Red Thorns (Thorns Duet 1)

Sometimes, I believe it when she begs me to stop and tries to crawl away from me.

Sometimes, I think it’s the wiser option to stop.

But I don’t. Ever.

Because the thing that beats inside me, the beast as she called it, is unrestrained. She shouldn’t have given him a taste, because now, all he wants is more.

Even if that ends up destroying both of us.

My pretty toy is fast, despite her short legs, but I’m faster.

She’s determined to run, but I’m more hellbent on catching her.

It doesn’t take me long to be right at her heels as the sound of my shoes echoes in the air. She squeaks, literally, and that fuels me with an unrestrained lust for violence.

And her.

It’s a new urge I didn’t know I had until I fucked her on the stairs of her house.

I don’t only have the urge for violence now. I have the urge to fuck Naomi, own her, and make her scream.

I have the urge to drag my fingers through her hair, suck on her tits, and watch her fearful yet thrilled expression.

Her pace picks up and I let her believe she can get away from me. The prey tastes sweeter when she thinks there’s a way out.

There isn’t.

Not from me, anyway.

And definitely not for Naomi.

She darts around in a zigzag pattern, probably thinking she can lose me that way. I block her right, forcing her to change direction toward a cottage Owen and I visited not so long ago.

Her eyes widen when they land on the small building, probably not expecting to find it at the corner of the vast piece of land.

Her moment of hesitation is all it takes to bring her down.

My hand shoots forward and I grab a hold of her nape. The scared squealing sound she releases is music to my ears. Even her scent of lily and peaches is mixed with the primitive smell of fear.

Her limbs flail around as she squirms and attempts to free herself from my hold, to no avail.

It’s cute that she thinks she can fight me. Even after all this time of being effortlessly subdued by my strength, she’s never gone down without a fight.

She likes it, she said once.

The fight. The wrestling. The clawing.

She likes toying with the beast and provoking him for more. But most of all, she likes leaving her mark on me as much as I leave it on her.

I clutch her wrists and yank them behind her back, then fist my other hand in her hair. “Not a fucking word.”

“No…please…” Her lips are trembling more than usual. Her pulse beating even harder than the last time I fucked her against a tree in the forest.

For a normal person, that would’ve been a red flag, something to back out from, but my beast roars to the surface, taking control of me.

All I see is red.

On her skin.