18 – The Taste of Obsession

18 – The Taste of Obsession
Adrien’s POV

Everything’s indeed a game.

She didn’t argue.

Because deep down?

She knew I was right.

Ellie’s heart pounded as i leaned in, my voice a low whisper against her lips.

"You’re mine."

And the terrifying part?

She didn’t want to fight it anymore.

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I leaned back in my leather chair, swirling the amber liquid in my glass as the city skyline sprawled beneath me. The penthouse was quiet except for the soft jazz playing in the background and the rhythmic tapping of my fingers against the crystal rim.

Manhattan stretched endlessly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a sea of glittering lights and restless ambition. A city that never slept—just like me.

Ellie had been on my mind all night.

The way she defied me. The way she challenged me. The way she resisted.

It was intoxicating.

Most women folded under my gaze, crumbling like sandcastles against the tide. Their submission was inevitable—expected. They wanted to be wanted, wanted to be claimed.

But Ellie?

She didn’t just resist. She fought. And it made me want her even more.

A sharp knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.

Right on time.

“Enter.”

The door creaked open, and Helen stepped inside.

Red dress. Stilettos. Dark eyes filled with intention. She was predictable, reliable, always eager to please.

Her lips curved into a knowing smirk as she let the straps of her dress slide off her shoulders, the silk pooling at her feet. “Thought you might need a distraction.”

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees as I studied her. Smooth skin. Full breasts. Long legs. A body built for pleasure.

And yet—she wasn’t the one I wanted.

I imagined Ellie standing there instead.

Her lips parted, her body trembling under my gaze, her resistance cracking as I stripped her bare. Would she fight? Would she run? Or would she finally surrender?

Helen moved closer, crawling onto my lap, pressing her body against mine. Her perfume was expensive, intoxicating. Her hands roamed over my shoulders, nails scraping lightly against my shirt.

I felt nothing.

No rush of lust. No hunger. Just a body against mine, filling a void that wouldn’t fucking close.

“You’re distracted tonight,” she murmured, tilting her head, her dark hair brushing against my jaw.

Her voice held something dangerous. Curiosity.

I gripped her chin, forcing her to look at me. “You talk too much.”

A soft gasp slipped from her lips, her pupils dilating.

I lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the couch. My patience was thin, my body wired with tension that had nothing to do with her. But she would do.

For now.

I dropped her onto the cushions, gripping her thighs as I spread them wide.

A sharp gasp slipped from her lips, anticipation flickering in her eyes.

No teasing.

No soft touches.

Just control.

Just release.

Helen’s breath hitched as my fingers trailed up the smooth skin of her inner thigh, barely grazing her heat. She shivered, her body arching, silently begging for more.

I let the moment stretch, my touch featherlight—mocking.

“Adrien…” she breathed, shifting beneath me, her hips rising, trying to close the distance between us.

I smirked.

She was already wet. Pathetic.

I wrapped my fingers around her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her whimper. “You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?”

She bit her lip, nodding.

“Say it,” I commanded, my voice low, dangerous.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Please.”

A slow, amused chuckle rumbled in my chest. Begging already. How predictable. How utterly uninteresting.

I freed myself from my slacks, letting my cock drag along the slick heat between her thighs, teasing. Her nails dug into my shoulders, her body squirming beneath me.

“Adrien…”

I tilted my head, watching her, waiting.

She swallowed hard. “Please. I—I need you.”

Her voice was breathy, eager, but it meant nothing.

I pushed into her with one slow, deliberate thrust, stretching her inch by inch until she gasped, her back arching off the couch.

No tenderness.

No connection.

Just the raw need to fuck Ellie out of my system.

But it didn’t work.

Even as I moved, even as Helen moaned beneath me, my mind was elsewhere.

Ellie.

Her lips trembling as she tried to resist me.
Her pulse racing beneath my touch.
Her body betraying her, even as she fought against what she wanted.

Helen cried out, her fingers tangling in my hair. Her heels dug into my lower back, trying to pull me in deeper, harder.

I barely felt it.

My grip tightened around her wrists, pinning them above her head. Her breath hitched, her pupils blown wide with desire.

“You take what I give you,” I growled, my voice edged with impatience.

She whimpered, her body softening beneath me in surrender.

But she wasn’t the one I wanted to break.

That pleasure?

That pleasure belonged to Ellie.

And soon enough…

She would beg for it.

I picked my phone and called Lucien.