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Thorn in my side

  • 👁 12.3K
  • 7.5
  • 💬 166


Thrown into the arms of a nameless stranger on a desperate night. Riley did what she thought she’d never do consensually—give her body to a man she did not know and could not possibly trust—for money. A man that ignited hidden desires and unknown pleasures. Happy to bid him farewell for there was no world in which they could co-exist. Not with her past looming over her head. Crisis averted and her future seemed secure That is until that nameless stranger graced the University grounds she’d just enrolled in. Draven Thorn despised his newest mission. Undercover as a lecturer? No, he’d much preferred to carry out his tasks hidden and in the dark. Yet he found himself intrigued by the knowing, anxious gaze he’d been receiving on the part of one of his students. He didn’t know her…did he? And yet something about her tugged at some secreted memory, one fighting to escape but was shrouded in illusions and darkness. Tune in as the pair attempts to balance their passion, past and prejudices in a dark twisted romance. Teaser: *~Riley~* “You want me, don’t you?” A simple question that warranted a simple answer. A simple ‘no’ from Draven would put this insipid burning in my chest to rest. It would. It had to and I focused on that; on the hope that whatever this was between us would dissipate with a simple negation from his end. Simple. “Should I have had you checked for a head injury?” he scoffed, a swift blow that knocked the wind out of my lungs and I realised I had been holding my breath. My lips parted, and my chest heaved, working overtime to replenish my body’s oxygen from those few moments of starvation. I marvelled at the darkness shadowing his eyes and my lips curled upwards as my blood oozed an intoxicating mix of spite and adrenaline. A combination that loosened my tongue and my inhibitions. Steeling my spine, I stepped forward, invading his space, oblivious to the eyes that were thrown our way. Or was I imagining that? Draven didn’t budge, a perfectly shaped brow elevated as he considered my movement with little interest. There wasn’t a single flicker of emotion to cross his features, not even that Godforsaken misleading smile made an appearance and I knew. I was under his skin. I had never been more certain. That smile was his armour, a perfectly set trap to mislead his prey into a false sense of security. It never slipped, not that I ever noticed and I could only assume that he was not pretending at this moment. This was the truest form of his reaction, of his feelings. I kept his gaze, craning my neck to accommodate for our height difference, my lips elevated towards his and he remained painfully still, regarding me with indifference and something else sparking behind those dead eyes. “Then you’ve no reason to threaten any man I may find interesting.” I breathed the words slowly, erotically.


“Can I count on you to behave?” her pores raised as his fingers brushed the back of her neck as he scooped her hair upwards to fix it in a messy bun.

“Yes, father.” Gazing at herself in the reflection provided by the oval mirror stationed before her. Barely able to recognize herself in these past months. He dressed her in a nightgown, long, traditional and modest. Most men in this world preferred the innocent and youth of a woman which made her their favourite target.

“Wise choice,” he stepped back to glance at his work. “the more complacent you are the less bruises you’ll sustain,” she knew he was referring to the scratch grating down the side of her face, already on its way to healing but she wasn’t sure if it’ll fade completely.

“Yes,” she responded, relaxing her jaw for a brief moment to voice the word.

“Randall is into a bit of knife play but he promises not to mark your skin,” he was coaching her on the man’s kink and her stomach churned. The same as it always did. “he might just whip it out get his juices going so no need to be worried, instead pretend that it excites you,” he was checking his phone as he spoke, without a chance to respond, he continued, “he’s here. I’ll lead him up,” her father took a final glance at her to ensure she was perfect and she was.

Lips perfectly shaped and plump slathered with a murderous shade of red. Her wild, dark hair fixed seductively on her head and best of all, her fiery, resilient orbs were docile.

The door pressed shut behind her and all she could do was practice her smile in the mirror while fighting off those blasted tears that had been resurfacing lately. “Get it together,” she scolded herself, “It’ll be over soon if you play into it, if you bore him,” she reminded herself just as the door swung open.

Looking at the entrance in the mirror’s reflection, she saw Randall. His large shoulders were ready to bust through his shirt. Such a young, handsome man, she thought. Why would he have need of her?

“I can see you’ve been waiting for me,” his eyes did not leave her body as he shut the door behind them.

“Am I that obvious?” she forced a wide smile as she spun around, leaning back on the vanity table until she was able to calm her nerves.

Ignoring the fact that she’d spoken at all, Randall closed the distance, pouncing on her and spinning her back around, jostling the vanity and its contents. The clinking of fragrance bottles, skin care items and other things rang in the air and she focused on it.

That was better than focusing on Randall cupping her *ss and bringing her back to press his engorged c*ck against her. His hands gripping her hips and grinding into her, “Good God,” he groaned, his c*ck sticking into her from behind. His hands shifted from her hips, clamouring for her breasts.

He squeezed the full mounds painfully and she whimpered. Her distress excited him and his grip tightened while he continued to rock his hips behind her. She was trapped. Snagged up and had no choice but to allow it. Her hands braced herself against the vanity while he continued his assault.

“I can feel your n*ppl*s hardening through this flimsy fabric,” he breathed against her ear.

“Then I do not need to explain my excitement,” she shuddered as the lie came forth, certain he took her breathlessness for interest.

“No, you do not” he let her go, taking a step back while she turned to face him again. “I think I should not be done with you as soon as I anticipated,” he grinned and her blood ran cold. “But you’ll like that wouldn’t you?” he teased, his eyes growing monstrous.

“I’ll like whatever you want to do to me,” she took the initiative to stalk forward. The less time spent taking meant the less time she’d be in his presence. “What do you wish to do?” she walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge as she watched him expectantly.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he reached back into the seam of his trousers to fish out a knife. It was sheathed in leather but her face paled. “Don’t go crying to daddy now, because I am paying good money to f*ck you,” the blade glistened while he unsheathed the knife, his eyes transfixed by it. “in whatever way I want,”

He was coming forward, “On your knees,” he’d held the knife up under her throat. “I am bored of the complacent girl act,” he kept the knife steady as she slid down the bed, sinking to her knees.

“Make me c*m in under a minute and I won’t tear those pretty breasts of yours,” he held the knife at the side of her neck, “for every minute you fail…” his voice trailed off and he chuckled. “Understand?”

She nodded and left to unbuckle and unzip his pants, pulling the waistband down under his knees. His ugly member glared at her and all she could think of was that it was not even the biggest she’d seen. Reaching out she covered the flesh with one hand, moving up and down. Randall’s head fell back, leaning forward, she spat covering him with her saliva. He groaned.

A glint caught her eye and she noticed that his grip on the knife had loosened. As if a new awareness had struck her, she covered his c*ck with her mouth, straining her eyes to see the knife dangling from his fingertips almost as if by a snapping thread.

Her heart pounded against her chest. It was either do or die. Those were her only two options if she were to commit the screaming voices in her head.

Before she knew it, she clenched down on his c*ck, for a moment he’d gone silent. Liquid, rusty and warm pooled into her mouth. Then came the cries, he struggled to pull himself from her mouth but she held out with everything she had.

Letting go as she heard the knife clatter to the floor. Randall shuffled backwards, losing his grip. She pouched, grabbing up the knife before she jumped on him, her body slick with blood, her nightgown like a second skin. She slashed the knife into the side of his neck. His cries drowned out.

Her adrenaline ran out, her strength wavering after she retrieved the knife, knowing she would not be able to stab him again. But once had been enough. Blood spewed everywhere, and he reached for his wound, attempting to cover it. Blood pooled in his throat and mouth and soon enough he was choking on it.

She watched as the lights dimmed in his eyes. Her heart refused to calm down. There was an eerie silence shrouding the room as she rocked back on her heels staring at the man. Not so imposing anymore she realized and there was this wicked sense of satisfaction coiling in her belly.

He’d never touch her again. None of them will.

Shuffling through his pockets she pulled out his wallet, crumbling the cash into her palms and then she set to change her clothes. Picking out a few pieces and shoving them in a bag, she decided to leave. It was that or a fate worse than death.

Chapter 1


I couldn’t breathe. Not in the skimpy black dress, tight and stretching across my generous curves. I had no plans to appear the innocent, sweet patron. Seduction and temptation were my game, and part of the reason I wore these four-inch, velvety black, block heels adorning my feet. My favourite part of it had to be the thick, sturdy strap wrapping just a hint above my ankle. The most luxurious item I had bought myself in over a month. Initially intended to be worn with sexy lace lingerie for me and Brent's anniversary. Which, ironically, was supposed to be tonight. My now ex-boyfriend was licking his wounds in another woman’s bed. If he was wounded at all.

I rolled my shoulders back, taking a long look at the gentlemen’s club obstructing my way. The Dalliance. An imposing structure of at least three fully functional floors and I could not comprehend the day-to-day workings of it.

I promised myself never to do this. Not again


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