Page 27 of The Cruelty of Thorns

She opened her eyes and looked down at me. “Did that meet with your satisfaction?” I asked.

Her lips curled up in a slow, lazy smile. “You did well, Julianus. I believe you’ve earned a reward.” I held my breath, waiting. “What would you like?”

At this moment there was only one thing I wanted. One thing that would ease the discomfort I felt. I couldn’t ever recall wanting anything more than I did right then.

“I want to fuck you.”

Her eyes widened. “I think that can be arranged.”

Before she could stop me, I stood up and grabbed her, throwing her onto the bed. I was on her in an instant, not giving her a chance to deny me or play some other perverse game with me. I fell between her legs and drilled my cock into her in one swift motion, digging in as far as it would go, the satisfaction of that move washing over me as I began to pound into her. She raised her legs and wrapped them around me, holding me captive as I rammed her. There was nothing easy or considerate about my motives. I was like a man possessed, and all I could think about was answering the insatiable need to fuck her senseless, to own her like she owned me. My cock had never been so hard, my hunger for a cunt never as sharp. Had she not been willing, it would have been rape, pure and simple, and a part of me didn’t care.

“I hate you,” I growled against her neck.

“I know. Isn’t it glorious?”

When she bit me, I returned the favor, latching onto her flesh and tearing it between my teeth. When I came, it was like my world was splitting in two. I lost myself in it, my cock exploding while my mind wheeled in on itself. I didn’t know if the roar I heard was my voice or merely in my head. My vision cut out and then I succumbed to the blackness that always followed with her.

CHAPTER 14

MYRA

Balancing act

I SPENT MOST of the weekend cloistered in my room studying. While it was true I had plenty of schoolwork to keep me busy, I also didn’t want to venture out for fear of who I might run into. The events of Friday night still had me slightly off-balance and I didn’t know how to deal with them. It was causing me no end of anxiety just thinking about my literature class on Monday and how Ron might treat me. Would he look at me differently or expect something from me, or would he simply pretend the kiss had never happened? I was sure he kissed plenty of girls. A guy like him, with his good looks and outgoing personality likely had girls constantly flocking around him. After obsessively dissecting it from every angle, I concluded my best course of action was to pretend it had never happened.

Then there was the other one. Julianus. I could still feel the heat of his chest beneath my hand, the way his body molded to mine when he held me against him. Why was he at the bar, and why did he grab me? He said he was thinking about me. Yes, I was still a little angry about him assuming he had some right to question who I was with, but I couldn’t deny the thrill I got from his jealousy. Was that wrong of me?

The whole situation had me out of sorts and unable to concentrate on anything. I was almost grateful when, on Sunday afternoon, Kristin suggested we head into town to go shopping. I wasn’t interested in buying anything, but I was up for whatever it took to get me out of my own head at this point.

I made one stipulation while we were heading across campus toward the gates–no talking about men.

Kristin pouted at first. “What fun would that be?”

“I just need a man-free day, okay?”

“He really got to you, didn’t he?”

I threw her a warning look and she made a motion as if to zip her lips. “I promise. No boy talk today. So what do you want to talk about? Please don’t say school.”

“Tell me about you. I don’t know anything about you other than you came to Whitfield last year.”

Kristin warmed to the subject immediately, just as I had suspected. She liked talking about herself, and soon she had regaled me with tales of her high school accomplishments–homecoming queen, cheerleader, captain of her softball team that had gone to the state championship. This last surprised me.

“I didn’t know you were the athletic type.”

We were heading into Threads, a popular clothing boutique along the main road out of campus. Kristin said she wanted to look for a new outfit, but I suspected she was more interested in making good on her promise to upgrade my wardrobe. She plucked a moss green sweater dress off the rack and held it up to me.

“My guidance counselor urged me to have a well-rounded extracurricular resume to get into college. This would look great with your eyes.”

I had to admit, the dress was spectacular, with its bulky knit, long sleeves, and cowl neck. I held it against me and glanced at myself in the mirror. “It’s awfully short.”

“You’ve got great legs. Add some black tights and you’ll be set.”

I glanced at the tag and had a moment of panic; that was almost half my monthly expenses. Kristin smirked at my reaction. “A girl’s got to spend a little to look good.”

“Yeah, but I’m not rich.”

“Priorities. One less book or cup of coffee here or there and it all evens out. Come on, let’s find me something now.”

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