Sweet Hatred Chapter 137: My pretty little killer r18

The next knock ca louder.

"Master Roman?" a voice called, hesitant. "I apologize for the interruption—"

Kael snapped.

"What the fuck do you want?" he barked, voice sharp and venom-laced, his hips still moving, still grinding down onto him like I was his personal fucktoy.

"I—it’s regarding the impromptu board eting, sir," the assistant stamred. "The Sterling proposal—they’ve submitted their terms ahead of schedule and the chairman is requesting your review before the 4PM session—"

"I’m busy," Kael growled, never breaking rhythm, pushing in so deep I choked on a gasp. "Get lost. Or you’ll be attending the next eting in a fucking coma."

Silence.

Then retreating footsteps.

The second we were alone again, Kael’s head dipped down to kiss the side of my throat.

"You okay, firefly?" he murmured. "Need a break?"

I could barely form words.

He set down with care—so gently it made my chest ache and swept everything off his desk with a harsh sweep of his arm. Pens, papers, a glass ornant—it all clattered to the floor. I barely noticed.

He laid out like I was his prized possession, my back flat on the cool wood, legs parted and twitching, sweat-slick and trembling under his gaze.

I nodded weakly, breathless.

But then he pulled out again—slowly—and the emptiness made whimper.

Before I could beg, his mouth dipped between my thighs, licking softly. Then, with a devilish look in his eyes, he spat on my cunt and gave it a few licks. My mouth fell open. There was sothing feral in the act that made my entire body seize with anticipation.

He lined himself up again.

Slid in with one smooth, endless thrust.

My legs jerked around his waist, and he caught them, slinging them onto his shoulders, kissing each ankle like I was sothing delicate and precious, even while he was buried inside to the hilt.

And then, his hands found my abdon.

Large, rough palms spreading across my trembling skin.

"Feel that?" he whispered darkly. "That’s ... all the way in. You’re fucking stuffed, baby."

Then he pressed down—slow, firm, intentional. Right where he knew I could feel him the most.

The pressure made gasp, made my walls clamp around him like my body didn’t know how to handle the fullness.

I moaned, my body trying to pull away from the overwhelming pressure.

But he wasn’t having it.

He caught my hips, pulled back with a grunt, and drove into harder, deeper—

Like he was hunting sothing buried at the very end of , so secret place I didn’t even know existed.

And then he found it. That tender barrier deep inside, the gate to my womb and he fucking knocked.

The impact knocked the breath from my lungs.

My spine arched clean off the floor as a raw, broken sound tore out of .

He hit that deep, tender spot—so high up inside I swore he was slamming into my soul.

My entire body convulsed, helpless against the wave of sensation. My vision blurred. My legs shook.

It was too much. Too deep. Too good.

And Kael... he pressed down again on my stomach, forcing to feel every inch, every twitch of his cock inside .

"I want you to rember this," he breathed, sweat dripping from his brow as he slowed down to grind deep. "Every ti you try to leave, every ti you think you’ve got control—you’ll rember this. How I ruin you."

I was already breaking again, my walls clenching, my voice catching in my throat, and still—he kept going.

Still spread across his desk, my legs trembling around his hips, I could barely breathe, let alone think. My mind was a blur of aftershocks, my skin flushed and slick. I didn’t know how many tis I’d co—twice? Three? My body didn’t care. It wanted more.

Kael leaned in, his body heavy and warm against mine, but his voice?

Fucking teasing.

"You look like you’re about to pass out or plot my murder," he whispered against my lips. "Which one is it, sweetheart?"

I managed a weak glare.

He just grinned.

"Oh, you’re still with . Good."

He pulled out slowly, painfully slow, dragging a whine out of . Then he lifted effortlessly, carrying across the room like I weighed nothing. I didn’t even realize where we were going until my back hit the plush cushion of one of the sofas by the window.

Except he didn’t let lie down.

No.

Kael sprawled onto his back and pulled with him, placing right on top of him, guiding down onto his cock again, inch by inch.

I blinked, trying to clear my dazed vision, and there it was.

That look.

Those smug, hypnotic green eyes staring up at like the devil himself had crafted them. Lying there, looking effortlessly seductive, he didn’t even try—and still, he had trembling, ruined, soaked.

God, was I always this horny?

Because no one—no one—ever made feel like this. Not Eric. Not anyone before him. They couldn’t even touch the things Kael made need.

I hated how much control he had. Hated how he didn’t even have to speak before my body bent to his.

He tilted his head with a lazy smirk. "What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, Aria?" he purred. "You look like you’re either enjoying the hell out of this... or thinking about killing in my sleep."

I glared down at him again.

That only made him thrust up—hard—slamming into from underneath. I choked out a cry, digging my nails into his chest.

He laughed, low and sinful.

"If you want to kill , now’s your chance."

And then—

His hands moved to mine. Guiding them. Lifting them to his neck.

I froze.

His voice dropped an octave, seductive and dark. "Do it, Aria. Wrap your hands around my throat. Don’t think—just feel."

I didn’t move for a second.

Then, slowly... I did.

Not because I wanted to kill him. Not even close.

But because I knew what he wanted and I wanted to play right into his hands. And god help , it turned on that he trusted with this. That he was into this.

My fingers curled around his throat. He exhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering, like the pressure alone had him on the edge.

"Harder," he whispered.

I did.

And Kael groaned, deep and raw, eyes rolling back in bliss as his grip on my hips tightened brutally. He started slamming up into , thrusts sharp, precise, punishing.

I was crying out again, voice wrecked, and still—he didn’t stop.

"You’re so fucking beautiful like this," he panted, "riding like a good girl, choking like a queen."

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to cum.

And I wanted to stay in that monts forever—drenched in pleasure, filled by him, hands around the neck of the man who broke every rule I thought I had.

He was grinning.

Smug. Sinful. Like a devil that knew he owned my soul.

Kael’s head rested against the cushion, eyes half-lidded in a haze of desire, lips parted, his cock pulsing deep inside with every slow, agonizing roll of my hips.

"I knew you had it in you," he murmured, voice hoarse and fucking infuriating. "My pretty little killer."

My hands were still curled around his throat, a warning, a ga.

But he—he laughed. Actually laughed, the sound low and taunting, vibrating through his chest and straight into my bones.

"Co on, sweetheart," he whispered, voice teasing, breath warm on my cheek. "Squeeze harder. Make beg. If you even can."

Oh, that smug bastard. I didn’t think. I didn’t plan. I bit the bait like a woman possessed.

My fingers tightened, nails digging into the sides of his neck. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His breath stuttered. His eyes fluttered wide, wild, like he hadn’t expected to actually do it.

And then—he moaned. A real, raw, guttural moan that shattered the arrogance off his face. His hips bucked once, hard—violently.

And then he ca.

Kael Roman—my torntor, my boss, my fucking obsession—ca with my hand around his throat, muscles tensed, cock twitching deep inside as he released in thick, hot spurts, jaw clenched, chest heaving.

The control freak lost control. Because of . I stared down at him, breathless, stunned.

He blinked slowly, recovering, that victorious smirk slowly curling back onto his lips as he looked up at through dark lashes. "Fuck..." he rasped. "You’re going to kill one day."

I smirked right back. "Don’t tempt ."

But the glint in his eyes said he wanted to.

And honestly?

So did I