Adrian (Filthy Rich Alphas)

Nick was pissed. A driver appeared at Adrian’s place with a message: “You can move out. You can turn away from the Ford name, but you better stay away from that black bitch.”

It must’ve taken three hours of phone conversation to keep Adrian in his condo. My baby wanted to ram his foot up Nick’s ass, just for what he’d said about me. But it wasn’t worth. Nick would never deserve either of our attention.

“This is insane,” Adrian groaned. “I’m going crazy. I think about you every night. I touch myself after we get off the phone, but it isn’t enough. These conversations aren’t enough. I can’t believe we’ve made it this long.”

I said nothing. What could I even say? As he talked, my nipples hardened and panties dampened like they always did when we talked. I considered sending Adrian sexy pictures a few times. However, I refrained.

Adrian had been trying too hard to get back to normal, all for me. He went to his therapist three times a week, exploring the trauma that he’d experienced from his mother’s suicide and even his need to invade my privacy. Those moments when he told me about the things he said in his sessions frightened me. Sometimes I feared he would be too broken to love. I worried that I wasn’t woman enough to heal him.

But in the end, he tried. And that was all I could ever ask for. That was all I could do myself. Try to love him, do my best to heal him.

Adrian started writing, and not just poetry. The poet Catharsis decided to pen a book about his life, believing it was time to reveal the identity of his pen name and even the true Adrian Ford. It had been four months since the last time I’d seen him.

“Are you sure you want to expose so much about yourself?” I asked late one night.

We’d sat on the phone from ten to two in the morning. I was close to falling asleep, but I had to ask him that last thing before ending the call. Adrian had become my addiction. I didn’t think I could go one night without hearing from him.

“I don’t care if I expose too much,” Adrian said.

“You should be. This is your public image.”

“That’s the point. Therapy has healed me so much in these past months. I feel like a new man, like my entire life is just beginning. I want people to see that even Adrian Ford, rich and gorgeous god of our world, can be so hurt that he needs therapy.”

“Rich and gorgeous god of our world?”

“That’s me. Yes.”

“You’re so humble.”

“It’s the best quality I have after my cock.”

In my mind, I pictured his length. “Hmm.”

“Don’t hmmm like that. You know what that does to me.”

“Tell me.” I slipped my hands into my panties. “Tell me what it does.”

“No.”

“No?” I stopped my hands from exploring my body any further.

“If I tell you about my cock, then I’m going to get in my car, drive over there, and give it to you like you’ve been dreaming about for the past months.”

“Oh, I dream about your cock?”

“You better.”

I moved my hand away and turned over on my stomach. “Fine, I’ll admit it. I dream about us.”

He cursed on the other line.

“What?”

“It’s taking everything inside of me to not come over there right now.”

I knew I shouldn’t have pushed it, but I said, “Maybe Nick is done blackmailing us. He probably doesn’t even care anymore.”

“I doubt that. If there is one thing Dad is good at, it’s keeping everyone else miserable. Besides, is that a chance you’re willing to take? You’re almost done with your novel. Soon you’ll be out in the world again, promoting to all of your readers who have supported you. Can we really take that risk? If you lost it all because I drove over late at night to fuck you and he found out, I would never forgive myself. Some things in this life are bigger than my cock. Not many things, but there are a few.”

“Very funny.”

“Carmen,” Adrian whispered. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“Don’t tempt me anymore.”

I opened my mouth in shock. “Okay.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know you are.”

That night when we ended the conversation, my heart ached. It was this dark and twisting thing. It wasn’t love or desire, not need for him or fear of us. The thing that moved inside of me was guilt. All this time Adrian battled his dad, sought therapy, and did his best to give me space. What had I done for him in these beautiful months where our minds mingled together just like two bodies slipping against each other in bed?

Decisions. Decisions.

All night, I lay in bed, unable to fall asleep, dealing with the big problem at hand. Did I really think Adrian and I should be together? He put his energy into us every night. I did too, but was it enough? And I couldn’t forget the underlying fact that my body ached to touch his.