Red Thorns (Thorns Duet #1) by Rina Kent

I didn’t always let her finish either.

She called me names and cursed me in both English and Japanese while I merely smirked.

I loved having her on the edge and seeing her flinch every time I got near. I loved her gasps when my fingers plunged inside her and the sound of her muffled moans as she tried her hardest not to orgasm.

But what I loved the most is the anticipation that’s been building inside her to the point of overflowing.

It took so much edging to reach that level of torture. I was even tormented in the process, giving myself blue balls. I resorted to masturbating violently, imagining Naomi’s cunt strangling me as I held her down. I fantasized about fisting her dark strands around my fingers, sucking on her dusty pink nipples, and clamping my hands on her hips as I fucked her against the ground.

I masturbated to the image of her sprawled out, fighting me as I ravished her tits until she sobbed and her cunt wept for me.

Or the image of her wide, dark eyes as she stared at me while gasping for her orgasm.

Or the image of her clawing and squirming beneath me as her cunt strangled my dick.

But that could only last for so long.

Tonight was supposed to belong to the beast and the toy. But I didn’t count on her coming to Owen’s party. Not when she’s adamant about destroying every form of her social life.

It wasn’t until I saw the selfie Lucy posted on social media that I nearly lost it.

I almost lose it again when I spot her in the crowd.

Naomi is wearing a red dress with a completely bare back. The material in the front hardly covers her tits and is bound at her stomach with a golden ring that reveals her belly button.

She looks hot and fucking sinful and I want to rip that dress off her and fuck her with it bunched in her mouth.

But those aren’t the only thoughts running rampant in my head. My gaze is zeroed in on every bastard who looks in her direction or licks their lips as they pass her by.

I inhale a deep breath.

I’m not the type who lets their emotions get the better of them, not since I was trained to be cool-headed and never show my intentions in public.

Being an open book is a sure way to become a target. And I was only ever meant to be a predator.

So why the fuck am I fantasizing about pounding every last fucker to the ground?

Owen, Josh, Prescott, and a few others from the football team and the cheering squad surround her like sharks in infested water.

There’s Lucy and Reina as well, but I’m blind to them. All I can see are dicks that need to be cut off for looking at my girl while she’s dressed like that.

My girl.

I pause at that thought.

Since when did Naomi become my girl?

All this time, all I’ve ever thought about was the game we played and the jackpot I hit for finding someone compatible with my darkest side. I never considered it anything beyond that.

That’s a lie.

I looked forward to spending time with her, to hearing her talk about stupid serial killers and the latest podcast she’s obsessed with. Even her rock music is growing on me.

Sometimes, when she falls asleep on the couch, I watch how peaceful she is. She has this weird habit of balling herself into a fetal position with her head lying on her hand.

In the span of a few weeks, I’ve learned more about her than I have any other human. Like her love for apple juice, her unhealthy obsession with true crime, her passion for rock music, her justice-oriented side since she volunteers for children’s organizations.

And most of all, how free she looks when she thinks no one is looking or when she sketches.

They say the more you know someone, the less you like them.

It’s the exact opposite for me.

I’m fucking infatuated with this girl. And the twisted sex only plays a small part of it.

Because even without the sex, I feel something is missing if I don’t see her for a few hours.

Maybe infatuated isn’t the right word, because I’m on the verge of becoming a criminal to ward any unwanted attention off her.

I summon my mask as I stride toward the group. I make sure to creep up from Naomi’s back because I like the sound of her small gasp when I startle her. It’s similar to when I thrust my fingers inside her tight cunt.

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” I hear Josh ask her when I’m near. “It should’ve been me instead of Captain, anyway.”

Naomi’s brows scrunch in that soft way that makes her tiny features even tinier and her pale complexion paler. She looks like a doll sometimes.

Maybe that’s why I’ve been on a mission to break her.

And keep her.

“What do you mean, it should’ve been you?” she asks, and it takes all I have not to pummel Josh into the ground. Looks like the extra training I’ve made him do lately for payback hasn’t been enough.

I need to up my game.

Josh darts out his tongue—that will be soon cut off—and licks his lips. “It should’ve been me.”

“You say that as if you would’ve ever stood a chance.” I slide to Naomi’s side and subtly wrap an arm around the small of her back. Her pink lips slowly part and I revel in the shiver that takes over her body as I stroke her bare skin with my thumb.

But I don’t look at her for long. If I did, I’d want to rip this thing off her here and now, and then I’d need to put that fucker Josh—and everyone who has a similar thought—in their fucking place.