Psycho Ex Boyfriend (Standalone New Adult Romance) (The Alpha Brotherhood Book 2) (18 page)

Sabrina

Age 22

My heart races at the sound of a knock on my door. That’s Adam’s knock, I know it well. I peer through the peephole and see him standing there, sexy as all hell with a red shirt beneath his black Armani blazer. That’s odd. Adam is a black and white kind of guy. I’ve often wondered if he even owns a pair of jeans.

“Sabrina,” he huffs, banging on my door again.

I really don’t want to let him in. No, I really
do
want to let him in, but I know that I shouldn’t. I haven’t seen him since he danced into my life again for a week to help me prepare for the LSAT exam and celebrate the fact that I breezed through it just like he said I would. That was over a year ago. He was on his best behavior then, quizzing me with practice questions between bouts of licking my pussy until my body was incapable of experiencing any pre-test tension and anxiety.

But that was then. I just broke up with my boyfriend of six months. Adam, the over stepping crazy stalker that he is, always waits at least a month after a breakup before he happens to drop by. It’s only been a week.

“
Sabrina!
” He sounds pissed.

The desperation on his face causes my resolve to crumble. Maybe he’s not mad at me. Adam always tells me to get a life and forget about him every time he leaves. That doesn’t stop him from being a total asshole when I actually do. My hand is on the doorknob as I debate whether or not to turn it. But then it starts vibrating against my palm as a key slides into it and spins.

“You have a key to my house?” I protest when I’m standing face to face with the man of my dreams. And nightmares. With an arrogant grin, he shrugs his shoulders and lets himself inside. “Not cool, Adam.”

“It shouldn’t be all that surprising either,” he quips, helping himself to a bottle of flavored water from the fridge and taking a seat on my couch.

“You do that every time I move, don’t you?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe that you made it this long before hesitating to let me in.”

The nerve of this guy! It gets me going in more ways than one. “Hesitating is the key word there.”

“Kick me out then,” he taunts me, leaning back in his seat with his knees spread apart into a lap that I’d like nothing more than to climb into. And on.

I roll my eyes and sit down next to him, curling my knees to the side as my pulse quickens. “Get out,” I say in a deadpan tone, leaning forward to take a sip of his drink.

“So how’s law school, Bree?” Adam asks, his face losing a bit of its smugness as his hand inches towards mine.

“Exhausting,” I reply, closing the distance between our fingertips. The simple gesture puts that smile back on his face in a heartbeat and his mischievous eyes meet mine with a wink. “How’s moguling?”

“Satisfying enough,” he answers, leaning closer to me, his breath heating the side of my neck. The flesh between my legs swells as I inhale his scent. Adam can read me like a book, resting his hand on my knee for a moment before sliding upwards.

“If you’re so satisfied, why’d you come here?” I whisper, trying to sound seductive and confident and failing miserable, my words coming out shakily.

“I came here to fuck my favorite piece of ass.”

Oh no you fucking didn’t
. My jaw drops open at his impudence and I slap his hand away before it gets to where he thinks it’s going. Heat flares across my face, but there’s nothing bashful and flattered about it.

“What?” he chuckles, sliding over on the couch until he’s just as close as he was a moment ago when I was actually happy to see him. “Like I’m not your booty call of choice.”

“When was the last time I fucking called you, Adam?”

“Last week. You were rather inebriated.”

Oh God.
I pull out my phone and check my history, confirming what he said. A ten minute call that I can’t remember a word of, two days after the breakup. I seriously need to delete his number.

“You can get out for real now,” I tell him, rising to my feet.

Adam stands before me, more than a foot taller and a little too intimidating for my liking. “No.” He pulls my hand up and dips down to kiss the back of my palm. Just like a gentleman, even though there’s very little gentle left in this man.

“You know, every time I see you,” I say, moving closer to the door. “You seem a little further away.”

“Here we go…” he groans.

“No, I’m serious. You can’t just barge in here, literally, and expect me to jump up and down to see you when you’re being a total ass.”

“I’d rather see your ass bouncing up and down, beautiful.”

“I am not getting sucked into this again! It’s getting old.”

“Sabrina, come on,” he says, finally sounding somewhat like himself, or at least who he used to be. “I’m a little on edge, alright?”

“Want to talk about it?” I ask hopefully.

“No. I don’t,” he replies, staring down at me with eyes so dark they burn into me. “I want to forget about it. Inside of you.”

He pulls me to him with a firm grip on the small of my back. But before his lips clamp down on mine and I get swept away, I ask, “Are all ten of you like this?”

Adam’s eyes flutter closed as my question steals the wind from his sails. Asking about his brothers is a surefire way to turn him off. Or piss him off, an effect that I’m not exactly going for.

“There aren’t ten of us anymore,” he tells me, turning away.

“Anymore?”

“Only five of us made it through the summer after high school.”

“What happened to the others?”

“Regret and obscurity, I’d imagine,” Adam says flatly.

“You mean you don’t talk to them?” I ask. He shakes his head no. “But you guys were so close.”

“
Were
being the operative word.” He flops back down onto the couch, unamused with the fact that we started having an actual conversation.

“So else who made it?” Obviously Trent and Shane are still around.

“Ian and Elijah. They’re doing well for themselves in New York. We don’t see much of each other.”

“What about Caleb?” He and Trent were really tight and acted the most like brothers of all of them. They even kind of looked alike.

“I believe Trent speaks to him occasionally.” There were four more, but I can’t recall their names.

“But—”

“You have stated your opinions on the inequity and brutality of my youth many times. I do not need to hear it again.”

“Adam…”

“Sabrina, please,” he groans. “It is what it is. The interrogation is over now.”

Adam holds out his hand, palm up. His jaw is tight, the lines on his forehead more apparent than they were last time. He’s lost some weight, too, but put on some muscle. Every time he ticks me off and I summon the resolve to finally be done with him, he tumbles through my door a wreck and all I want to do is fix him.

I take his hand, feeling some of the tension warping his shoulders fall away as I snuggle into his flank. He rests his head on mine, tracing a circle on my wrist. That little touch sends heatwaves through my body. My last boyfriend was a nice guy, but a lousy lay. Ain’t that the way it goes.

Cuddling and caressing soon leads to a soft kiss. That kiss gets deeper and Adam’s hands get rougher, deftly removing my strapless bra so he can fondle my breasts. He leaves the shirt to me, letting out a throaty breath as I pull it over my head while I’m straddling his lap, grinding against his erection.

Adam loves taking charge, but there’s no doubt that he likes me on top of him just as much. My fingers drift down his bare torso, exploring every peak and valley of his stone-like flesh as he sucks one of my nipples between his teeth. I gasp, my fingers tickling the cut of his hipbone until he grunts, bucking his pelvis upward.

We’re both wearing pants, so we have to break our embrace to remove them. Adam pulls me back down the moment he’s free, but I tap a wrapped condom against the tip of his nose.

“I’m clean,” he breathes, his dick throbbing against my slit.

“You’re a man-whore.”

“You have no way of verifying that.”

“All I have to do is look at you.”

“Bree, please,” he begs shuddering against me as I run my fingers across his collarbone. I shake my head no and he concedes, the crinkle of the wrapper mingling with his frustrated grunt.

He makes me pay for making him wait and dulling his senses by driving into me harshly with a bite on my nipple as he wraps his hand into my hair, pulling my head back. But I could give a damn about messed up curls and the sting is exactly what my body needs after months of lukewarm tenderness.

I rock my hips forward as he thrusts up, filling me with his need as he fills my mouth with his tongue. His hand drifts lower, wrapping around my hips and squeezing as he moans my name. Our lips part in an animalistic gasp, breathing heatedly just inches away from each other as our bodies lock together. I come almost immediately, much to his arrogant delight.

My body is achingly sensitive, especially my nipples. Adam takes advantage of my vulnerability, making me squeal and squirm just the way he likes it. Liquid pours out of me, flooding his thighs as I push my breasts into his face so he can keep his hands right where they are, digging into my ass.

He comes hard, thrusting though his climax with gritted teeth. I get close to following him but don’t quite make it, but he’s still hard as a rock inside me. Good. I don’t want a quivering heap of his emotional instability just yet.

“The nice thing about these,” he chuckles, knotting the condom and tossing it in the trash. “Is that you’re still clean enough for this.”

I lay back, running my fingers through his golden hair as his face disappears between my legs. His hands reach up and toy with my breasts as he devours me. I still wonder sometimes if he’s only done this with me. He’s become quite the expert at it, but I haven’t exactly been shy telling him what I like.

He cradles me in his arms when I’m finished, carrying me off to my bedroom for more. I grab at his rigid cock, but he draws away from me, staring down at my naked body laid out before him on the bed.

“I don’t know what to do with you, Bree,” he sighs, closing the door and flicking the lighter next to the candles I have set up on my dresser.

“You know exactly what to do with me,” I giggle, beckoning him to come closer with a curl of my finger.

My flirting doesn’t have the intended effect. His eyes narrow into slits. “Did that shit work on him?”

“Who?”

With a grunt, Adam pounces, landing on top of me with a blow that crushes my chest. I’m so distracted trying to get a breath, I don’t notice that my hands are being guided above my head until I hear the metal clink. I look up and find my wrists in handcuffs, tethered to my bed.

Kinky. I inhale a ragged breath. Kinky would be absolutely perfect if he wasn’t so tense. Adam retreats to the edge of the bed, bending down to rifle through a brief case I hadn’t even noticed that he’d carried in here.

“You don’t even remember calling me, do you?” he asks.

“I make a lot of phone calls,” I reply, testing my restraints.

“No, you don’t.” Of course the jerk knows that. I’ve had spyware removed from my phone and computer a million times. “You call me, in the middle of a meeting I might add—”

“When are you not in a meeting?”

“When are you not in a fucking relationship with someone else?” he yells.

“I date, Adam,” I say defiantly. “I go on dates, find a guy, and try to make it work. That’s what people do.”

“Don’t fucking call me up and cry about it. Or should I say, cry about
us
. Stop torturing me.”

I let out a laugh. “That’s funny coming from you.”

“Is it now?” he replies, gliding his fingers down my leg to one of my ankles and fastening some kind of shackle around it.

“Yeah, it is,” I breathe, determined to keep my voice steady. “You torture yourself.”

“How so?” Adam restrains my other foot, dragging his tongue up to my knee.

“By watching my every move like a damn psycho. Quit spying on me and who I go out with. Then you can just live in the dark about what and who I’m doing. Kind of the way I live in regard to you. Now let me
go
,” I demand, uselessly kicking my legs.

“I don’t think so,” he whispers.

“This is not okay, Adam. I’m not some Californian star struck slut you picked up at a bar that will let you do whatever you want to her.”

He laughs, totally ignoring my request, his mouth suckling up my thigh. “Star struck slut,” he whispers. “It would have been a lot easier for me all this time if you had been such a thing, but I still hate it when you call yourself names.”

“Take these things off me!”

“You called me and asked for this. Exactly this.”

“What?”

“You told me that you wanted me to tie you up and show you what you’ve been missing.” His lips curl into a tilted, arrogant grin, but there’s nothing dishonest about it.