Sweet Hatred
Chapter 138: You win r18

Chapter 138: You win r18

He was still panting under me, flushed and wrecked, and somehow, despite everything, his hand found the small of my back, sliding up to cradle my cheek.

"You’ve got me," Kael whispered, voice hoarse but soft, like a secret he’d never dared to say aloud. His fingers brushed a sweaty strand of hair from my temple, then his lips pressed to my forehead, reverent.

My chest tightened.

"You don’t even know what you’re doing to me," he murmured. "You win, Aria. You always win."

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t need to. I thought he’d always wanted me to lose to him.

I kissed him instead in a slow and aching way, full of something terrifyingly close to obsession. And he let me. For a while, we just breathed into each other.

But then—

That fucking glint returned to his eyes.

"You made me lose control," he said, voice darker now, laced with dangerous heat. "Now it’s only fair I take it back."

Before I could process that, I was airborne again, scooped up in his arms, flipped onto my back across the sofa.

"Wait—Kael—" I barely got the words out before his body slammed into mine.

Hard.

I screamed.

There was no warning this time. No slow, gentle glide. He drove into me with unrelenting force, so deep it felt like he was rearranging my fucking organs.

"Oh my God—Kael—!"

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t let up.

One hand gripped the back of the couch to anchor himself while the other hooked under my thigh, pushing it back, deeper, harder, until the sounds of our bodies meeting were obscene and he was hitting the entrance of my womb again. Brushing, knocking, whatever you could call it.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I could do was feel, his cock dragging against every nerve ending, his mouth finding mine to swallow my cries, his whispers against my cheek.

"You love this. Look at you— trembling. So greedy for it."

My eyes were watering, literal tears at the corners of my eyes from how deep he was going, how relentless.

He noticed. Of course he did. Kael leaned in, licked the tear from my cheek, then grinned wickedly.

"Aww. Was that too much, firefly?"

And then he slammed in again.

I sobbed his name, half-broken, half-orgasming and he groaned as my walls clamped down on him again, convulsing.

"Fuck, Aria—don’t you dare—do that—" His thrusts grew more desperate, pace wild, losing rhythm. "You’re gonna make me—"

We shattered together.

He groaned against my neck, still pulsing inside me as my vision went white—blacked out, completely overwhelmed by the sheer intensity.

My body went limp.

His breath ghosted over my skin, a kiss to my jaw. "Still alive, sweetheart?" he whispered, teasing.

Barely.

***

When I woke up, I thought I was dead. Sent to heaven or hell, I didn’t really care.

Every inch of me ached. My thighs, my lower back, my core—especially my core. I winced just trying to roll over, dragging the sheet with me like it could hide the damage he’d done.

It was dark. Evening or night maybe, I wasn’t so sure.

The lights were dimmed low, and the scent of him still lingered in the air—woodsmoke, leather, and sin. I blinked at the luxurious canopy overhead, confused for a second.

Wait. Wasn’t I in his study? My cheeks flamed so hot they could’ve melted bone.

Did he... carry me here? Through the halls? Past his staff? Through all the mess we made?

"Oh my God," I groaned, dragging a pillow over my face. "I can’t live like this. I need a gun."

The memory of the desk slamming against the wall, the papers flying, the way I’d screamed when he—Ugh.

Someone had to clean that. Someone saw that.

No, no—I’m never letting that bastard touch me again.

A whole month. No touching. No kissing. No nothing. I don’t care if he looks at me with those eyes or calls me sweetheart in that voice or—

My eyes landed on the edge of the bed. A white box sat just within reach. Taunting me.

He knew I’d be curious.

I stared at it like it might bite. Then, cautiously, cracked the lid open. It was the dress. The one he’d wanted me to try on. The one I’d said no to trying in front of him.

The one that sparked his entire spiral of punishment—the dress that saw me spread across his desk, bent over bookshelves, and screaming his name into polished oak.

And now here it was. Neatly folded. Soft. Seductive. Mocking me.

"...That bitch."

I bit my lip, glancing toward the door.

He wasn’t back yet.

Part of me still wanted to see how it would look. I wanted to try it before he returned. Just once. Alone. In secret.

But my body protested even as I thought about moving. My thighs still trembled, sore and useless. I knew if I stood up, I might crumble.

"That sadistic bastard," I whispered. "He did this on purpose."

I sank back into the pillows with a frustrated sigh, the dress still folded in the box like a smug little secret.

I hated him. I hated him so much. And I knew, deep down in my shameful, traitorous soul, I’d still let him ruin me again.

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. So so soon. Because I was weak.

"Goddammit." I went back to sleep.

I skipped dinner.

Curled up in the middle of that ridiculously oversized bed, I slept like the dead, only waking once throughout the night to shift and groan at how sore I still was before knocking out again.

It was the next morning when I stirred again slowly, hesitantly—blinking against the warm light that spilled from the windows.

I was not alone.

Kael’s body caged mine like a weighted blanket dipped in molten heat, his massive arms locked around me like I might slip away again if he loosened his hold. I was swallowed whole by him—his chest rising steadily behind my back, legs locked with mine, one arm flopped over my waist possessively.

I barely moved, but the ache in my thighs flared like a warning siren.

"Jesus," I whispered to myself. "Is this what death by dick feels like?"

My muscles screamed, but for a second, I stayed still. Just breathing. Just watching him sleep.

And God, he was beautiful.

It made me angry how pretty he looked. His lashes were stupidly long—longer than mine, the universe’s cruel joke. His nose, that annoyingly sharp jaw, those lips...

I frowned at them.

Because I remembered exactly where they’d been.

Under me.

I remembered how I rode his face like a starved woman, like I’d die if I didn’t feel his mouth again, how he didn’t even let me stop until I collapsed with a hoarse scream. My entire body lit up with embarrassment.

"Nope," I muttered, trying to shift away. "We’re not thinking about that."

But my hand moved before my brain could stop it, fingers brushing over his cheek, the stubble rough and warm.

His eyes blinked open.

Dammit.

"I didn’t mean to wake you," I said quickly, pulling my hand back.

He just smiled lazily, the kind that always made me feel like a meal under a wolf’s gaze. "Good morning to you too. How’re you feeling, sweetheart?"

I glared at him. "Like I got trampled by a train."

He chuckled and stretched, his muscles flexing around me. "Mm. Sexy."

"fuck off"

"Sure sure," he said, already smug. "You up for a wedding later today?"

Wedding?

Oh right. The trap I’d set for myself.