The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back
Chapter 211: Need

Chapter 211: Need

Aveline padded barefoot to the door. When she opened it, there he was. Caleb. Leaning against the frame like sin itself, dressed in black, eyes gleaming like he knew every secret she’d never told. That half-smirk of his was enough to undo a lesser woman, but Aveline was made of tougher things.

"Thought I’d drop by," he murmured, voice low, roughened by desire. "Didn’t figure I needed an invitation."

Aveline arched a brow, equal parts annoyed and intrigued. "Caleb... what the hell are you doing here?"

He shrugged, the movement lazy, hands tucked in his pockets. "I want you." No hesitation, no shame. Just raw, naked truth between them. "Can I come in? Or you got a client? I don’t mind waiting. Hell... better yet, I could join you two. I’ll pay double. Good deal, considering you enjoy it too."

Her breath hitched. Aveline hated how he could stir something low and dark in her with so few words. She leaned against the doorframe, pretending to think, though they both knew she already had.

"Wait here," she whispered.

Caleb’s grin widened, teeth flashing white in the dim light.

She closed the door, moving quickly but quietly, slipping back into the room, Stefan still on the couch, Aveline brushed a hand through his hair, a strange tenderness swelling in her chest. She made sure he wouldn’t wake, then pulled on a dress, quick and simple, grabbed her purse, and slipped out into the night with Caleb waiting like the devil at the crossroads.

They didn’t speak on the drive. Words weren’t necessary. The silence was thick, charged. The door shut with a soft click, but it may as well have been a gunshot in the charged quiet between them. The room smelled of old cigarette smoke and something sweet, maybe stale perfume, but neither of them noticed. Aveline turned, her gaze locking with Caleb’s, and for a moment, neither moved.

It was a challenge, a promise, a memory. A thousand unspoken things passed between them in a heartbeat.

Aveline was the first to break. She slipped the straps of her dress down one shoulder, then the other, the fabric whispering against her skin as it slid down her body. She let it pool at her feet, standing there in nothing but skin and shadow. Her lips parted, not in invitation but in declaration. She owned this moment. She owned him.

Without a word, she crossed to the bed, the old mattress creaking as she crawled onto it. She lay back, one leg bent, the other falling open in slow, deliberate offering. Her fingers grazed over her thigh, over the soft skin of her stomach, teasing herself because she knew Caleb was watching, and he was.

His jaw clenched, his breath thick in his throat, as his eyes roved over her like he was starving.

She smiled, wicked and soft. "Well? Are you just gonna stare?"

That was all it took.

Caleb was on her in seconds, shedding his jacket, tugging his shirt over his head, unfastening his belt with a sharp, impatient pull. He didn’t bother with finesse; he wasn’t built for gentle. His hands were rough, his body a hard, urgent thing, and Aveline wanted every bruising inch of it.

He climbed onto the bed, but he didn’t take her the way she expected. No, Caleb gripped her by the hips and turned her over, pressing her down into the mattress. The bedsprings protested, the air heavy with want and need.

"Stay still," he growled, voice like gravel and smoke, one hand in her hair, the other skimming down the curve of her spine.

Aveline arched for him, breathless and trembling, her skin prickling under his touch. She felt him against her, hot and hard, and still he waited, teasing the edge of her sanity. His hand slid forward, cupping her breast, fingers rough and greedy, thumb circling her nipple until she whimpered.

"Caleb," she gasped, her voice breaking on his name.

Then he pushed inside her in one sharp, claiming thrust.

Aveline bit into the pillow to muffle the sound she made, but Caleb didn’t care for quiet. He caught a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back, his teeth grazing the curve of her neck.

"I want to hear you," he snarled. "Don’t you dare hold back."

He set a brutal rhythm, hips snapping against her, each thrust a punishment she craved. His free hand roamed over her, fondling her breast, dragging nails down her ribs, marking her, branding her.

Aveline was lost in it — in him. The pain blurred with pleasure, each sharp pull of her hair, every bruising squeeze of her flesh, drove her higher. She wanted more. Needed him to wreck her, to take her so far past the edge she forgot her own name.

"Harder," she whispered, and when he didn’t respond fast enough, she twisted beneath him, a low growl in her throat. "I said, harder."

Caleb grinned, savage and dark. "You’ll regret that, baby."

And then he gave it to her — a brutal, unrelenting rhythm, fucking her like it was a punishment and a reward all in one. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, of broken moans and curses, of the headboard slamming the wall.

She wanted him to ruin her. And he was more than willing to oblige.

Time blurred. The world outside that room ceased to exist. It was just their bodies colliding, skin sliding against skin, the sting of his teeth at her throat, the ache of his fingers digging into her hips like he could anchor himself in her.

Aveline didn’t know how long it lasted. Minutes. Hours. A lifetime.

At some point, Caleb flipped her over again, pinning her wrists above her head, his mouth hot and hungry against her breast, sucking hard enough to leave a mark she’d have to explain later — not that she cared. She wanted the reminder, wanted to feel him on her skin for days.

Her body screamed with pleasure, with pain, with need that felt ancient and endless. She’d begged him then — shameless and raw, pleaded for more, for harder, for anything he could give. She told him to break her and meant it.

And Caleb did.

He fucked her like it was a war, like he hated her a little for how much he wanted her. Every thrust was a confession, every bruising grip a sentence he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud.

When she came, it was with a cry so sharp and desperate it felt like it came from her soul, shattering around him. Caleb followed not long after, his teeth at her shoulder, muffling his own guttural moan against her skin, holding her as if he let go, he’d fall apart.

And then — stillness.

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