Page 39 of Crown of Thorns
I don’t know what to say to that. The feeling of our slick, hard cocks sliding together is sensational. My toes curl at the sweet moans he makes in my mouth while I keep on working both our dicks. “Always begging for my attention.” I lick the corner of his lips, and he chuckles lowly.
“Because you won’t give me any.”
“And still you don’t get the message.”
“Oh, Professor, if only you’d send me a message. Text me pics of your gorgeous body. You’d make me the happiest asshole in the world.” My cock pulses against his and we both moan. “I mean, look at yourself now. So fucking sexy.”
“Shut up.”
His smoky chuckle does fucking nothing to bring my brain back. “Oh, baby.”
“I said, shut up. I don’t want you here. Don’t want you messing up my mind.”
Louis gazes at me, his black and golden eyes flashing like the devil he is. I hate how I sound. Small. Cracked. Like I’m begging the one person I should be running from.
Everything is wrong. My guards are down, and I don’t know how to get them up. I growl, unable to steer my impending orgasm away. He smiles knowingly. “I hate you.” Those are the only words that leave my mouth, his moan the only warning in return, before I feel our cocks swell in anticipation.
Louis yanks me close, and my mouth hits his collarbone, just like his hits mine. We tremble under the hot jets as we both reach our peak, and I keep on coming, keep on releasing in my palm, my cum and his together creating a slick mess. He pulls my head back by my hair and smears his fingers over my lips. I can't help but lick them clean. His eyes flash with heat as he dives in, his tongue finds mine, kissing and nipping and tasting our release. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever done. And I hate that I liked it. That my body would still reach for him if he left me bleeding.
When the water turns cold, we are brought back to reality. Literally a cold shower. I leave first, yanking my towel and wrapping it around my waist. “I'm going to my bedroom now. When I’ve finished getting dressed, I want you gone. No, charming my sister, no, nothing. Gone.”
He grabs my arm and snaps me forward until our noses brush, dropping a kiss on my mouth and batting those ridiculously long eyelashes. “Yes, Professor,” he purrs, but there’s defiance glinting in his golden eyes. Like he knows I’ll never really send him away.
I shut my bedroom door behind me, then stay and listen for any sounds until I drive myself crazy. Annoyed, I put my buds in my ears and played Try Again by The Name. The beat helps toerase all unwanted thoughts. I sit there and wait. Play the song again and wait for the storm to calm the fuck down, for him to get out of my space.
When I finally head downstairs and walk into the kitchen, Melo stands by the window, a look of faint surprise on her face. “Louis is gone. He caught a ride.”
I nod, trying to sound casual. “Yeah. He had to leave.”
“He told me he was a friend from Paris.” She chuckles in her palm, making me groan. “He’s not, is he? I just found him on IG. He is gorgeous. Man…look at that. #Frenchboys?—”
“Oh yes, I know all about that. Come on, sis, let’s grab a drink. I need a few.”
11
LOUIS
Noah is brilliance in the shape of a bashful, handsome man. In the few months he has taught at Monterrey, he has caused a revolution. Students fuckinglovehim. His classes have a waiting list. Yet he’s a man with many contradictions. They form multiple shells over his heart, laced together by habits.
There are so many of them. He always has the same breakfast: espresso with hot milk and cinnamon sprinkles with a croissant. Always that ugly briefcase. Glasses, no matter how cute he looks with them, are meant to fit that same image. His clothes, cheap and ill-fitted, are a mixture of navy blue, white, and brown. It makes me want to ravage those habits he has created and make our own.
But it's his temper that forms the true contrast to all the above. Because Noah is a fire without realizing how devastatingly hot he is. And I don’t just mean his looks. Or his needs. Because he is. Needy. He doesn’t realize it, like with so many of his emotional traits.
He doesn’t want me close, but likes his thigh between mine.
He pretends he’s in control, but keeps me locked out of his head. It’s infuriating.
Still, if it means having him close, I’ll gladly feed that illusion. But how long can I keep feeding it before it devours me too?
Today, it’s been exactly a week since our sexy-as-hell shower incident, and frankly, I’ve had enough. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. I’ve counted every goddamn one of them.
But tonight is different. Word reached me through the right mouths: Noah is finally spending his first night in his dorm in the castle. And I’m elated. Giddy, even. Because now, he’s inmyworld.
Little Devil: How are you doing, baby?
Little Devil: I had football practice today and I imagined you watching me. Then I could impress the fuck out of you
Little Devil: I’d love that, you know? To impress the fuck out you. But you never reply and honestly, I don’t know how to really impress you. Want to see my dick?
