MasukA loud, insistent meow cuts through the silence. I crack one eye open, glaring at Trouble, who’s now perched like a tiny dictator beside the phone, his golden gaze bouncing between me and the device.“Are you serious?” I mutter, narrowing my eyes. He lets out another commanding yowl, this one sharper, as if to say, Don’t make me repeat myself.“Fuck’s sake” I groan, snatching the phone up. “Fine. You win.”I pound out my reply, blaming the phone for all my problems.‘I’m awake because those delightful drugs have my circadian rhythm doing the cha-cha. Also, your relentless messaging just ruined the perfect sofa groove I had going. Hope you’re happy.’The response comes in seconds:‘You didn’t answer my questions.’I close my eyes. This man.‘Yes, my headache has gone, no thanks to you making me look at damaging bluelight.’5 seconds, it vibrates again.‘Have you eaten yet?’It’s a simple question, I know he's testing me. I could lie, but I just know he would know.‘Sort of.’The thre
The syrup.Why couldn’t I just keep it together for one goddamn second? Why did something so small, so stupid, make me fall apart? It’s been a year since I walked out on Mike, a whole year of rebuilding, rewiring, forcing myself to be okay. I thought I was handling it. I thought I was better.I was so, so wrong.My body and mind betrayed me in the worst possible way. I didn’t just fold; I shattered. A grown-ass woman crumpling like a paper bag because a bottle tipped over. What must Thorne think of me now? He was probably watching me unravel, wondering what kind of disaster he’d let sleep in his bed.The scar on my ankle burns, phantom pain creeping in like it’s fresh again.'Pathetic. You’re so weak, Maci. Look at you, a fucking mess. You need something to clean. Go clean this.'His voice slithers into my head like poison, a low, insidious thing that digs claws into my chest and rips me backward in time. Ankle trapped in his vice grip, the white-hot pain of the knife carving acros
Hell, I more than let him, I basically begged for it. My fingers curl into fists, and I press them into the sofa cushions as a wave of shame and let’s be honest, horniness rolls through me.No one’s ever made me cum before. No one but me.My cheeks burn, the truth of it so raw, so humiliating, that I want to shrink into myself. Should I tell him? Would he even care? Would he brush it off like it's nothing, or would he wear it like some badge of honour? Would he smirk that devastating smirk, lean in with that gravelly voice of his, and tell me it’s because I’m his now? Like I didn’t know that already, like I need reminding that he’s a sex god and I’m me?No. No way. I am not telling him. I’ll take it to my grave. Because then I’m the loser with zero experience, what am I supposed to say? 'Hey, Thorne, congratulations on being the first person ever to actually make me feel like a goddess instead of just some awkward mess fumbling her way through it all?' Yeah, that would go over
What is it about cheap ramen? It shouldn’t be comforting, but here we are.Yes, the noodles are limp, drowning in a sad, sodium-soaked grave. But, as the steam curls lazily from the bowl, wafting that slightly plastic smell, it somehow feels like home. There’s something nostalgic about it, like it’s wrapping me in the broke, student-era equivalent of a hug.The crinkly packet is still sitting on the counter, a reminder of just how far I’ve fallen in the culinary arts department. I twirl my fork through the mushy mess, bringing it halfway to my mouth before I stop, the weight of my thoughts dragging it back down into the bowl. My stomach growls, but the idea of actually eating this… it doesn’t feel right. Not tonight.What I really want is something decadent, something that doesn’t taste like the inside of a vending machine. Something rich, real, something my broke ass cannot afford. Layered and buttery food, maybe something involving truffles. Or caviar. Or, I don’t know, edible g
The sound of her begging, the way her voice cracks with raw desperation, sends a jolt of lust straight to my cock. I press the tip of my finger against her soaked entrance, teasing her, just enough to feel the heat of her.Her thighs clench around my hand, trembling, and then she unravels.A broken cry rips from her throat as her release tears through her, her body convulsing against me. Her arousal drenches my hand, soaking me as she shatters in my arms.t’s fucking glorious, watching her like this, undone, lost in the pleasure I’ve wrung from her.My cock strains and pulses painfully against the fabric of my cargos. The way she comes apart for me, the sight of her undone, has me damn near coming in my pants.Every instinct demands I bury myself inside her, claim her completely, but I hold back. Barely.“Good girl,” I rasp, my voice thick with lust. “Such a good fucking girl.”She mewls softly, her
Her legs give, trembling as her body sags against mine, but I don’t let her fall.My grip on her throat tightens just enough to pin her, the other hand never faltering as it pulls her apart, piece by beautiful piece.“Don’t stop” she whispers, her voice cracked, broken. “I can’t… It’s too much, Thorne.”“Never” My voice thick with hunger “You’re mine, Maci,”I growl into her skin. “Say it.”Her legs tremble, her nails clawing at my shoulders as her body arches into me.“I’m yours,” she whispers, her voice cracking under the weight of her surrender. I know she’s close. So fucking close.Fuck. The words tear through me, obliterating any restraint.“That’s right.” My voice is a guttural snarl as I increase the pressure on her clit, pushing her higher and higher, circling with devastating precision. “Come for me again. Let me feel it.”Her thighs clench around my hand, her body arching as another broken cry rips from her throat. Her second release crashes over her like a tidal wave, soaki







