Sweet Hatred
Chapter 151: ...more than this

Chapter 151: ...more than this

I woke up sore.

Sore didn’t even cover it.

Every muscle in my body throbbed, like I’d been used, worshipped, destroyed, then stitched back together with nothing but sweat and cum and desperate moans. My thighs trembled when I shifted. Between my legs— God. I could still feel him. His cum leaking slowly out of me, sticky and warm on the sheets beneath me. My face heated instantly.

How many times had we done it?

Once in the car. Then again the second he shut the bedroom door. I’d barely caught my breath before he was dragging me into the shower, pressing me up against the tiles while water poured over us and I screamed his name into the steam. I came—what—three times in there?

Then again. And again.

Back on the bed. On my stomach. On my side. Legs over his shoulders. Hands tied above my head with his belt at one point—I think?

I couldn’t remember the order. I couldn’t even remember how I was still breathing after all of it. He hadn’t stopped until I passed out. Until my body went limp under him and all I could do was sob quietly into his chest and beg for mercy that he never really gave me.

I blinked slowly at the ceiling, too tired to move, my body humming with dull pleasure and soreness. Kael was beside me, his arm thrown over my waist, his chest rising and falling with the deep, peaceful rhythm of someone who’d absolutely wrecked me in every way.

Meanwhile, I was lying there with trembling legs, an aching cunt, and a bruised ego. My nipples were sore. My hair was still damp. My neck stung from his teeth.

And the worst part?

I wanted more.

I blushed, turning my head just enough to see his face. Peaceful. Handsome. Unbothered. The bastard.

I felt humiliated.

Not because of what we did. But because of how much I liked it. How desperate I’d been for him. How I’d reached for him again and again, crying out every time he pulled out, only to beg for more the second he slid back inside me. Like I was starving for him. Addicted.

It scared me. How easy it was to lose myself in him. How good it felt to forget everything else.

Maybe that’s all I was to him.

A body. Something warm and willing he could bury himself in whenever he needed to feel in control. Something soft to ruin. Someone he could fuck until he felt clean again.

The thought curled in my chest like smoke. I tried to push it away, but it clung.

I let out a breath and closed my eyes again, sinking into the sheets and his scent and the ache inside me that still throbbed with every heartbeat. Maybe it would fade by morning. Maybe it wouldn’t.

Either way, I let sleep take me again, wondering if I’d ever be more than this to him.

Or if this was all I’d ever be.

###

I woke up again, groggy and confused.

Sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains, spilling golden light over the massive bed I was somehow still alive in. My body still ached—less brutal, more manageable. But the memory of last night still lingered like a ghost on my skin. I blinked slowly, stretching one limb at a time, quietly mourning the death of my spine and probably a few hip bones.

There was a tray beside me. A cup of warm tea, some biscuits, and a bowl of fresh fruit.

Kael was across the room. Shirtless. Focused. Tapping away on his laptop, sitting by the window like he hadn’t just broken me a few hours ago. My mouth was dry. From thirst. From hunger. From seeing him.

I moved slightly, trying not to cry out. Still, the sheets rustled, and his head snapped up like I’d screamed his name again.

"Aria." His voice was warm, deep, gentle in that way it never was in public.

He stood immediately and walked over, settling beside me like he’d been waiting for this moment.

"You didn’t have to get up," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead, then my mouth. I let it happen, my brain still trying to reboot.

"What time is it?" I croaked.

"Almost four," he said with a smirk, brushing a hand down my arm.

"Four?" My eyes widened. "We slept that long?!"

He gave a little shrug.

"That’s it," I muttered. "We’re fasting. No sex. Till further notice."

He laughed—genuinely laughed. His eyes crinkled, his chest shook, and I hated that I liked the sound so much.

"Yeah, sure," he teased. "We’ll see how long that lasts."

My stomach grumbled so loud it almost echoed. I froze. Kael’s smile widened.

"Okay, sexy banshee. I’ll have the chef make you something."

He leaned down to kiss my forehead again, and then stood, pulling on a shirt and walking out like he hadn’t just teased me into near-delirium.

I stared at the tray, defeated but grateful. I grabbed a spoon and dug into the fruit salad like my life depended on it. Sweet. Cold. Perfect. I could’ve cried.

Then I made the mistake of trying to sit up fully.

"God," I hissed, legs wobbling under the covers as I tried to slide them off the bed. "God. Jesus. Mary. All of you, help me..."

Everything between my thighs screamed don’t even think about it, but I pushed through anyway. I had pride, damn it. Even if it was limping.

Time sped up after that.

The next few days passed in a blur of lazy mornings, slow kisses, merciless poundings, business meetings I wasn’t supposed to overhear, late-night talks on balconies with me asking if he couldn’t just run away from his father and his response was, ’you think I haven’t tried?’, and Kael dragging me to more places that made the city look like a dream. I’d forgotten how to be this version of myself, happy, maybe. Relaxed. Not constantly in survival mode.

A week later, I was lying on the couch in his study, watching him argue on the phone about shipments or stocks or whatever rich people did for fun when my phone buzzed.

Olivia.

I sat up instantly, dread tightening my chest.

I answered.

The first thing I heard was a sob. Then a whisper—fragile, trembling, broken.

"...Mom."

My heart stopped.