Page 19 of Crown of Thorns (The Initiation #3)

When my phone buzzes on my stomach. It makes my dick perk up. There he is, fucking finally .

“Where are you, Louis?” Noah’s voice snaps through the speaker, clipped and furious.

I palm my growing erection and smile lazily.

“Same place I told you I’d be, Professor. Been waiting. Half an hour now. You’re late.”

A beat.

“Didn't peg you for the type to stand a guy up.”

Sharp breathing.

Then: “I’m waiting in my office. Where…”

He cuts himself off.

I hear it, the moment it hits him.

The silence vibrates with realization.

He knows.

“In your dorm, Professor. Naturally.”

“In my dorm ?” The disbelief curdles into rage. “But you said?—”

“I said I’d text you. You might want to check your messages more carefully.”

A crash sounds over the line. I imagine his chair flying back, that fury in his cheeks.

“Get out of my room. I’m your professor. This is inappropriate. Our classes are in my office.”

“Wrong again. They happen wherever the fuck I decide.”

“I’m coming there right now. And if you’re still there?—”

“Yeah?” I murmur, letting my head fall back against his pillows. “What are you going to do, Professor?”

Silence. A stuttered breath.

“I…I’ll kick you out.”

“Bring it on,” I whisper, but he’s already hung up. Using a random book to hide my raging erection, I take off my shirt for good measure. Then I wait, chest filled with anticipation, fire licking my insides in all the right places.

After what feels like forever, his key turns in the lock. The door swings open. Noah’s eyes glare daggers at me. A vein pops in his reddened cheek. “I told you to leave.”

“You did,” I say, not moving, not blinking.

He kicks the door shut. “I told you that all classes take place in my office.”

“You did.”

His gaze dips to where the book sits on my scorching groin. “This can’t happen,” he finally murmurs.

“It already has, Professor. But you keep fighting it.” My fingers crawl over the book and we both hear the air he sucks in. “Things are about to change for you.” I’m talking about his bedroom. I’m talking about his clothes, his books, his everything. I’m talking about his future . He’ll be mine.

I must have lost my mind. Perhaps I didn’t have one to begin with. Can’t lose something you don’t have.

But then again, it’s not madness, not really. It’s hunger. Obsession. Fascination twisted into something unshakable. Because Noah isn’t just some pretty professor with secrets in his eyes. He’s brilliance forced into a box, fire pretending to be ash. And I want to be the one who burns with him.

He’s beautiful, yes. But more than that, he’s bound in rules he didn’t write, hiding pieces of himself no one else dares to uncover. That’s what draws me. Not the control. Not even the power. But the idea that, with enough pressure, I can make him choose me. Not out of fear. But out of need.

That’s what I want to own. Not his body, though, fuck, that too, but the moment he realizes he’d rather shatter with me than stay whole without me.

He shakes his head, looking unsure. “No, they aren’t.”

Sweet .

“You cancelled our deal, remember? You got spooked out after the Brotherhood gathering. You said you didn’t want anything to do with it again.

That’s fine. But it also means there’s no more deal keeping us in check.

Which means I have free rein. We’re back at square one.

Just think about it. You could lose your job at any given moment. Unless…what do you think?”

Noah doesn’t answer, just stands there, briefcase in hand, in his casual formal clothes. Cheap pants, cheap shirt, cheap jacket, looking handsome as fuck. “A guess?”

He shakes his head. “You wanted to show me the Brotherhood’s darkest secrets at Monterrey. I went with you to the gathering. I fulfilled the deal.”

I give him a wicked smile. “That’s not how this works.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You’re mine, Noah.” Fuck.

“No. I’m your professor. You cannot…”

“Shut up. Drop everything and come crawling to me,” I rasp. It’s provocative and I don’t expect him to do as I say, though my dick is definitely game, hard as fuck and only barely hidden under that book.

“No.” He’s raging now, panting loudly and barely keeping it together.

He wants it. Just like that time in The Black Cat, I see thick desire in his eyes.

And I want to break him open, completely, beautifully, irreversibly.

His eyes betray him. With barely a thin layer of gray left, his pupils are blown, dark with emotion.

There’s conflict, too. Whatever tortures his mind is eating him from the inside.

“I am Louis Deveraux, heir to Deveraux Holding. My father is on the board of Saint-Laurent. And you, Professor Montague, came down my throat. You wanted me. Even if it’s officially not illegal in this country for a professor to have sex with a student, you and I both know it would ruin your career.

I gave you an option, but you backed out.

And you know what that means? That you saw something you shouldn’t have. ”

He just glowers at me, his eyes broadcasting every single emotion. Disgust, betrayal. “You brought me there.” His voice is low.

“Did I? I don’t recall.”

He stiffens. My smirk is victorious.

Slowly, I slide the book away, exposing my hard as rock dick and heavy balls. Licking my fingers, I wrap them around my girth and give myself a lazy stroke. Noah gasps again. “Now, c’mere.”

Shaking his head, he walks toward me, but something in him fractures mid-step. His eyes flicker between rage and longing. The briefcase slips from his fingers and hits the ground with a hollow thud, like a verdict passed.

He should walk away. Every line in his body screams restraint. But it only takes a breath, a twitch, before his knees hit the floor.

No warning. No words.

Just his pride folding like paper under the weight of us.

He kneels.

It’s not a fall. It’s a choice. And it’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

My cock twitches at the sight, at the power in that unraveling.

“Crawl between my thighs. Take your time. Suck my cock nice and slow.”

“You are crazy.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re disrespecting the rules. Not the school’s.” I lean in, voice rough with want. “ Ours. The ones your knees already agreed to. The ones your mouth keeps pretending don’t exist. Come on, Professor, lose control. You’re so fucking sexy when you do. I see you want it.”

“I shouldn’t…” he mumbles, but he’s breathing hard already, shoes off and doing exactly as I say.

“I know. You shouldn’t. But here you are.

Again.” The bed dips when he crawls on it.

“God, baby, you are perfect. Just fucking perfect.” I grab a fist of his shortened hair and pull tight.

“Look at you. So beautiful. Let it all go, Professor, you’re not the one in control here.

I am, and I will take good care of you.”

He complains with a groan, his demons glaring at me through his pupil-blown eyes. They don’t scare me, those fuckers. I’m officially on a hunt, and I won’t stop until I’ve ripped them out and crushed them to utter destruction.

I should give him space. I should slow down. But my body won’t listen.

“I want to see you cry for me, Noah.” Our mouths touch. “I want to see you fall apart for me.” I lick the seam of his mouth, humming. “Open.” His lips part on a shudder that I feel all the way down to my groin. My tongue spears inside at the first hesitation he shows.

His chest heaves when our tongues meet, and I seduce him into a kiss that’s sweeter than I’d anticipated, because I missed him. Fuck, I missed him that much that I’ve been stalking him like some pathetic asshole. And though that was entertaining, I want that to be over. I want him to be mine.

When I finally pull back, his lips are wet and pink.

Unfathomable emotions flicker in his eyes, emotions that are as foreign to me as the whisper of his breath on my lips.

I pull him down on a feral growl, barely unable to fight my readiness.

I’ve been fucking ready ever since I set eyes on him.

The moment his mouth connects with my dick, I jolt as if hit by electricity.

Every line I’ve crossed leads to this. Every obsession justified.

He swipes his tongue over my crown, licking up the precum that’s oozing out, and hums.

“Fuck me.” My head lolls back, but I keep my grip firm on his nape, making sure that he won’t make a run for it, not even in our current state.

He hums. “You taste so good.”

“Yeah?” I smile at the ceiling. Butterflies have claimed victory in my chest. His mouth goes back to work, taking its sweet time to discover every ridge, every patch of skin it can find.

He sighs, then takes me in deeper. Clutching the sheets, I let out an unhinged moan, rolling my hips sluggishly in search of more friction.

Fuck, his touch is heaven. A hand fondles my balls, and I press my lips in desperation, not ready to show him how embarrassingly quick he’s got me falling apart.

Grabbing his book, I go for the distraction.

“So, stars, right?” I rasp. He smiles around my cock and I’m so fucking gone.

“That won’t do.” Gripping the sheets for balance, I pull him off my cock and get up on my knees.

Noah’s eyes are glassy and wild, his lips puffy.

“Get comfortable, baby. Let me take care of you, too.”

He lies down on his back while I climb over his body. With my ass directly in his face, I spread my legs a bit more around his shoulders. His pants and briefs roll down his knees easily. Such a gorgeous gift to unwrap.

His cock springs free, flushed and wet. “Need to taste you. Hmm.”

He tastes fucking fantastic. Salty and like sex. His arms tighten around my waist, and he lets out a guttural moan. He wraps his lips around my cock once more and I grunt, rolling my hips against his mouth, making him choke.

Fire licks my insides and I groan around his dick as the orgasm starts building up.

With Noah losing all common sense right below me, I’m going for utter destruction.

He reaches that point first, body stuttering while his muffled grunts turn wild.

His shaft swells in my mouth, and then I taste it; an explosion on my tongue.

It spurs me on, makes me lose all control as tremors slam right through me, making me hum while I swallow Noah down.

Fuck, this feels so fucking good. I will never be able to get enough from him.

He’s the only one I want right now, and fuck, I’ve never been so sure of anything in the moment.

Keeping his head firm against my groin, I make him choke on my cock, make him splutter and wheeze.

“Fuck yeah, baby…fuck, you’ve got me…” Coming.

Seeing stars. Wave after wave of pleasure rocks through me as I unload down his throat.

When I finally come to, he’s a mess. Red cheeks, wet from tears, lips puffy and leaking cum and saliva.

His eyes flash, but he lets me manhandle him anyway, something in him softening, just enough.

There’s something tender about it, like he’s letting me win.

For now. But I know better. He’ll fight back.

He always does, and I fucking live for it.

“There. Your room has been baptized.” He lands in my embrace, chin tucked under mine, his body a quiet weight against my chest. We stay like that, tangled in breath and bare skin, for what feels like forever.

I expect the fight to return, for him to push me off, to reassert whatever line we crossed, but it doesn’t come. Not yet.

His limbs are heavy, but not yielding. His breathing steady, but not asleep. He’s present. Raw. Unraveled.

Outside, the sun sinks lower, casting long, syrupy shadows across the floor. The sky bruises from gold to crimson to deep indigo.

“What a mess,” he murmurs.

Not to me. Not really. More like a thought spilled into the quiet. But it guts me anyway.

I want to freeze this moment. Frame it in gold leaf and hang it in a cathedral. Because no matter what comes next—his regret, his silence, his fury— this was real.

Minutes later, he drifts off, snoring softly. My chaos, tucked against my chest like he was made to ruin me.

I want to freeze this moment. Steal it, keep it locked inside me like something no one else gets to touch. Because no matter what comes next, his regret, his silence, his fury, this was mine.

It’s night, though not late. It’s the kind of quiet that hums with unsaid things.

The dorm is cloaked in soft moonlight, casting silver across the old floorboards and the rumpled sheets.

It’s the first night either of us has slept here, and somehow that feels important, like the start of something neither of us is ready to name, but both of us feel coming.

And selfishly, I want to be the one he names it for.

The one he dreams about in this bed, under this moon.