16. Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Anastasia
P ain creeps into my chest, spreading like a slow, suffocating weight.
Megan’s look of betrayal lingers in my mind, burning like an open wound.
Backing myself against Noah’s door, the pounding buzz of Walker’s party only makes the headache forming behind my eyes worse.
What have I done?
One of the only genuine friends I’ve made here, and I had to go and fuck it up, all because of a kiss.
A sharp breath leaves my lungs, shaky and unsteady. Tears slip free, hot and bitter as they trail down my cheeks.
My mom’s text flashes in my mind.
The picture of my dad.
Still smiling.
Still hopeful.
Hopeful that I’m making something of myself here.
And yet, here I am.
Allowing my professor to go down on me on a Monday night.
My fingers fumble for the door handle.
The second it swings open, I stumble inside, legs weak, breath uneven.
Noah stands only a few feet away, his sharp eyes locking onto mine immediately.
The space between us feels dangerous.
"I was about to go outside. I heard yelling."
His tone is steady, but his focus lingers on the tears flooding from my eyes.
Why the hell would he risk leaving his apartment?
"Megan’s gone," I hiss, my voice raw. "Just another aspect of my life I’ve gone and fucked up."
Collapsing onto his couch, my hands tangle into my hair, tugging, desperate for something to ground me.
"I should’ve known Walker or Cole would get to her." The sob rips from my throat before I can stop it. "I should’ve considered what would happen if I stayed in fucking Spokehaven."
Noah moves.
The weight of the couch shifts as he sinks down beside me, but he keeps his distance.
Careful.
Measured.
"What happened with Cole?" His voice is different now, almost as if he cares.
I sniff, blinking through the blur of tears, turning to face him.
"Doesn’t asking me that breach your little rule about human connection?" I snap, my tone cutting.
His jaw flexes as his hands clench.
"I only know how to deal with my emotional turmoil in one way." The admission is honest. "In most scenarios, I’d drag you back to that bedroom and give you something else to focus on."
A shiver rolls through me.
His gaze is unreadable, but not empty.
"I’m not a good person, Anastasia." His voice dips lower, like a confession, like a warning, "I like inflicting sexual pain on women. I like the power. The feeling of having a complete hold over someone in the most intimate setting is like a fucking drug to me."
A slow, sharp breath.
I meet his stare, the weight of his words settling deep in my chest.
"What’s different now?" My voice is barely above a whisper.
His fingers tighten into fists, his jaw clenching.
"Honestly?" He exhales, slow, deliberate. "My immediate reaction when I saw you crying was to give you a more pleasurable reason to streak that makeup."
Heat coils low in my stomach at the admission.
"So why didn’t you?"
The silence stretches.
Then, his voice drops to a whisper.
"Because I don’t want what’s happening between us to last only one night."
The room tilts.
Noah watches me closely, his expression unreadable.
"Which means at some point," he murmurs, "I have to allow myself to see the parts of you that can’t be seen while I’m between your legs."
The words slam into me.
My mind spins, piecing together the fragments of truth buried beneath his control.
The love for pain. The immediate, effortless way he tied me up. The way he knows exactly how far to push.
My voice is barely a breath.
"You’re a sadist."
Noah doesn’t move.
Doesn’t react.
Doesn’t deny it.
His silence is answer enough.
His expression tightens as he gives a slow nod.
"Regrettably."
My fingers tap against my thigh, my mind racing to rationalize exactly what this means.
"If I told you I’d allow what’s happening between us to continue," I murmur, tilting my head, "what would that mean for me?"
Noah leans back against the couch, exhaling slowly.
There’s hesitation.
Finally, he speaks.
"I’m not going to lie to you, Ana." His voice is low, deliberate. "The kind of touch I can give you is not loving. The kind of touch I want to give you is painful."
His fingers flex against his knee, his gaze unwavering.
"I crave a woman willing to submit to my wants-"
A scoff leaves my lips before I can stop it. "You could’ve fooled me when your head was stuck between my thighs."
His jaw ticks.
My words land exactly where I want them to, evident in the way he shifts in his seat, the way his hand subtly adjusts his pants, already forcing blood to the place he desperately wants to control.
"Even a sadist needs someone to challenge his authority," I add, my voice dripping with amusement.
A muscle in his neck tenses.
Noah watches me, unreadable, then leans forward slightly, his voice dipping lower.
"What happened tonight?" His eyes darken. "That was what I consider gentle."
The breath catches in my throat.
"Are you sure you’re prepared for what my real desires look like?"
My pulse spikes.
The reality of what he makes me feel, the way he’s taken up residency in my mind, clouds every ounce of better judgment I have left.
The question slips before I can stop it.
"Only me?"
Noah doesn’t hesitate.
"Only you, Ana." His voice is firm. "I wasn’t lying when I said that was the last time you’d touch another man’s cock. If you tell me tonight you want this, then I promise you, I will gladly make sure you, and everyone around you, knows exactly who you belong to."
A slow, shaky breath leaves my lips.
My eyes flutter shut for half a second.
When they open, the words spill before I can overthink them.
"I need one condition."
Noah doesn’t speak.
He just waits.
For me.
For my terms.
"If you’re going to fuck me like a whore in the bedroom," I whisper, "then I need to feel like more than just a whore outside of it-"
"Anastasia, my job-" he starts.
"Then drive a town over," my voice sharpens, cutting through his excuse before he can finish. "Take me four hours away to a cabin where you can fuck me silly and wrap a collar around my throat."
His eyes widen, his breath hitching slightly.
"But if you’re going to fuck me, Noah," I murmur, leaning in, my voice barely a breath, "you sure as hell better earn it."
Leaning in closer, my breath mingles with his, the heat between us crackling like fire.
A smirk curls at the corner of his lips.
"Is that all you want, Princess?" His voice is velvet, dark and smooth. "Or do you want to talk about Cole? About the picture of your dad I saw on your phone?"
Reality slams back into me.
My throat tightens, my fingers twitch, but I shake my head.
"There will be time for that," I murmur, pushing the weight of those thoughts aside. "Right now, I need a distraction."
His eyes search mine, studying me, reading every flicker of hesitation before he speaks.
"You sure you want this?" His voice dips lower, thick with warning, "Because if you say yes to me right now, Anastasia, you are mine. And I don’t share."
A shiver rolls through me.
I nod.
Slowly, I crawl into his lap, my hands bracing against his chest.
"I said yes, Noah," I hiss, voice laced with defiance. "So show me what being your pet looks like."
Something shifts in his eyes.
Any trace of restraint or kindness he was willing to show disappears, replaced by something darker, something ravenous.
His fingers coil into my hair, gripping hard as he forces my hips to grind against him.
A sharp gasp catches in my throat.
His cock is already achingly hard beneath me, pressing into the sore, throbbing heat between my legs.
Pain and pleasure collide.
A wince flickers across my face, and he notices.
Of course, he does.
"Already sore, Princess?" His tone is mocking but laced with amusement. "Perhaps we should give your pussy a break."
Before I can respond, he nudges me off his lap, the force making me fall to my knees before him.
I don’t need to ask what he wants.
Fingers grazing his waistband, I tease the zipper of his pants, but before I can pull it down, his grip tightens in my hair.
A sharp sting shoots through my scalp as he forces me to look up.
His stare is absolute control, looking down at me like I belong on my knees before him.
"And if I can’t handle it?" I whisper.
Noah lets out a short, cruel laugh.
"If you couldn’t handle Walker’s," he scoffs, voice thick with condescension, "you sure as hell can’t handle mine."
The words should sting.
They don’t.
Because unlike Walker, I want this from Noah.
I want to see him crave the pleasure I can give him.
Maybe it’s fucked up, but something about being his to fuck and use sends a dangerous thrill straight to my core.
Cole and Walker never gave me a choice.
But Noah?
He’s a challenge.
One whose authority has yet to meet mine.
He might be used to women bending at his will, but, where’s the fun in that?
Tugging his pants down, his boxers barely contain the thick, straining length beneath them.
Up close, the sheer size of him makes my stomach tighten.
I fight the flicker of alarm threatening to show on my face, masking it with something else.
Something hungry.
Noah watches me closely, his grip tightening in my hair as he moves my head just a little closer.
"Let’s see that pretty makeup streak, Princess."
A delicious ache settles between my thighs, the pain of the night dissolving the moment I’m in his presence.
Grabbing the waistband of his boxers with my teeth, I slowly drag them down, my eyes locked onto his cock as it springs free—thick, hard, intimidating.
Fucking hell.
Can I even fit that inside of me?
Noah strokes himself lazily, his free hand gripping the base as my lips hover just above his tip.
"Spit on it."
The command sends a thrill through me.
Pooling the saliva in my cheeks, I let the warm liquid spill over his head, coating him as I keep my eyes locked onto his.
His breath hitches as his grip tightens.
"God, look at that dirty fucking mouth," he groans, his fingers tugging at my hair. "So eager for me."
Heat floods through my body, my thighs clenching at his words.
"I want to watch you struggle to suck my cock."
A slow smirk curves my lips.
"As you wish," I purr, letting my breath fan over his soaked tip.
His jaw tightens, but before he can react, I murmur, "So long as I’m licking my cum off your cock when we’re done here tonight."
His grip flexes.
A single heartbeat passes, then I take him into my mouth before he can process what I’ve just said.
A sharp inhale leaves his lips.
My tongue glides along the ridges of his length, teasing every thick vein as I ease my way down, my mouth stretching to accommodate him.
The moment his tip grazes the back of my throat, a strangled noise escapes me.
Barely halfway, and I already feel the struggle.
Fingers wrapping around his base, I move in a slow, steady rhythm, my tongue tracing along him as I adjust.
But the moment my hand touches him, Noah growls.
His fingers tighten in my hair as he yanks my wrist away.
"I said your mouth."
His voice is sharp, dominant.
"Now fucking take it all the way."
A split second later, he urges my head down, his thick cock pushing deeper as a vicious gag rips from my throat.
Spit drips from the corners of my mouth, my eyes watering as I struggle to breathe around the sheer size of him.
Tears prick at the edges of my vision, but when I force my gaze up, locking onto his, Noah smirks.
"There’s my good fucking girl."
"God, fucking look at you," Noah growls.
The only sound in the room is the wet, obscene noise of my throat struggling around his cock.
The way he uses me, merciless and unrelenting, sends a fresh wave of slick between my thighs.
"Good fucking girl," he whispers, his voice rough, approving.
A desperate cry escapes me, my cheeks hollowing tighter around him in defiance, my eyes locking onto his with a challenge.
Tears roll hot and fast down my cheeks, dragging my ruined makeup further down my skin.
Noah watches, enthralled.
"Look at you," he murmurs darkly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Fucking crying, barely able to take it."
His grip tightens in my hair as he thrusts deeper, his cock twitching, his control slipping.
My nails dig into his hips, clawing into flesh until he hisses from the sharp pain.
The distraction is enough.
I rip myself away, his cock slipping from my mouth with a slick, messy pop.
Before he can punish me for it, I smirk, wiping the spit from my mouth.
"Oops," I murmur, tilting my head with mock innocence.
His jaw clenches.
"I guess you’ll have to cum somewhere else, Mr. Ackerman."
His eyes darken.
Shoving him in the chest, I keep him seated, my heartbeat thundering as his grip loosens in my hair.
The second I stand, his gaze devours me.
"Do you want to fuck me, Noah?" I taunt, voice sultry, teasing.
Sliding the straps of my dress down, the tight material cascades over my full breasts, baring them to the cool air.
I trail my fingers over my own skin, teasing, lingering, before pushing the dress further down my front.
"How bad do you want to fill my sore little pussy with your cum?"
My voice is sweet, dripping with feigned innocence, but the glint in my eyes is anything but.
The dress slips past my hips, then it’s gone, pooling on the floor.
I stand before him, completely bare.
Completely his.
A sharp inhale flares his nostrils as a slow, wicked grin curves his lips.
"I can’t wait to watch you limp into class tomorrow," he growls.
Before I can blink, his hands clamp onto my hips.
A startled gasp rips from my throat as he drags me forward, yanking me back onto his lap.
His grip is bruising, his fingers digging into my ass, forcing me down onto him, grinding my soaked cunt along his slick cock.
A jolt of pleasure shoots through me, sharp and consuming.
"Fuck," I hiss, body shuddering against him.
Noah chuckles, low and taunting.
"I’m not even buried in you yet, and you’re already moaning for me."
His mouth finds my breast.
Heat pools in my stomach as his lips latch onto my nipple, sucking hard, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to send a shock of pleasure straight between my legs.
A moan spills from my lips, one that only encourages him.
His mouth moves, trailing lower, his teeth nipping, biting.
His lips bruise my skin, marking a path of possessive claim across my chest.
Each one a silent declaration.
Each one a warning to anyone who dared to think they could have me.
Because I belong to him.
And he knows it.
"So, Ana," Noah murmurs through a groan, his breath hot against my skin. "Let’s start prepping that pretty ass for what I plan to do to it."
A shudder rolls through me.
Nerves spike but desire thrums beneath them, a dangerous mix of anticipation and hesitation.
My eyes flicker up to his, searching for something—some warning, some restraint.
I find none.
"Noah, I don’t think I can take your cock-"
His fingers tighten around my waist, his grip firm, possessive.
"You will learn," he hisses, his voice dripping with promise. "But first, let’s see if your pussy can handle it."
His hand wraps around his thick cock, guiding it to my entrance as I lift onto my knees.
The moment his tip presses against my slick heat, my breath shudders at the sheer realization of what I’m about to take.
Noah watches me, his jaw tight, his patience razor-thin.
"You’re not a virgin, Ana," he growls. "But you’ll bleed like one tonight."
My body jolts as he pushes on my hips, his cock slowly stretching me open, inch by inch.
A strangled moan rips from my throat, my hands clinging to his shoulders as my body arches, desperate to adjust.
"Oh, fuck," I pant, my voice breaking. "Fucking hell."
His gaze darkens, his eyes locked onto mine as spit leaves his mouth, hot, wet warmth sliding down my folds, coating where our bodies connect.
A wicked smirk tugs at his lips.
"Now you’re ready."
Before I can respond, he shoves my hips down.
My moan turns into a scream as I take every last inch of him, the overwhelming fullness making my body pulse with both pain and unbearable pleasure.
His fingers dig into my ass, holding me still, letting me feel every thick inch of him buried inside me.
"Fucking bounce on it," Noah snaps, his voice raw with need. "Or I’ll tie you up and force it in your ass tonight as punishment."
A rush of fear and arousal floods my veins.
Tightening my jaw, I bury the flicker of hesitation.
"F-fine," I hiss, my fingers curling around his throat.
His breath hitches.
"Buckle up, professor."
With a slow, deliberate movement, I begin to ride him, my thighs burning as I work him in and out of me.
Smirking at my attempt to control the pace, his hands clamp down on my ass.
A gasp rips from my throat as he takes over, using his grip to force me up and down his cock, each thrust deeper, harder, his hips slamming up to meet mine with punishing precision.
Each snap of his hips sends a jolt of pleasure laced with pain straight through me.
My moans melt into his, the sound of our bodies colliding echoing louder than our voices.
The need to be closer overwhelms me.
I release his throat, my breaths ragged, my body desperate.
"Fucking come here," he growls.
His fingers tangle in the back of my hair, yanking me down into a brutal, claiming kiss.
Our tongues tangle, our lips bruising, the taste of him consuming me as he holds me flush against him.
I nip at his bottom lip, dragging my teeth along his skin before trailing my mouth to his neck.
His grip falters, just slightly.
A weakness.
A tell.
I focus on the spot that makes his breath hitch, sucking, biting, making sure to leave a mark.
A deep, guttural groan escapes him.
Then his hands tighten on my hips, forcing me down with a punishing thrust.
"Did you just fucking give me a hickey?" His voice is laced with something primal.
His nostrils flare.
I smirk, my lips slick and swollen.
"Oops-"
His retaliation is instant.
A sharp gasp tears from my throat the moment Noah’s finger slides into my ass.
The unexpected intrusion sends a shockwave through me, my body stiffening, nerves on fire.
Barely able to handle his cock already, the feeling of being stretched in both places at once has my mind spinning, my body betraying me.
I can’t form a single thought, can’t even breathe properly, just drowning in too much sensation, too much him.
Noah growls, a feral, raw sound, utterly consumed by the moment.
“Look at you,” he rasps, “taking it in both holes like a good fucking slut.”
Shame and pleasure collide, twisting into something dangerously intoxicating.
His grip tightens. His words are razor-sharp, slicing straight to the vulnerable parts of me.
"Tonight is fucking vanilla compared to what I have planned for you,” he warns.
A shiver runs through me, not just from fear, not just from lust, but from the undeniable truth in his voice.
“You want to fucking test me, Ana?” His fingers dig into my hips, grounding me, controlling me. “I will make sure you get put in your fucking place.”
The words shouldn’t make my stomach coil with anticipation.
But they do.
Heat builds fast, curling deep, an unstoppable wave threatening to pull me under.
“N-Noah,” I gasp, voice barely a whisper. “I-I’m-”
His grip tightens. “All over my cock, baby girl.” His voice is a command, a demand, a claim. “Fucking cum like the dirty slut you are. All over my cock-”
“Fuck, Noah-”
My body shatters.
A sharp cry rips from my throat as release crashes over me, wave after wave, my body clenching so tight around him it feels like I might break.
Noah groans, low and possessive, biting down on his bottom lip as his release floods into me, filling me until I feel the warm, messy proof of it dripping between us.
But he doesn’t stop.
Even after he’s spent, he keeps using me, keeps moving, his fingers still playing with me, his other hand still toying with my ass, forcing me to take more.
By the time he finally lets up, my body is wrecked, trembling and completely undone.
“Noah, I can’t-” my voice breaks, barely a whisper.
He grips my jaw, tilting my chin up until our eyes meet.
"You're not done yet.” He smirks. “You have a mess to clean up.”
He pulls out of me slowly, deliberately, making sure I feel everything, the loss, the emptiness, the undeniable evidence of what we just did.
The moment I collapse to the floor, knees hitting the hardwood, my head swims.
Noah stays seated, his glistening, cum-coated cock resting in front of me, evidence of what we just did, of how thoroughly he ruined me.
A dark smirk plays at his lips as he drags a single finger down the base of his cock. Lifting, his finger is coated in red.
Blood.
My blood.
Something primal flickers in his gaze.
"Fucking perfect," he murmurs, bringing the finger to his lips.
My stomach tightens as he licks it clean, never breaking eye contact.
A shudder crawls down my spine, but I don’t move.
I should feel shame.
I should feel horror.
But I don’t.
I feel something else.
Something dark.
Something twisted.
“Now clean up.”
The command is simple.
"Yes, sir," I purr.
I lower my mouth to him, dragging my tongue up the length of his cock, licking up every drop of our sin, my body still buzzing, my limbs barely functioning.
The taste is salty and sweet, metallic and raw, nothing like I’ve tasted before, but all of it is his.
And I take everything he gives me.
By the time he’s satisfied, Noah pulls me up onto the couch, letting me collapse against him, my body completely spent.
Pulling his boxers back on, he watches me closely.
I part my legs slightly, feeling the mess between them, knowing I’m still leaking.
A thought strikes.
A challenge.
I hook my foot onto his shoulder, forcing him to look between my thighs.
"See your cum leaking out of me?" I whisper, voice drenched in exhaustion and satisfaction.
His eyes darken.
The tension between us crackles.
"Your turn to clean up."
Before he can react, my fingers twist into his hair, yanking his head down, forcing his mouth where I need him.
No resistance.
No hesitation.
His tongue meets me, hot and wet, and I sing his praises, grinding against his face.
"See how you made me bleed?" I whisper, voice barely a breath. "Fucking lick it up. Make me feel better."
Gentle.
Cautious.
Noah takes his time, his tongue tracing every inch of the damage he’s done, savoring it.
It’s almost tender.
Almost.
A moan slips from my lips, but then, something shifts.
My hand, tangled in his hair, drifts lower.
And I feel it.
The deep, rigid scars at the nape of his neck.
They’re old, hidden just beneath his hairline, but undeniable.
What-
Before I can react, Noah’s grip tightens on my thighs.
His head snaps up, his eyes blazing with something unreadable.
"What the hell are you doing?"
The weight of his voice roots me in place.
Something in my chest twists, not from fear.
But from the sudden, overwhelming realization:
Noah Ackerman is hiding more than just his desires.
Noah wipes his mouth, the back of his hand grazing over his lips, his breathing still rough, uneven.
His eyes darken.
Before I can react, his hands clamp around my wrists, forcing them above my head, pinning me beneath him on the couch.
A sharp breath leaves me.
My body tenses, raw and aching, the echoes of his touch still thrumming through every nerve.
"Noah, are those-"
His expression snaps.
Something dangerous, something fractured, flickers across his face.
"Don't ever fucking do that again." His voice is sharp, clipped, not the usual commanding dominance, but something wounded.
Something afraid.
"You don’t fucking tell me what to do."
His grip tightens around my wrists.
Like a switch has flipped inside him, Noah's energy shifts, a wall slamming down between us.
His body presses heavier against mine, his breathing measured and controlled.
"With me, you are mine to fucking use," he hisses. "You have no power."
But this isn’t the same intoxicating control he usually exerts.
This feels different.
Rattled.
Defensive.
Is he embarrassed?
I don’t dare ask.
Noah leans in, his voice like smoke against my ear.
"Is that fucking understood?"
A slow, creeping shiver rolls through me.
I hesitate, still trying to gauge what just happened, still trying to understand him.
But after the beating my body just took, I know better than to push him too far.
I swallow, my voice hoarse.
"Yes," I whisper. "Yes, I understand."
Noah stays there for a moment, his eyes scanning me, searching for compliance.
Then, slowly, he leans back.
His weight shifts off me, giving us both a few inches of space.
And yet, he lingers.
The tension still thick between us.
I pull my knees to my chest, my body aching, my skin flushed with pain and exhaustion.
Noah rubs the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze.
And that’s when I see them.
The scars.
Not just the ones I brushed against before.
But new ones.
Deep. Jagged.
Etched across his lower stomach, half-hidden in the dim light, as if they were never meant to be seen.
My heart pounds.
"Did someone hurt you, Noah?" I whisper, my voice barely audible.
His entire body tenses.
He doesn’t look at me.
Doesn’t move.
For a second, I think he won’t answer.
Then, finally, his jaw flexes as his eyes flicker to me, his expression unreadable.
"No matter what happens between us," he murmurs, his voice low, firm, "you will never find the answer to that."
A sharp breath leaves me.
"You're mine to fuck." His voice is quieter now, almost detached, "The last thing we need is for you to start looking for my humanity."
The words cut deeper than they should.
Because I already have.
I see it, hidden beneath the cruelty, beneath the dominance, beneath the walls he’s so desperate to keep in place.
And it terrifies him.
The silence stretches.
Noah shifts, rubbing a hand over his face, exhaling deeply.
His touch returns, but this time, it’s different.
His palm settles on my leg, his fingers firm but not bruising.
It’s a touch that feels less like a demand and more like a truce.
His voice, when it comes, is rougher, quieter.
"Let me run you a bath," he sighs. "You can stay here for the night."
The offer is gentle, unexpected.
Out of character.
It’s his version of care, stripped down and hesitant, but care, nonetheless.
I should accept it.
I should stay in my place; accept the walls he’s rebuilding between us.
But I don’t.
I push, even when I know I shouldn’t.
"Will you sit with me in there?" I ask softly.
His eyes flicker with hesitation.
I already know what he’s thinking—this is too much, too intimate, too close.
But I’m already exposed to him.
He’s already seen me at my most vulnerable.
And maybe… maybe I don’t want to be alone tonight.
Before he can refuse, I add the one thing I know will make him stay.
"I’ll tell you about Cole," my voice is barely a whisper.
His expression shifts.
A sharp, flickering tension moves through him.
He exhales, running a hand through his hair.
I see it, the war in his mind, the fight between pushing me away and giving in.
In most scenarios, he’d walk away.
He’d let the woman clean herself up, gather her things, and disappear like all the others.
But this isn’t most scenarios.
This is me and him, two people who are already past the point of pretending this is just physical.
I hold my breath.
Seconds pass.
"I'll be waiting for you in the bathroom."
Noah stands, his muscles tight, his face unreadable.
But he doesn’t walk away.
And that’s enough.
For now.