I’m lying on my bed, listening to my twin banging Régis in their bedroom. Ever since they became official, Arthur’s become less of an ass. Clearly, being able to show the world to keep their fucking hands off of what’s his has helped. I’m glad for my little stepbrother. He’s had a shit life up to now, with a motherfucker dad who abused him. I can’t imagine the grief he’s gone through. Still, their sweet groans and hard thrusts make me want to get some myself. Still thinking about that damn night at the bar, too. The way he came to me—in public—and claimed me like I was already his. We ended up fucking in my favourite private room, and I swear, it’s the way he sees me that fucks me up the most. But as usual with Noah, one step forward means two steps back.
He likes my persistence, I know he does. He hasn’t once shown me the door when I sneak in late at night. Instead, he got me my favourite shower gel, citrus and vanilla, from my favourite brand. At first, I wasn’t sure how he had obtainedthat kind of information. Then I hoped that perhaps he was as obsessed with me as I was with him. Now I suspect Amadou blabbed. The damn giant seems to have a soft spot for the broken souls. Still, I’m not complaining.
The other day, Noah surprised me with a gift. “I wish to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me, Louis. Off the record,” he said. “Baby, you don’t have to pay me for my ass,” I teased, then laughed when he looked mortified.
“I didn’t mean?—”
“Just kidding.” I traced a finger over the velvet box, and I felt strangely moved by the gesture. Not many people buy me gifts. It’s mostly just money. Or favours.
“I’ve kept the receipt,” Noah added, watching me untie the soft knot.
Lace ribbon fluttered as I opened the lid. More sparkly shit sat inside. “Holy fucking shit. Is this what I think it is?”
“You like it?”
“Are those glasses?” I couldn’t stop staring at them.
“Well, you can’t exactly always drink from the bottle.” Noah grinned boyishly. “Thought maybe it’d make things feel less chaotic. Like… it’s something we do.”
