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Married To The Thorn In My Flesh Novel Cover

Married To The Thorn In My Flesh

Billionaire Alexander Thorne is a dangerous man whose charm masks a sinful nature. For Sophia Rose, he is the husband her family has chosen for her. To save her father’s failing empire and escape a forced future, Sophia plans to flee. Yet, Alexander’s irresistible pursuit begins to break her defenses. Despite the risks of manipulation and trauma, she falls for her enemy. By the time she sees his true colors, Sophia is too trapped to escape his grasp.
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Chapter 10

Sophia's POV

I shudder in shock, watching him light the cigar with a soft click. I've never been this close to a man doing something so... intimate.

But he's going to touch me?? Where?

He brings the cigar to his lips, eyes fixed on me. The ember glows. He leans back, exhaling a slow cloud that curls like mist around us. It mixes with his cologne, and I nearly sway from the scent.

I stare, unable to peel my eyes off dangerously dark eyes.

He takes out the cigar and smokes in my face, "You go first... I'll go second."

Go first?

I'm going to... touch him?

My head feels dizzy.

"I'm going to smoke through it, so satisfy your curiosity." He adds before putting the cigar back in his mouth.

He suddenly claps, and the lights go out. Total darkness folds around us, velvety and charged with everything wrong.

A cold settles on me, and I hear my heart drumming.

Before I can think, he takes my right hand, guiding it to his... chest.

My lungs seize at the feel of tiny barbells.

He exhales tobacco, chest jerking slightly.

My skin tingles, my stomach clenching tight.

He releases my hand, and I see the embers glow as he smokes in the dark. It fills my lungs and senses. But my fingers move, tracing the shape, the dangle.

A pleasurable tremor passes through my body, desire taking over me.

He grips my hand again, guiding me into the opening of his shirt.

A small breath slips out of me as I feel his warm skin, hard, smooth chest-rising and falling, cold ring. And his... nipple.

My hand begins trembling, my chest rising with HOTNESS.

I freeze, not knowing what to do when he lets go, terrified of how my body is responding already. Scared of doing it wrong. Scared of what this might become.

"You can stroke it with your fingers," he mutters.

His arm tightens around me, his breath deep and warm against my cheek.

I brush the dangle with a finger before withdrawing my hand.

I lean into him, shaking slightly as I hold my fingers together-fingers that touched him.

He's still. Too still.

My brain lacks understanding of what just happened or what I did, if I did anything.

"D-did I h-hurt you?" I mumble, ashamed of how shaky I sound.

I've never touched any man like this before. I've never touched any man in my life. I know nothing.

His lips spread against my face. "No, Love... not one bit... I have a lot to teach you, but not tonight."

His chest rises against my shoulder, his right hand brushes my hip, then he lifts his head.

"My turn."

He strokes my arm, slowly, deliberating. Breathing.

Seconds pass, and then he whispers, "Let me touch you the way you touched me... take off your bra."

My mind goes white with shock.

My pulse ricochets everywhere-throat, ribs, my core. I'm not sure I'm breathing anymore.

"Don't worry. I can't see you... You can get up to do it. But you'll come back," he adds softly and takes his hand off me, like he knows I'll get up.

My thoughts trip over themselves. My fingers keep trembling even when I lace them, heart racing like an F1 car.

My body moves, and I get off him.

I take a step forward in the dark as I shiver.

From the sides of my halter-neck dress, shaky fingers reach for my adhesive bra. Yet I pause, hesitating, wanting to back out if it's an option.

My brain worries about everything-what I'll feel, what he'll do, what he'll think about my inherited big boobs that make me insecure, how wrong this feels, yet I want it.

"Sophia?"

"Mm?" I choke, unable to believe what is happening.

"Come here."

"I've-I've not-"

"It's okay. Just come."

I turn around slowly and move back to him.

When he says nothing else, I lower myself on his lap again.

The second his arms wrap around me, my body tenses, my fists clenching.

"Relax, Sophia," he whispers, pulling me against his chest.

My chest rises and falls rapidly.

"You have nothing to be worried about... You made me feel good. I want to make you feel better..." His lips pause on my ear, warm and enticing.

I release a breath and shut my eyes, deciding before I bolt in fear.

"Okay?"

I nod without meaning to.

"I'll close my eyes. I promise." He says, putting his cigar away.

I reach for my bra, despite the noise in my head.

Slowly, hands trembling, I peel it off and pull it out from the side, unable to check if he's watching me in the dark. I fear my heart may not take it if I catch him staring.

I let it drop on the sofa and steady my breath. The freedom it offers terrifies me.

"You done?"

"Mm," I reply.

"Sit with your knees out. Back against my chest."

I do as I'm told, clumsily, but obeying.

When my back touches his chest, heat radiates from him like second skin, cocooning me.

I tighten my fists, keeping my eyes closed despite the darkness.

Nothing happens for a moment.

Then Alexander's palms slither into my dress from the halter opening.

My breath fractures instantly. Heat spreads from his hands to my entire body, tantalizing yet terrifying.

My chest swells on its own, nails digging into my palms.

"Relax," he says very softly as large hands cover me completely, encasing me.

I breathe hard and loud, squirming when he starts moving his hands.

My hands lift to touch his, to slow him a little. But-

"Don't do anything until I say you should," he gruffs in my ear. "Just feel."

I drop my hands back despite my chest feeling like it's about to combust.

"Let yourself go, Soph... listen to my voice. Feel... and breathe."

A distressed moan is forced out of me. I curl my fingers in my lap, clutch my dress so tightly. Squeeze my toes till my slippers slip off my feet.

Heat fills me up.

Another sound slips out of my lips-a softer one. Unrecognizable.

"That's it..." He whispers, caressing. "You're so soft... and warm."

My head swims, body relaxing. I lean further into him.

"Arch your back like you did for me the other day..."

Slowly, I curve my spine.

He presses. Tenderly.

My breath escapes me in a warm, helpless sound.

"Good girl..." he says, kissing my jaw, my throat, my cheek.

Instinctively, my head turns, seeking his lips-seeking some form of familiarity, but he buries his nose somewhere I can't find.

"Lean in. And do it again."

I obey, breath faltering.

Every inch of me feels tuned to him, sensitive, waiting.

"Now put your whole body into it."

Breathless, I curve again, hands trembling as my stomach suspends.

Suddenly, he shifts beneath me, lowering one leg so that I'm seated on only his right thigh.

"Don't stop moving... " He murmurs just before my body goes still.

The air starts to shift. Thicken. And something is shot straight to my core. It leaks down to where my legs part.

My whole body floats, unraveling under his hands, in his lap. My head rolls on his chest. I lose track of everything-where my hands are, if I'm breathing. And right there, where his thigh is, I feel a soft thump–foreign, hot.

"You're doing so well..."

Piece by piece, I lose brain cells.

He sits up, anchoring my back, lips pressed to my ear. The heat of his body curls around me, all-consuming. His hands are unrelenting.

"Grip my leg, Soph..."

I can't feel my hands.

"Baby girl?" He kisses my cheek.

Sluggishly, my hands find his thigh, holding on as I sigh.

"Glide." His voice drops, scraping sinfully down my spine. "Easy, slowly..."

And in a few seconds, I'm pushed forward with his chest.

"Keep going... then come back."

I move, then drag myself back.

The effect is instant.

My breathing fractures into a deep moan. My body turns cold and hot at the same time.

The soft thump quickens.

Overwhelmed, I freeze and press my thighs together.

His hands slow. He slips them out of my dress to pull me close.

Eyes closed, I crumble against him, panting softly, strengthless, confused.

The sensation doesn't stop-new, unfamiliar, involuntary, wrong yet pleasant.

He plants a kiss on my head and begins stroking my arm gently.

"That's my girl."

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