Fake Date, Real Fate Chapter 92: Heaven in His Mouth, Hell in His Eyes

ISABELLA’S POV

When the high finally broke over —shattering and deep—I went still in his arms, boneless, trembling, struggling to rember how to breathe.

Adrien didn’t say a word.

He rose slowly and reached behind him.

His pajama shirt.

The oversized one I’d laughed about earlier.

He picked it up and—without hesitation—draped it over .

Before I could speak, before I could even blink, he slipped one arm under my knees and the other behind my back, lifting in one fluid motion.

Princess style.

I gasped, clutching at his chest. My palms landed flat against bare skin—warm, solid muscle beneath my fingers.

And just like that, I was blushing.

He looked down at , smirk tugging at his lips. "Why are your cheeks red?"

"You’re carrying half-naked through your mansion," I muttered.

"That’s not really an answer."

I turned my face away, embarrassed. "I touched your chest, okay?"

He let out a low chuckle that sent shivers down my spine. "You make it sound like I’m the one in trouble here."

"Shut up," I grumbled, but I couldn’t hide the smile tugging at my lips.

He carried up the stairs like I weighed nothing. Each step slow. Intimate. Like we had nowhere else to be.

When we got to the top, he stopped in front of a door.

No need to ask. I knew where we were.

His room.

He shifted in one arm and opened the door with the other. The room felt like him—crisp grey sheets, minimal décor, the scent of cedar and citrus.

He walked in and shut the door with a quiet click before setting gently on the bed.

The cool sheets felt nice against my skin, especially with the warmth still lingering in .

"I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable on the counter," he said softly, leaning in a bit. " I want to please you properly."

Then he dropped to his knees.

I froze, heart pounding.

He looked up at —dark eyes unreadable, quiet power coiled beneath the surface.

"Can I?"

A beat.

"Do you trust ?"

Another beat.

"Will you let show you more?"

His question ca out of nowhere and caught off gaurd, I looked down, hardly believing it. The most powerful man in the city on his knees in front of , asking for permission.

I swallowed, my mouth dry and empty."I... yes. I trust you. You can."

He wasted no ti then, reaching down, slow and deliberate. It was the only thing in his control. The shirt was so huge that it moved around my thighs as he slowly opened my legs wider. My heart raced, but I wasn’t scared; I felt a thrill instead.

His fingers found —wet, pulsing, aching—and slid inside with aching precision.

I gasped, arching slightly. Every nerve was on fire. I tried to spread wider, desperate for more.

Then a second finger joined the first, the stretch just enough to make my body shiver. I moaned before I could stop myself—then bit it back out of instinct.

"Don’t you dare silence your pleasure because of , Isabella." Adrien said, his voice rough, possessive.

I opened my mouth, but then his mouth replaced his words.

God, his mouth—

He lowered his head and found that perfect spot just above where his fingers were. His tongue moved over it perfectly, circling and teasing until my body responded on its own, and I gasped out loud without thinking.

"That’s it," he said, his voice rough and smooth at the sa ti. "Let hear it. I want all of you."

And I did.

And I did. I reached for him, running my fingers through his hair, breathing heavily with each wave of pleasure.

"Adrien," I moaned, his na coming out as a mix of a plea and a confession.

He slowed, just the slightest bit in his work, lifting just barely enough to look up at , his eyes black and hungry, darkened further as they t mine. "That’s it," He slowed, just the slightest bit in his work, lifting just barely enough to look up at , his eyes black and hungry, darkened further as they t mine. "Let go. Let take you."

I shattered around him with a cry, waves crashing over , back arching off the bed. He stayed with through it all—his fingers coaxing every aftershock, his mouth gentler now, like he was savoring the taste of my surrender.

When I finally collapsed, gasping, he pulled back and brought his fingers to his lips and he licked them clean.

Then... he stood.

And undid the waistband of his pants.

My breath caught in my throat.

I tried my best not to gawk, to keep a straight face, but the mont I saw him—really saw him—I failed miserably.

My eyes widened. "Oh."

Because there was no way that was going to fit.

He was...big. Bigger than I had imagined.

"Isabella," he said, his voice low and barely holding it together, "tell to stop if it’s too much."

I swallowed hard but I didn’t say anything.

Even with the nervous flutter inside , even though it felt like everything was wrong and we were crossing so many lines—I wanted him.

The man who was on his knees in front of .

The man who kissed like he couldn’t help it.

The man who held like I was breakable, but looked at like I was made of fire.

He moved toward , his hand brushing my hair back from my face. "Are you sure?"

I took a deep breath and t his eyes. "I’m sure," I said softly.

Sothing in his eyes darkened. Possessive. Devoted.

He moved slowly, guiding himself to my entrance, heat and wetness pooling like a wildfire between my thighs.

His hand held the base of his impressive length—and with a teasing patience, he pressed the tip in—barely.

Then pulled back.

Pressed again.

And pulled back.

The teasing was excruciating.

"Adrien," I gasped, gripping his shoulders, my nails digging into his strong muscles. "Please..."

"Shhh," he whispered, but his body trembled with restraint. "I’m going to give you exactly what you need, sweetheart."

He pushed forward—just a little.

Then more.

The stretch made my breath hitch.

He felt impossibly thick, filling every part of slowly, carefully. It was too much and not enough all at once.

I held on tighter, wanting more. He let out a low groan.

"Not enough," I whimpered. "I need..."

He thrust in a little.

"is that not enough for you?" His voice was husky. Dark and dangerous.

I shook my head, breathless. "I want..."

His eyes road over and t mine. "Tell what you want, Isa." He murmured.

"I want all of you," I whispered, almost too quietly.

Adrien’s face twisted sowhere between pleasure and restraint. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against my ear. "You have all of ," he whispered back, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

I gasped—stretched, filled, and completely overwheld by the sensation of him.

He paused, eyes locked on mine. One of his hands cradled my hip, steadying , while the other drifted lower, fingers teasing gently. "Does it hurt?" he asked softly, his voice tight with restraint. "Tell what you feel."

I shook my head, breath trembling. "It’s... a lot," I whispered honestly. "But it doesn’t hurt."

His thumb brushed against the bundle of nerves between my legs—soft, slow, maddening circles. "And now?" he murmured, still barely moving, his thumb coaxing pleasure from with every pass.

A shaky breath escaped my lips. "ngh~

He smiled faintly—dark, pleased—and then, finally, he began to move.

It was careful at first, every motion asured and fluid, letting feel all of him, letting my body adjust to the rhythm. But even that restraint carried a kind of intensity, like the space between lightning and thunder.

As I grew bolder, my hips tilted up to et his, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him closer, deeper. He groaned—a sound raw and almost reverent—and his rhythm changed.

He leaned down, his mouth brushing over my jaw, my neck, until his lips found the tender spot just beneath my ear. He sucked gently at first, then harder, branding in a way that made my breath catch.

My hands tangled in his hair as he moved lower—his tongue flicking over my collarbone, then down, catching one nipple in his mouth.

The sensation made my back arch.

His tongue flickered over the sensitive bud, teasing, tantalizing, before he began to suck greedily. His hand teased the other breast, fingers rolling and brushing the sensitive peak in sync with his tongue. I practically sobbed with need, my hands fisting in his hair. "Please," I whimpered, not even sure what I was begging for anymore. More of his scorching kisses? Faster, harder thrusts? I was drunk on sensation.

It was too much.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Just feel.

And then—he found his rhythm.

Every thrust was deeper, more urgent. His body moved against mine like he knew exactly what I needed before I did. My na spilled from his lips between gasps and groans, as if he couldn’t hold it in.

His mouth found mine again, and this kiss wasn’t careful. It was claiming—possessive and desperate and impossibly tender, all at once.

I was lost in the rhythm of our bodies moving together, lost in the pleasure that threatened to consu whole. And yet, I never wanted it to stop. I never wanted this feeling to end.