Page 56 of Undisputed Chaos
I ached with every motion, hips rolling up, wanting friction, greedy for anything he’d give.
His hand skated higher, fingers tracing the seam of my panties, rough, inked knuckles dragging a shiver through my core.
“So desperate already.” His thumb pressed down, just the barest pressure, right where the heat pulsed hottest.
And then his other hand slid up and locked around the base of my throat again. Not just holding—possessing.
My pulse thumped against his thumb, throbbing for him.
Adrian’s eyes flashed darkly, a dangerous kind of joy. He traced the edges of my panties, his other hand locked around my throat, eyes tracking the dampness and shiver.
So slowly, he dragged the fabric aside, finally baring me to the open air and his wild, focused stare.
“So wet for me,” he murmured, voice wrecked and thick. “Fuck, Isla. You were made for this.”
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. I’d never been so open until this very moment for him. My hips tipped up shamelessly.
His finger stroked lightly, then teased my entrance, testing how easily I’d take him.
A moan tingled up my throat, and reflex begged me to swallow it down, but Adrian’s grip at my throat tightened. He wanted it.
“Let it out,” he ordered, eyes pinning me.
I still hesitated, just for a second, and his other hand slid down—a quick, purposeful slap right to my clit. A cry shocked out of me.
“No hiding your sounds now. Don’t give me a reason to really get creative.”
I broke, whimpering, hips jerking with the sting, but the look he gave me, like he’d just tuned me perfectly, only made my need worse.
I wanted more, craved more, craved him holding me right on the edge.
Finally, his mouth descended, and he licked a slow, soft flick up to my clit.
I knocked my head back in bliss, thighs spreading wider for more.
His hand found my breast again, pinching my nipples while his other never let go of my throat.
He squeezed harder every time my sounds faltered or I inched away, forcing me to give him everything he wanted.
He worshipped me like I’d never been before.
Each time my sounds faded, he flexed his grip on my neck, reminding me, guiding me, moaning for me, forcing breath and sound together until I was nothing but music he played.
When I let out a full, needy moan, he hummed approval against my clit, heat rolling off him.
My orgasm built quickly, belly coiling tight. My thighs shook and tried to close, but his teeth bit down on my inner thigh.
I gasped, all my senses heightened as the pain mixed with the feeling of his mouth on my clit.
“Sit still. Don’t make me tie you down. You’re not leaving this trap.”
He pressed two fingers to my entrance, circling, and then slid them inside, filling me completely.
Every word vanished from my head. His fingers curled inside me, his tongue working my clit, and I was a moaning mess.
The pressure at my throat kept me hovering, the edge sharp and bright, building, building, nowhere for the pleasure to go but through my voice, out into the world.
I locked eyes with him, and he slowed, just enough for the focus on his face to burn through me.
