Page 88 of Undisputed Chaos
Adrian
Isprawled across my leather couch, six monitors glowing in front of me, illuminating my industrial mansion with eerie blue light.
The jade knife spun between my fingers as I scrolled through Noah Brown's mundane life with my free hand.
My bloodstream still buzzed from the gym session—from telling the guys about my plans for Isla's ex, from seeing her sleeping form on my new surveillance feed, from the absolute certainty that I was going to dismantle this fucker piece by piece.
"Noah, Noah, Noah," I threatened, enlarging his LinkedIn profile on monitor three.
"Mechatronics Engineer at Physical Intelligence. Aren't you fancy?"
The guy looked painfully average in his profile picture. Sandy brownish hair, forgettable features, a smile that screamed "I'm safe and reliable" when all I saw was "boring as fuck."
But his employment history was interesting. Robotics, techcompanies, systems engineering. The bastard had a brain, at least. Too bad I was about to scramble it.
I flicked to monitor four, displaying his pathetic social media presence.
Professional networking, a few stale company party photos, a private Instagram with barely any posts. Nothing like the performance he'd given at Isla's gallery opening.
"Keeping your crazy behind closed doors, huh?"
I switched to monitor five, which showed the results of my deeper dive—credit records, phone logs, shopping habits, the digital breadcrumbs of a man who had no idea he was already dead.
"Let's see what you're really hiding."
My phone pinged with a notification from the camera nestled in Isla's bedroom alarm clock. She'd just walked in wearing nothing but a towel, hair dripping wet from the shower.
My dick went from zero to steel in record time.
“Oh fuck," I breathed, watching as she dropped the towel and reached for her collection of lotions.
My angel, all curves and creamy-pale skin, unaware of my eyes devouring every perfect inch of her.
I zoomed in, savoring the sight of her applying lotion to those plush thighs, her soft stomach, those big tits that warmed my hands.
I reached into my pocket, fingers finding the white lace panties I'd cut from her body last night. They were still slightly damp from her arousal, the scent of her like a drug.
I brought them to my face, inhaling deeply, and my other hand moved to my sweatpants, pushing them down just enough to free my already aching dick.
I wrapped my hand around my length, the stolen panties still pressed against my nose as I watched Isla on the screen, completely naked and vulnerable.
The fabric was cool against my skin as I draped the delicate lace over my shaft, using it to stroke myself with deliberate, torturous slowness.
"That's it, angel," I groaned, my eyes never leaving the monitor as she bent to apply lotion to her calves, giving me a perfect view of the ass I planned on ramming in due time. "So fucking pretty.”
I tightened my grip, the delicate fabric adding mind-bending friction as I moved my hand faster.
The scent of her filled my senses, driving me wild with need. My thumb circled the head of my cock, spreading the moisture gathering there through the lace of her panties.
My phone beckoned, and I grabbed it with my free hand, never stopping the steady rhythm of my strokes.
Time to play with my pretty little prey.
It was a perfect opportunity to stroke her deepest desires since my phone number was still unknown to her:
Unknown
Wearing blue panties to bed?
