Page 22 of Crown of Thorns (The Initiation #3)

Louis sucks in a breath, eyes burning when I pop the buttons of my slacks.

My insides flare with self-hatred, but the desire I recognize in his eyes is overwhelming.

It’s a desire we both share. It’s bigger than anything else, self-consuming as it takes over common sense.

I recognize it there, in the blackness of my heart.

His behaviour. This need to be possessed. To belong.

“That’s why you need to mark me, isn’t it?” My voice is low, more taunt than threat. “Tell me, Louis. Tell me how badly you want to be mine.”

The knife flicks in my hand before I even realize it. Years of habit. Instinct. I slide the flat of the cool metal across his flushed cheek, watching him twitch beneath it. My smirk curls like smoke. “Your jealousy drives me mad, little devil.”

The blade drags over his lips, pausing when they part. “Hmm. That’s it. Open up for me. That’s the language you understand best, isn’t it?”

Without pulling the knife away, I slide my free hand down and unfasten my belt, slowly, deliberately, until I’m hard in my hand, flushed and pulsing. I don’t even speak like this, I think. But he brings it out of me. Turns me into someone unrecognizable.

“Fuck…” Louis hums, attempting to lick his lips.

“Did you think I’d want someone else when I’ve got my hands full with you?” He nods, and I can see that’s exactly what he thought.

Sliding the knife over his chin down his throat, my hot gaze focused on his mouth. “Lick it.” The tip of my cock nudges at those pillowy lips. My mind stutters. What the hell am I doing? But Louis looks up at me like I’m the only thing that exists.

“Is that what you need?”

He shakes his head, eyes pupil-blown when he flicks his tongue over my cock. The intensity of my desire nearly makes me falter, but seeing Louis like this, needing me to order him around and punishing him for his insecurities, keeps me in my role.

“No?” I pull back, goosebumps rising at the soft whine that spills past his trembling lips.

He nods then. Cupping his cheek in my palm, I smirk satisfied and push my cock back into his mouth.

“There's a good boy.” His eyes flutter and he moans around my dick. “So good. Let me show you.” Placing a hand at the back of his head I thrust my dick entirely inside his mouth and to the back of his throat. His surprised choke makes me laugh in a low rumble. Slow, powerful thrusts make the corners of his mouth drool with spit. “You see, there’s a good mouth. My mouth, isn’t it, little devil?

” Louis nods through tears that cling to his long lashes.

“Perfection. But as much as I love your mouth, this was always going to happen, here, on my desk.” Pulling out, I yank Louis out of my chair and manhandle him against the table.

Bending him over, I roll his pants down to his knees.

He pants, leaning forward on his elbows, mewling desperately when I rub his hole with slick fingers.

“Oh…fuck…”

“Feels good?”

“So, so good.”

“Tell me what you felt this morning.” I slide two fingers inside him, breaching his clenching muscles.

“You already…know,” he struggles to say.

“No, I don’t. I need your words, little devil, not mine, guessing if I’m right.”

“D-don’t want to share you.” His skin flushes at the confession.

“Share me, huh? And how were you going to share me? With your brother?”

‘Fuck, no.”

“Then what?”

“Arthur…he always gets everything he wants.” Crooking my fingers, he jolts when I brush over his prostate, his entire body trembling as he moans.

“So you’re scared of your brother?”

“I’m not scared, motherfucker.” Slap. He yelps.

“Watch your tongue.” My cock jolts.

“P-please,” he begs.

“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 read the 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.

T he 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.