Black Thorns: A Dark New Adult Romance (Thorns Duet Book 2)

This is a terrible idea.

The worst I’ve had in years.

Or ever.

And yet, I can’t make my feet cooperate and take me away from here.

I can’t listen to the voice of reason ringing at the back of my head.

I steal a glance sideways to make sure no one is watching me. Sebastian’s building is vast and sophisticated, but it’s, thankfully, not full of people. So far, I’ve only seen a lovely old lady who was more than happy to let me in when the security outside asked who I was.

The thing is, I didn’t plan to come over.

I had an all-nighter at the office yesterday, approving designs and plotting Chester Couture’s next show.

In my mind, if I stayed busy, I‘d forget all about where I really wanted to be.

I’d forget about the star quarterback from my past.

But I was only fooling myself.

All I could think about was him. Sebastian fucking Weaver.

I typed and retyped a dozen messages but deleted them and kept obsessing all night long. My brain couldn’t stop for one second and the more time passed, the more questions filled it.

Was Sebastian mad that I stood him up? What if he goes to Akira?

That’s what brought me to his doorstep today. Or, at least, that’s what I tried to convince myself when I drove here.

I push the doorbell again, my finger trembling.

Am I too late? What if he really went to Akira? If it gets ugly—and it will—I have no clue how the hell I’m going to react.

My shifty gaze flits to my surroundings as the seconds tick by. They echo in my head like time bombs, increasing in volume the longer I stare at the closed door.

I reach into my clutch bag to retrieve my phone. I should’ve called him first. But I wasn’t exactly thinking when I drove all the way here.

The door clicks open and I startle, my hand pausing halfway in my purse. I straighten, my spine jerking upright as I wait for Sebastian to appear in the doorway.

One second passes.

Ten…

Twenty…

He doesn’t show up.

I push the door with a careful hand. “Sebastian?”

No answer.

Something malevolent pulls at the base of my stomach and my lips part as I slowly walk inside.

Is it even okay for me to go in when I wasn’t invited?

As soon as I step a foot into the apartment, pitch darkness greets me. I can’t even see my hands, let alone where I’m going.

My heartbeat thunders, rattling through my whole body as I take a tentative step and then stop. My toes curl in my high heels and my nails dig into the strap of my bag.

“Sebastian?” My voice is low, haunted.

I have no idea what this is, but it’s obviously not going to end well for me. I wonder if I should turn around and leave, but then another more urgent thought hits me.

What if he’s injured and needs help?

The door clicks shut behind me and I jump with a small yelp.

Shit.

I’m so hyperaware that I can hear the sound of my breathing and can feel the cold air licking at my skin.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a state of sensory overload. It’s like my own body is unable to contain me.

“Sebastian…” I try again, my voice so breathy, I barely recognize it.

A blur of movement comes from behind me, and when I quickly spin around, I stumble forward.

I don’t have time to scream as a hand wraps around my throat and shoves me back so hard, I shriek.

The piercing sound slashes through the silent air like sharp knives. My back hits something solid with a loud thud that knocks the breath out of my lungs.

A foreign sense of energy shoots through me and I start to swing. It’s a blind sense of survival that’s fueled by primal necessity.

I kick at the solid wall of muscle, nails digging into big hands with a steel-like grip.

I scream, or I attempt to, considering his solid hold around my throat.

Hot, threatening breaths assault my ears. “Shut the fuck up, slut.”

Sebastian.

I’d recognize that low baritone anywhere. I could handpick his beast from a thousand others, even if I were blind.

We come from the same darkness that no one else in the world belongs to.

And right now, we’re in that phase again, shedding our façades and slipping back into our primal, animalistic selves.

My struggle slowly subsides, my nails no longer scratching him, even though I don’t release his wrist. My body goes slack against what I assume is the wall.

In letting go of my blind fight, the outside world starts to filter back in. His bergamot and amber scent seeps inside my nostrils.

His harsh breaths match my hopeless, rugged ones as we stand there for a fraction of a second. We’re two screwed-up souls who recognize each other in the darkness.

My eyes have somehow adjusted to my surroundings and I can just about make out his wide shoulders, his tapered waist, and the silhouette of his sharp-edged face. The hardness of it. The fucking depravity that I’d expect to see written all over it if his features were visible.

He’s naked. At least from the waist up.

I don’t know why I reach a hand for his face. Don’t know why I want to touch him, feel him. Maybe it’s to make sure this isn’t another one of my cruel nightmares, or to confirm that he’s indeed alive.

I’ve never had the chance to personally check before.

He pulls back before my skin meets his and I flinch, my hand falling limply to my side.

Right. We’re in no position for me to touch him. Not after the ugly way everything ended.

His other hand pulls at the strap of my dress and I gasp at the sound of tearing cloth.

My instincts kick back in and a roar of energy pulses inside me. The decision to fight comes to me in a fraction of a second.

I kick, claw, and try to cause as much damage as possible.

The adrenaline makes me feel stronger, but no matter how invincible I think I am, I’m unable to move him, let alone peel him off me.

If anything, with each of my wiggles and kicks, he tears the dress further until it falls off me and pools around my feet. Cold air swallows me in a cocoon and forms goosebumps on my skin, but I don’t stop.

I lift my leg to kick, but I stumble. Sebastian tightens his hold on my throat, slamming me against the wall again.

“Ahhh!” I cry out in pain.

He uses the chance to rip at the straps holding my bra together and yanks it down my flailing arms.

I arch off the wall, but he grabs one breast in a harsh hand and pinches my aching nipple, then twists it in the opposite direction. My teeth sink into the cushion of my lower lip, but I’m unable to stifle a whimper.

His mouth finds the other nipple and he sucks, then bites until I’m crying out. My nerve endings swell, sending signals in all different directions.

He does it again, twisting and sucking, giving me a safe relief, then bites down harder than the first time. His pinching gets more violent and out of control until all the lines blur. Pain is too similar to pleasure. Wrong is too close to right.

“Ahhh…oh, God…”

“No one will save you, my slut. Not even him.” The masculine edge of his voice veils sadism so deep, it shakes me to my core.

He bites down on the tight bud again and I swear he’s going to draw blood.

“Jesus…” I whimper.

“He won’t be doing any rescuing either.” He releases a nipple and the sound his wet mouth creates makes my toes curl. “Praying is the last thing you should be doing, my slut. Go ahead and fight me like you want to.”

I do.

Not only because he told me to, but because the harder I kick, the harsher he gets. The more I claw and squirm, the closer I am to him.

But both of us know I’ll never be able to overpower him or turn his strength against him. I have no doubt that he’d squash my rebellion in a second if he chose to, that he’s only using the bare minimum of his strength to subdue me.

The thought of how easily he could overpower me shoots a myriad of twisted emotions through me.

“Fight more, kick me harder, claw deeper. The more you hit me, the rougher I’m going to take your cunt, my dirty little slut.”

I give it my all, his words fueling me with an alien sense of energy. It’s been so long since I felt the need to fight as if my life depended on it.

Sebastian pulls me from the wall by the throat and shoves me forward. I squeal as I land on solid ground with a thud.

I try to crawl away, but he grabs me by the ankle and drags me back. My aching nipples tighten as they rub against the floor. I dig my nails into what feels like wood, but I don’t get away and only manage to break a few. No matter how much I fight, I’m no match for his savage strength.

It’s different from before. He used to feel emotionally closer then, like he might stop any second. But now, he’s a true monster with no Off button.

Except for maybe the safe word.

But that’s not what’s pulsing in my head with increasing speed. At the moment, all I want is him.

Just more of him.

Of this.

Of us.

Or what remained of us.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He yanks down my panties, despite my flailing. Then his chest covers my slick back.

The hard ridges of his muscles are damp with sweat, too. We’re both breathing harshly, my breaths more shattered than his.

I’m sprawled on the ground, completely naked, being crushed down by Sebastian’s weight. I attempt to slip from underneath him, but he shoves my face into the wood with his merciless grip on the back of my neck. His weight eases off me and he slips a hand against my stomach, then pushes me up so that I’m on my shaky elbows, my cheek still pressed to the ground.

He’s always handled me unapologetically and without second thoughts, never treated me like someone breakable and fragile.

He’s treated me like a man taking from a woman, knowing full well she wants him to.

That hasn’t changed, even after seven years. In fact, he’s become even more unapologetic about his claiming. Circumstances be damned.

Something hard nudges against my ass and I pause, my heart hammering.

I never thought I’d ever feel his desire again.

To know that he wants me as desperately as I want him.

Even if he wants to punish me for it first.

Sebastian grabs a fistful of my hair and hauls me to my knees. I shriek when pain explodes at the roots along my skull.

His dark silhouette appears in front of me as he grips his hard cock with one hand and tightens his hold around my hair with the other.

My pupils must be dilating with how much my needy eyes try to take in as much of him as possible.

Sebastian slaps my mouth with his dick, ripping a strange strangled sound out of me.

“Open that fucking mouth.”

My lips part and my tongue tentatively sticks out. He thrusts all the way in and uses his grip on my hair to forbid me from moving.

My gag reflex kicks in and I slap at his thighs, my broken nails digging in his thighs so he’d give me some air.

He doesn’t.

Sebastian chokes me with his huge cock until my lungs burn and my eyes sting. A hollow sputtering sound tears from my throat and my spit douses his thickness and my chin.

“That’s it, slut. Make my dick nice and wet so I will fuck your cunt so hard, you’ll be dripping with my cum.”

I whimper, but the sound is barely audible. He pulls out, then thrust back in, deeper, rougher. I gurgle on my own drool.

“Hmm. Hear that? That’s the sound of you choking on my dick like the dirty slut you are.”

Just when I think he’ll suffocate me to death, he pulls back. I splutter, coughing and tasting the distinctive saltiness of his precum.

He only allows me a fraction of a second, or what feels like it, before he pounds in again, hitting the back of my throat.

Sebastian has my hair in a vice grip as he thrusts his hips with increasing force. There’s no catching my breath—or air at all.

The maddening rhythm of in, out, deeper, rougher repeats over and over again in a twisted dance of dominance.

The small rush of oxygen after the lack of it leaves me lightheaded and levitating. My core tingles and my heart aches and I have no idea if it’s because of this situation or because I haven’t had this for such a long time.

Sebastian pulls out of my mouth and wrenches my hair back at the same time. I cry out as I lose balance and fall backward, hitting the ground.

He’s on me in no time, his hand parting my thighs and his thumb finding my clit, twisting and rubbing.

A muffled cry echoes in the air and I realize it’s mine as the orgasm hits me.

I come in a few seconds. Just like that. He didn’t even try hard and I’m already riding a wave I didn’t think I’d experience again.

“Such a dirty slut.” The lust and satisfaction in his voice is my aphrodisiac.

I keep coming and coming until I think I’ll black out.

Until I’m existing someplace different from here.

Sebastian mounts me, his large body like a shadow over me as his hand loops around my neck.

Being in this position is like coming home.

Like finally finding that missing piece and sliding it back in place.

I’ve done everything to try to fill the gap inside me. I tried every trick under the sun and talked to more therapists than I can count. But none of them helped me alleviate the chronic emptiness.

None of them told me the only way to erase the hollowness is to recharge. To go back to him.

My beast.

My monster.

My twisted enigma.

He thrusts inside me so violently, I sob. Not because it hurts, though it does, or because he’s huge, even though his cock feels like it’s ruining something inside me, but because of all of this.

The fight.

The chase.

The fantasy.

It’s the raw and primitive way he touches me. As if he never stopped touching me.

As if we’ve been beast and prey for as long as we’ve lived and we’re just finally finding our way back to each other again.

Even if it’s only for this moment.

I arch my back, taking more of him in. I’m not fighting anymore as my body recognizes his and we fall into a magical synergy.

Or maybe it’s twisted.

“Fuck…such a good slut…” he groans as his thrusts turn deeper, longer. Rougher.

My slick back slides off the wood with each of his merciless pounds. Only his grip on my neck keeps me anchored in place as he takes and takes.

In return, he gives me the missing piece of my soul.

He gives me what I haven’t had in a long time.

It builds with a fast, ruthless force that doesn’t allow me to catch my breath. By the time it slams against me, I’m screaming, my hands reaching out for him.

I don’t care which part I touch, as long as I touch him, as long as I make sure he’s here.

He’s alive.

My palms find the sweaty muscles of his chest and I dig my nails in as I tremble through my orgasm.

Sebastian lowers his head and sucks on the flesh of my collarbone, then bites down. Hot fiery pain explodes on my skin and detonates another orgasm in the wake of the first.

His movements turn out of control as he drives inside me with a violent type of carnal desire.

Then he stills on top of me before his cum warms my insides.

I pant, mewling in the after-effects of my orgasm. Sebastian’s guttural inhales and exhales mix with mine as he continues biting on my collarbone, my breasts, my throat.

Everywhere.

A tear slides down my cheek, but it’s different from how I sobbed and screamed through my orgasm.

This is my first tear of joy in seven years.

And it’s all because of him. My heartbreakingly beautiful monster.

My beast has made me feel wanted.

Important.

Alive.