Adrian's Wrath

Chapter One




Adrian threw another shot back and stared ahead. The club was packed, as usual, but he was impervious to all that happened around him. His thoughts were too raw, too real. He needed to drink tonight away and just be somewhere else, at a different time, not stuck in the fucking past.

“Another.” He slid the empty shot glass across the bar. The bartender grabbed the whiskey and refilled the small container. This was his fourth shot and Adrian had no intention of stopping. Maybe he could get drunk enough to forget about tonight, to forget about everything he had lost.

Through the mirror lining the back of the bar, Adrian could see her before she even sidled up to him. Her platinum-blonde hair was in need of a new dye job. Her lips were bright red and fuckable. Yeah, he could see that mouth wrapped around his cock. At the thought, his pants grew tighter from his arousal. He slammed the glass on the counter for another drink and the glass was refilled right away. She stood beside him now, her perfume overpowering as she “accidentally” bumped into him. They were all the same. They all thought they were someone special, that they had the pussy of the century. He drank the shot, loving how the burn from the alcohol had since diminished and all he felt was numbness.

“I’m sorry. Can I just grab one of these?” Her ploy to get his attention wasn’t lost on him. When she leaned across the counter, practically sitting on his lap to get a napkin, of all things, he could see her nipples poking through the thin material of her top.

“How about I buy you a drink?” He turned toward her, letting her know without actually saying it what he was really after. He always bought them a drink first. It was the least he could do since he had no plans on promising them anything else. One perfectly dark eyebrow rose and she smirked those plump red lips.

“Sure. Sex on the Beach.” She was trying to be cute. It was pathetic. He could see by the way she dressed and the way she portrayed herself that she was after the same thing he was.

A good, hard fuck.

The club was popping despite the fact it was a Wednesday night. He tossed back another shot, not feeling the burn from the alcohol any longer, and waited for the female beside him to suck down her drink. He wanted to get this over with, wanted to burn off this aggression and need that churned deep inside of him. Fucking and fighting, the only two outlets that helped to relieve the pain, anger, and all-out hatred he felt on a constant basis.

His “date” for tonight had her ruby-red lips wrapped tightly around the straw, her eyes trained on him. She eye fucked him, hard. Her gaze was heated as she traveled it down his body, stopping at his crotch and raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. No doubt she saw the erection straining against his jeans. He was hard, so fucking hard he could have driven nails into steel. As she finished her drink the sound of the remaining liquid being sucked through the straw had him gritting his teeth. Although he needed the release sex brought, the motions of getting it down were tiresome. It was the same thing every night, the same monotonous routine that he could have completed with his eyes closed and his mouth sewn shut. He knew he was a bastard, knew that fucking a different woman every night of the week sealed the deal, but there were things that were a constant in his mind, things that would bring him to his knees, and he needed to avoid them at all costs. Sex seemed like the most logical way to close that door in his mind that gave him a temporary reprieve from the pain.

“I’m ready, so ready for you, baby.” She pressed her body against his, her whispered words smelling of the cheap alcohol. Her breasts smashed against his chest and he could feel the tight stab of her nipples through the layers of clothing. She leaned into his ear and he forced himself to stay still as her hot breath wafted across his flesh. “I’m so fucking wet right now.” She ground her pussy against his thigh and all but purred in delight. “Why don’t you slip that big hand of yours under my skirt and see for yourself?”

“Not here.” She pulled back and pouted up at him. He threw some cash on the bar and stood. He towered over her, but he towered over everyone. At six feet five inches and two hundred and fifty pounds of hard muscle, Adrian was used to the gawking and murmurs when he entered a room. He used his strength and height to his advantage, used his power to fight bloody and get what he wanted. Like he said, he was a selfish fucking bastard.

The woman, whose name he still hadn’t caught and didn’t care to, sidled up beside him instantly. He wasn’t taking her to a hotel room to spoon with her, he was taking her there to fuck her good and hard and hopefully get rid of some of his inner turmoil. The scent of roses filled his senses, despite the tang of spilled beer and sweat in the air. Instantly he knew who it was and he didn’t stop himself from turning to the right and watching her. The waitress leaned against the side of the bar, the tray in her hands overflowing with empty glasses. She was a tiny thing, short and thin and way out of her element working at a place like this. That much was obvious. As if she sensed his gaze, she lifted her eyes and met his. Even from the distance he could make out the startling blue of her eyes.