10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Dangerous Games

I’m barely through the door of the bell tower before William’s hands are on me, his mouth hot and desperate on mine.

I moan under the assault, my body pressing against his, my need for him overwhelming. His tongue slides against mine, his hands roaming my body, gripping, squeezing, possessing.

“Fuck,” he growls, his voice low, urgent. His hands are at the hem of my shirt, pulling it up, over my head. I gasp as his mouth finds my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, his stubble rough against my softness.

My hands are at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. I need to feel him, need to touch him. He helps me, his fingers quick and sure, and then his shirt is off, his chest bare, his muscles taut and defined. I run my hands over him, my fingers tracing the lines of his body, the scars that mark his skin.

“Did anyone follow you?” he asks, his voice harsh, his eyes intense.

I shake my head, my breath coming in gasps. “I was careful.”

He nods, his jaw tight. “I hate letting you go out there, unprotected.”

“I never want to leave this tower.”

His eyes darken. “Maybe I won’t let you. Maybe I’ll tie you to my bed and use you and fuck you. And most of all, hold you.”

Before I can manage a reply, his mouth finds mine again, his kiss hungry, fierce. His hands are at my jeans, unbuttoning, unzipping, pushing them down. I kick them off, my body trembling with need, with anticipation.

He lifts me, his hands gripping my ass, my legs wrapping around his waist. He carries me to the table, the one where he used to sit, where he used to watch me. He sets me down, his hands running up my thighs, his thumbs brushing against my core. I gasp, my hips bucking, my body desperate for more.

He leans down, his mouth finding my breast, his tongue circling my nipple, his teeth grazing, biting. I cry out, my hands in his hair, my body arching against him. He moves to the other breast, his hands never leaving my body, never stopping their exploration, their possession.

William pulls out dark red ropes from a worn, wooden chest. They’re soft to the touch, yet strong, a deep wine color that’s only slightly faded with time. My eyes widen as he leans forward, his intent clear.

“What are those for?” I ask, a tremor in my voice.

In answer, he leans down, his mouth capturing mine in a searing kiss. Before I know it, he’s wrapping them around my wrists. I struggle, a mix of concern and arousal coursing through me.

“William...” I start to say.

He smiles—a dangerous smile that makes my heart race.

“These are the bell ropes,” he says, his voice low as he secures the other end of the rope to wooden posts built into the tower.

I test the ropes, tugging at them. They’re heavy, the knot firm, the fibers velvety against my skin. “Why are they so thick?” I ask, my breath hitching as he trails a finger down my chest, circling my nipple.

“They’re strong, made to hold the weight of the bell, but also surprisingly soft,” he says, his voice husky. “Over a thousand pounds.”

“That’s—” I gasp as his hand pinches my nipple. “A lot.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t a clumsy instrument. It could play mathematical patterns with precision, especially under the right hands.” He leans down, his mouth hot on my breast, his tongue circling my nipple, mirroring his words.

I gasp, arching into his touch, my body already on fire.

He moves to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. I squirm, the ropes creaking as I pull at them, but there’s no give. I’m at his mercy, unable to escape the pleasure he’s inflicting on me.

“This is blasphemous,” I breathe, my body trembling as he trails kisses down my stomach.

He looks up at me, his eyes dark and dangerous in the dim light of the tower. “Is it?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. He dips his head between my thighs, his breath hot on my pussy.

I blink, my mind working sluggishly through the pleasure. “It must have been gone for a long time.”

He pauses, his breath still hot on me. “Yes.”

“Then how did you…”

He looks up at me, his eyes meeting mine. “Taking care of the ropes and the bell was part of my duties,” he says. “I was an altar boy.”

Oh God. An altar boy.

I’m tied up with rope in a cathedral.

Blasphemous doesn’t even cover it.

Before I can process it, he dips his head, his mouth hot on my clit, sucking, licking, driving me wild. I cry out, my body arching, my hands gripping the ropes as pleasure courses through me.

William’s mouth is relentless, his tongue circling my clit with a precision that has me seeing stars. He nips, teases, bites, and licks, driving me to the edge of madness. I can feel his fingers, first one, then two, pumping inside me, curling, reaching a spot that has me gasping, my body convulsing with pleasure.

“Please,” I cry out, my voice echoing in the tower, bouncing off the cold stone walls. The sound is eerie, haunting, a symphony of my desperation. It’s the sound of the bell, the one that’s no longer here, its echo lingering, a ghost of its past.

William growls against me, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down my spine. “You taste so fucking good.” His tongue licks long and deep. “I could feast on you for hours.”

I squirm, the ropes creaking, the wooden table beneath me groaning. I’m at his mercy, unable to escape the pleasure he’s inflicting on me. My body is on fire, my skin slick with sweat, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

He sucks my clit into his mouth, his fingers pumping faster, harder. Harder. Faster. Tighter. Pleasure coils tight in my belly. I’m close, so close.

“Please,” I cry out again, my voice a desperate whimper. “Please, William.”

He hums against me, the sound low, approving. “That’s it, brave heart. Beg for me.”

I do. I beg, my words incoherent, my pleas desperate. I’m not above begging, not when it comes to him. Not when it comes to this.

His tongue flicks against me, his fingers curling, reaching, driving me higher, pushing me closer. I can feel it, the edge, the precipice. I’m right there, teetering, ready to fall.

“Come for me, Anne,” he growls, his voice a command, a demand. “Let me hear you scream.”

And I do. I scream, my body convulsing, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave. It’s intense, overwhelming, a pleasure so profound it’s almost painful. I ride it out, my body shaking, my breath coming in sobs.

But William doesn’t stop. He doesn’t give me time to recover. His mouth is on me again, his tongue lapping at me, his fingers pumping, driving me higher, pushing me further.

“I can’t,” I gasp, my body trembling. “It’s too much.”

He chuckles, the sound dark, dangerous. “It’s never enough,” he says. “Not with you. Not with us.”

And he’s right. It’s not enough. I want more. I need more. I need him.

His mouth is relentless, his tongue circling, flicking, driving me mad. The pressure builds again, the pleasure coiling tight. I’m close, so close.

I’m right there, teetering on the edge, ready to fall. And then, suddenly, William stops. He pulls away, his mouth glistening, his eyes dark, intense.

I whimper, my body trembling, my breath coming in gasps. “Why did you stop?” I ask, my voice a desperate plea.

He smiles, that dangerous smile that makes my heart race. “Because,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “I want to hear you beg for it again.”

That’s what he does.

He drives me mad with lust.

My pleading cries bounce off the walls. They become the sound of the bell. They echo and echo, mathematical patterns with precision, under his skillful hands.

“William,” I moan, my voice desperate, pleading. “Please, I need you.”

He looks up at me, his eyes dark, hungry. He stands, his hands going to his belt, unbuckling, unzipping. He pushes his jeans down, his cock springing free, hard, ready. I reach for him, wanting to touch, but I’m tied up.

He groans, watching me squirm in the ropes, enjoying it. “That’s right,” he growls, his voice low, warning. “Remind me I’m alive.”

I spread my legs open. “Remind yourself.”

He growls, his body covering mine, his cock pressing against my entrance. He pauses, his eyes meeting mine, his expression intense, serious. “I dreamed about this.”

I shiver, as if he really did come back from the dead, my body trembling, my need for him overwhelming. It shouldn’t be hot. The flames lick my skin. “About what?”

“About this cunt,” he says, his voice low, possessive. “And that mouth. Even your ass. Because I’m never letting you go. You’re mine. Now and forever.”

And then he’s inside me, his cock filling me, stretching me, possessing me. I cry out, my body arching against his, my hands gripping his shoulders, his back, his ass. He moves inside me, his thrusts slow, deep, deliberate. I meet each one, my body moving with his, my hips rising, falling, my breath coming in gasps, in moans, in cries.

The bell tower is filled with the sound of us, the sound of our bodies coming together, the sound of our pleasure, our need, our love. The blue light filters in, casting shadows, creating a dreamlike atmosphere.

I struggle to catch my breath, my body slick with sweat, my heart pounding in my chest. William’s body is heavy on mine, his breath hot on my neck, his cock still inside me, pulsing with the aftershocks of his release.

I tug at my wrists, the ropes chafing against my skin. “William,” I say, my voice a soft plea. “Release me.”

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine. There’s a darkness in them, a possessiveness that sends a shiver down my spine. “Maybe I won’t,” he says, his voice a low growl.

Panic rises in my chest, a fluttering sensation that makes my breath hitch. I force it down, my voice steady as I say, “Of course you have to. I can’t stay here forever.”

His hand trails down my body, his fingers brushing against my pussy. I squirm, but this time it’s not in pleasure. I’m sore, my body aching from his touch, his cock. “William,” I say, my voice a whisper. “I can’t. I’m sore.”

He leans down, his mouth hot on my ear. “I can make you like it,” he murmurs, his voice a dark promise.

I tug harder at the ropes, my voice firm. “You have to let me go.”

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine. There’s a look in them, a look of such imperious desire that it makes my heart race, my body tremble. For a moment, I wonder if he really will keep me here, tied up, at his mercy.

I soften my voice, my body relaxing beneath his. “If I don’t show up at class, Thorne will get suspicious.”

Only then does a cool resignation enter his eyes. Then, with a sigh, he reaches up, his fingers deftly untying the ropes. I rub my wrists, the skin burning, even though they’re barely red or chafed. It’s the memory that hurts.

As soon as I’m free, I curl into him, my body seeking his warmth, his comfort. I’m unnerved by his behavior, by the darkness in his eyes, the possessiveness in his touch. But I still want him, need him.

Or need safety.

They’re starting to feel like the same thing.

He wraps his arms around me, his body a solid, comforting presence. I can hear his heartbeat, steady, strong. I close my eyes, my body relaxing, my breath evening out.

Even as I lie in his arms, I can’t shake off the feeling of unease, the question that lingers in the back of my mind. What if he hadn’t let me go?

No, that’s crazy. Of course he did.

It was only a game.

The same way the Shakespeare Society plays dangerous games?

I trace patterns on William’s chest, our bodies still entwined, our breaths slowly returning to normal. The blue light of the windows casts long shadows, creating an intimate dream where it’s just the two of us.

Reality lingers at the edges, waiting to intrude.

“Thorne asked me to stay after class today,” I say, my voice soft, hesitant. William’s arm tightens around me, his body tensing.

“What did she want?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

“She wanted to talk about the fake manuscript. Wanted me to work on it with her. Dangled credit on the paper.”

“She’s lying.”

“Well, that’ll be handy, since I don’t want my name associated with it. I suspect part of the reason she wants me is because she has to learn where you supposedly got it.”

“You told her to go to hell.”

I don’t say anything.

“Right?” he asks with a growl.

I sit up, the sheet pooling around my waist, my eyes meeting his. “If I can gain her trust, if I can get close to her, maybe I can find something we can use against her. Something that will expose her for what she really is.”

William reaches up, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin. “I don’t want you putting yourself in danger. Thorne is ruthless. She won’t hesitate to use you, to hurt you if it suits her purposes.”

I cover his hand with mine, my eyes never leaving his. “I can’t sit back and do nothing. Not when I have the chance to make a difference. Not when I have the chance to help you.”

“I don’t need your help. I have a plan.”

“One you can’t tell me about.”

“You have to trust me.”

“I’ll be careful,” I say. “I promise.”

He swears, a mixture of modern terms and old Shakespearean curses.

Hurt flickers in my chest. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not about trust. It’s about safety. Someone found out about us before. Which means someone can find out again.”

I stiffen, pulling away from him. “We were having sex in the library, for God’s sake. It was a wonder it wasn’t discovered sooner.”

Frustration bubbles inside me. “Who would I even tell?”

“That’s my question to you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means someone found out about our affair.”

He’s talking about Tanglewood Tea, from before. “They have a million sources. They’re always figuring out gossip. Maybe they even tap into the security cameras.”

“And one of them knew. So who did you tell?”

“No one. No one who would share it, at least. Daisy knew, but she had more reason to hate the Shakespeare Society than me.”

“No one else?”

“Of course not, I—” I pause, remembering the conversation I had with Carlisle where I told her I was having romance troubles. Maybe I hinted that it was a forbidden relationship. I didn’t say he was a professor, though.

Narrowed eyes study me. “Who are you thinking of?”

No, that wasn’t nearly enough to actually guess what was happening. And as Carlisle mentioned, Tanglewood Tea didn’t actually say my name. Why would they leave that piece out if she was the source?

Then again, she seemed pretty sure about what the post included. It had come up in conversation in the middle of campus. She didn’t even have to pull up the old post to check what it said.

Still. There’s no way.

Tanglewood Tea has slammed her as hard as anyone, mocking the pop princess for her groupies, for the paparazzi on campus, for being stuck up. Why would she help them by giving information about a friend?

Except that…maybe it was a trade.

They couldn’t give her money or fame. She already has that. They could lay off her, though. Would she trade me in for a break?

Chills race over my skin. “No one.”

“Anne.”

“It’s no one .”

He studies me, his eyes narrowed.

I’m not a great liar, but the thing is, I’m not lying.

I have no proof that Carlisle did anything, so I refuse to even utter her name under suspicion. She’s shown me nothing but loyalty.

For a pop princess to befriend little Anne Hill?

It’s ridiculous.

It’s always been ridiculous.

Oh, I know the appeal I have to her. Someone who’s far too bookish to even keep up with celebrity gossip. Someone who isn’t angling for a selfie for social clout, someone who doesn’t want a favor meeting some other pop star.

Even so, she’s been a true friend.

I don’t have many of those. I can’t afford to lose this one.