Sweet Hatred Chapter 138: You win r18

He was still panting under , flushed and wrecked, and sohow, despite everything, his hand found the small of my back, sliding up to cradle my cheek.

"You’ve got ," Kael whispered, voice hoarse but soft, like a secret he’d never dared to say aloud. His fingers brushed a sweaty strand of hair from my temple, then his lips pressed to my forehead, reverent.

My chest tightened.

"You don’t even know what you’re doing to ," he murmured. "You win, Aria. You always win."

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t need to. I thought he’d always wanted to lose to him.

I kissed him instead in a slow and aching way, full of sothing terrifyingly close to obsession. And he let . For a while, we just breathed into each other.

But then—

That fucking glint returned to his eyes.

"You made lose control," he said, voice darker now, laced with dangerous heat. "Now it’s only fair I take it back."

Before I could process that, I was airborne again, scooped up in his arms, flipped onto my back across the sofa.

"Wait—Kael—" I barely got the words out before his body slamd into mine.

Hard.

I scread.

There was no warning this ti. No slow, gentle glide. He drove into with unrelenting force, so deep it felt like he was rearranging my fucking organs.

"Oh my God—Kael—!"

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t let up.

One hand gripped the back of the couch to anchor himself while the other hooked under my thigh, pushing it back, deeper, harder, until the sounds of our bodies eting were obscene and he was hitting the entrance of my womb again. Brushing, knocking, whatever you could call it.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I could do was feel, his cock dragging against every nerve ending, his mouth finding mine to swallow my cries, his whispers against my cheek.

"You love this. Look at you— trembling. So greedy for it."

My eyes were watering, literal tears at the corners of my eyes from how deep he was going, how relentless.

He noticed. Of course he did. Kael leaned in, licked the tear from my cheek, then grinned wickedly.

"Aww. Was that too much, firefly?"

And then he slamd in again.

I sobbed his na, half-broken, half-orgasming and he groaned as my walls clamped down on him again, convulsing.

"Fuck, Aria—don’t you dare—do that—" His thrusts grew more desperate, pace wild, losing rhythm. "You’re gonna make —"

We shattered together.

He groaned against my neck, still pulsing inside as my vision went white—blacked out, completely overwheld by the sheer intensity.

My body went limp.

His breath ghosted over my skin, a kiss to my jaw. "Still alive, sweetheart?" he whispered, teasing.

Barely.

***

When I woke up, I thought I was dead. Sent to heaven or hell, I didn’t really care.

Every inch of ached. My thighs, my lower back, my core—especially my core. I winced just trying to roll over, dragging the sheet with like it could hide the damage he’d done.

It was dark. Evening or night maybe, I wasn’t so sure.

The lights were dimd low, and the scent of him still lingered in the air—woodsmoke, leather, and sin. I blinked at the luxurious canopy overhead, confused for a second.

Wait. Wasn’t I in his study? My cheeks flad so hot they could’ve lted bone.

Did he... carry here? Through the halls? Past his staff? Through all the ss we made?

"Oh my God," I groaned, dragging a pillow over my face. "I can’t live like this. I need a gun."

The mory of the desk slamming against the wall, the papers flying, the way I’d scread when he—Ugh.

Soone had to clean that. Soone saw that.

No, no—I’m never letting that bastard touch again.

A whole month. No touching. No kissing. No nothing. I don’t care if he looks at with those eyes or calls sweetheart in that voice or—

My eyes landed on the edge of the bed. A white box sat just within reach. Taunting .

He knew I’d be curious.

I stared at it like it might bite. Then, cautiously, cracked the lid open. It was the dress. The one he’d wanted to try on. The one I’d said no to trying in front of him.

The one that sparked his entire spiral of punishnt—the dress that saw spread across his desk, bent over bookshelves, and screaming his na into polished oak.

And now here it was. Neatly folded. Soft. Seductive. Mocking .

"...That bitch."

I bit my lip, glancing toward the door.

He wasn’t back yet.

Part of still wanted to see how it would look. I wanted to try it before he returned. Just once. Alone. In secret.

But my body protested even as I thought about moving. My thighs still trembled, sore and useless. I knew if I stood up, I might crumble.

"That sadistic bastard," I whispered. "He did this on purpose."

I sank back into the pillows with a frustrated sigh, the dress still folded in the box like a smug little secret.

I hated him. I hated him so much. And I knew, deep down in my shaful, traitorous soul, I’d still let him ruin again.

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. So so soon. Because I was weak.

"Goddammit." I went back to sleep.

I skipped dinner.

Curled up in the middle of that ridiculously oversized bed, I slept like the dead, only waking once throughout the night to shift and groan at how sore I still was before knocking out again.

It was the next morning when I stirred again slowly, hesitantly—blinking against the warm light that spilled from the windows.

I was not alone.

Kael’s body caged mine like a weighted blanket dipped in molten heat, his massive arms locked around like I might slip away again if he loosened his hold. I was swallowed whole by him—his chest rising steadily behind my back, legs locked with mine, one arm flopped over my waist possessively.

I barely moved, but the ache in my thighs flared like a warning siren.

"Jesus," I whispered to myself. "Is this what death by dick feels like?"

My muscles scread, but for a second, I stayed still. Just breathing. Just watching him sleep.

And God, he was beautiful.

It made angry how pretty he looked. His lashes were stupidly long—longer than mine, the universe’s cruel joke. His nose, that annoyingly sharp jaw, those lips...

I frowned at them.

Because I rembered exactly where they’d been.

Under .

I rembered how I rode his face like a starved woman, like I’d die if I didn’t feel his mouth again, how he didn’t even let stop until I collapsed with a hoarse scream. My entire body lit up with embarrassnt.

"Nope," I muttered, trying to shift away. "We’re not thinking about that."

But my hand moved before my brain could stop it, fingers brushing over his cheek, the stubble rough and warm.

His eyes blinked open.

Dammit.

"I didn’t an to wake you," I said quickly, pulling my hand back.

He just smiled lazily, the kind that always made feel like a al under a wolf’s gaze. "Good morning to you too. How’re you feeling, sweetheart?"

I glared at him. "Like I got trampled by a train."

He chuckled and stretched, his muscles flexing around . "Mm. Sexy."

"fuck off"

"Sure sure," he said, already smug. "You up for a wedding later today?"

Wedding?

Oh right. The trap I’d set for myself.