She kissed him.

  Not him reaching, not him pulling her close, not another calculated step in the game.

  Vivian had kissed him.

  The realization surged through him, white-hot and electric, overwhelming any rational thought.

  For a fraction of a second, the tight, cold grip he kept on himself slipped. The dark hunger he carefully restrained surged violently forward, roaring beneath the surface, drowning every warning, every careful rule.

  Mine.

  Only mine.

  His heart slammed into his chest so hard it hurt, his breath ragged as he kissed her back fiercely, unable to hold back. He wanted to consume her completely, wanted to imprint himself so deeply onto her skin, her mouth, her breath, that she would never escape.

  Months of sly seduction—every shadowed glance, every brush of skin—had lured her closer, step by faltering step, into a web she sensed but couldn’t escape. Now, her body pressed hard against his, her lips parting in a trembling, fragile surrender, the game shifted, and a dark, insatiable hunger roared in his chest.

  He hadn't expected this. Vivian, his perfect puzzle, had crumbled so suddenly and willingly into his grasp that it felt surreal.

  Her warmth soaked through the thin lace barrier between them, and his hands traced her spine, fingertips greedy and possessive, savoring every faint tremor.

  A raw, urgent image flooded his mind—Vivian pinned beneath him, wrists locked tight in his grip, hips arching helplessly, begging in wordless desperation. His jaw clenched painfully, body tightening at the thought of her voice breaking into small, needy whimpers.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He’d seen this in his head—her walls falling, her frame curving into his—and now it was real. Vivian’s head tilted back instinctively, throat exposed, a flush blooming across her chest.

  It drove him further into obsession, and he saw clearly in his mind’s eye: his mouth tracing the curve of her collarbone, his tongue tasting her skin, teeth scraping until she gasped sharply, until she cried out and shuddered helplessly beneath him.

  His fingers skimmed her curves, slow and deliberate, and she gasped—a sharp, broken sound that sent a jolt through him, his grip tightening as he thought of her gasping like that under him, every breath a vow she didn’t know she was making.

  Her tongue flicked his, tentative and searching, and a shiver raced down her spine, her mouth tingling with his taste—sharp, dark, consuming. That shiver sent his thoughts spiraling. She’d never escape this, never escape him, this kiss was sealing her to him, like blood on a blade.

  Vivian let herself melt, a faint moan slipping free before she could stop it. That small, raw sound shot straight through him, images sharper now—her flushed and panting beneath him, parted wide, eyes glazed and unfocused as he sank into her, teasing and claiming, until she shuddered uncontrollably, whispering his name like a prayer.

  Her fingers yanked his shirt, dragging him down with a desperate, trembling grip, dragging him down into the dark as his tongue took her, as his hands captured her.

  He wanted to keep going, to drag her down into the abyss of his hunger and turn those images into reality.

  But abruptly, he stopped, breath rasping harshly in his chest, every muscle shaking from the brutal restraint. He forced himself back, chest heaving painfully as he fought to control the wild, consuming impulse inside him. Because this wasn't just about tonight—it was about forever, about threading himself so deeply into her being she'd never untangle him, about driving her to seek him again and again, willingly, desperately.

  He pulled back, breath ragged, her taste lingering—sweet, warm, a drug he’d never quit. She stared up—eyes wide, shadowed with confusion and longing. His thumb brushed softly across her flushed cheek.

  “Viv,” he rasped, voice raw, barely controlled, “if we don't stop now, I won't be able to.”

  Her pulse leaped, desire clashing with a flicker of fear, her body still humming—a subtle warmth lingering, her breath uneven.

  The world felt marginally clearer now, but she still felt like she was waking from a dream. The pieces of her mind now together again, cracked, but complete. Somewhere under it, the darkness and all the memories she did not want, waited.

  Vivian hesitated, clinging to the sensations in her body, grounding herself in them, then whispered, “can we just stay like this —for a bit?”

  The words shook, soft and raw as it struck Noah —dark, triumphant, a blade sinking deeper. Vivian, Doll Face, was his —had chosen him, was clinging to him, wrapping herself in the chains he was tightening around them both.

  “Whatever you need,” he murmured, kissing her forehead, lips slow and warm, her scent flooding him. She sank into him, head on his shoulder, soft and quivering—a quiet storm of trust and want. He savored it, the thrill of her surrender stark against the images in his head.

  This was the start.

  Soon, he would draw every shiver, every sigh, until she was his entirely, woven so deep it would be impossible for her to ever shake free.