Chapter Seventeen
Isla
T he night wrapped around us like a predator's embrace as Adrian drove deeper into the darkness, away from civilization's lights.
His hands gripped the steering wheel white-knuckled, jaw clenched tight.
The energy radiating from his frame was barely contained—a beast pacing behind bars, waiting for the lock to break.
"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the Lamborghini's growl.
"Somewhere I can have you all to myself." His voice was rough gravel, eyes flicking to mine with an intensity that stole my breath.
"I own land out here. No witnesses for miles."
The use of the word 'witnesses' sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear.
Since dinner, since learning about Noah, Adrian had transformed into something more dangerous, hungrier.
Like he was done pretending to be civilized .
The road opened onto a cliffside overlook, city lights twinkling like fallen stars in the distance.
Adrian slowed the car, eventually coming to a stop on a plateau overlooking the distant city lights.
With a touch of a button, the roof of the Lamborghini retracted, exposing us to the dark sky above and the gentle breeze that carried the scent of pine and earth.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, but his eyes were on me, not the view.
"It is," I whispered, tilting my head back to look at the stars scattered above us like diamonds on black velvet.
My pulse hammered as Adrian's presence filled the space—predatory, possessive, barely leashed.
When I looked back at him, his eyes had darkened, hunger etched into every line of his face.
Without a word, he unclipped his seatbelt and shifted in his seat to face me fully.
"Come here," he commanded, sliding his seat back and patting his thick thigh.
Not a request. An order.
I awkwardly climbed over the center console, my dress riding up as Adrian's hands found my hips, dragging me onto his lap with a growl that vibrated through both our bodies.
His mouth was on mine before I could catch my breath. Not gentle, not asking, but taking. Devouring.
His tongue swept past my lips with ruthless possession, one hand fisting in my hair while the other wrapped around my throat.
This was claiming, marking, a reminder of who I belonged to.
"Mine," he snarled against my lips, thumb pressing hard against the ribbon. "Not his to study, not his to want. Mine ."
The possessiveness in his voice, the barely contained violence, made my core clench with want.
This was Adrian cracked open, the dangerous man behind the charming smile, and I was drowning in the dark promise of him .
His hand left my throat to trace the neckline of my dress, fingers rough as they pushed the fabric aside.
“The pathetic fuck thinks he knows you," he growled, mouth hot against my neck. "Thinks he can watch you, figure you out like some fucking puzzle."
I gasped as his teeth untied the ribbon, biting down hard enough to leave marks. "Adrian?—"
"But he doesn't know how you taste when I manhandle you,” he continued, tongue licking the sting of his bite.
"Doesn't know how you sound when your throat’s squeezed. Doesn't know you like it rough, like being owned."
His words sent liquid fire straight to my core. This was like a wet dream.
"Hands behind your back," he instructed, tone graveled with command.
I nodded, unable to form words as he pulled his driver’s side seatbelt loose and held it in his hand.
Following his instructions, I placed them behind my back.
Adrian maneuvered the seatbelt behind me, looping it around my wrists twice before clicking it into place on the other side of us, near the console.
The position locked my arms and thrust my chest forward, leaving me completely vulnerable and at his mercy.
"Adrian?" I questioned, testing the restraint. It wasn't painful, but it was firm. I couldn't move my wrists if I tried.
"That's my good girl," he praised, one hand returning to my throat while the other traced the edge of my dress where it had bunched around my thighs.
“You’re trapped with me forever.”
I was helpless against him, vulnerable in a way I'd never been with anyone before. Yet I felt no fear, only a wild, reckless need.
My breath hitched as moonlight caught a flash of metal—his jade-handled knife appearing out of his pocket.
My heart hammered against my ribs as he twirled the blade between his fingers, eyes never leaving mine.
Was he going to use the knife on me? Both terror and arousal flooded my senses. He was actually going to?—
"Don't worry, angel," he smiled, reading the mix of fear and want in my expression.
"I'd never damage something so perfect. But I am going to mark you, claim every inch of this soft skin until there's no doubt who you belong to."
The flat of the blade pressed against my thigh, the metal cool against my heated skin.
I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel as Adrian dragged the knife slowly upward, following the path his fingers had traced moments before.
"Look at you trembling for me," he whispered, voice thick with dark satisfaction. "Does Noah know you like knives, Isla? Does he know how wet your little pussy gets when someone dangerous touches you?"
I whimpered, straining against the seatbelt, my body arching toward the blade like I was drawn to danger itself.
The knife traveled higher, warming against my skin, and Adrian's other hand tightened around my throat again.
"Answer me," he commanded, pressing the knife's edge—not sharp enough to cut, but present enough to feel—against the hem of my panties.
“Does your ex know what a dirty little angel you really are?"
"No," I gasped, the word torn from my throat. "Only you. Only you know."
His smile was purely predatory, filled with dark promise. "That's right. Only me."
The knife traced the edge of my dress, a whisper of metal against cotton.
"I'm the only one who gets to see you like this—bound, desperate, and begging for more. "
He moved the blade higher, following the curve of my hip, my waist, until it rested just below my breast.
Adrian's eyes were wild, pupils blown with lust and something darker, the need to erase any trace of another man's touch.
"Is this what you want, Isla?" he asked with barely contained violence.
"Want me to show you what real obsession looks like? What happens when someone who actually deserves you decides to keep you?"
My mind was spinning, overwhelmed by sensation and the vulnerability of my position.
Bound, exposed, a knife pressed to my skin, and yet I'd never felt safer. Never felt more wanted than I did under Adrian's intense, wild gaze.
"Yes," I breathed, the word containing all my trust and desire and need. "Show me. Mark me. Make me yours."
His smile was beautiful and terrifying. "Oh, angel," he whispered, lips brushing my ear as the knife traced delicate patterns on my skin.
"I'm going to corrupt you so thoroughly that no one else will ever be able to touch you without you thinking of me. You'll be marked, claimed, owned so completely that even breathing will remind you of the demon who owns you.”
His hand at my throat tightened just enough to make my pulse jump beneath his fingers, the pad of his thumb tracing the delicate line of the ribbon.
"Is it fear or want turning you on this much?”
I swallowed hard, feeling the movement against his palm. "Both," I admitted, voice barely a whisper, floating on the edge of something dark and delicious.
His smile was evil against my skin, his teeth grazing my skin as he whispered, "Good. They're two sides of the same coin. And I’m going to give you both.”
He was actually going to use the knife on me. My mind spun, dizzy with desire, making me desperate and needy .
The cool metal gleamed in the moonlight as Adrian adjusted his position, looming over me in the confined space.
His eyes never left mine as he slowly turned the knife in his hand, positioning the smooth jade handle toward my soaked panties.
My wrists strained against their bonds, not from a desire to escape but from the overwhelming need to touch him, to anchor myself in this beautiful madness.
“Perfection,” he breathed, voice thick with dark satisfaction as he dragged the handle tantalizingly slowly, just above the hem of my panties.
"So trusting, even when you're completely at my mercy. Even when I could do anything I wanted to you, and no one would hear you scream."
The handle moved with agonizing precision, each centimeter making my breath hitch.
When it finally reached the center of my panties, Adrian paused, eyes darkening as he eyed the damp fabric clinging to me.
"Fucking soaked already," he observed. "Dripping through these panties just from a little danger. My angel likes my knife, doesn't she?"
I nodded, unable to form words as the polished jade pressed against my clit through the thin barrier.
This was it—this was really happening. Adrian was going to claim me with his weapon, mark me, and I was drowning in how badly I wanted it.
"My angel's been having filthy thoughts, hasn't she?" he crooned, voice dropping to a mocking growl that made my core clench.
"Wondering what it would feel like to have something so dangerous so close to your pretty pussy. Wondering if I'd actually… do it."
The handle circled my core through the fabric, pressure firm and deliberate. My hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more contact, more of everything he was giving me.
I was flying, lost in subspace, every nerve ending singing with submission .
"Please," I whined, the word torn from somewhere deep and desperate.
Adrian's eyes flashed with triumph. "Please, what, angel? Use your words.” His grip on my throat tightened fractionally. “You can do it.”
I wanted him to ruin me; I wanted his mark on me forever. “The knife,” I pleaded, lost to desire, “I want it.”
"You need what?" he mocked, slipping the handle beneath the edge of my panties, the cool jade finally making contact with my heated flesh.
I cried out, back arching as far as the restraints would allow.