Page 46 of Adam
I picture his hand on my throat, his mouth against my ear, that voice telling me to keep going while he watches.
Faster. Show me how filthy you are. You think Daddy would still protect you if he knew you got off like this?
My whole body tenses. I’m so close it hurts.
I rub harder, chasing the pressure, my breathing wrecked, body tightening fast. Shame and want crash together until I can’t tell which one’s driving me.
Harder. I’m close. I’m soaked. I’m panting like a bitch in heat.
The climax hits like a gunshot.
I come quickly and violently, biting down on a sound as my body shakes, hand still moving because I don’t want it to stop yet.
The release rips through me hard and sudden, leaving me wrecked and breathless in its wake.
When it finally does, I lie there panting, heart pounding like I’ve done something wrong.
Oh, damn …
I came like a needy, filthy slut over a man I’m not allowed to want and who drives me insane with his smug attitude.
Adam
I’m fucked…
I can’t stop fucking thinking about her.
It’s constant. In my head, under my skin, crawling through my bloodstream like a goddamn infection.
Every look she gives me, every awkward or bratty flick of her eyes, every time she says my name, thinking I won’t do anything about it … all of it goes straight to my cock.
God, I’m fucking pathetic.
Obsessing over some woman I barely even know? What the hell is wrong with me? Like—who does that? Who burns theirwhole life to the ground over a goddamn stranger? I just lit a match and watched it burn.
Faking my own death. That’s how far I took it.
I had a life. Not a great one, but it was mine. An assassin career, people waiting to be killed, a rent I was barely keeping up with. Okay, maybe not ideal, but what’s ever ideal?
She’s in my head all the time. Not even doing anything—just parading that sexy body and attitude, talking to me, making that hiss sound even hotter on her lips.
And that’s enough to keep me hooked like some strung-out loser. It’s sick. I know it.
Fuck.
I hate that I miss her. I hate that I even think I miss her, because how can you miss someone you don’t really know? But I do. I miss her like an ache. Like a hangover that won’t go away.
I want to go find her and make her choke on that innocence of hers.
Instead, I’m in this cold room in this overpriced prison of a mansion with my cock out, jerking it like an animal.
Fucking perfect.
I spit in my palm and stroke slow, like I’m trying to talk myself out of it, when in fact, I’m not.
I want her choking on my cock. I want her crying, saying it hurts, and I want to ignore every word of it.
I want to break her.
