Chapter 13

Adrain's POV

I sat in the dimly lit living room, the pile of files in front of me demanding my attention, but despite my best efforts, my mind kept wandering. The papers in my hands blurred as I replayed the events of the day, and, more specifically, thoughts of Matthew invaded my every moment.

I knew he’d stepped out earlier to meet his friends. I always knew. There was nothing he could do that I didn’t notice, no matter how subtle. I watched him like a hawk, meticulously observing each move, each glance. A sly smile curled at the corners of my lips, amused by how much control I had over his emotions.

The anger in his eyes when he looked at me, the fury building within him every time I outsmarted him. It was all so... delicious. He had no idea just how much power I held over him. Each glance, every clenched fist, only made me feel more in control. The way he couldn't stand losing, how he loathed my victories—it was like a game to me, a twisted kind of sport, and I was winning.

Matthew and I never truly met each other’s gaze. That unspoken barrier between us, the one I carefully cultivated, was the only thing keeping me close to him. It allowed me to stay in his life, to get under his skin, and to make sure that no matter how much he hated it, he'd always need to confront me. There was nothing else for him to focus on but me.

I chuckled darkly to myself, a shiver of satisfaction crawling down my spine. I had no regrets. The satisfaction I felt in making him squirm, in turning his emotions inside out, was exhilarating.

And that night... Oh, I couldn’t forget how he moaned and begged, his body trembling beneath mine. I could still feel the heat of it—the desperation in his voice, the way he yielded to me completely. I relished in that power. It made me wonder if he'd react the same way again, if I took him just as hard. I grinned at myself at the thought. It would be a damn shame if we didn’t get another night of mind-blowing sex. But I knew better than to worry. He’d come back. They always do.

The soft hum of a motorcycle engine broke through my thoughts. I didn’t need to look—there was no doubt in my mind who it was. Matthew.

I glanced at the wall clock. Twelve at night. He was late, but that didn’t surprise me. I stood up, my body already in motion before I consciously decided to go outside. I knew what I had to do.

As I stepped outside, the cool night air hit my face, the silence of the mansion amplifying the sound of Matthew's bike coming to a stop. He dismounted with unsteady movements, his steps slurred and uneven. His condition was obvious. The alcohol had taken its toll.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching him. His expression shifted the moment he saw me. He stiffened, his face tightening as he grunted and staggered in my direction.

"You’re drunk," I said, my voice colder than I intended. I watched his every move, the anger welling inside me at the sight of him in such a state.

Matthew didn’t respond. Instead, he muttered something under his breath and tried to push past me, making his way toward the entrance. He seemed to think he could avoid me. But I wasn’t having it. I hated being ignored. It made me feel insignificant, like I wasn’t a part of his world—an idea I couldn’t tolerate.

I stepped forward, grabbing his wrist with a firm grip, halting his movement. I could feel the strength in his struggle, but I wasn’t letting go.

“You stand when I’m talking to you!” I growled, my tone low and dangerous.

But before I could make him comply, his arm jerked free, and with surprising force, he shoved me backward. I staggered three steps, barely keeping my balance.

"I’ll kill the fuck out of you if you dare touch me again," he spat, his voice thick with rage.

I watched him, taking in the anger in his eyes, the fire flickering in his drunken gaze. He was a mess, but there was something about him that made me smirk. He was so adorable when he was frustrated, when he was too drunk to control himself. I couldn’t help but wonder... would he be as easily broken as the night before? If I had him pinned beneath me, at my mercy, would he submit again? Would he beg me to take him harder?

His gaze flickered to the door, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to walk away.

Not this time.

I moved in quickly, grabbing him again, this time with more force. I pushed him against the cold stone wall, my body pressing up against his, pinning his hands above his head.

“You don’t fucking tell me what to do,” I snarled, my voice thick with authority. The power surged through me as I looked down at him, knowing he had no choice but to listen.

“Fuck you,” Matthew shot back, his words laced with venom, but his body told a different story.

Matthew’s knee slammed into my groin, and before I even realized what had happened, I was crumpled to the floor, gasping in agony. Damn, it hurts like hell. The sharp, searing pain radiated through my body, and all I could do was wince, trying to gather myself.

“Fuck my dad...fuck you all for fucking with my life,” he spat, his voice seething with fury, each word dripping with venom. He kept ranting as I lay there on the cold floor, struggling to regain control of my breath, feeling my body still buzzing from the pain.

“Hit me everywhere but not my groin,” I gritted through my teeth, my hands trembling as I forced myself to stand. With whatever strength I could muster, I raised my knee, driving it up into his groin. The impact was swift and brutal, and I saw the immediate shock in his eyes before he gasped, stumbling back.

I was done being the victim. If he thought he could tear me apart, then I would make sure he felt the consequences too. He was going to regret ever thinking he could get away with this.

His body jerked as he grunted out in pain, and I could tell—he was feeling it worse than I was. The force I had put behind the blow hit him harder than it had hit me, but that didn’t matter. I didn’t care. This was my retaliation, my retribution.

I didn’t give him any time to recover. I moved fast, grabbing his neck, my fingers curling around his warm, bare skin. A jolt of something electric shot through me, a wave of heat rushing straight down to my dick. There was something about the feel of his skin under my grip, something so raw, so real, that it made me crave more. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to hurt him or touch him, but all I knew was that I couldn't stop now.

He had this power over me, an undeniable pull that I couldn’t ignore. Even after everything, the hatred that brewed between us, there was something deep inside me, something that always wanted him. But I wasn’t going to let him know that, not yet.

He gasped for air, still panting from the pain I had inflicted. “I hate you,” he muttered, barely able to force the words out.

“The feeling is mutual,” I replied, my voice low and almost too calm for the intensity of the moment. I leaned closer, my face just an inch from his, our breath mingling in the heated space between us.

His scent hit me like a tidal wave—sweet, intoxicating, so damn perfect. I fought the urge to let my hands roam, to give in to what my body wanted. I wanted to touch him so badly, I wanted to feel him in every way, but I held myself back, just barely. The tension between us was almost unbearable, and I could feel myself losing control.

Then, in one swift movement, I crashed my lips into his, kissing him forcefully, demanding. His lips were warm, soft, and I couldn’t stop myself from sucking them, pulling them into my mouth with an urgency I couldn’t explain. He resisted at first, his hands pushing against my chest, trying to push me away, but I wasn’t having any of it. The longer I kissed him, the more his resistance melted away. Slowly, surely, he gave in.

I could feel his hesitation in the way he kissed me back, his lips trembling, but the more I deepened the kiss, the more his body reacted. His moans vibrated through me, and fuck, it was driving me insane.

I had known from the start that he was straight—he always had been. I knew getting close to him, getting tangled up in this mess, would be a problem. And yet, here I was, unable to stop myself.

I didn’t want to be friend-zoned like Noah. Hell no. Noah might think he could get Matthew by playing the long game, pretending to be just a friend, but he was wrong. He’d never stand a chance. Matthew saw him as nothing more than that, a friend, and that’s all he’d ever be to him.

When I first found out about Noah’s feelings for Matthew, I’d been a little rattled, I’ll admit. But that fear quickly faded when I came up with my perfect plan. Matthew and I were going to get married, and I would make sure of it. No one would stand in our way.

I didn’t waste any more time. My hands slid down, pushing beneath his pants, fingers curling around the hard length of his dick. He gasped in surprise as I squeezed, and that sound—fuck, that was all the opening I needed.

I shoved my tongue into his mouth, exploring the depths of it, savoring the sweet taste of him. It was like a drug, and I couldn’t get enough. I hadn’t expected to feel this alive, this fucking needy, but here I was, craving more, desperate for more. Too bad I only ever had these moments when he was drunk. Otherwise, he’d probably never let me get this close.

His body reacted, a soft moan slipping from his mouth, and I couldn’t help but smile against his lips. His response sent waves of heat through me, and my dick twitched in response. God, this was so fucking hot.

I deepened the kiss, my hand moving slowly but deliberately along his cock, feeling the way he started to respond, his own hands grabbing at me, pulling me closer. He wasn’t holding back anymore, and that only made me want him more.

I was in control now, and this was just the beginning.