บททั้งหมดของ My Reluctant Plaything : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Marcus was a fucking Liar, he'd said he would give Alex time but had come back two steps later. Alex could not move. His back was pressed so hard to the wall he could feel every cold line of the concrete through his shirt and Marcus’s body was against him like he owned every breath Alex tried to take. Marcus’s eyes were so close Alex could see the small lines around them, see the way his mouth tilted like he already knew Alex was broken. Alex said it before he could stop himself. “If you are not going to kill me then what, Marcus, what do you want.” His voice cracked. Marcus didn’t even blink. His hand slid up, his fingers tight around Alex’s jaw, and he forced his head back against the wall. Alex couldn’t look away. “You were looking for evidence,” Marcus said, voice low, like it was not even worth raising. “But I don’t need to ask questions. I don’t need confessions. I have another method of making you forget why you came here.” Alex’s chest went tight. He swallowed hard but

Noah had always run his mouth in class. It was the only way he knew how to survive school — sarcasm, bad jokes, giving teachers a headache until they gave up. Most of them did. He was the kid who sat at the back, headphones tucked in under his hoodie, pretending he didn’t care about anything.But Mr. Blackwell wasn’t like the others. He never raised his voice. He never lost his cool. He just looked at Noah with those dark, steady eyes and waited until Noah’s smirk slipped. It was unnerving as hell.That Thursday, Noah pushed too far. He made some crude comment under his breath when Blackwell was writing on the board and a couple of kids laughed. Blackwell turned slowly, chalk still in his hand, and locked eyes with him. Noah tried to shrug it off but his stomach twisted.When the bell rang, Noah shoved his books into his bag, ready to bolt.“Mr. Rivera,” Blackwell said, calm but sharp. “Stay behind.”Noah froze, then forced a grin. “What, detention? You serious?”“Stay,” Blackwell rep

The cafeteria was packed, the air thick with the smell of food, sweat, and cheap cologne. Laughter, chatter, and the scraping of trays filled the room, but for Noah, none of it existed. All he could see, all he could feel, was Mr. Blackwell. Leaning against the wall, that dangerous smirk on his lips, eyes dark and calculating, watching him with a mixture of amusement and warning.Noah’s pulse throbbed in his ears. Heat pooled low in his stomach, a constant ache he couldn’t ignore. Every brush of Blackwell’s coat against his arm, every flick of his dark eyes, made him shiver with desire and defiance. He was tired of being the one who always bent, the one who knelt, the one who obeyed. Tonight, he wanted to shift the rules.“I don’t want to be on the bottom anymore,” Noah whispered, voice low but steady. His eyes held Blackwell’s, daring, unflinching.The smirk faltered for the briefest moment. Blackwell’s dark gaze sharpened, appalled, intrigued, aroused. “You’re bold,” he murmured, vo

Noah lay on his back, the sheets sticking to his stomach where he’d spilled. His thighs ached, his chest rose and fell like he had run miles. The door clicked like Blackwell was about to leave, the sound dragging Noah’s head up from the pillow. His mouth opened before he could think.“Don’t,” he rasped. His throat was rough, voice broken. “Don’t go yet.”Blackwell paused, hand on the knob, his back still to him. The room was too quiet, the only sound was Noah's shallow breaths and the faint hum of traffic outside.When Blackwell finally turned, his face was unreadable. His coat still half buttoned, his shirt hanging loose from where Noah had grabbed at it. His tie was gone, stuffed somewhere in the sheets.“You think you get to keep me here?” Blackwell asked, his tone soft but edged, the kind of voice that cut sharper than yelling.Noah sat up a little, clutching the sheet to his waist like it mattered. “It’s not like I want to run. I just… I don’t want you to go.” His chest tightened

Noah slammed the door behind him harder than he meant to. His heart was still racing from the walk here, every step a war with himself. He should have stayed in his dorm. He should have ignored the pull. But here he was again, standing in Blackwell’s office like a moth that couldn’t stay away from the fire.Blackwell didn’t even look surprised. He was behind the desk, coat off, shirt sleeves rolled up like he had been waiting all night. He set his pen down slow, folding his hands together. “I knew you’d come.”Noah’s chest burned. “Stop saying that.”Blackwell tilted his head, calm. “It’s true.”“No,” Noah snapped, his voice cracking. “I’m not your dog. I’m not your toy. You can’t keep—” He broke off, fists clenching at his sides. “What the fuck is this, huh? What are we?”Blackwell leaned back in his chair, eyes sharp. “You’re mine.”Noah’s throat tightened. “That’s not an answer.”“It’s the only one you get.”“I’m not your lover. I’m not your equal. What am I then?”Blackwell stood,