Chapter 10: Red Thorns: Chapter 9

Any objection I could’ve made crashes and dies against the liquid heat of Sebastian’s tongue.

There’s no gentleness behind his kiss. If anything, it’s deeper than yesterday’s with a sinister meaning lurking in its depths. For a second, I feel hunted, followed, just like last night on the forest road.

Only, this time…he caught me.

My heart hammers, but instead of stiffening, my body opens to his wicked ministrations. His palms cup my cheeks, his thumbs pressing hard to keep me immobile as he explores my mouth.

Or more like, seizes it with simmering brutality.

The strokes of his relentless tongue and the nibbles of his teeth against the cushion of my lips is nothing short of a conquest.

Savage.

Merciless.

And with no end in sight.

He’s consuming me in his rough viciousness, feeding off my energy and confiscating it for his own. If I let him, if I allow this, I have a feeling he’ll never stop.

Not that he appears to plan to anytime soon.

I jam a fist between us, pushing at his chest, but that only prompts him forward. Sebastian swallows me into his warm presence and feasts on me with the urgency of a doomed man.

The hum coming from our surroundings and the TV in the background gradually vanishes. Even the sofa we’re sitting on feels ethereal, like we’re suspended in midair.

Why?

Just why does he have this effect on me as if I’m still that teenager who met him for the first time?

The thought of those stolen moments coupled with his savage, unapologetic touch get to me in places that sure as shit shouldn’t be affected.

I argue with my head that I shouldn’t give in to this, shouldn’t allow him to play with me, but my logical side seems to be closed for business with the fiery stimulation taking over my body.

A moan ripples in the air and I gasp in his mouth as I recognize my voice.

I lost.

Or more accurately, I never stood a chance to begin with.

Even with the bells of his win echoing in the air, Sebastian doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t gloat about making me so hormonal that I couldn’t control my damn reaction.

If anything, he becomes more brazen, reaching a hand between us and cupping my breast through my hoodie. I’m braless, so his touch goes straight to my sensitive flesh.

Another needy sound tears from my throat as his thumb presses down on my aching nipple. He then twists it between two callous fingers causing me to whimper and shake.

His back and forth against my breast doesn’t end there, though, and shoots between my legs, metaphorically prying them open.

Sebastian’s mouth leaves mine with an agonizing slowness that catches my breathing and makes my lips tingle.

I stare at him from beneath my lashes and that’s when I realize my eyelids have been drooping as if I’m caught in a trance.

My fractured breaths and his harsh ones fill the air as we stare at each other in ominous silence. One that says in blood letters that something is wrong.

Or maybe it’s too right, but it can still go wrong.

Or maybe it’s equally right and wrong.

His fingers circle my nipple through the hoodie and I suck in a sharp breath through my nostrils.

I’ve never had someone toy with me this expertly, promising both pleasure and discomfort in equal measure.

It’s a free fall.

Torture.

Plain sadism.

“Were you ready for me, Tsundere?” he rasps near my ear, still tugging on my nipple, twirling, stimulating.

“Ready for you?” My voice is too breathy and strangled, as if I’m relearning how to articulate properly.

“You left these tits uncovered because you wanted me to feel them.”

“That’s…not true.”

He swipes his thumb over the peak, back and forth, controlling my shattered breathing until it matches the rhythm of his. “But they’re ready for me. Can’t you see how much they want my mouth on them?”

Sebastian releases my face and starts to lift my hoodie. My insides burn red hot and my stomach quivers when his knuckles brush against the burning skin.

The thought of him seeing my breasts, actually touching them without a barrier, sends me into a spectrum of chaotic emotions. The swells of my breasts peek from underneath the material, my sickly pale skin contrasting against the black of the hoodie.

Sebastian strokes an index finger over the bottom swell, causing my thighs to clench. The view of his masculine finger and the tone of his skin against the paleness of mine steals my focus.

“Look at how creamy and big your tits are, Naomi. The cheer uniform doesn’t do them justice.”

His words trigger pressure against my most intimate part and I can feel myself letting go, allowing him to do whatever he likes with me and my body.

No.

This will blow away every wall I’ve spent years building.

Every barrier and layer I’ve carefully wrapped around myself since that red night.

I don’t know how I do it, but I grab his wrist and push it away, then jerk up so I’m not caught under his spell anymore.

That doesn’t stop the manic rise and fall of my chest or how my nipples still burn to be touched.

It doesn’t stop my illogical need for more or how my skin twitches for it like an addict going through withdrawal.

Sebastian remains on the sofa, legs wide, appearing a bit too comfortable. Strands of his sandy hair fall in a beautiful mess over his forehead and darkened aqua eyes.

“In case you forgot, I won, Tsundere, and with a KO at that since you moaned three times.”

I suck in an unsteady breath, praying that my skin isn’t reddening. “That still doesn’t give you the right to grope me.”

His tongue peeks out, moistening the edge of his upper lip. I find myself imitating the gesture, recalling how that same tongue felt curling around mine, sucking and dominating.

“You liked it.”

I snap my attention back to his, internally shaking myself. “Or maybe you think I did to satisfy your dick-shaped ego.”

“I didn’t know you thought about my dick’s shape, Naomi.”

“I don’t.”

“You just proved you do.”

“It’s a figure of speech, asshole.”

“My asshole, too. No wonder they say the quiet ones are the wildest.”

“I’m anything but quiet. I just don’t like to talk when it’s not needed—which is most of the time.”

“You’re talking now.”

“That’s because you’re being infuriating.”

“Oh, baby. Do I get on your nerves? Do you hate how you melt against me even though you think you hate me?”

My stomach dips at the way he calls me that. Baby. I always thought I hated that endearment, that it felt clichéd, but apparently, that was before Sebastian fucking Weaver used it.

Just how much more of me is he going to confiscate?

Clearing my throat, I place a hand on my hip. “I don’t think I hate you. I actually do.”

“Now, that’s where you start lying. Your defense mechanism is cute.”

“Don’t call me cute.”

“Why? Offended?”

“No. I just don’t want to catch anything from your elusive vocabulary.”

“You don’t know me, Naomi, so you’re projecting right now and not in a good way.”

“You don’t know me either!”

“But I want to know you.”

His words hang between us like a silent prayer, prying and reaching for more.

A body tremor takes hold of me and it has little to do with how worked up I was a couple of minutes ago.

“Why?” I murmur before I can stop myself.

“Why what?”

“Why would you want to get to know me?”

“Why not?”

“Don’t play with me.”

“I haven’t even started playing with you. When I do, you’ll definitely feel it. For now, I’m merely telling you the truth, but if your low self-esteem forbids you from recognizing it, that’s on you.”

Did the bastard come here all prepared with this type of speech so he could get in my head? If that’s the case, then surprisingly, he’s succeeding.

He stands up and it takes everything in me not to flinch backward. His height is more appreciated up close. It’s like his tall legs go on for miles and his broad shoulders eat up the space.

I’m like a tiny dwarf in comparison.

Not really, but sort of. And seriously, why the hell am I appreciating the height and body difference? Why am I thinking that he could overpower me in a flash?

I shouldn’t.

I really, really shouldn’t.

Inhaling deeply, I call for my inner feminist to kick out whatever black magic is holding my mind hostage right now.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

“Collecting my win.”

I cross my arms over my chest to stop them from fidgeting. “First of all, I didn’t agree with that bet.”

“You still went along with it.”

“It still doesn’t count.”

“Yes, it does.” He stalks toward me with every word until he’s towering over me. “Are you going to do it or should I stay here all night long?”

“You…can’t do that.”

“I hope you have room for me in your bed.” He winks. “I can move a lot during the night.”

I clench my molars to hold in whatever nonsense I was about to say, then I release a sigh. “What do you want?”

“Come with me.”

“Where?”

“As the loser, you don’t have the right to ask questions. You just follow along.”

“I won’t move from here until you tell me where we’re going.”

“Somewhere where your mother won’t hear you moaning.”

My attention instantly snaps to the stairs. Holy Jesus. When he was kissing and groping me earlier, I completely forgot that Mom could’ve walked in on us at any second. Hell, she could’ve had a front-row seat to the entire show and I wouldn’t even have sensed her.

This bastard had me so completely hooked that I momentarily forgot where and who the hell I am.

I give him a dirty look that the jerk returns with a wink. Another thing I used to hate, but seems kind of charming on him.

Okay. More than kind of.

Now, he’ll either stay and torment me or Mom will really walk in on us in the midst of something. Because I can still feel my body gravitating toward him.

He’s luring me.

Trapping me.

And I’d be lying if I said my defenses weren’t crumbling.

Sebastian extends his palm like some twisted version of a gentleman. “Shall we?”

I storm past him, heading outside. “Only half an hour and then I’m coming back home.”

The night air causes the fine hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. Or maybe the reason isn’t the chill, but the heavy yet subtle footsteps following after me.

His long legs catch up to me in no time and before I can consider getting in my car, Sebastian places a hand at the small of my back and half-coaxes, half-shoves me into his Tesla.

I try ignoring how comfy the seat is. Someone could sleep in here.

No, Naomi. Nope. You’re not thinking about sleeping while you’re in the asshole’s car.

I stare out the window as we travel the empty road. We don’t talk and he doesn’t play the radio, and that only adds to the itch at the back of my head.

If I were more social, I would find a way to break the stifling silence, but I’d just make it more awkward, so I hold my tongue. For someone who’s treated like a god, Sebastian seems surprisingly comfortable with the silence.

Soon enough, we find ourselves on the forest road. The one I was followed on last night.

My fingers grab my seatbelt as I watch the trees that take on the shapes of monsters.

I hope that Sebastian is only using this as a shortcut as I usually do, but deep down, a murky feeling clouds my thoughts.

Something is wrong.

Completely and utterly wrong.

I shouldn’t have come with him. I should’ve stayed in the comfort of my fuzzy blanket and watched true crime, not actually participated in it.

Maybe I’m just too paranoid.

After all, I watch more screwed-up shit than should be considered healthy.

My mind is being overly cautious and—

Sebastian draws the car to a halt on a gravelly road. Right in the middle of a dark, empty forest.

His voice gains a frightening edge as it penetrates my skin. “Get out.”