Loving My Enemy's Brother

I’ll Rip Your Damn Coc*k Out!

Clara James POV

I looked at him in shock. One hand, covered in tattoos, was in his pocket, the other running through his hair.

He spoke coldly, standing in front of me. "Your father asked me to bring this."

I glanced at the tray on my lap and frowned. "I don’t want this."

I looked at the pasta plate with a scowl, then shifted my gaze to Adrian Cole sitting on the chair.

"What are you doing here?" I stammered, still scared after what he almost did when he tried to kiss me.

"My dad told me to stay until you finished."

"You can leave."

I lowered my eyes to my plate and started eating. He ignored me, focusing on his phone instead. The plate was still full—I always ate slowly.

Curiosity broke the silence. "Mister Adrian, can I ask you something?"

He paused scrolling and looked at me. His dark eyes were deadly.

"Speak," he said sharply, then lowered his gaze to his phone.

"Are you Emilia’s real brother? I didn’t know she had a brother."

A sly smile curved his lips. "Yes."

He said only that, but my curiosity wasn’t satisfied. "Do you mean you’re her real brother, same mom and dad?"

He murmured in agreement, still eyes glued to his phone.

How could she have a brother this handsome…

"Then why did you try to kiss me by force?"

He shifted his gaze to me, eyes frightening, lips curved in a smile. I looked down at my plate, refusing to meet his terrifying eyes.

"Does that bother you?" he said mockingly.

I glared at him with fake confidence. "Of course it bothers me! Having my first kiss nearly stolen by an old man… that bothers me too. Or are you just a pervert like your sister?"

My last word made his smirk twist into a scowl.

"I’m not just a pervert, I’m far worse."

His words made my heart tremble with fear. I couldn’t speak again, and my appetite vanished because of his bluntness. I grabbed the cup next to my plate, filled with orange juice, and drank it in one gulp. When I finished, I sighed in exhaustion. "I’m done."

He raised his eyes to me and straightened up, almost leaving.

"Take the tray with you."

I stopped him with my words. He turned his head, raising an eyebrow in surprise and mockery. "Wha… what?"

He left, ignoring me.

I punched the air quietly and whispered, "Filthy bastard… damn old pervert!"

I took my tray and went to the kitchen, setting it on the table.

I went back to my room, took a quick, warm shower, and put on my long-sleeved black nightgown—it belonged to my brother Lucas. I wore it to always remember him.

I lay on the bed and remembered my phone… Adrian still had it. He hadn’t returned it yet.

I sat up, saying, "The handsome old man hasn’t even returned my phone…"

Then I wondered, "Which room does the bastard sleep in?"

I went to check the rooms beside mine, opened the door of the room in front of mine, and found Adrian Cole sleeping on his stomach, chest bare, hair falling over his face. Some scars were visible on his back. I slipped in quietly.

"Oh God… how can he be this… tempting…"

I started searching the drawers beside him, but I couldn’t find it.

"Damn you, bastard… where are you hiding my phone?" I said angrily, whispering as I stared at him, clenching my fist.

"If you harass me again or come near me, I’ll shut you up by ripping your c**k off, you bastard!"

I said angrily, punching the bed softly.

"Where is he hiding it?" I asked in despair, crouching in front of him. My eyes scanned his sharp features, the scars under his eye catching my attention. I leaned closer to see clearly, but he suddenly opened his eyes, making me scream and stumble back.

"Damn it!"

I clutched my chest in fear as he straightened, sitting up against the bed.

Raising an eyebrow mockingly, a small smile on his lips, he said, "Did I scare you?"

I straightened up with confidence. "N… no."

He looked at me, smirking when his eyes landed on my oversized nightgown. "Didn’t anyone teach you to knock before entering?"

I shivered, eyes wide with tension… he was awake when I flirted with him. I bit my lower lip in embarrassment and closed my eyes.

"Give me my phone."

I reached out to him, sleeves of my nightgown covering my hands.

I lifted my head confidently. "Didn’t you hear me? Are you hard of hearing?"

"I prefer hearing other sounds."

He said coldly as he got up. My mind drifted with his words, but I convinced myself he didn’t mean anything.

He went to a shelf and pulled out my phone, coming closer. I reached for it, but he raised his hand.

"Mister Adrian, give me my phone… I have school tomorrow." I complained.

He ignored me and lay back on the bed.

"Mister Adrian, don’t be childish."

He opened his eyes, glancing at me. "Your dad told me to take the phone from you at midnight, and now it’s two a.m."

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Why did he tell you that?"

I looked at him, eyes narrowing, and he whispered, closing his eyes. "He went on an important work trip to Norway."

I stared in shock. "What?"

I whispered sadly, "When did he leave? Why didn’t he say goodbye? And did that slut go with him?"

I closed my mouth, scolding myself for the last word, but he seemed unfazed. "Emilia didn’t go with him. When I brought you dinner, he had already left."

He said coldly. I couldn’t deny my sadness. Tears filled my eyes, but I wiped them with my nightgown sleeve.

"Give me my phone." I reached out. I gasped in fear as he jumped toward me. I was trapped under him, his body pressing against me.

He grabbed my hands, pinning them above my head with one hand.

"Mr. Adrian, what are you doing?" I trembled under him.

"You’ve talked too much."

He whispered near my ear. His hot breath sent shivers down my spine. He buried his face in my neck, breathing boldly.

When his lips touched my skin, my body shivered with fear. His lips roamed freely along my neck, planting wet kisses on every corner. Memories of someone else’s lips flashed back.

"Delicious," he murmured, sucking the line of my jaw greedily.

"Mister Adrian, please stop," I said, voice shaking from crying, but he pressed his body harder against me. His tattooed hand pinned mine above my head, the other roughly exploring my thigh.

"Please stop," I begged desperately.

His hand moved from my thigh to the buttons of my nightgown, tearing it in one motion and exposing my body. I was wearing a red bra.