“Not the point, asshole. You still should’ve told me.”
“I beg to differ.” He hums softly, his other hand slipping to my lower back, pulling me flush against him, grinding his hips into mine. “You don’t have to lie to me, or yourself.”
“Fuck you,” I choke out, but even as the words leave my mouth, I’m dry humping him, my resolve cracking into a thousand pieces.
“I’m not hurting you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. “I’m giving you what you need. What you crave.”
Fuck.
He’s doing it again—getting inside my head, making me question everything.
“You can trust me. I’m offering you a weekend of new experiences, of pushing boundaries. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“I . . . ” My voice falters as I rock against him. I should say no. Fuck, I should scream it, then run out of this goddamn house before I lose myself completely.
But instead, I nod—just a slight dip of my head—and moan as we dry hump in the middle of the kitchen, panting and moaning.
Adrian’s smile is predatory as he steps back, releasing me from his grip but not from his hold. “Good. Now, let’s continue somewhere more comfortable.”
He threads his fingers through mine, and I don’t resist when he pulls me forward, leading me out of the kitchen, then down the hallway toward the stairs. As we cross the foyer, my gaze flicks toward the door where my duffel bag lays—waiting for me, taunting me with the choice I could have made.
Adrian pauses, his thumb brushing over my wrist as he follows my line of sight. “You can still leave, Jasper. The choice is yours.”
I bite the inside of my cheek as I stare at the door, and for one fleeting second, I imagine myself sprinting toward it and putting as much fucking distance between me and this place as possible.
But I don’t.
Instead, I square my shoulders and meet his gaze. “I’m not leaving.”
His smile widens, but it isn’t a cocky grin. It’s softer, more satisfied, like he’s just won something, but he’s not gloating. “Good choice.”
We ascend the stairs in silence, the sound of my boots on the hardwood again echoing in the vast, empty house. And every step feels like I’m sinking deeper into something I can’t escape.
Chapter 9
Adrian’s master bedroom is a fucking sanctuary of indulgence. Heavy velvet drapes—like in every other room of this place—block out any shred of natural light, casting the room in a hazy, intimate glow that makes it feel like we’re cut off from the rest of the world.
The bed is the centerpiece—a monstrous, four-poster affair draped in dark silk sheets that look as if they’re stained with sin and topped with an intricately carved canopy that looms overhead like a fucking crown.
Musk and amber incense hang heavy in the air, seeping into my pores. It’s intoxicating, cloying, and it makes my head spin.
Or maybe that’s just the residual adrenaline from agreeing to this fucked-up weekend, from stepping into this room, knowing full well the moment the door clicked shut I wasn’t walking out of here the same way I came in.
Adrian’s fingers trace the line of my jaw, tilting my chin up so I’m forced to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, intense, andthere’s a hunger in them that sends a shiver down my spine. He leans in, his lips brushing against my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “You’re already so hard for me, Jasper.”
“What do you expect? We were practically fucking each other a moment ago in the kitchen.”
He palms my erection and I push into his touch, craving more.
Or at least my cock does.
“You enjoy being with me?”
I thrust into his palm again. “Can’t deny how hard you make me come.”
He chuckles and begins to undress me until I’m left standing in nothing but my boxers. He looks down, grazing a thumb over the head of my cock, right over the wet spot. “You’re perfect, Jasper. Absolutely perfect.”
More precum coats the fabric and I grit my teeth, trying to hold on to some semblance of control. But fuck, it’s slipping. Every touch, every whispered word, it’s all designed to unravel me.
