Adrian (Filthy Rich Alphas)

No. You don’t get off that easy.

“I want you,” I confessed.

With her back now to me, she stood frozen in the doorway. In my mind, I imagined her expression—open mouthed and shocked eyes.

“Did you hear me, Carmen? I want you. Anyway, I can have you. Right now in this hallway or on a night when dad isn’t here. And where is he these days? Is he too stupid to see what he has at home? Is he rushing off to get a blowjob from future wife number six? I want you. Anytime, anyplace—whether flying you off to my suite in London or—”

“Stop.” She turned to me and pointed a shaky finger. “This is inappropriate.”

“No. You're relationship with my dad is inappropriate. I'm just the guy that's going to save you.”

“You're his son, and I don't need to be saved.”

“He's going to break your heart, even more than he already has.”

“Enough.”

“Is it enough?”

“What?”

“Are you happy?”

“None of your business.”

“It’s my business because I want you for myself.”

“Okay. Let’s stop right now. I mean, please tell me you’re joking. Adrian, come back to reality.” She waved her hands. “This is crazy talk.”

“Is it?”

“I’m going on my run. Have a good day.”

“At least let me know if you’re happy.”

“Goodbye.” She turned around and ran off.

“Carmen! Wait! Let’s talk about this.”

She raced away like her life depended on it.

And it pissed me off. So I did what I promised the therapist I wouldn’t do anymore. I rushed upstairs, my dick swollen in my pants, and I waited yet again.

She’ll be back in an hour. I know her routine. She’ll shower, wash her hair, and maybe trim up that pretty little pussy of hers. Who knows why she sits in that damn shower forever? She takes long ones. Either way, I’ll have my fun with those damn shorts she’s been taunting me with all morning.

I gripped my throbbing dick and forced myself not to start stroking yet.

But while you’re in there, spreading bubbles all over those hungry nipples, I’m going to spill my seed all over those tiny little shorts.

I pictured her when she ran away, that bottom jiggling with every step.

I’m going to run those sweaty shorts all over my dick.

For all of my life, I’d never hurt anyone. I gave money to charity, fought the good fight when I spotted injustice in the world. My face had been seen right next to other rich faces that fled to rescue the poor.

I was a good man.

But when it came to Carmen, I just couldn’t be good.

I couldn’t be sane.

So I jacked off, and she caught me.

Now what do I do? She’ll think I’m a freak. And I am, but I was hoping she’d figure that out later.

“Fuck!” I fell back on my bed and closed my eyes.

Last week's conversation with her played in my mind. It had been Carmen’s birthday, and Dad had forgotten to come home. I had the chef create a six-course meal in her honor and made her dress up and come downstairs to dine with me.

Carmen did what I asked. That night, she’d sparkled. Her gown had been made of some soft bronze material that wrapped around every curve.

We had a blast. After her third glass of wine, she giggled and did horrible cartoon impressions. We debated on the meaning of religion and then told each other dirty jokes.

She mind-fucked me into orgasms. I drowned in Carmen. Her words were silk, her skin so soft. I touched that flesh the few moments I could, brushing against her, unnoticed.

And at the end of the night with full bellies and drunken conversation, I gave her my gift, and because she was so sad about Dad forgetting her birthday, I told her it was from him.

Adrian, you're so stupid.

I sat there and watched her open the box and pull out a new laptop.

Lying, I smiled. “Dad bought it for you so that you could write. It’s a high-tech version with all the best writing software already uploaded.”

A grin exploded onto her face. “All this time I figured Nick didn’t take my writing seriously.”

“You’re talented. Of course he would take it seriously.”

“How would you know? You’ve never read my books.”

“Correction.” I held up my finger. “I’ve read all ten books. You can quiz me on this when the chef brings out the coffee.”

“Deal.”

I hugged her and counted three seconds in my head before I let her go. “Happy Birthday, Carmen.”

“Thanks, Adrian.” Grinning, she stared at the gift for a few more seconds. “He remembered my birthday. God, I thought he'd forgotten.”

“Yes, Dad is a great guy.”

And on the inside, I’d died a little.

Chapter 3

A Masturbating God

Carmen

“Yes, Carmen.” Adrian stroked that huge cock in my bedroom. “Right there. All over that pretty face. That’s where I’ll paint you.”

I’d come undone, and Adrian did it.

I was tangled ribbon, and he was a master of fingers with a puzzle maker’s mind. He wound me into knots. No matter how much I tried, the image of him stroking himself would not leave my head.