13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Anastasia
T ugging at the hem of the tight black dress, the fabric clings to my curves like a second skin. The bottom rests high on my thigh, too high, reminding me that one wrong move, one large lean, and anyone behind me would get an unobstructed view of my ass and the black lace thong barely covering it.
Cramming myself into Megan’s dress was a challenge in itself. Letting her push up my breasts and paint my face like one of her damn works of art? Even more daunting.
With my red hair cascading down my back, the dark eye makeup and bold red lips only deepen the seductive edge of the look. Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I barely recognize myself.
Then...
Smack.
Megan’s palm lands sharply against my ass, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Still not as hard as Noah.
Fuck.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Stop thinking about him.
"Look how sexy you look," Megan grins, hyping me up as she fluffs my hair for the third time.
Dragging my gaze to her, I take in her own outfit.
A sheer white cropped top, her nipples shamelessly visible through the fabric, paired with sleek black pants that hug her legs like they were painted on. With her signature cat-eye liner and deep olive skin glowing under the dim light, she’s the definition of effortless beauty.
"You don’t look bad yourself," I joke, eyeing her up and down. "Is it too late to switch outfits?"
Right on cue, a rhythmic knock hits the door.
Elijah.
"And deprive Elijah of seeing you all dressed up? You’re delusional," Megan smirks.
Before I can protest, the door swings open, and Elijah steps in, one hand dramatically covering his eyes. His outfit, somehow a mix of gaudy and effortlessly stylish, features a flashy striped shirt and bright blue jeans that only he could pull off.
"Not looking," he murmurs. "The last thing I need tonight is unsolicited tits-"
Rolling my eyes, I grab his wrist and yank his hand away from his face.
"No tits here," I laugh.
Elijah finally looks between the two of us, and his jaw damn near drops.
"I beg to fucking differ. Where the hell has this Ana and Megan been?" he exclaims, waving his hands as if presenting us like a damn fashion show.
Megan rolls her eyes, already reaching for her car keys, ignoring him.
Then Elijah squints.
"Since when do you wear lipstick, Meg?"
My stomach clenches.
Locking eyes with Megan, I realize what he’s referring to, the dried blood still settled on her lip.
"Oh, it’s nothing-"
"I made out with her," I cut in, the words tumbling out before I can think twice. "Things got a little rowdy."
Elijah gapes, his mouth hanging open like a broken hinge. Before he can launch into whatever dramatics are brewing in his mind, I grab Megan’s keys and shove both of them toward the door.
"I better get the rundown on what the hell I missed," Elijah demands, still looking wildly between the two of us. "Or I swear, I’ll force you both to sit through the shittiest low-budget, raunchy rom-com next movie night."
I groan, already regretting my choice to overshare.
Good lord.
Maybe some things are worse than the truth.
"So remind me again why we’re going to this piece of shit’s party?" Elijah drawls from the backseat. "Sounds like you’re getting off well enough with Megan-"
"I wasn’t getting off to her," I snap, shooting him a glare. "And for the record, the only reason I’m going to this party is to break off whatever the hell Walker thinks we have going on-"
"Ana was using him to make some guy jealous," Megan cuts in casually.
Fantastic. More context for Elijah to latch onto like a damn bloodhound.
His eyes widen, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
"Wait. So that whole story about you moaning another guy’s name wasn’t bullshit? No wonder he face-fucked you-"
Turning my glare on him, he immediately tugs at his collar, sensing danger.
"Okay, yes, clearly it’s fucked up," he backtracks, holding his hands up. "But a meathead like Walker? The dude only knows how to drink beer and badly fuck women. Of course his default reaction is gonna be sex."
Megan smirks from the driver’s seat. "Well, Ana refuses to tell us who her mystery man is," she teases. "Maybe he’ll emerge from the shadows once he sees her cute ass crammed into that little dress-"
"He won’t be here tonight," I cut in sharply. "Can we please just focus on getting a little liquored up before I drop Walker and we ditch?"
Megan taps her fingers against the steering wheel, pretending to consider it.
"After I’ve had my rounds with the closeted girls, I’m all yours."
"I’m just here for the drama." Elijah shrugs.
Then, with zero warning, he leans forward and wraps his arms around me from behind, hugging me in my car seat like a damn koala.
"Plus, who else is gonna protect you both from the scary frat boys?" he grins.
Megan and I burst into laughter, the imagery alone enough to set us off.
All I can picture is Elijah, pepper spray in one hand, violently misting anyone who so much as breathes in his direction.
"Right," I wheeze, shaking my head. "The day you whoop someone’s ass is the day I tell you both about my mystery man."
Elijah huffs dramatically, flopping back in his seat.
"Guess I’m gonna have to beat some ass tonight."
I keep a smile plastered on my face, determined to stay positive.
But deep down?
The last thing I need tonight is anyone finding out the truth about the man who’s taken up permanent residence in my mind.
Noah
I’m going to strangle them.
No, I’m going to fucking strangle every single one of those drunk idiots.
The walls shake as bass-heavy music rattles through the building, an ungodly mix of noise and chaos. Walker’s party has mutated into a full-blown rager, bodies crashing into walls, drunken laughter spilling into the hallways like a goddamn plague.
I should’ve expected this.
Given his family owns this building, there’s no doubt in my mind why my five calls to the landlord have mysteriously been ignored.
Fucking perfect.
My grip tightens around the glass of whiskey in my hand, my eyes drifting to the bottle’s dwindling contents.
Half a bottle down.
How much am I going to regret this on a work night?
It’s one thing to drink for pleasure.
It’s another to drink to drown out the thought of a woman.
After my little interaction with Walker in the hallway, I fucking spiraled.
He touched her. He touched what's mine . His hands were on her body, feeling things that no one, no one but me, should ever get to experience.
And now, she might be at that party, drunk off her ass, allowing him to put his filthy hands on her again.
The thought makes something dark coil inside me, thick and suffocating.
He doesn’t deserve her lips wrapped around his tainted cock. He doesn’t deserve to hear what her moans sound like.
The only person who should be making her feel anything, pain or pleasure, is me.
And if she’s at that party right now?
I might just have to remind her of that.
I saw it in her eyes that night.
The want.
The way her body melted into my touch, the way she practically sang my praises with the wet mess between her thighs.
I knew this wasn’t one-sided.
She wanted me.
And if anything, Walker’s little outburst only confirmed it. She doesn’t want his hands on her. She doesn’t want his mouth.
She only wants me.
But it’s wrong.
It’s so fucking wrong.
Exerting my authority over her in the bedroom is one thing. Having to face her as her teacher, pretending like none of this is happening, is nothing short of torture.
All of this is fucking torture.
I debated calling one of the women on speed dial, seeking some kind of release, some temporary fix.
I scrolled through name after name, looking for someone, anyone, who even remotely resembled Ana.
And that’s when it hit me.
There’s something wrong with me.
I can have anything I want. Anyone I want. And yet, the one thing I know I should stay away from, the one thing that could jeopardize my distance from my family, is the very thing I’m walking toward like there are no fucking consequences.
I have to stay away from her.
I have to.
I squeeze my eyes shut, exhaling slowly.
Then-
"Ana!"
A voice booms from the hallway, sharp, loud, and instantly sobering.
Any rationalization I was about to entertain vanishes, snuffed out like a flame.
I’m still in my work clothes, though barely. My tie hangs loose around my neck, my dress shirt unbuttoned and wide open, leaving nothing to the imagination.
My fingertips graze my abdomen, tracing over the faint, circular scars littering my waistline. Pale reminders of the past. Of what happens when you let emotions overtake your life.
Emotions lead to mistakes.
My hand hovers over the doorknob.
Walk away, Noah.
Taking a step back, my mind torments me.
Walk away.
"Look how fucking hot you look!"
Another male voice, loud, laughing, taunting.
A slow breath fills my lungs.
On the other hand…
Perhaps anger outweighs all my other emotions.
Cracking open the door, instantly, my cock stiffens at the sight before me.
Fuck.
Pressing my hand to my crotch, I will myself to settle the throbbing urge surging through me.
Ana.
Wrapped in a tight black dress that barely covers her perfect, curvy ass. Her breasts are pushed up, begging for attention, her dark eye makeup only enhancing the sinful image of how much better she’d look with it smudged, tears streaking down her cheeks, lips trembling.
Her lips.
Coated in a deep, rich red, plump and waiting to be ruined.
And her hair, soft, cascading curls running down her back, practically begging to be wrapped around my knuckles while she cries out my name.
This is lust. Nothing more.
Once I’ve expelled this relentless desire for her, she will become just another woman. Another face.
She’s just like the others.
Once I’ve had my fill, these twisted thoughts will die down.
I don’t care when the women I fuck move on to other men. It’s never mattered before.
So why-
"There she is!" Walker’s voice grates against my nerves, yanking me back to the present.
His arms wrap around Ana, hands roaming far too freely.
Then he grabs her ass.
Hard.
She yelps, immediately swatting his hand away.
A white-hot surge of rage pulses through me. The only thing keeping me from marching out there, from yanking Ana into my apartment and keeping her where she belongs, is the fact that my erection is still painfully obvious.
"Walker-"
"Look at this dress," he cuts her off, tone laced with drunken arrogance.
I shift my gaze. Ana’s friends stand nearby, their expressions mirroring her discomfort.
Odd.
She seemed to love his hands all over her in my classroom.
But now? She looks disgusted.
"Are you drunk already?" Ana crosses her arms, fire flickering behind her sharp eyes. That no-bullshit attitude only makes me want her more.
I’d love for her to try and tell me off with my face buried between her thighs.
The things I would do to taste her, to pull that sweet release from her lips while she’s gasping, begging me to stop, only to not stop at all.
"I’ve had a few beers," Walker groans. "But seriously, come inside-"
His head tilts toward my door.
I shut it instantly.
Fuck.
The last thing I need is for him to realize I was watching. After our last conversation, his suspicions about my infatuation with Ana are already brewing. The last thing I need is to hand him more ammunition.
Pressing my forehead against the door, I listen as the hallway noise fades. My breaths are shallow, my body wound tight.
I need to calm the fuck down.
Rationalizing while drinking has never been my strong suit. The second alcohol takes over, logic ceases to exist.
And then-
"Noah."
Her voice.
Soft. Searching.
I freeze.
A gentle knock against my door, barely there, but enough to make every muscle in my body tense.
"Don’t make me feel crazy," she murmurs. "I know it was you."
My fingers twitch around the doorknob.
It takes every ounce of restraint not to rip it open-
"Do you care to tell me why the hell Walker is trying to rip my clothes off every five seconds-"
I don’t let her finish.
The door swings open, and her cold, demanding glare morphs into something else entirely.
Surprise.
Her gaze drops, lingering at my exposed skin, tracing over my bare chest before inevitably landing lower.
She stares.
And when the red flush creeps up her neck, coloring her cheeks, I know.
She took her time looking.
When her cat-like eyes finally snap back to mine, I smirk.
She’s fucking stunning.
Standing there, flushed, flustered, caught between her own stubbornness and undeniable attraction, she looks like a temptation no man with a soul could resist.
Lucky for me.
I lost mine a long time ago.
"So you do live here," she murmurs after a few beats of silence.
"Unfortunately," I hiss.
Ana leans in slightly, her nose scrunching as she studies me.
"Guess you’re drunk too," she observes, judgment laced in every syllable.
I scoff, shifting my gaze toward Walker’s door.
"As if that wasn’t your plan," I smirk. "Should I remind you what happened last time you were drunk within my proximity?"
Her lips part, but I don’t give her a chance to cut in.
"No one asked you to come over here, yet here you are." I tilt my head, watching as her arms tighten around her body. "Makes me wonder, Anastasia, do you really despise me as much as you claim?"
Her jaw clenches.
"Shouldn’t your lapdog be with you right now?" I continue, my smirk deepening. "Tearing at that little black dress like some desperate animal?"
The moment the words leave my mouth, the red swarms her cheeks, hot with anger or something dangerously close to it.
"I told them I left something in Elijah’s car," she snaps, voice defensive. "And if we’re being honest here, I was hoping you had some answers as to why Walker is acting like a fucking lunatic."
She steps forward, close enough for me to catch the sharpness of her perfume.
"It wasn’t hard to piece together that you might be the reason for his shit attitude when I caught a glimpse of you," she hisses.
Her eyes betray her, flickering down my body before she forces them back to mine.
I lean lazily into the doorway, amused. "I’m sure you’d love to blame your fuck buddy’s shitty mood on me," I murmur, "but maybe you just have horrible taste in men."
Ana’s expression ignites.
Her finger presses into my bare torso, her eyes hot with rage. "Do you get a kick out of this?" she whispers, her voice shaking, not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.
I don’t flinch.
"Do you get a kick out of fucking with me?" she continues, voice lower now. "As if what you’re doing isn’t illegal-"
"Illegal?" My smirk sharpens. "Are you going to tell on me, Ana?"
She falters. The confidence flickers for just a second, and her hand drops.
I step forward.
Closer.
My fingers find the back of her neck, curling around her skin, tugging her just enough so that her body collides with mine.
She stiffens, but she doesn’t pull away.
Her breathing is shallow. Her resolve, cracking.
"Do you want to tell on me, Ana?" My voice is low, coaxing. My grip tightens just slightly. "Or do you love this just as much as I do?"
She glares, jaw tight, lips parted, her breath unsteady.
"Fuck you, Noah," she spits, but the words don’t land the way she wants them to.
"Still in denial?" I chuckle.
Then, without warning, I flip her around.
A sharp gasp escapes her as her back meets my chest, my arm curling around her front, locking her against me.
My hand slides up, finding the swell of her breast, fingers spreading over the soft curve as my lips hover near her ear.
She trembles.
The sound of her shaky breath, the way her body molds to mine, it thrills me.
I press my palm more firmly against her, fingers teasing the hardened peak beneath my touch, kneading slowly.
Ana shudders.
My lips barely graze her ear as I whisper, "Maybe we should test my little theory."
Pushing her harder against me, she squirms.
Her back molds to my chest, her breath hitching as my arm snakes around her front, locking her in place.
My hand finds her breast, molding over the soft curve, fingers spreading possessively. She shivers, her body betraying her, and the sound of her shaky exhale sends a dark thrill surging through me.
I bend lower, lips hovering just inches from her ear, my breath ghosting over her skin.
She trembles.
Fucking perfect.
My fingers knead slowly, feeling the stiff peak of her nipple beneath the thin barrier of fabric.
A soft, involuntary gasp escapes her lips.
Smirking, I press closer, my grip tightening.
"Still want to pretend you don’t want this?" I murmur against her ear, letting my fingers tease, coax, own.
She exhales sharply, but she doesn’t answer.
She can’t.
Because we both know the truth.
"If I were to touch you right now, Ana," I murmur, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "How wet do you think your pretty cunt would be for me?"
Her breath catches, her body taut beneath my grip.
I tighten my hold on her breast, squeezing firmly.
A sharp gasp escapes her lips, her voice trembling.
"Noah, we’re in your doorway. Anyone could-"
"I know," I cut her off, my voice dark, unwavering. "Let them see. Let them all see how fucking naughty you really are, Anastasia."
I don’t give her time to protest.
My hand trails down, slipping beneath the hem of her dress, shoving the tight fabric up until it gathers at her waist. My fingers slide under the delicate waistband of her lace underwear.
"Lace?" I mock, my tone laced with amusement. "All for Walker?"
She scoffs, her voice dripping with defiance and something even more dangerous... seduction.
"For anyone," she purrs. "Thirty minutes ago I had my tongue down Megan’s throat. The night is still young. Perhaps one of Walker’s frat buddies would love to feel my la-"
Wrong answer.
My fingers slip lower, dipping into the heat between her thighs, cutting off her words in an instant.
Her entire body jolts.
The slick glide of her folds coats my fingertips as I stroke her gently, lazily, teasingly. The moment my thumb brushes over her swollen clit, she sucks in a sharp breath, her entire frame trembling against mine.
She’s melting.
Melting for me, right here, in this open doorway.
Anyone could step out. Anyone could see.
Yet instead of pulling away, she clings to me, her nails digging into my arm, her grip tight as she fights against the moans threatening to spill from her lips.
"What were you saying, Ana?" I murmur, my fingers working slow, precise circles over her sensitive bud.
Her head lolls back against my shoulder, her breath uneven.
She tries to speak, her voice wavering.
"That there’s… a whole room of frat boys-"
"Funny. I don’t hear you finishing that thought."
Because we both know she won’t.
Not while I have her like this.
Not while she’s coming undone at my touch.
"That will touch you?" I murmur, my voice a dark whisper against her ear. "Touch you like this?"
Without warning, my fingers move from her swollen clit to her slick, needy entrance.
And then, I take what's mine.
Two fingers sink inside her, stretching her open as I drive into her without hesitation. Slow, deep, deliberate. As hard as the angle allows.
Her legs wobble.
She clings to my arm, struggling to hold herself up as pleasure overtakes her, her body betraying her completely.
She’s dripping, coating my fingers, drenching my hand, her soft, desperate moans growing louder with every relentless thrust.
"You feel that, Ana?" My voice is low, taunting. "You feel how fucking wet you are right now?"
Her head lolls back against my chest, mouth parted, eyes heavy-lidded as she succumbs to it...to me.
I shift my grip.
My free hand slides up from her breast, wrapping lightly around her throat, forcing her gaze upward, forcing her to watch me as I ruin her.
She gasps, her breath shallow, her lips beginning to press together-
"Keep that fucking dirty mouth open," I snap.
Her eyes flicker with defiance.
"No-"
Wrong answer.
Pulling my fingers from her soaked cunt, I immediately find her swollen clit, pinching as hard as I can.
She jerks, her body writhing against mine as tears pool in her eyes. A muffled scream slips past her lips, her hand flying to cover her mouth as I rip my hand away from her.
She glares at me, anger, frustration, and need flashing in her eyes.
Sliding my fingers back inside her, I fuck into her harder than before, making sure she feels every thrust, every movement, as my thumb teases her overstimulated clit.
"Open your mouth, Ana," I order, my tone leaving no room for disobedience.
Slowly, she parts her lips, her breath ragged.
Good girl.
Smirking, my fingers work her more aggressively, my thumb circling her sensitive bud with brutal precision.
"Good fucking girl," I praise, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Keep taking it, you fucking whore."
She whimpers, trembling in my grasp.
Gathering the saliva pooling in my mouth, I tilt her chin up with a firm grip.
Her wide, desperate eyes meet mine.
"Dirty fucking slut," I scoff.
Then, I spit into her mouth.
She gasps.
Her body stiffens, her pupils dilating, a mix of shock and something far darker flickering in her expression.
I smirk, my fingers still buried deep inside her.
"My dirty fucking slut."
And then, nothing.
Pulling out, she lets out a sharp breath at the sudden loss, the absence of my touch leaving her unsteady.
Turning quickly, she yanks her dress back down, her hands trembling slightly.
But I see it.
The heat lingering in her eyes. The need.
She can try to hide it all she wants.
But I already know, she loved every second of it.
She’s ready to yell at me, ready to spit venom, to act like she didn’t just come undone at my touch.
But before she can, I hold up the proof of her arousal between us.
Her slick glistens on my fingers, undeniable.
"Lapse of judgment?" I murmur, tilting my head.
I take a slow, deliberate step toward her, bringing my fingers closer to her lips, teasing.
"Or are you my little secret, Anastasia?"
Her glare sharpens, but the fire in her eyes doesn’t match the heat rolling off her body.
She grabs my wrist, her grip tight, her next words curling into a challenge.
"You want me to be your secret, Noah?" A malicious smirk tugs at her lips. "Then lick your fingers clean and prove to me your touch is only mine."
Oh, Ana.
You just opened Pandora’s Box.
I don’t hesitate.
Holding her gaze, I part my lips and drag my tongue slowly, torturously, up my middle and ring finger, tasting every last drop of her.
I devour her.
Licking, sucking, making sure she sees every flick of my tongue, every movement.
By the time my fingers are clean, the tension between us is suffocating. The painful strain in my pants is unbearable.
I grab the front of her dress, yanking her against me.
Her breasts push up, her breath shuddering as I lean down, my mouth inches from her skin.
"My fucking slut," I growl.
Then, I bite.
Hard.
My teeth sink into the swell of her breast, a deep, bruising mark blooming beneath my lips.
"My fucking property."
Ana gasps, a sharp, breathy cry of pain.
My cock twitches.
Forcing my head up, I admire the mark forming on her soft skin.
Perfect.
Now, every single fucker at that party will know, she is off-limits.
She touches the bite, her glare flickering between anger and something she won’t admit.
"If you go to that party, Ana," I grin, palming the bulge in my pants with no shame, "I’ll do much worse if I find out someone else put their hands on you."
She struggles to find her words, lips parting, breath uneven.
"Ana?"
The sound of her name cuts through the moment.
One of her friends.
The door is cracked open now.
I take a slow step back, retreating into the shadows of my apartment.
Reaching a hand toward her, my eyes burn into hers.
"Want to dance with the Devil, Anastasia?" I taunt.
My door has never closed faster.