Page 83 of Undisputed Chaos
Adrian owned every piece of me now, and I'd never been more content to be possessed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Adrian
Isprawled across Isla's bed like a conquering king, tattooed arm wrapped possessively around her waist as she slept.
The moonlight filtering through her delicate lace curtains painted her skin silver, turning my angel into something so ethereal I could probably break her just by breathing too hard.
The thought made me grin into her hair—not because I wanted to hurt her, but because the power trip was fucking intoxicating.
Four hours had passed since I'd carried her inside, her body limp with exhaustion against my chest.
She'd barely stirred as I'd stripped her out of her dinner clothes, sliding one of her t-shirts over her head and a fresh pair of panties over her pretty pussy.
The ones I'd cut off her in the car were safely hidden in my glove compartment, a treasure I'd transfer to my pillowcase tomorrow, ensuring her scent would surround me even when we were apart.
Especiallywhen we were apart. Because I was that fucking whipped already.
The night replayed in my head like my favorite movie. Her family's shocked faces when I stepped into view, her brother's eyes nearly popping out of his skull when he recognized me.
Pure shock morphed into awe as he'd connected the dots between "Adrian" on the phone and the Adrian standing in front of him. The kid had practically exploded in his chair.
I grinned into Isla's hair, remembering how her father had tried to act unimpressed while sneaking glances at my tattoos.
But the real highlight had been after dinner. My angel spread out beneath the stars, wrists bound by my seatbelt, whimpering as my knife handle slid deep inside her.
I’d never seen anything so perfect, so absolutelymadefor me. It was better than winning a championship. Better than taking the party bus out. Better than literally everything.
My fingers traced idle patterns on her bare thigh, and I had to adjust myself as heat pooled low in my stomach.
The memory of the jade handle sliding inside her, her whimpers as I fucked her with it, the way she'd clenched around it when she came—it was art.
It was better than any painting hanging in my house, and I was rock fucking solid all over again, even after she’d sucked me so well.
She stirred against me, making a soft sound that went straight to my dick.
I tightened my arm around her waist, my other hand sliding beneath her shirt to cup her soft breast. She arched into my touch unconsciously, and I bit back a groan.
"Greedy even in your sleep," I chided quietly, thumb circling her nipple. "My dirty angel."
My thumb caressed the stiff peak, enjoying the weight of her in my hand. Her tits were perfect—full and warm, just right for my hands.
I bent my head to brush my lips against her throat, inhaling the scent of her skin.
I'd never been obsessed with anyone’s throat before Isla—something about hers drove me fucking wild.
Maybe it was how delicate it looked under my hands. Maybe it was how pretty the ribbon looked wrapped around it. Or maybe I was just a possessive psychopath who got off on marking what was mine.
…Probably the psychopath one.
But then Crew's words from dinner crashed back into my brain like a fucking sledgehammer:"If you ever see Noah around, you should totally punch him."
My grip tightened on Isla's breast, making her murmur in her sleep.
I forced myself to relax before I left bruises. She wasn't responsible for the homicidal rage building in my chest like a goddamn tsunami.
Noah was.
