Sweet Hatred Chapter 135: ...watching you wait. r18

Without any more words, he took my hand and started guiding out of the balcony, down the hall, like he had sothing urgent and secret to share. Of course he didn’t explain anything. He never did. It was always this air of mystery, of control, of him.

He led to his study. The door shut with a soft click behind us.

That room always felt different. Like him—rich, dark, precise. The scent of cologne, leather, and sothing sharp lingered in the air. He motioned to the leather couch.

There was a box sitting on it. White. With a satin black ribbon tied neatly across the top.

I turned to him, raising a brow.

"Open it," he said simply, watching with that unreadable stare that made my skin tighten.

I sat down and pulled the ribbon free, lifted the lid—and stopped breathing for a full five seconds.

Inside was a dress.

Not just a dress. The dress he was talking about.

Blood red. Halter neck. Backless. With a slit that could cause international incidents. Okay maybe too dramatic but it was definitely sexy... It looked like sin and glamour and danger all stitched together. The fabric shimred like liquid fire under the light.

"You bought this?" I whispered, brushing trembling fingers over the soft material. "For ?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just stepped closer.

"I saw it, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you in it," he murmured, voice low and velvet-dark. "Or how everyone else would see you—and know you’re mine."

I swallowed hard.

The possessiveness in his tone curled around like silk and smoke.

"Try it on," he said.

I glanced up at him, skeptical. "Here?"

His eyes darkened. "You’re not shy, Aria."

"Maybe I’m selective."

His smirk returned. "That’s why I love watching you unwrap for ."

My heart did sothing stupid. And then sothing even stupider—I stood up, clutching the dress.

"I’ll try it on," I said, brushing my fingers over the dress, "but I won’t let you see."

Kael’s expression dropped imdiately. His brows dipped, eyes narrowing like I’d just committed an actual cri.

"Why won’t you let see?" he asked, the frown tightening.

I smiled—devilish, smug, playful as I folded the dress back into the box."Because I want to see it on myself first. Alone."

That muscle in his jaw ticked. There it was—that look. The look of a man unraveling quietly, his patience snapping thread by thread. I turned away, pretending not to notice how still he’d gone, how the air shifted, thickened.

"You’re going to kill ," he muttered, voice low and tight.

"You’ll live," I teased, backing toward the door.

Or at least I tried to.

Because he was on in an instant.

His hands grabbed by the waist and yanked back into him. My gasp barely escaped before his mouth found the curve of my neck, his lips dragging hot, possessive kisses down my skin.

"Why won’t you let see, Aria?" he murmured, voice a wicked purr between kisses.

"I—I told you—" I stamred, already breathless.

"Say it again."

His mouth was everywhere—my jaw, my collarbone, the shell of my ear. His hands slid lower, beneath the hem of his sweatshirt I wore, palming and grabbing my ass hard enough to make gasp again.

"Kael—"

He grabbed the box from the couch and tossed it aside with no hesitation. It hit the floor softly, forgotten. The next second, I was lifted off my feet like I weighed nothing. He carried to his desk and set on the edge like a prize he was about to unwrap.

His mouth found mine, hungry and deep, tongue sliding against mine, biting my bottom lip. I moaned into him, fingers knotting into his shirt, thighs squeezing around his waist on instinct.

"Tell why," he whispered against my lips, kissing again, slower this ti. "Why won’t you let see you in that dress?"

I tried to answer, but his hand had already slipped beneath the waistband of the sweatpants, fingers brushing between my thighs—lazy, confident strokes that made shake.

"You’ll see it eventually," I managed, voice cracking, "It’s just fun... watching you wait."

He let out a short, low laugh, wicked and full of heat.

"So it’s okay," he said, his fingers pressing deeper, stroking with devastating ease, "if I take my revenge now?"

"Kael—"

But he didn’t wait.

His mouth crashed into mine, tongue demanding, punishing, kissing like he wanted to erase the space between us. His fingers moved inside , slow at first, just enough to feel pulse around them—then deeper, firr, curling with precision.

I whimpered, body already betraying . My thighs trembled, heat blooming from my core all the way to my chest, my breath turning ragged.

Despite how sore I was from last night, I was already dripping for him.

Like my body recognized him. Like it belonged to him.

His other hand slipped under the sweatshirt, gliding up my ribs, fingers brushing the underside of my breast.

And all the while, his voice was right there, in my ear, soft and low and dangerous:

"You don’t get to tease like that, firefly. Not without a little punishnt."

"Wait—"

"Don’t cum until I say."

My head snapped up, eyes wide. "What?"

Kael didn’t flinch. His fingers moved inside in slow, devastating strokes, curling right where he knew it would make tremble.

"I said don’t cum," he repeated, his voice dark silk against my ear. "Not until I tell you."

"That’s not fair," I breathed, hips already twitching at the intensity, the way he was pressing, stroking, dragging his fingers over my spot like he was sculpting the ache inside .

He kissed the hollow of my throat, inhaling like he was drunk off . "Now you know how I feel," he whispered. "Every ti you tease . Every ti you wear my clothes and smile like you know exactly what it does to ."

I couldn’t even argue. My mouth opened, but all that ca out was a choked moan.

"Fuck," he groaned, lips grazing my skin. "You sll so good, firefly."

I clenched around his fingers, thighs shaking, body begging for release I wasn’t allowed to have. My hands scrabbled at his chest, his arms, trying to stop him because it was too much—it was everything.

And then... he stopped.

My body scread.

Kael pulled his fingers out and looked straight in the face, pupils blown, mouth parted. He licked his fingers slowly—filthy and deliberate—never breaking eye contact.

"You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever had. And I’m not done."