Chapter 11 – Jennie
I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the same pattern of wood and plaster I’ve memorized for days now. The weight of silence wraps around me like chains—no word from Logan, no updates from Adrian. I’ve asked, pleaded, demanded…and every time, all I get is a cold, clipped “He’s safe.”
But what does safe even mean in Adrian’s world?
My phone is still missing. My laptop too. I’m cut off from the world, breathing in someone else’s air, wearing clothes someone else picked out. I feel like I’m slowly disappearing.
The door opens, quietly. I don’t bother to look. I know it’s him. His presence sinks into the room, shifting the atmosphere like a coming storm.
I hear it—a soft thud on the bed beside me.
When I finally sit up, there’s a box. A black velvet box, elegant and expensive, the kind of thing that doesn’t belong in my hands.
Adrian stands across the room, still dressed in black from head to toe, as if even color has no right to live in his world.
I stare at the box like it’s something poisonous.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Adrian doesn’t move from where he stands by the door. His presence fills the entire room, no matter how far he is. His jaw ticks once. “Open it.”
The command in his tone slams into me like a slap.
Still, I reach out and peel back the lid.
Inside, nestled in layers of soft black tissue, is a dress—deep crimson silk, delicate, almost liquid under my fingers.
It’s strapless, sleek, the kind of thing you’d see on a red carpet or in a dream.
I trace the fabric slowly, almost unwillingly. It’s so beautiful it hurts to look at.
I glance up. “What’s this for?”
His gaze doesn’t soften. “I planned a date.”
I blink. “A date?”
He nods once, as if that settles it. “Yes.”
My chest tightens. I laugh—but there’s no humor in it. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“I never joke.”
“Of course you don’t.” I snap the box shut with a loud thud. “Well, I’m not going.”
His face doesn’t change, but the room gets heavier somehow.
“Yes,” he says quietly. “You are.”
I rise to my feet. “No. I’m not your puppet, Adrian. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You’re my wife,” he snaps. “You will act like that tonight.”
“And I’m your prisoner,” I spit. “Let’s not forget that.”
He moves. A slow, deliberate step forward. Then another. His eyes never leave mine, and for a second, I think he might grab me, drag me, and force me into that dress himself.
“Put on the damn dress.”
“No.”
His voice drops, smooth and deadly.
“Wear it,” he says. “Or I’ll put it on you myself.”
I stiffen, my breath hitching. There’s no room for misinterpretation. He means every word.
“Fine,” I hiss, snatching the box off the bed.
I storm into the bathroom and shut the door behind me with more force than necessary. The mirror greets me with a reflection I barely recognize—hair a mess, eyes wide with fury, jaw tight with defiance. I drop the box onto the counter and stare at it like it personally offended me.
I lift the dress out slowly, the fabric spilling through my hands like water. It’s annoyingly perfect—elegant, expensive, probably custom. Everything I hate right now.
I glance toward the cabinet under the sink, remembering the pair of scissors I saw tucked inside earlier. My fingers twitch.
I could cut it. Just slice straight through the silk and watch this blood-red thing bleed into useless scraps. I’d love to see the look on his face when I walk out in jeans instead.
But….
I sigh, gripping the edge of the counter. The dress is gorgeous. Ruining it would feel like murder. Such a waste.
I’m still contemplating this when Adrian’s voice calls from outside the bathroom door. “Have you put the dress on yet?”
I roll my eyes so hard I nearly see the back of my skull.
I hiss under my breath, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.
I stare at the damn box sitting on the marble counter.
The crimson dress inside is taunting me—rich silk, tailored lines, and a shimmer that says it costs more than my entire closet.
I cross my arms. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of this.
And yet…my fingers brush over the fabric.
It’s the most luxurious thing I’ve ever touched.
The only time I wore anything remotely this beautiful was on my wedding day, and even that felt more like a funeral. I sigh and shake my head. Maybe just trying it on won’t hurt. Of course, I won’t go to dinner with him. I’ll just try it on.
I begin to undress, pulling my shirt over my head and slipping out of my jeans. I’m only in my bra and panties when his voice calls again from behind the door. “Jennie.”
I ignore him.
Seconds later, the door bursts open.
I whirl around with a gasp, using my hands to cover myself.
“Adrian!” I scream. “Get out!”
He leans casually against the doorframe, completely unfazed. His eyes rake over me once—slow and unashamed—before locking with mine. There’s heat in his gaze, but it’s controlled, deliberate.
“Relax,” he says, voice smooth as silk. “It’s not like I haven’t seen what’s underneath.”
“Get out.”
“You have a beautiful body,” he says quietly. “You shouldn’t hide it.”
I don’t respond. My throat is tight. I don’t know what to say—don’t know if I’m angry or scared or something else entirely.
He tilts his head slightly. “Take off everything and put the dress on, Jennie. I’m waiting.”
I hesitate. Then, slowly, deliberately, I reach behind me to unhook my bra.
The piece of clothing falls off, and Adrian’s gaze sinks to my chest, hungrily tracing my full breasts like a man starving.
His obvious hunger empowers me even more, and I hook a finger into the band of my panties and drag them down, stepping out and flinging them off to one side.
The washroom is quiet as we stare at each other, the hunger I feel mirroring his own. He clenches his hands into fists, and I wait for him to take, since that’s what he’s so good at doing. My clit throbs hard, and I see my nipples hardening into aroused peaks.
A tense moment later, Adrian smirks. “I won’t come to you,” he says darkly, dousing my fantasies. “It’s your turn to come to me. I told you that you would come begging before I give you the pleasure you desperately want.”
Disappointment courses through me, along with a hunger so great, I’m going completely out of my mind. If I don’t release the tension coiled inside of me, I’ll go mad. He has to touch me, but I don’t want to beg. He’s already arrogant enough.
Slowly, I drift to the bathtub and sit on the ledge, maintaining eye contact with him as I slowly spread my legs open. His gaze drops to the heat between my thighs, and I run the tip of my tongue across my lower lip.
“Well….” My voice is hoarse and unrecognizable. “If you fail to perform your duties as a husband, I’ll do it myself. I don’t need you.”
A muscle flexes in his jaw as I touch a hand to my breasts, twisting my nipples between two fingers and sucking my lower lip into my mouth. He stays rooted in place, staring at me with all his attention.
My hand slowly drifts down my body, my touch feather-light and soft. It feels good, but not half as good as Adrian’s touch. Still, I won’t tell him that.
I finally reach the apex of my thighs and spread my legs even further. I touch my clit with a finger, and an undercurrent of electricity jolts through me, causing my mouth to fall open. I draw slow circles around my clit, biting back another moan of pleasure.
Adrian’s eyes darken, and I almost beg him, but instead, I concentrate on myself. I add another finger, increasing the pace. This time, I can’t stop the whimper that breaks out of me.
That seems to break Adrian.
He pushes off the wall and storms over to me, going on his knees like a man starved. He raises my legs and drapes them on his shoulders, and before I can react, he covers my pussy with his mouth.
I scream.
Yes! This is what I want.
He’s licking and sucking—holy shit, it feels so good. I can already feel an orgasm coming on. I grab his hair and grind my pussy against his face, desperate for more. He circles my clit with the tip of his tongue and grabs my hips to keep me in place.
“Adrian,” I moan.
He releases an animalistic growl from deep within his bowels and nips my clit with his teeth. The blend of a little pain and blinding pleasure pushes me over the edge, and I give in to the biggest orgasm I’ve ever experienced.
He doesn’t stop immediately. He continues to lick, his tongue searching every crevice of my pussy until my body jerks.
“Adrian, please. I can’t—”
He slams his lips over mine, and I taste myself on his tongue. His hand palms my breasts and flicks my nipple with one rough finger.
“Can you taste yourself?” he growls into my mouth. “The sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever had.”
I moan again, and he jerks away from me, as if realizing himself. He’s breathing hard, a man possessed. I just had an orgasm, but I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
“Next time,” he breathes, “you’ll beg me to fuck you, not just with my mouth.” His words hold a challenge. “But for now, put on that fucking dress, Jennie, before I change my mind.”
With one final glance, he pushes out of the bathroom.