18. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Anastasia
N oah’s alarm blares like a police siren, ripping me from the depths of sleep. My body jolts, a small gasp escaping my lips as I blink away the haze. The sheets around me are cold.
The other side of the bed untouched.
Did he even sleep?
The last thing I remember is talking to him, rambling on until the bathwater turned cold and the exhaustion had won.
Now, the clock beside me flashes 5:00 AM, an ugly, fluorescent reminder of how much I despise mornings.
A faint commotion stirs beyond the bedroom, a soft clatter of dishes, the muffled sizzle of something in a pan.
Curious, I push myself up, body protesting with soreness from last night’s… events.
Tugging on one of Noah’s shirts, I step cautiously toward the ajar door, creeping forward with silent footsteps.
The first thing I see is his back.
Muscled, scarred, beautiful.
He stands at the stove, barefoot, the waistband of his work pants hanging low on his hips, his shirt draped over one of the island chairs.
A quiet humming drifts from his lips, the soft, absentminded kind that feels out of place from him.
The scent of rich coffee, butter, and something warm and savory fills the air, mixing with the faint traces of his cologne from last night.
I linger in the doorway, watching him.
For a man who exudes control, danger, and dominance, he looks peaceful right now.
Like he’s in a world untouched by chaos.
And for some reason, the last thing I want to do is disturb him.
"Good morning, Anastasia."
His voice cuts through the air, hot and thick with desire, like he knew I was standing there all along.
A shiver rolls down my spine.
Given the brutal punishment my body endured last night, you’d think the last thing I could feel is arousal.
And yet, here we are.
My thighs press tightly together, an ache already building between them.
I clear my throat, leaning against the doorframe, feigning a confidence that my trembling muscles betray.
"Morning, Professor." I smirk, my voice teasing. "Rough night?"
Noah turns slightly, just enough to glance at me over his shoulder.
His eyes are heavy-lidded, dark with exhaustion, yet still intense, smoldering.
Did he sleep at all?
Or did he spend the night thinking about me the way I spent it dreaming about him?
"You could say that," he murmurs, watching me like he’s already deciding what he’s going to do to me next.
Turning fully, he leans back against the counter, arms bracing the surface on either side, giving me a perfect, unobstructed view of him.
Shirtless.
Lined with my nail marks.
The remnants of last night are etched across his skin, proof of how he took me, ruined me, claimed me.
And fuck, he looks perfect like this.
A mess of curls, tousled and unruly. A sleepy smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
This is the kind of sight that could ruin a girl.
The kind of sight I could get used to.
"Something like that." His voice is dark, edged with something dangerous. "Now come here so I can get a good look at you in my shirt."
Taking slow, deliberate steps toward him, my eyes flick down to the obvious bulge forming in his pants.
"Is that all you want, Noah?" I murmur, my voice laced with challenge.
His lips twitch into a smirk. "I guess you'll find out, won’t you, Princess?"
Before I can say another word, his grip tightens on the front of my shirt, yanking me toward him.
A gasp leaves my lips just as he spins me around, pressing my front to the cold marble counter. The shock of it chills my bare skin, pebbling my already sensitive nipples against the smooth surface.
A shudder racks through me.
"After last night, pretty girl, I doubt your pussy could take my cock today," Noah murmurs, his hands running possessively over my ass.
The heat of his bulge presses against me, thick and hard even through the fabric of his pants.
"Or your ass, for that matter..." his breath is hot against my ear, "so I had to get creative."
Reaching around my face, he dangles something in front of me.
Bright pink, silicone, and slightly curved.
My stomach tightens.
Small enough to fit in his hand yet menacing enough to send a rush of heat between my legs, the toy gleams under the dim light of his kitchen.
Noah drags it across my lips, teasing, testing, his free hand slapping my ass just hard enough to make me jump.
"Open up."
The command is smooth, effortless, like he already knows I’ll obey.
And he’s right.
My lips part, and he slides the toy inside, pressing it down against my tongue, making sure it’s coated in my spit.
The taste of silicone lingers as he withdraws it, watching me with heavy-lidded amusement.
His other hand glides down my ass, between my thighs, his fingers finding my already slick folds.
"So eager, little whore," he growls, gathering the wetness on his fingers, teasing me until I’m squirming against him.
"Turn around."
The shift in his voice makes my breath catch.
I turn.
Immediately, his hands are on my hips, lifting me onto the counter.
My legs part instinctively, and Noah takes full advantage, keeping me open, exposed, his eyes devouring every inch.
"Today, you're going to cum on my terms."
A slow smirk tugs at his lips.
"Let’s see how quiet you can be during class while your pussy is being played with."
My stomach flips.
"Noah-"
The word barely escapes before he slides the toy inside of me, stretching me with its smooth, curved shape.
I let out a sharp breath, my walls clenching around the sudden intrusion.
It’s curved just right, perfectly angled to graze my clit.
I glance down, my breath catching at the wet mess between my thighs.
Noah grips my cheeks, forcing my gaze back to his.
"If I find out you came on this more than you did on my cock, we’ll have to explore that little collar idea you had."
His fingers tighten, his voice possessive.
A slow heat coils in my gut, something dark and intoxicating.
"You want me to keep this in during school?" I scoff, but my voice betrays me, trembling just slightly.
His smirk widens. "You will keep it in. And you will look at me while you hide your moans."
Reaching for the remote, his thumb hovers over the power button.
A second later, the toy hums to life inside me.
A gasp rips from my throat, my legs snapping closed, only for Noah’s strong hands to force them apart again.
"Care if we practice?"
My pulse pounds.
"Wait, Noah-"
The vibration intensifies.
I don’t finish my sentence.
I can’t.
Noah’s finger hovers over the screen, and the toy inside me comes to life.
A deep, steady vibration pulses against my aching clit, sending a violent shudder through my body.
I bite my lip, forcing myself to stay silent, my thighs tensing around the pleasure.
Noah’s dark eyes drink me in, his grip firm on my thighs, his presence all-consuming.
The only thing I need more than release is him.
His hands, his mouth, his unrelenting control.
Then it happens, a whimper breaks free from my throat.
Too soft. Too desperate. Too obvious.
His eyes narrow, his expression sharpening with something cruel, something knowing.
"Are you fucking whimpering?" His voice is a razor against my skin. "Whimpering to feel me?"
I suck in a sharp breath, fisting the front of his shirt, trying to ground myself.
"Noah, I c-can’t do this during school-"
His smirk is slow, dangerous.
"Still talking?"
He taps the screen again.
The vibration shifts, from a deep hum to a rapid, torturous flutter, and my hips react before my mind catches up, rolling instinctively.
My hands find his hair, tugging, urging, begging.
"Noah, I need your mouth-"
He doesn’t move.
Instead, he tilts his head, voice dripping with mockery.
"In class?" His smirk deepens. "Ms. Burns, are you asking me to lick your pussy on this desk, right in front of your classmates?"
My stomach tightens, heat pooling between my legs.
Fuck.
He’s toying with me, pushing me to break.
Noah slowly drops to his knees, his mouth hovering just inches from where I need him most.
Another helpless whimper tumbles from my lips.
"Yes, Mr. Ackerman," I whisper, playing into his game, my voice thick with need. "I’ve been so very bad. I need you to punish me," my breath stutters. "I need you to make me-"
BANG.
"Noah, are you in there?"
The sharp pound on the door sends a jolt through my body, dragging me back to cold, harsh reality.
Everything freezes.
The voice cuts through the air like a blade, sharp, angry, unmistakable.
Walker.
Noah’s eyes darken, any trace of amusement obliterated in an instant.
With a single, sharp tap of his thumb, the toy inside me goes silent.
The sudden absence is jarring, leaving my body trembling, desperate, and unfinished.
Noah doesn’t hesitate.
His hands clamp onto my waist, lifting me from the counter with brutal efficiency, his grip unrelenting, possessive, firm.
"Go to my room and shut the door."
My body shakes, my mind still catching up, but his voice leaves no room for argument.
I hesitate for half a second too long.
SMACK.
His hand cracks across my ass, the sharp sting spreading through my skin like fire.
A gasp rips from my lips, my body jolting forward, but his grip is steel, keeping me in place.
"I said get in the fucking room, Ana."
His voice is venomous.
There’s no room for defiance, not now.
I obey.
With my legs still shaking, I slip away from him, moving swiftly down the hall.
Before closing the door, I leave it just barely ajar, enough to peek through the crack.
A soft buzzing noise drags my attention away.
My phone.
The screen glows on the nightstand, vibrating relentlessly.
A chill creeps into my spine as I pick it up.
The screen is flooded with messages.
Megan.
Elijah.
Their texts are everywhere, the emotions tangled. Panic, anger, and confusion.
But it’s Megan’s latest message that makes my stomach drop into freefall.
Tell me Cole is lying. Tell me you wouldn't sleep with a teacher.
My blood turns ice cold.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
A sharp, furious voice drags me back to the present.
"What the hell do you want?"
Noah’s tone is deadly, thick with rage and something darker.
Beyond the door, Walker’s presence lingers like a storm cloud, his words just muffled enough to spike my anxiety.
The walls are closing in.
A slow, smug stride carries Walker into Noah’s apartment.
My breath stills, my grip tightening on the doorframe as I watch from the narrow gap.
What the hell is he doing?
"Heard some commotion in the hallway last night between Ana and her roommate," Walker muses, his voice dripping with false concern. "I hope it didn't keep you up."
The casual tone is too calculated.
Noah doesn’t flinch. His body is all coiled restraint, his jaw tight, but his expression?
Cold. Indifferent. Dangerous.
"She's not here," he lies smoothly. "Whatever you think is happening between Ana and me is bred by your own delusions. No one came over last night. Some of us have fucking jobs we have to wake up early for."
My stomach twists.
Walker knows.
How? When the hell did he put this together?
Walker tilts his head, a lazy smirk creeping up his face.
"You know, it's funny," he drawls. "Cole... you know Cole, Ana’s ex? He could have sworn he saw her slip into your apartment last night. Now, given our little talk, I figured you would know better-"
Noah takes a slow, measured step forward.
"Are you threatening me, kid?" His voice is lethal.
Walker chuckles, but there’s something darker in his expression now.
"Depends," he shrugs. "You see, I’ve been doing some digging of my own, and funny enough, ‘Noah Ackerman’ didn’t exist until you stepped foot into Spokehaven. It’s like your entire life began here only a few short years ago. New social security, new birth certificate. No trace of where you came from."
My pulse skyrockets.
I grip the door tighter, my fingertips tingling with unease.
Noah? Not existing before Spokehaven?
Noah smirks, but there’s nothing amused about it.
His eyes gleam with something dark, something unhinged.
"If that truly is the case," he murmurs, "perhaps you should stop digging before you figure out what I was outside of Spokehaven."
Walker’s smirk falters, just for a second.
Then, he laughs, shaking his head.
"Oh, you think I’d come after you?" His amusement is forced now, his posture a little too stiff.
His gaze snaps toward the door, toward Cole, who I hadn’t even noticed lingering in the threshold.
The second I see him, my vision blurs with rage.
Cole.
Fucking Cole.
Walker grins, too pleased with himself.
"Oh, Noah. I'm not an idiot. No. Anastasia, on the other hand… she has a lot riding on being here. Sick daddy and that little incident on prom night. A lot could go bad for her very quickly… right, Cole?"
The room plummets into silence.
Noah’s shoulders go rigid, his fists clenching at his sides.
"Only if she opens her mouth," Cole mutters, his dead-eyed stare locking onto Noah. "She hasn't said anything to you, right?"
The room feels suffocating.
Noah’s chest rises and falls in steady, controlled breaths.
Then, his voice drops, lethal.
"No." His eyes are like steel. "Anastasia is only a student. Whatever quarrel you have with her can be settled with admin, not in my goddamn living room."
The energy shifts.
Noah is bigger, stronger, and unlike Walker and Cole, he doesn’t flinch.
Walker and Cole step back instinctively, but Noah doesn’t move.
He’s waiting.
"We were only checking in, Mr. Ackerman," Walker exhales, fake as ever. "Ana's friends are worried about her. Perhaps I’ll have the doorman check the cameras. I’ll see you in class-"
"You."
Noah’s snarl cuts through Walker’s parting words like a knife.
But he isn’t looking at Walker anymore.
His gaze locks onto Cole.
"Come here."
My heart stops.
Oh, no.
Cole hesitates, shifting uncomfortably.
"What-"
Noah moves like a predator, seizing both of their fucking heads and slamming them together in one brutal motion.
A sickening crack fills the air.
Both stumble back, gripping their foreheads, the skin already reddening.
A gasp escapes me, my hand clamping over my mouth.
Noah’s icy stare flicks to the door.
He heard me.
For a tense second, he holds my gaze.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he plants a foot down on both of their hands.
Walker shrieks, trying to yank his fingers free, but Noah presses down harder.
"You crazy fucker!" Walker spits, his face twisted in pain. "My dad-"
"Your dad what?" Noah laughs, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement. "Let’s get one thing fucking straight. You came into my home, threatened me, and now you think throwing around the threat of your dad will make me scared?"
Walker flinches, but Cole stays eerily silent.
Noah’s lip curls.
"Whatever the fuck you think I’m doing with Ana, you’re wrong."
He leans down, his voice a cold whisper.
"I don’t like sloppy seconds."
A white-hot sting flares in my chest.
Sloppy seconds.
Wonder if he’d repeat that to me while licking up my cum.
Walker winces beneath his boot, his face a mask of fury and humiliation.
"So," Noah continues, "either you two let it go, or I’ll show you the real definition of blood money. And trust me, it won’t end with a phone call to my daddy."
His foot twists on Walker’s hand, forcing a pained whimper from his throat.
"Knock on my door again," Noah hisses, his voice like gravel and violence, "and I will fucking put you both in a casket. Thank you for giving me a good reason to find a new apartment."
The threat isn’t hollow.
Walker and Cole must see it too, because they go stiff, backing up the moment he releases them.
Noah spits on them both, his expression feral, untamed.
"This one has too many rats."
Walker clutches his wrist, glancing toward Cole, waiting for a reaction.
Nothing.
Cole just stares at Noah, like he’s trying to figure something out.
"My dad-"
"Fuck you," Noah whispers, his tone ice-cold, final. "Get the fuck out of my house."
Walker spins on his heel, practically bolting.
Cole lingers one second longer, his eyes unreadable, and then he’s gone.
The door slams shut.
Noah doesn’t move.
He stands there, silent, his shoulders rising and falling.
Something about the way he’s standing, so still, so tense, makes my stomach knot.
"Blood money?" My voice is barely above a whisper.
His head tilts slightly.
"Should I put ‘sloppy seconds’ on the list of alarming shit you said during all that?"
Noah doesn’t turn around.
His voice is low, edged with something dangerous.
"Anastasia."
He finally looks at me.
Fuck.
"Go in the bedroom."
His eyes burn into mine, his voice commanding.
"And make sure to pull your hair up."
Something tells me arguing is not an option.