Chapter Nine #2
"Good girl," I praised, voice strained as I fought my own release. "You're so obedient for me. Let yourself come, angel. I've got you."
When she came, it was with a sob of my name, and the sound tipped me over the edge.
I followed her, my release hitting my stomach in hot, thick pulses as I bit my fist to muffle the roar tearing from my throat.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of our breathing, gradually slowing.
"Adrian?"
"Yeah, angel?" I reached for the tissues on the side table, cleaning myself up while keeping the phone close.
"Was that... okay?"
Her voice was small, uncertain, a sound that punched through the post-orgasm haze like a knife to the ribs.
This perfect creature was worried about pleasing me, as if she hadn’t just rewritten my fucking DNA.
She might as well carve her name into my dick at this point—no one else even existed in my world anymore.
I sat up sharply, tossing the soiled tissues aside. The knife on the couch cushion glinted in the lamplight, but I ignored it, focusing on the shaky rhythm of her breathing through the phone.
I had to be careful; she was mine, after all .
"Angel," I started softly. "You were incredible. Better than incredible. You're..." I struggled for words that didn't sound like greeting card bullshit. "You're everything."
A shaky laugh. "You're just saying that."
“Hey.” My tone softened, the joke dying as I recognized the vulnerability beneath her words.
I stood, pacing past my six-monitor setup, the city lights blurring beyond the industrial windows.
“Listen to me. You were perfect. Better than perfect. Fuck, the way you said my name? I’m gonna be hearing that in my sleep.”
Silence. And then a hint of a laugh.
“Cross my heart.” I traced an X over my tattooed chest. “And I’ll stab anyone who says otherwise. Including past-me, who thought the pinnacle of romance was sharing a corn dog at a title fight.”
That earned a genuine giggle, music to my fucking ears. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously into you,” I shot back, grinning as I grabbed my tablet and pulled up her favorite sushi place, courtesy of a little deep dive into her frequented locations.
Two taps and her usual order was in my cart, but spruced up: a sushi boat, miso soup, and extra ginger were on their way.
“Dinner’s coming in twenty. And before you argue?—”
“Adrian, you don’t have to?—”
“Too late. Ordered.”
I flopped back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Your order was a little tame, so I spiced it up a little with all the fancy shit you’ve never tried.”
Her laugh was startled, musical. “I am not tame!”
“Angel, you paint sunsets and own eight pastel dresses. You’re the human embodiment of a pumpkin spice latte.”
I flopped back onto the couch, grinning at the ceiling. “But I’ll corrupt you yet. Wait until you see the order.”
I also personally loved fruity little drinks and sugary frappes. The guys liked to give me shit about it .
“You’re terrible.” She said it again, an adorable petulance in her tone.
"Terribly good at taking care of what's mine," I corrected. "Driver's en route. You're gonna eat every bite, and I'm staying on the line until you do, got it?”
A pause. “Why?”
The simple question held a lot of uncertainty. Because you're mine. Because those bitches hurt you today, and I need to fix it. Because I'm already planning how to make them pay.
"Because you're mine,” I answered instead. "And I'm not going anywhere."
She was silent for a moment before mumbling something adorable and content.
I leaned back, phone cradled to my ear, her breathing filling the silence.
“But seriously, angel. You did good. Real good. And not just...” I gestured vaguely at my spent cock, grateful she couldn’t see my uncharacteristic fumbling.
“You trusted me. That’s… fuck, that’s everything.”
The admission was raw and uncomfortable. I busied myself with the knife, flipping it end over end, the blade catching moonlight.
“Adrian?”
“Yeah, angel?”
“Thank you. For… staying, too.”
The knife stilled in my hand. The word echoed in my skull, foreign and right. I opened my mouth to deflect, to joke about charging her for my time, but the lie crumbled before it could form.
“Anytime, angel,” I said quietly. “I’ll always be here from now on.”
Her sushi arrived in a black lacquered boat big enough to feed a small army. I watched through the delivery app’s live tracking as Isla answered the door, her gasp audible through the phone.
I picked up my own delivery at the same time, in love with her little indignant sounds as she looked through everything.
My angel wasn’t eating alone tonight .
"Adrian! This is way too much food!"
I grinned, picturing her wide-eyed expression as she unpacked the massive sushi boat I'd ordered. "Nothing's too much for you. Consider it aftercare."
"Aftercare?" Her voice was curious, a little shy.
“Mmm,” I took a bite, tearing into my own takeout container of greasy lo mein—the kind of shit I’d never let Jax catch me eating.
“It's what happens after... intense experiences. Making sure you feel good, taken care of. Important."
"Oh." The single syllable was soft, thoughtful. I heard the click of chopsticks, the gentle sound of her settling back into what I imagined was her bed or couch. "I've read about that."
That caught my attention. "Have you now? Been doing some research, angel?"
Her embarrassed silence made me chuckle. "It's okay. I like that you're curious. No shame in wanting to learn."
We fell into comfortable conversation as she ate, her initial uncertainty melting away.
I guided her through the different pieces, explaining each one, listening to her little sounds of discovery as she tried things she'd never had before.
"The one with the crunchy stuff on top is amazing," she breathed, her voice warm with pleasure.
"Told you. You've been missing out with your usual California rolls."
She laughed, the sound sending warmth through my body. "Fine, you win. I'll trust your food recommendations from now on."
"Good.” I laughed, then smiled to myself. "That's what this is going to be like, you know. Sometimes I'll push you to try new things and follow instructions. Other times we'll just talk and laugh. Both are important."
"I like both," she admitted warmly.
I slurped a noodle loudly, grinning at her offended huff. “What? You think I live on kale and protein shakes? I’ve got a neon pink Slurpee in my freezer right now.”
She laughed, the sound loosening something in my chest.
"Tell me more about your painting. The one you showed me yesterday, the special one. What were you thinking when you created it?"
She launched into an explanation of her process, her voice growing animated as she described the emotions she'd been trying to capture.
I closed my eyes, letting her words wash over me, memorizing the cadence of her speech, the little pauses when she searched for the right word, the way her breath quickened when she talked about something that excited her.
This was new territory for me, this desire to know someone completely, to collect every detail like precious artifacts. With others, I'd wanted their bodies, their submission, their fear.
But with Isla… I wanted her essence, her thoughts, dreams, and secrets. I wanted to know every part of her, not just the physical.
Hours passed as we talked about everything and nothing. My collection of crop tops made an appearance, as well as her favorite movies and my piranhas.
When her voice began to grow sleepy, I didn't hang up. I loved hearing her; it made me ache to hold her.
I lowered my voice, telling her stories about Toffee and Dino, and growing up with Connor and Jax, after I’d learned to calm the fuck down in life.
"Adrian?" she murmured, her voice thick with approaching sleep.
"Yeah, angel?"
"Will you stay on the phone until I fall asleep?"
My heart swelled. "I'll stay all night if you want. I'll be here when you wake up."
"Promise?"
“Promise,” I said softly, reaching for the jade-handled blade on my coffee table. "Sweet dreams, angel. I've got you. "
Her breathing deepened, slowed, until I knew she was asleep.
I listened to her breathe, guarding her dreams from eight miles away, already planning how to permanently close that distance.
"Mine," I whispered to the sleeping girl on the other end of the line. "All mine.”